#major thing happened and then ever since more and more small bullshit things keep happening

[rosicheeks]

😶

[velvetures]

Omg I love your stories so much especially the cod ones 😍😍😍 could you please write a ghost x reader oneshot where the reader maybe gets shot taking a bullet meant for him and maybe they are in an established relationship please with a happy ending

Ignoring Orders & Accepting Lead

A/N: I loved this req. and I hope you're okay with the direction I took this in. I'm trying to get the other asks I've been sent finished in a somewhat timely manner... haha! Honestly, I never thought anyone would enjoy my writing as much as all of you have. <3 Summary: Established relationships mean occasional arguments... You and Ghost have one before a mission. And the make-up conversation is a little less than standard for most couples. T/W: Canonical Violence, guns, knives, Blood, Death (non-major characters), severe injuries, tension, hurt/comfort, HAPPY ENDING, Ghost being a bit overprotective, Reader being a smartass, not proofread.

Arguments with Ghost happened a lot more frequently than anyone would ever suspect. While he liked to stay quiet when the opportunity arose, it was also know that if you could avoid a conflict, you would just to make sure the temperature of the situation didn’t rise too high. As a pair, it made you great operators, just for the skill-set you each had as well as the predisposition to get things done quickly, and quietly. As for being in a relationship, your character’s held zero influence on the way that you cared about each other of how that would display itself during moments of tension or disagreement. Especially in moments during missions where things weren’t going to plan, and your ideas severely countered Ghost’s.

One of those fights had occurred right before you’d been dropped into a very small town outside of Culiacán, Sinaloa. At HQ, Price was splitting everyone up for their distinct purposes, and you’d been immediately assigned with Ghost for an infil job. One requiring both of you to get in and get out of the well-known cartel stronghold without getting caught or being killed. Naturally you accepted the task without so much as flinching, whereas Ghost didn’t have such an easygoing attitude about it.

He was fucking furious.

First he tried threatening Price, demanding that you not be listed for that and go with Soap for the much less risky job of tracking down a small-time dealer who’d been listed as having information valuable to the task force. Price wasn’t stupid enough to not recognize where Ghost’s rage was coming from, and just simply said that if you wanted the job, there was nothing he could do about it since you’d already read the briefing and knew the entire plan just as well as anyone else. It wasn’t what he wanted to hear from the Captain, and that made things all the worse for you when you said you weren’t going to let him go in alone.

One of the worst fights you’d ever had with Ghost since your partnership became a fully-fledged romance happened right off the helipad being fueled-up for your departure. God it was miserable, and it hurt every ounce of you to have to defend yourself over the one thing that you were certain you could do. Your job. Understanding Ghost’s protective instinct was one thing, but there had to be a line drawn where him throwing his weight and rank around to limit your exposure to risk couldn’t be done anymore.

He’d been totally insensitive to your side of the story, and was obstinate that if you got on the helo, he’d not do a damn thing to keep you safe once you got to Culiacán. Merely to prove the bullshit point that you couldn’t to the job without him. That statement alone had you strapping into your flight harness quicker than Ghost could utter ‘jesus christ’ under his breath. Totally stonewalling you for the entire flight and practically acting like you didn’t even exist. Hell, he wouldn’t even go over the mission plan as was typical, leaving you fully to fend for yourself and follow his lead without even a hand signal to lead you through it.

Everything on entry went smoothly.

No guards were stationed in the underground sewer tunneling, leaving you very dry and unhindered on the half-mile walk from your drop-point to the access ladder leading up into the basement of a massive chapel-turned-base of operations. Whether or not you’d been keeping up or not didn’t appear to phase Ghost in the slightest, and he continued on and up into the basements without so much as glancing your way. You were quickly losing your patience, and getting than much more hurt with hoe easily he could turn off the affection and care that he always had for you. Sure, he wasn’t the coddling type, but you’d never wanted that from him; but this was a whole different level of coldness.

Inside the basement there were stockpiles of cocaine, pre-packed on shipping crates with a printed docket of everything contained on each. Just seeing that much shit all in one room made your head spin. It was one thing knowing it existed, and understanding that tons of it were being shipped all over the world, but actually being in a room surrounded by it from almost floor-to-ceiling was quite overwhelming. And Ghost’s own utterance of the sheer volume confirmed that it wasn’t just your own imagination leading you to think this was way too fucking much to handle. Bad part was, you couldn’t touch any of the shit or destroy it, and were solely on the objective of cloning their hard drives and bringing them back for examination.

Clearing stairwell after stairwell, and only needing to dispose of two guards -quick work with a sharp knife- you’d been able to access their massive data stores collected in what appeared to be nothing more than a personal server farm. Kept extremely cold for the benefit of the rows of towers, you’d been given the small cloning chip needed to transmit data back to HQ. But you needed a window of up to fifteen minutes to ensure everything was fully copied. You -and Ghost- both knew that fifteen minutes was far too long to just stand around with your thumbs up your asses and just hope that no one wondered why the two guards you’d shanked hadn’t checked in, or come to make a round inside the server room.

Ghost very instinctively covered the access door to the room, not even bothering to demand you give him the chip or take care of the data itself. A small reminder that he wasn’t totally untrusting of your skills, but still not large enough of a show that made you feel any less miserable about how your relationship was quite strained at the moment, all of something as small as a fifteen minute window of gathering information. By some miracle, you watched the progress on a small tablet linked to the chip and HQ’s data stores, watching it hit one-hundred percent in just under eight minutes. Perfect. It couldn’t go much smoother than that.

You were tapping Ghost on the shoulder, and giving a small thumbs-up just as the sounds of footsteps running up the stairwell outside began echoing. More than just one or two. It was actually a lot more than you even had the ammunition to handle, considering the job was deemed covert. Neither you or Ghost went without some protection… but you’d been packed out a lot lighter than normal. Right away he was stepping back from the door and checking his watch with a stern look in his eyes. One you recognized as realization that you’d have to fight your way out of this. Ugly, bloody, and violent.

Exactly what he didn’t want in the fuckin’ first place.

Ghost was inside of his own mind, trying to balance out the fear of you being in the middle of a cartel fire-fight and the rage he still felt when you just wouldn’t fucking listen to him right from the beginning. He knew what cartels did to women, and a pretty one like you wouldn’t have the mercy of just being killed. No. They’d fucking torture and toy with you until there wasn’t anything human left inside of you. That’s why he’d been so goddamn adamant that you stay behind for this one.

The data you’d copied over was bullshit compared to you living and breathing for another day. And Ghost couldn’t stand to think he’d walked you right into this place without at least trying to show you that he cared enough to see you live. Dying wasn’t a fear of his, but there was nothing he dreaded more than the mental image of you bleeding out in his arms all because of his own fucking mistakes.

Yet, here he stood. Having to make the decision on what to do or how to get you both out of here alive if he could even manage that in the first place. Part of him was already preparing to let them take him and give you enough time to slip away. You were fast enough. Small, so they’d have a far harder time picking you out in a crowd. But if he’s assumptions were correct, the tunnels would still be clear.

He gave you one last look, and grabbed hold of your vest to pull you behind him; Hearing the footsteps of more than six men filling into the large room outside of the server farm. Some barking orders to check down the hall, while others were meant to stay posted at the stairs to block off anyone flushed out. Ghost felt his own body starting to get cold. So desensitized to the violence he was already prepping himself to commit that if it wasn’t for you being there, he’d had already burst through the door and met them head on.

“Fuckin’. Listen,” He snapped as quietly as possible. Your ears perked up, happy to have just heard him speak, even if he sounded downright vicious. Your little hand tapping at his ribs as confirmation you were paying attention sent a shiver up his back.

“Don’t engage unless they’re right in your way. Take the tunnels out, I’ll be right behind you.” He barked out the orders under his breath.

Ghost couldn’t help but feel your hand fist into the material of his shirt. You didn’t like that one bit, and he didn’t need to see your face to know better. Because for whatever reason, you had it in your thick little head that he needed protecting as much as you did. Like it was your job to make sure he didn’t get hurt. Cute and a little bit amusing, Ghost hadn’t the slightest clue where you got the idea from or why it was such a massive trigger for him to challenge it. But right now, there was no fighting about it. He’d not take no for an answer, and when you didn’t give a confirmation right away, he growled in impatience.

Reluctantly, you gave it with a small tap rubbing your thumb over his hip bone.

One minute, Ghost was pushing open the door and spotting only three men within direct threat distance and seeing only one man standing at the top of the stairs. A split second of decision had him throwing two knives, and charging at the third to ensure that you’d only have to take care of the one remaining. He sunk a third knife in, feeling the man sink to his knees and drop to the floor, retrieving two of his blades before turning around right as the sound of a pistol registered. Ghost realized his fatal error in the squeeze of a trigger too late.

Only you saw what was coming, and Ghost watched you crumple to the floor between the shooter and himself; Stopping the man from shooting him in the back, but catching you somewhere of your front that residual splatter from the rained over his mask and tac vest. Everything around Ghost slowed, nearing an entire halt to the earth as you fell limply to the ground. Not even moving to try and cover your wound or catch yourself from the fall to the marble floor. Nightmares couldn’t compare to the sight of you crumpled in a heap of gear and bulky material after watching you purposefully allow your life to be traded for his.

The shooter wasn’t lucky enough to squeeze the trigger again for the knife that embedded itself in his forehead. Retribution. Quick but not as instantaneous as it would’ve been with a gun of his own. He was forced to see his own death approach with the snapped rotation of a throwing knife Ghost had sharpened days ago. He wanted to it last longer… make the bastard pay for it. Torture him for as long as his body could take, then give him just enough time to recover and start all over again.

But you needed him… Fuck. He needed you.

On the ground, you knew you’d taken a shot. But the adrenaline and immediate blow of it had you frozen on the floor. You couldn’t really tell where you’d been shot, or how bad the damage was. Truthfully you’d never experience it, and while many of the stories you heard over the years of your service, nothing they ever did to explain it was touching the utter fire radiating through your body. What you did know was that you were bleeding, and the shot had missed your tac vest; A small stream of blood was rolling through the grout lines in the floor, staining the white marble a sickening color.

Seeing Ghost on a knee in front of you, eyes wide and searching over your face was the next hazy image you recognized. His mask was shifting with the motion of him talking, but your ears were ringing. A pitchy and high whine blocked any other sound, even Ghost’s voice which you’d always been so very keen on paying close attention to. You felt awful. Putting him through this after you’d literally just had the fight about you getting hurt. Guilt flooded your limited emotional capacity, and as Ghost readjusted to pick you up, you felt tears rolling down your face.

You’d not had a single second to react to the fourth man in the room, him having the jump on visualizing Ghost facing the other three. It made him a vulnerable target. And in the split second you had to do something, you’d jumped in the way. Laying out totally flat to use your entire body to shield his. Hoping to god luck was on your side. At this point, hanging over Ghost’s shoulder limply as he rushed down the stairs on his way towards the basement, you weren’t sure if luck was on your side or not.

Thankfully, your hearing was slowly coming back in certain frequencies.

Sounds of gunfire and sirens blaring from the street level let you know that everyone within a few miles of the cathedral would be on the lookout for intruders. With all of the people who’d seen you, killed, no descriptions could be sent out or blared to citizens under control of the cartel. It didn’t help that Ghost was the largest man in the city who just happened to have on a skull mask and carrying a woman leaving behind noticeable drips of blood as a gruesome kind of trail to follow.

“C’mon baby, answer me!” Ghost panting yell finally registered, and you were able to manage a weak pat on his lower back. You felt his hand squeeze the back of your thigh for a moment before his pace slowed from a quick run to almost a crawl.

“We got company…”

There hadn’t been any men in the tunnel. But now that Ghost was less than fifty yards from their extraction point with a “medical” heli waiting for their return; three men were posted at the gated slope leading up to the hillside entry. The Lieutenant could feel your blood soaking into his shirt, wetting his shoulder. A bad reminder that you needed to get the fuck out of here right now. But he couldn’t get rid of those fuckers unless he put you down.

He squeezed at your thigh again to get your attention.

“I need - need to -fuck- set you down…” Saying those words utterly destroyed Ghost. You were the only thing he cared about right now, but the longer he put this off, the risk of you dying loomed closer.

“Need ya t’stay right here… okay? Don’t come out…”

Carefully you felt him settle you behind a large sewage drain pipe connecting from the street into the small walkway. Easing your back against the curved brick wall and once again taking a very hard look at you. This time, he could see where the bullet had just missed the edge of your tac vest, entering through the ripped hole in your shirt just below your collarbone. Every hopeful fiber in Ghost wanted to believe it wouldn’t be non-lethal. But if it shattered your collarbone, the bullet fractured and clipped a vein or small artery, there was plenty to be concerned about.

He would’ve packed the would just to stave off the blood flow. But he didn’t have the luxury of time. And whether or not Ghost would ever admit it to himself, repeatedly shoving his finger into your wound would render him down to a shell of a man. He couldn’t hurt you. Fuck, he couldn’t hurt you.

“Stay here… I’ll be right back.” He whispered against your forehead, pressing his masked mouth to your forehead.

You leaned into him, hearing his words and consciously noticing just how difficult it was to understand the words after hearing them. Almost like you couldn’t natively speak english and the meanings just weren’t instinctual anymore. God it took everything to comprehend that he was planning to clear the rest of the way, leaving you here. Eyes trailing after him sluggishly, you fought with your own arms to try and scoot back just a little further to peek between the large pipe you were leaning against to see if you could spot Ghost or the targets.

Being told to stay was always a difficult order for you. Even if you weren’t shot and struggling to manage simple bodily functions. Surprisingly, you were able to see the shadowed figured standing guard right at the gates you’d come through, holding rifles and totally unaware of Ghost lurking within such easy range. You wondered why he didn’t just shoot them, and get this over with.

Why he needed stealth when the entire city was looking for you didn’t make a lot of sense in your mind. Until you saw five more men walk down to join the others. With one cut of your eyes to look at Ghost, you realized he had anticipated more and planned of making quick work. It’d been a long time since you watched him work alone. Nearly two years. Attempting to shift your shoulder it rocked your entire system. Biting your jaw to keep from making noise, you tried focusing through the tears in your eyes as the only man who held the key to not only your life, but your heart in his fist.

Ghost kept reevaluating his odds with each step closer. Feeling distracted in the worst way with the guilt of leaving you unprotected, and in no position to defend yourself in the case that he wasn’t able to take all of these men alone. Those odds -either realistic or narcissistic confidence- didn’t phase the Lieutenant in the slightest. He was fueled with rage. And while these bastards hadn’t done anything, just being in his path was a death sentence.

The fight started smoothy and efficiently, taking out the largest of the men and using his half-dead form as enough of a shield to eliminate the threat of three 12.7x99mm wielders, too surprised to shoot off five rounds. Another three surrounded him with nothing more than machetes swiping through the air with near misses. One smooth draw of his own pistol dropped two men, and when Ghost turned around to face the third the butt of a shotgun smacked across his vision, dropping him to his knees and hearing his pistol slide across the floor out of reach.

He hauled himself to a knee, watching the man throw the empty shotgun away and approach with a knife, glinting in the sunlight just on the outside of the tunnel. Ghost could actually hear the rotor blades of the helicopter cranking up, set into motion by the small tracker in his belt giving the pilot a comm-less tip off. He’d have to fight this hand-to-hand, and while he didn’t feel the least bit tired, Ghost knew a long fight only risked you further. And fuck if making you wait didn’t make his hair stand up on edge. Even in your state, he knew better than to think you wouldn’t start getting worried in the next couple of minutes.

His opponent took the first blow and used the hilt of his large blade to connect fully with Ghost’s jaw. A heavy crack sounded, but the Lieutenant merely flinched; Throwing his own weight on the weight-matched man, and there ensued a grappling match that risked deadly knife wounds being grazed against straining forearms and a battle of wills that totally opposed one another on every basis… Save for being the last man standing. For the second time in a single mission, Ghost found himself at the razor’s edge of a knife pressing against his throat and no really foolproof tactic of getting out of it.

“Seré el que te mate, fantasma..” The man breathed hotly against Ghost’s ear, jerking the knife closer and fighting the sheer strength in the Lieutenant’s arm. “Colgaré tu cabeza en mi pared, bastardo.”

Ghost fumbled with his other hand under the pressure on his throat began taking away the normal dexterity he functioned with; Trying to find a knife on his belt, or any kind of weapon at this point. Only all of them had been embedded in the dead bodies scattered around them. It had been a bad decision to listen to Price when he said to pack lightly. It would be the end of him.

Simon Riley didn’t show himself often during missions. Always locked away in the recesses of Ghost’s mind, quietly biding his time until there was the few-and-far-between moment for him to appear for a few moments. Typically in the darkness of your shared bedroom with your face pressed between his shoulder blades and your little arm wrapped around his waist.

Simon loved feeling your hand against his belly, twitching your fingers in your sleep and reminding him just how soft and loving you were; Happy to hold his hand tightly in the middle of unconsciousness just like you did when awake. Ghost did everything he could to protect Simon from anyone and anything that could hurt the other half of himself. But hearing another pistol register loudly in the tunnel, echoing back and forth for almost a whole minute; Ghost found himself losing control to Simon.

He felt the man above him slump in dead weight against his back. Muscles slack and the knife held to his throat clanged to the concrete. Looking in the direction of the shot, whatever protective grasp Ghost had on himself utterly dissolved. You’d managed to lay yourself out on the floor, hardly propped up on one elbow with your smoking pistol shaking in your hands. Tears spilled over your cheeks and with each second that passed, he could visualize the pain you felt from such a rough kickback in how you abruptly dropped the pistol in front of you and collapsed flat on the floor with a low groan.

He couldn’t have moved to your side faster.

Immediately picking you up again and making the very short but tense run back to the heli; all the while the pilot was looking between his instruments and the sight of Ghost holding you close to his chest in the floor.

“No one… threatens… to kill you… but me…” You mutter pained, bearing a muddled smile up at Ghost.

Unbelievable… Ghost hardened his stare, putting pressure to your wound and watching in quiet grief that he needed to cause you pain.

“Good shot… did good baby…,” He whispered back weakly, burying his face in your neck and squeezing you against him. Desperate to get you home and safe.

“Gonna ignore how you refused to follow a superior’s orders three times…” He added stiffly, feeling you twitch when a spasm in your shoulder seized. You just bit out another pained noise, coughing a bit with the dust being kicked up from the helicopter lifting off.

The look you gave him couldn’t be seen as anything other than pure, innocent, and unflinching devotion. It nearly ripped Ghost out of the body you clung to, leaving Simon bracing you against his chest as the pilot at the front started giving information to the rest of the squad about fifty miles away at a safe house. Much too long for the Lieutenant’s liking. But close enough that he could get you to his squad and they could ensure you didn’t leave him.

He couldn’t stand losing you, and they’d make sure you didn’t.

“Simon,” Sweet and weak, your hand cups his cheek as you bring him out of an initial trigger. “M’not leaving you anytime soon. Love you too much.” Your eyes close as your head leans agains him trustingly.

His chest crumbled in on itself. “Love you too, baby… I love you too.”

Reblogs & Comments are Appreciated! <3

[rebelwrites]

Winner Takes It All || Twenty Five: Scratch It, I End You

Charles Leclerc x Valentina Hendrix (OC)

Winner Takes It All Masterlist

Summary: Charles had a plan, the Mustang was waiting for them at the track but there was one final surprise he had up his sleeve

Warnings: tiny mention of the crash

A/N: two posts on a week aren’t you lucky sods 😜

As always reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated ❤️ if you want tagging in future parts let me know ❤️

It still amazed me how I managed to squeeze into the bucket seats of the ST with this god annoying cast. One week down practically a million more to go. Leaning my head against the window of the car I watched the scenery change, my mind was spinning again but to be honest it hadn’t stopped spinning since the crash.

I was pretty much a pro now at putting on a front, hiding what I was really feeling but I knew Charles could see straight through the mask, he always had this superpower to know when I was hiding behind this cocky attitude I wore like armour.

Feeling Charles link his fingers with mine it not only took my breath away but it pulled me from my downward spiral.

“You doing okay?” he hummed, keeping one hand on the steering wheel and his eyes on the road ahead. “And don’t give me the bullshit story you have been telling everyone else.”

Letting a heavy sigh escape my lips, I turned to look at Charles finding myself taking in his features, his hair was getting longer so most of the time he was rocking the messy just got out of bed look. Before I went down the rabbit hole of staring at this stupid perfect face I remembered he had asked me a question.

“Urm honestly, I don’t know how to answer that.” I sighed.

The moment the words left my lips he squeezed my hand gently, flicking his gaze over to me for a brief second. “I just feel like I’m lost, I wasn’t meant to be ending the season like this.” I could feel the tears burning my eyes. “Don’t even say things happen for a reason because if you do I will punch you.”

Charles let out a sigh before indicating and pulling into the nearest car park. Once the ST had come to a stop he shifted in his seat taking both of my hands in mine, his thumb brushing across my skin sending sparks through my skin. “My sweet girl,” he hummed, looking up at me with a soft loving look on his face. “Everything is going to be okay, I promise you will get through this, we will get through this together.” His voice was soft as he spoke, with every word he spoke I felt him slowly chipping away the walls I had built around my heart and that scared the living shit out of me. “As much as I want to go back and change the past, we can’t. But what we can do is take things one day at a time, taking baby steps to rebuild everything back up.”

A traitorous single tear rolled down my cheek, I knew the words he spoke were not about the crash, they were about us.

Automatically he reached up, brushing away the tear with his thumb, “babygirl, please don’t cry.” he whispered, cupping my face in his hands. “I will get you back on your feet, I will be there throughout every physio visit, every doctor's appointment, everything. I am not going anywhere babygirl, not now not ever. I walked away from you once and I won’t be making that mistake again.” he had a small smile appear on his face before he leaned in, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Now, for the rest of the day we are going to have some fun. If you can’t go to the track, I will bring the track to you”

“What do you mean?” I hummed, resting my forehead against his, letting my eyes flutter close, relishing his touch, it was something I had been craving for so long.

“Look up babygirl.” he whispered, pulling away from me causing me to look up out of the windscreen.

My jaw dropped the moment I saw we were at the track we both spent the majority of our childhood years at. But what shocked me the most was the candy apple red 1965 Mustang GT350 Fastback parked at the start line. It looked exactly like mine but it couldn’t have been seen as mine was securely locked up in the garage back in England.

“It is yours.” Charles chuckled, as if he could read my mind. “I got it flown over for this reason.”

“But I can’t drive it, you muppet.” I huffed, folding my arms across my chest trying to hide the pain I felt in my ribs.

“No but I can.” he winked, the cheeky grin on his face growing by the second.

He was like a child on Christmas morning, I had never let him drive the Mustang before so he was relishing in the fact he would be the one to take the beast around the track.

“You scratch it, I end you.”

“You seem to be forgetting I am the best Formula One driver on the track.”

“I am right here, you asshole.” I pouted, lightly smacking his chest with the back of my hand. “You seem to be forgetting that I fucking dominate that track and I dominated you.”

“Oh you can dominate me any time baby.” he winked, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. “As much as I want to continue this, it is time to push the beast to the limits and see what that beauty can do on the track.”

“You already know what that beauty can do on the track.” I giggled, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Damn right I do.” he smirked before slipping out of the car.

Soon enough Charles had helped me out of the ST and into the Mustang, it wasn't easy but he managed it without moaning even when he couldn’t get the passenger seat to push back any further.

Hearing the engine of the beast and feeling the vibrations through the seat put a smile back on my face. It had been too long since she had been driven.

Without any warning Charles slipped the car into first gear and sped off down the track.

It was like I had been transported back in time to when we used to race the ST around this very same track, glancing over to Charles I noticed how wide his smile was as he pushed the Mustang to its limits.

Hours had passed and I was pretty sure I needed four new tyres on the Mustang but I didn’t care. Right now Charles was doing everything in his power to make me feel like myself again and it was working. My jaw actually hurt from smiling so much. Although the moment he started doing donuts in the beast I was ready to punch him.

The car soon came to a stop and Charles looked at me with a cocky smirk.

“Told you I wouldn’t scratch it.” He hummed, taking my hand pressing tender kisses against my knuckles.

“Nah but you killed my tyres, asshole.” I giggled.

The tears freely fell down my cheeks as I took in the sight in front of me. The sun had only just set and the picnic blanket and pillows were set up on one of my favourite spots in this country, the back of Charles yacht. I had no idea how I managed to get all of this set up when we spent the whole day at the track but I wasn’t going to question this.

“Bear, this is beautiful.” I whispered, feeling Charles wrap his arms around my waist and I automatically leant back into him.

“Not as beautiful as you.” he whispered, his breath ticking the back of my neck as he spoke.

Ever since Japan things had started to change between me and Charles, in fact things had started to change long before that. The pinnacle moment for us was when I showed up at his hotel room drunk, pouring my heart out to him. But things were slowly going back to how we were when we were dating.

“You did all of this for me?”

“Vali, I always have and I always will do anything for you, no matter the cost, no matter the effort because it is worth it to see that smile that captures my heart.” Charles hummed, taking my hand in his leading me over to the picnic blanket helping me down onto the blanket. Once he was satisfied that I was comfy he sat down behind me, spreading his legs either side of my body, pulling me closer to him.

In this moment it was like the past didn’t exist, neither did the heartache and pain. This moment was pure bliss, and for the first time for a while my heart was happy. It was just me and Charles, no one or anything else mattered right now.

“What are we going to do, Bear?” I whispered, keeping my focus trained on the sky, watching as the clouds rolled by.

“Like I said in the car babygirl, we take each day as it comes.” Charles whispered, pressing a kiss against the back of my head. “We focus on the moment rather than worrying about what tomorrow will bring.”

“I was talking about us.” I whispered, finally saying the words that had been on the tip of my tongue for the last few weeks. “Everything is changing, and you can’t tell me you can’t feel it too.”

“Remember when I said I want us to start over again, I don’t care how long it takes, I will wait as long as you need.” he whispered, resting his head against my shoulder. “I meant every single word. I do feel it, and I want nothing more than for us to go back to how we were but I am happy to wait until you are ready even if that means waiting until I am old and grey.”

I had practically choked on my words at his response, even though the words I wanted to say were on the tip of my tongue but no matter what I couldn’t get the words out. Running my hands over my face I blinked away the tears.

“Babygirl, I know you are scared and I don’t blame you.” Charles hummed, moving so he was now knelt in front of me, taking my hands in his. “Look, I know I hurt you in the past and ever since then I have hated myself for walking away from you. I still love you Valentina, you have my whole heart, you always have done.” Turning my gaze to him I found myself getting lost in his eyes, the lights sparkling in them provided me with a feeling of calmness. “Ever since you turned up at my hotel room I have been clinging onto that bit of hope that this time would come.”

Pulling one of my hands from his I reached up resting it against his cheek, feeling his nuzzle into my touch. My heart was screaming at me, this is what I had been wanting for years now.

It was now or never.

Taking a deep breath I lent forward, closing the gap between us. Pulling my other hand free I wrapped my arms around Charles neck, my gaze flicking between his mesmerising eyes and his lips. My heart was racing as we both edged close to each other. Once our lips connected everything was going to chance once again. But I knew in my heart I was ready and this was what I wanted.

Our lips were millimetres apart when my phone started ringing causing me to groan knowing exactly who was calling by the ringtone that was blaring on the deck of the yacht.

“Fucking Pierre!”

@chibsytelford @dragon-of-winterfell @ohthemisssery @a-distantdreamer @sgkophie @stillbreathin @angywritesstuff @miamedyu @enchantedbytomandhenry @scribbuluswrites @dangerouspursepeachbear @micks-afterglow @livo67 @buendiabebeta @pleasedontfollowinlost @ferrarifwendvale @hungryhungarian @theplobnrgone @charlesleclercje @sunf1owerrq @queenslife @panicforspec @inesramoss30 @justme2042 @liv67 @sessgjarg @derpinathebrave @idkiwantchocolatee @littleobsessionsandlifeslessons @alynoa @clcspeonies @pleasantducktimetravel @organasith @inchidentwithmax @raaaaabzzz @teamspideyman @marvelousmendess @mehrmonga @sbgal @thattaylorswiftobsessedbitch @mloyer

[band--psycho]

Vander x Reader- Secrets

I'm sorry! I know I've been writing a lot of Vander stories - I just really love this character!

This is for both my A-Z Writing Challenge and my Dialogue Writing Challenge (Prompt 19)

I hope you all enjoy! 💛

“Do I look afraid?” Vander asked; taking a long puff of his pipe. 

“You look weak,” Sevika answered, causing an uneasy silence to fall across the bar. 

The last thing Vander was, was weak. 

“There’s no weakness in wanting to protect all of us,” Y/n countered, as Sevika turned her back to leave. Y/n wasn’t a confrontational person; she was the exact opposite, but there was no way she was going to let Sevika talk to Vander like that. He’d done everything for The Lanes; he protected us, kept us safe and this was the thanks he was getting?

Sevika was as shocked as anyone to hear Vanders wife speak up; but that didn’t change the anger that was bubbling in Sevika.

“We don’t need protection, what we need is a leader who is willing to fight,” Sevika stated with a venom in her voice as she  turned around, her eyes glancing between Vander and Y/n.

Y/n moved closer to Sevika; she could feel Vanders eyes on her, probably wondering what the hell she was doing. But Y/n wasn’t going to back down.

“And how did that go last time? 

It was a question that didn’t need answering. 

The last uprising of the Undercity ended with the majority of the people who were a part of it, dead. It was like they had all forgotten what happened on that bridge all those years ago. 

She was with Vander when he came back, carrying Vi and Powder. Children whose parents fought for the cause Vander led….if there was another uprising, how many more children would be left orphaned. 

Y/n wasn’t stupid, she knew how much better life was in Piltover whereas life down here, it was hard, for everyone, but this attack that Sevika was trying to encourage, it wasn’t going to end well. It would end exactly like the first one did, with corpses  scattered on the bridge. 

A scoff left Sevika’s lips as her, even though she was impressed by Y/n’s confrontation; it didn’t change the views she held, nor did it stop her and her men from leaving the bar. 

~~~~~

Y/n couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. 

Vander made a deal with the enforcers?

At first she’d thought she’d misheard Ekko. 

But she didn’t…

Vander was completely unaware of what Y/n had found out…so he walked into their bedroom and wrapped his strong arms across Y/n's waist. 

“You were amazing earlier, darl,” he breathed, placing a small kiss on the nape of her neck. 

Y/n didn’t say anything to him in response. She just didn’t understand why Vander hadn’t told her; they never kept secrets from each other. Ever. They had always been honest with each other, even before they were dating. 

“Y/n/n?” Vander asked, his voice filled with confusion; a confusion that only grew when she pulled away from him, “what’s wrong?”

“Since when did we keep secrets from each other?” She asked lowly; her voice was almost so quiet that Vander didn’t hear her. Almost.

“We don’t,” he answered back, his eyes narrowing in his confusion. 

“Don’t bullshit me Vander,” Y/n snapped, turning around to face Vander, a fury burning in her eyes.

“Darl, I don’t know-”

“You made a deal with the Enforcers,” 

Vander felt like he’d just been hit in the gut. A shaky breath left his lips as the words processed in his mind.

She knew…how did she know…?

“You still gonna tell me we don’t have any secrets from each other?” 

The look of betrayal in her eyes broke Vanders heart, “How did you find out?” 

“That’s not important right now, what is important is why you didn’t tell me when it happened?” She fumed. 

All these years, he’d kept this from her and she just couldn’t work out why; after all these years did he trust her so little?

“Do you not trust me?” She asked, her voice breaking slightly as she asked the question.

“Of course I do,” Vander sighed, running a hand over his face.

“Then why did Benzo know and not me?” 

Ekko. Vander thought to himself; Benzo wouldn’t have told her so Ekko could’ve been the only way  Y/n knew…

“I was just trying to keep you safe,” he answered; and it was the truth. If anything happened to him; the enforcers would deal with Benzo, it wouldn’t put pressure on Y/n.

Y/n just shook her head in response to what he said; how was keeping secrets from her keeping her safe? 

“Y/n…please just look at me,” he breathed, placing his large hand on her face, caressing her cheek. Reluctantly, her eyes met his…he could see how hurt she was by the secret he’d kept, and he wished he could take it all back and tell her as soon as he had made that deal, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you…I just thought it was best for you..”

“But you know I hate secrets more than anything…and I would have supported your decision…you know that,” her voice was calmer now, but he knew she was still angry. And he knew that she was right. 

Y/n didn’t agree when he led the first uprising; but she understood why he was doing it; none of them expected the massacre that happened on that bridge…so of course Y/n would’ve understood why he made the deal he did. 

“I don’t think everyone else would be as understanding, given the events of tonight,” he mumbled, thinking back to the events from earlier in the night.

A small ache started to fill Y/n’s heart as she looked at Vander; the sadness was evident in his eyes, as was the guilt, “They’re angry, Vander…but it will blow over in time.”

She was still angry at him, but seeing she knew that he knew that; and given how sad he was looking, hurt her more than any secret could.

“I really am sorry, darl,” 

She knew he was; she knew when Vander was lying and in his eyes all she could see was truth.

“Just promise me there are no more secrets,” 

He wished he could say he wasn’t keeping something else from her, but there was one more secret left.

“Van?” She asked, knowing there was something else;“There’s something else, isn’t there?” 

A long sigh left Vanders lips as he looked up at the ceiling before looking back at Y/n, “The explosion that happened in Piltover…they need someone to put away,”

A realisation dawned on Y/n at that moment.

“The kids…” she mumbled, fear growing in her eyes. 

Vander saw the fear in her eyes; and pulled her into a tight hug. 

“I won’t let them go to prison…I promised I’d protect them..” he whispered into her ear; it was meant to bring her comfort but it didn’t. Mainly because she knew what he was thinking. He was going to go instead of them. 

The thought of not having Vander around was enough to break her heart there and then. She couldn’t lose him. The kids couldn’t lose him. And neither could The Lanes…without him, it all went to shit. It would just add fuel to everyone’s anger…

“You can’t,” she sniffled, trying to hold the tears back as she held onto him tighter than before. 

“If I don't, the Enforcers will march down here and take them, the kids can’t keep hiding, today was close enough…” he said, also trying to hold back his tears; he didn’t want to go, he didn’t want to leave Y/n or the kids…he didn’t want to leave the family he’d built, but there was no way he was going to let the Enforcers take his children. 

“We’ll figure something out…something that involves no one going to prison,” Y/n whispered; Vander wanted to believe her, but he couldn’t. He’d already racked his brain for an idea of how to get out of this mess and he came up with nothing. 

All he could do was focus on the here and now, make the most of the time he had with the people he loved before he turned himself in.

Tagging:

@xacatalepsyx @barbersjoy @yn-ymn-yln @bookworm1767 @book-dragon03 @conretewings @the-lone-librarian @lttlemer @cass-brightwood @withmyteeth @bestbitchsstuff @fortune-fool02 @arielpanda1 @wildestdreamcatcher @simping-ella @mothratic @stickyrice5096 @levis-butterfingers @justabigass-simp

[sun-undone]

I think JJ is going to kill someone in season 3

Hear me out. 

So I originally saw this idea on the obx subreddit (which is super dead and not fun btw, do not recommend), and although I can’t find the post now, I remember someone saying that they thought JJ might kill someone in season 3, which would cause a lot of internal tension among the Pogues and also obviously a lot of emotional turmoil and development for JJ.

When I first read the post, I was like “nah I don’t really buy that, and besides, who would he kill??” There really aren’t any goons that are after the Pogues that he would potentially be forced to kill in self defense; there’s just Rafe and Ward. And I can’t imagine him killing either of them, or even Barry, because those characters are just too important to die like that. JJ killing a major character would split the impact of that moment between the weight of him killing somebody and the weight of such a big character dying, which diminishes the effects of both things. 

BUT THEN the actors who play Eberhimi and Macias started posting pictures of them on set, and that totally reignited this theory in my mind. I really thought that they were gonna be one-off villains for the season 2 finale, but what if they start working with Rafe to try to find the Pogues? I could definitely see Rafe cutting them in so he can have some help with trying to get Sarah back. 

So what if JJ actually ends up killing one of them within the first few episodes of the season? I mean, they’re not complete throwaway characters, but they’re also nowhere near the level of Rafe and Ward, so I think that that balance of importance would make for a really impactful moment that keeps the spotlight on JJ. Since they’re not super major characters, the impact of one of them dying would be more on the fact that JJ killed them, rather than them being dead. And I definitely feel like if any of the Pogues would kill in order to protect the group, it’d be JJ, no question. 

Okay, cool, sure, it’s possible, right? But why? Why have JJ kill someone? What would that do for the plot?

Here's what I spent way too much time coming up with:

Raising the stakes. 

I think a lot of people, including myself, have spoken about how the show really needs to raise the stakes in this season. With the reveal of Big John actually being alive, Ward faking his death, the Camerons really not facing any lasting consequences of their actions so far, and the Pogues feeling like literal superheroes/vigilantes, I feel like something big needs to happen to remind the audience that the things that happen in this show actually do have lasting impacts. And because of that need, I’ve seen many people theorizing that someone might die, like Topper or even a Pogue, like Sarah or JJ (there were even some rumors about Cline wanting to be killed off because of her breakup with Chase, but i think that’s bullshit). While, yes, a major or semi-major character dying would definitely raise the stakes, I think it’d be way more interesting if the writers decided to raise the stakes by challenging the Pogue motto of having “nothing to lose”. I would LOVE to see the Pogues have some internal conflicts about everything they’ve gone through as they reflect on the lasting consequences that this treasure hunt is already having on their lives. And with that, I’d like to see them question how far they’re willing to go for all of this. 

Instead of killing off a Pogue, what if they had a Pogue kill someone else off? 

That would force them to really take a good look at themselves as individuals and as a group, and it would also introduce some deep in-fighting among them, which I am dying to see (more on that in the next section). I think that poking some serious holes into the fabric of the Pogues could really shake up the dynamic in a way that we haven’t seen before in the show. Yes, there have been small fights between them before (John B and JJ throughout season 1, Kie and Pope in season 2, and John B and Sarah in season 2), but nothing that’s ever truly threatened the group from inside out.

The Pogues have always dealt with external conflicts, and their friendship has always been the rock that they can fall back on. Cracking that foundation could be a really interesting, character-driven way to raise the stakes for both the characters themselves and the audience. And obviously, having JJ, a 16/17 year old kid, take a life would absolutely make the show feel darker and like these characters aren’t so invincible anymore. But rather than showing that by having them be physically harmed, they would instead be battling with the emotional weight of everything that’s happening, which I think, if done correctly, can be way more impactful than just killing a main character off for shock value. 

The potential Pogue rift.

I said it before, but I would really love if this season pushed the limits of the Pogues’ friendships, and I think that having JJ kill someone would be the perfect catalyst for some in-fighting. One of the only times that the Pogues have really had a bad fight between themselves was in 1x07 after JJ steals the money from Barry, and then everyone turns on him and says that they’re sick of his impulsive shit. It would be a cool parallel if they had another, even bigger, fight between themselves once again stemming from a moral mistake that JJ has made. Except this time, it’s over something even more serious than stealing $25K from a drug dealer, which could be another great signal for the audience that shit has gotten way more real. I could definitely see John B in particular really taking the moral high-ground, especially considering how he’s acted in response to JJ’s questionable decisions before, and that might force the rest of the Pogues to feel like they need to take sides, ending with all of them facing their own internal conflicts. 

I also want a Pogue rift because I think it’d be a great opportunity to have them all reflect on how and why they became friends in the first place. Maybe I just love this trope of friends having a falling out and then coming back even stronger than before, but I really would love to see that with the Pogues. We know so little about pre-season 1 stuff, and this could be a way to fill in some of the gaps by having each of them talk about their cherished memories with one another. The Pogues have been so solid for 2 seasons, and I feel like I might catch some shit for wanting them to in-fight, but I think it’d be so different from what we’ve seen before, and of course it’d end with them being even closer than ever before. 

Daddy issues.

Stay with me, I swear it connects back to the theory.

So daddy issues have been an underlying theme of this show since the very beginning, and I feel like with Big John being reintroduced and Rafe stepping up to fill Ward’s shoes, it’s the perfect time to bring that theme to the forefront. There were undercurrents of John B’s insistence in finding the gold paralleling Big John’s own insistence, which ultimately got him “killed” and ruined his relationship with his son. John B was willing to strain his relationship with JJ and risk his life multiple times to finish what his father started, and then later, to avenge him.

With Rafe, it’s very clear that the reason why he killed Peterkin was not only because he wanted to save his dad, but because he wanted to be validated and loved by him in a way that he had never been before. And then by the end of season 2, I feel like Ward has finally realized that his own shortcomings as a father have created a monster in Rafe.

Both of these storylines fall under the umbrella theme of “are we doomed to follow in our parents’ footsteps?”, and they are so so so interesting to me. And with the way that Rafe’s story leaves off and the teasing of Big John being reunited with John B, I really do feel like this theme will shine in season 3. 

Of course, you can’t talk about daddy issues without talking about JJ. For him, this theme has mainly been shown through his insistence that he’s destined to end up in jail just like Luke, but I’d love to see this taken even further and even darker in season 3.

We know that JJ is more prone to and sensitive to violence than the other Pogues, and he has more of an “eat or be eaten” mentality, both of which lend themselves to the possibility of him taking a life if he felt like he had to in order to protect the Pogues. In season 1, we see JJ play with the idea of killing Luke twice, but in both instances, he has a clear choice to just walk away from the situation, so he does.

But what if he felt like he had no choice? What if either Eberhimi or Macias was threatening to kill one of the Pogues? (remember that Eberhimi had already almost killed Kie on the Coastal Venture and was the reason why JJ almost drowned, and Macias tried to kill Pope on the crane, so there's history there)

I could really see him just taking his protective instinct too far in order to save someone else’s life. But then, of course, he struggles with the violence that he knows exists within him because of Luke, and although he knows that he had no other choice, the guilt eats at him, finally bringing this internal conflict of his to a head.

I would LOVE if JJ’s main internal conflict this season is him being forced to confront the possibility of him being like Luke, and then having to consciously choose to be a better person than his father. And that would parallel Rafe so damn perfectly because he wants to be just like Ward, and he’s completely blinded by his psychosis to realize that is father is a piece of shit who should not be admired. But with JJ, we could see him confront his demons and how they are connected to his father, and then watch as he grows to realize that he has the power to decide to be a better person than him, despite all the trauma he's suffered by his hands. Wouldn’t that be so cool????

I really need this whole thread of daddy issues to finally amount to something real in this season, and JJ having to kill someone would be the perfect thing to round out the trio of characters who are struggling with the prospect of being like their fathers. By showing us the different ways in which JJ, John B, and Rafe all deal with their relationships to their fathers, the writers have the opportunity to make a commentary about how it's possible to walk out of your trauma and your upbringing, breaking the cycle of violence (at least in JJ and Rafe's cases, specifically).

JJ needs more development.

The writers have said in an interview after season 2 that they plan on refocusing the show back on the relationships between the characters in season 3. With this supposed shift back to more character-focused writing, I hope that that at least partially means that they’ll be willing to bring some emotional depth back to JJ, who I feel like was totally sidelined in season 2. He had his moments in 2x05 and 2x08, but overall, he didn’t really have a solo plot thread like all of the other Pogues did. So I think he’s due for some real, emotional growth in season 3.

I’m not saying that he needs to suffer in order to grow, BUT his biggest internal conflict has always been connected to Luke and how he so desperately wants to be a good person despite his upbringing. So with that framework in place, I really do feel like this theory makes sense in terms of how the writers could give him a truly satisfying, emotional arc. Plus, if they’re focusing more on relationships, maybe they’re also interested in seeing the Pogues in-fight, like I talked about before.

I also think that this arc for JJ could tie really nicely into the Jiara storyline that we know is going to happen (at least to some extent) throughout season 3. Maybe this is too headcanon-y, but I feel like some of the angst and interesting conflict involving that pairing could come from JJ not thinking that he’s good enough for Kie, a belief that would only be exacerbated by him having to kill someone. I even think it’s semi-plausible that that spoiler picture of Kie holding his face could be in relation to this theory. JJ looks truly haunted in that photo, and I definitely think that that expression is from more than just Kie showing him affection. It seems deeper than that to me. Maybe it’s him telling her what he had to do, or maybe just him confiding in her about his guilt.

In summary, I've thought way too much about this.

But I genuinely think this could happen, and maybe I'm crazy, but I think it would work really well with the pre-existing themes in the show as well as with some of the themes that I hope will be explored in season 3.

Please please tell me what you think because this took forever to try to type out in a way that makes even a little bit of sense ✌🏻

[bondsmagii]

Hey Ratthew. I am in a situation that I think you might be able to Get or at least help a bit with. So, ever since I was young I have had an interest in some of the more dark aspects of life and fiction. Not graphic violence necessarily or stuff like that, but concepts like death, suicide, mourning and grief. It doesn't bother me, yk, to read and talk about these things.

The situation that I need help with is that those topics end up repeating themselves in my life a lot and I mention it in passing, which makes people uncomfortable. I don't notice most of it because for me, morbid things are not bad, they just are. I'm not one of those edgy incels that think posting gore is funny or that people should tough up and watch Snuff Massacre Tapes Number 55 or smth. I actually hate those things and am really sensitive to tragedy. I just talk about grief and death a lot without noticing. It's also not to complete strangers or as small talk, the topic just seems to come up when I'm chatting with people close to me.

How can I avoid making others uncomfortable and keep them from thinking I'm depressed or something? I'm a chill guy, I'm just into the philosophy surrounding death and study topics around it :/

so, you've probably noticed this, but people are weird about death. it is a fascinating subject, and it's one that I'm very interested in myself -- but people are very, very odd about it. excluding those who are grieving, where their discomfort with the subject is obvious, it seems to be that for the majority of people, this awkwardness around death is due to discomfort and fear. a lot of people do not like to think of death because they think inherently about their own death, and death is one of the most common fears. I mean, understandable. it is the great unknown, and most people fear the unknown. they also fear the things they might miss out on, the fact they'll leave people behind... it can be a very depressing thought for some, if not most people, and certainly not something that they want to think about if they can help it.

personally, I think this is a drastically unhealthy attitude. I do believe that part of the reason death comes as such a shock and a surprise (at least in Western societies) is because a lot of people go about their lives assuming it's simply never going to happen. they don't think about it, they don't acknowledge it, they try to avoid it -- and then it happens, they lose someone, and no matter if expected or sudden it's always a catastrophic shock. now, losing a loved one is never going to be easy, but I firmly believe that our society's attitude to death is unhealthy and complicates the grieving process. people deny the reality of death up until the last moment, and then the bereavement period is subject to strict timelines: you can be a mess until after the funeral, and then you must start your Progress towards Moving On. bullshit! it does not work like that. grief is an intensely personal journey, and it takes as long as it takes, and it goes in all different directions. but the death narrative -- don't think about it until you have to, and then move on and make peace as soon as you can -- tries to simplify and streamline it; it holds people to expectations; it leaves people with no room to become comfortable with the idea of death or to grieve as they need. and it's ridiculous, because death is inevitable. the sooner you accept this, the lighter you'll be.

so, to get to your point: unfortunately, you can't. unless you find like-minded individuals (and death is a popular subject, so there are plenty out there!) you will always make people feel uncomfortable. people do not like to think about death and you can't make them do so. with close friends, perhaps you could open up discussions about the above, and highlight the fact that this avoidance isn't healthy. but at the end of the day, if a person is uncomfortable around the subject, you can't make them interact with it. what you can do, however, is to correct the assumption that anyone who is interested in the subject must be depressed, or wanting to kill themselves, or any of the other ridiculous assumptions that often come with morbid interests. it is a natural part of life, and interest in it is normal. it's not for everyone, but what is? people with a fascination with death, as well as an ability to face its reality, are incredibly useful and needed: they are historians, anthropologists, writers, artists, funeral directors, pathologists. it is a legitimate field of study and a fascinating subject. you can tell them that it's alright if it's not for them, but it's rude to assume things about you and your mental health just because you're into a morbid subject.

finally, if you have any book recommendations on the subject, please let me know. I love reading about death, and especially different attitudes towards grief throughout history!

[shipping-trash-the-musical]

Hi im well aware no one im cares about this but seeing as this is my blog an i do what I want let me yell about lukadrien

So we all agree luka is a bi king (if not well your wrong) how had crush on both marionette and adrien ( fight me those looks thay give each other in desperado are way to romantic to be platonic) I mean you cant tell me that luka thought of adrien as cute the first time he saw him and even before that because u know famous super model. so when thay meet his inherit flirty bi king mode takes hold and what we see is luka attempts at gauging Adrien's gay dar. As time time goes on his feelings for Marinette increase and his adrien attraction isn't going any were because Adrian is a very hapless and confused gay how is yet to discover himself and is using ladybug as comp-hete. things end up going south with her though. However as things go on and luca hangs out with marinett more he gets to know adrien more and his attraction grows into a crush that at this point in time luka sees as one sided because I will die on my Adrian is a useless gay how's to stupid and traumatized to realize he's gay hill. Then however wishmaker happens ×(spoiler ahead)× in wish maker luka finds out both marionette and Adrien's identity and at first he trays to keep it secret that he knows from both heros identitys but as time goes on and using his weird hearing the secret song of peoples hearts power he has (note what kinda hippy musa fairy of music winx club bullshit drug are u on luka?) he connects the dots that alyia knows martinets ladybug and she acts as marionettes therapist and helper. However he relies Adrian docent have this kinda help and being the simp and all around good boi he is luka decides to be that support and reveal he knows Adrian's cat Noir. So the two exchange in a lot of major bonding , mostly just Luca giving Adrian hugs whenever he feels like he's not good enough to be chat noir and he feels like he's being overshadowed by ladybug but luka docent believe those things so he just lets Adrian cry it out and the 2 just hug and grow closer to echother. Do to these events Lukas small time crush turns into love because he's truly experiencing the real Adrien that no ever sees but also the dude he constantly thought of as cute, caring and soft runs around paris in full leather cat suit every day. Those 2s friendship also help Adrien realize that holy shit I am so gay. the two end up dating it's amazing it's cute. And since it's revealed in wishmaker that luka doesn't actually want to be a musician when he grows up he wants to be an instrument maker so he helps teach Adrian how to play guitar to be more rebellious and Generally more free so Adrian ends up taking Lucas place in kittie section and Adrien gets to be a cool rockstar while his boyfriend helps build and set up all the instruments. Tldr i just think there really cute

[piecesofreeses]

I'm Sorry, I Can't Help It.

This is PART 2 of I’m Sorry, I Can’t Help It.

I highly recommend going back to read part 1!

This is an age regression fanfic! Hate will not be tolerated, so take your bullshit somewhere else.

Awsten is struggling with his mental health and turns to age regression with a coping mechanism.

After failing to keep it a secret, what will happen between him and his band mates?

DISCLAIMER:

Age regression is a completely nonsexual coping skill. It is represented appropriately and correctly as it relates to my life. Regression can be positive in many circumstances, but not all. If you are struggling with your mental health or involuntary age regression, talking to a professional is always the best choice.

Chapter Two: Can I Come In?

In which Awsten learns to ask for help (and gets it.)

TW: Trying not to regress, swearing, mild angst (resolved by end of chapter)

It had been a few days since Awsten and Geoff’s conversation. Tonight, they were playing a big show. It was sold out and in one of the biggest venues they had ever even attempted to perform in. The majority of the show was done; the boys had three songs left and were backstage listening to the crowd chant “ONE MORE SONG” and preparing for the short encore. Well, Geoff and Otto were preparing– Awsten was sitting on the floor with his legs splayed out. Otto had already asked if he was okay and been brushed off, so Geoff didn’t dare repeat the question, but he watched. He watched as Awsten’s eyes darted around trying to adjust to the overhead lighting and how his fingers laced into each other. He watched how Awsten chewed on his lip, but within a few seconds, Geoff realized he was mostly just sucking on the inside of his mouth, and trying to cover it up by moving his jaw.

His heart sank. He’s getting small, isn’t he. Even though he knew it would be entirely inappropriate and would probably make the situation so much worse, Geoff wanted to drop his guitar to the floor, run over, scoop up the red-haired boy, and never let him go.

He didn’t though. He just walked over, gave Awsten a sympathetic look, and said, “Time to finish this up, kay Aws?”

Awsten just nodded before pushing himself back up onto his feet and throwing himself through the door out to the stage. Geoff glanced at Otto, who seemed to be focused on nothing other than his drum sticks, before following him out. The last three songs went fine; they weren't the best, but Awsten kept it together and Geoff kept it from being obvious he knew something was wrong. Otto’s drum set was fantastic– probably because he was the only one who still seemed oblivious to any issues. Leave it to Otto to never over-analyze.

As soon as their set was over, Awsten did exactly what Geoff expected: thanked the crowd, openers, and staff, grabbed his things and disappeared. Geoff was just glad the hotel was within walking distance of the venue because at least he knew where Awsten was headed. They all had their own separate rooms tonight, but Geoff hoped maybe they wouldn’t need to use all three.

Finally getting to the hotel, Awsten was nowhere to be seen. Not surprising, Geoff thought, he’s probably trying to make sure he doesn’t get stopped by any fans. Geoff walked up to Awsten’s room and knocked on the door.

“Awsten, It’s me, Geoff. You okay?”

“Yeah,” Awsten said flatly.

Geoff sighed, “Can I come in?”

Awsten didn’t reply, but the door opened and he stepped aside, letting Geoff move into the room.

Guess I might as well get right to the point.

“Aws? I don’t want to pry, but were you slipping during the show?” Geoff asked nervously. Awsten just stared at the floor before unlocking his knees and falling back against the bed. Geoff noticed the frog peeking out from underneath the covers as if it had been hastily hidden and was sure the pacifier was under there somewhere too. He started to reach to pull back the comforter, but before Geoff had even noticed Awsten was moving, his hand had smacked down on the covers so Geoff couldn’t disturb them.

Exasperated, Geoff said, “You know you don’t have to hide this. You can have your frog in front of me, Aws. You can even have the pacifier, man! I just want you to be okay!”

“Geoff you just don’t get it. Just go already,” Awsten spat out.

Geoff felt as though his heart had just shattered and tears welled up in his eyes. He didn’t say anything, just turned around and shut Awsten’s door. He remembered when he and Awsten could argue and fight and go to bed angry just fine when they were younger— not anymore. As soon as he left, he swiped into his own room and got in the shower. A couple tears spilled down his cheeks, quickly washed away by the beating water.

Geoff pushed the shower door open and grabbed a towel, drying off a bit before collapsing onto the bed.

I’ve fucked it all up. I just wanted to help him.

Geoff tried to force himself to quit wallowing, standing up and tugging a t-shirt over his head. His still-wet hair dampened the neckline and he frowned. He pulled on a pair of pajama pants and cringed at the feeling of wet skin touching fabric.

About to pull out his phone and scroll Twitter, Geoff heard a quiet knock on the door. He paused, wondering if Jawn or Lucas needed something. He considered it was possible Otto had finally noticed something up with him and Awsten, but that was frankly unlikely.

“Yeah?” He called out, but no response came. Geoff walked over and asked again. “Hello?”

A quiet whine came from the other side and Geoff opened the door.

“Awsten?” Geoff questioned, surprised to see the red-haired boy standing at his door in just a t-shirt and loose flannel pajama pants.

Awsten looked as though his brain was going a million miles a minute, but his body just couldn’t seem to keep up.

“Cn com-n?” He whispered quietly.

Oh he’s so cute. Geoff thought before moving to the side and letting the younger into his room.

Awsten was the same size as usual, but he somehow looked so much smaller. His wide stance had crumpled with his feet slightly pointing in toward each other. He was holding his arms as though trying to simulate a hug and the face of the little frog was peeking out of his pocket. It looked like he may have tried to remove the stage makeup after Geoff had left, but it clearly hadn’t worked well. The only spots missing were right under his eyes as if he had cried them off, and the faded smears across his cheekbones like he’d wiped at the tears.

“Aws are you feeling small?” Geoff asked. The only acknowledgement Awsten gave was an almost imperceptible nod before crashing forward into Geoff’s chest. “It’s okay Awsie you’re okay,” Geoff tried to comfort the younger while wrapping his arms around him and moving them back towards his bed. “Sit down Awsie, okay? Gonna get this off you,” Geoff said, swiping a finger across the face paint still on Awsten’s cheeks.

Awsten whimpered quietly as Geoff stepped into the bathroom and ran a cloth under the water. He seemed to relax again when Geoff came out and sat down with him, starting to wipe the makeup away with the softest touches.

With how gentle Geoff is, removing the green paint takes a while, but he just can’t bring himself to rub any harder on the little’s face. He’s just so vulnerable in this state, and Geoff is so aware.

Geoff pauses before asking, “How old are you, Awsie?”

Slowly, Awsten lifts up two fingers while looking at his lap. A moment later, he drops down to only one finger and looks up at Geoff.

“Sor Effy,” He chokes out before burying his head into the crease between Geoff's neck and shoulder. Geoff feels his heart swell at the little voice. He can’t say my name, Geoff realizes. I’m ‘Effy,’ he smiles as he reaches up to pet Awsten’s hair.

“‘Course that’s okay Awsie. Do you want to lay down?”

The little makes no indication of even hearing him, so Geoff just slides an arm under Awsten’s knees and pulls him back onto the bed. Carefully, he helps the boy lay on his side with his head comfortably on the pillows and takes the stuffed frig out of his pocket.

Putting the stuffie where Awsten can reach it easily, he asks, “Does your neck feel okay like that, Aws?”

“Mmm,” Responds Awsten tiredly.

“Okay you can sleep in here with me, okay? I’m gonna turn out the light,” Geoff quietly speaks to the boy. “You can wake me up anytime, okay?”

When not even a noise in response comes, Geoff refocuses his eyes only to realize Awsten has already fallen asleep.

Just enjoying seeing his friend finally able to let go, Geoff watches him sleep. As his eyes start to close he hears a rustling and they snap back open. Thankfully, he saw that the little had just pulled his thumb into his mouth.

He’s so calm, Geoff thinks, reaching a hand out to push a stray hair out of Awsten’s face.

Geoff whispers as his eyes fall shut, “Sleep well Awsie.”

[zer0-worlds-demise]

50 Questions answered!

1) Age? : 30

2) Relationship status?: Engaged

3) Current Occupation?: Analytical Chemist

4) How tall are you?: 6 foot

5) Any brothers or sisters?: 2 older sisters

6) Can you speak any other languages?: Sea tá Gaeilge agam. Rud éigin

7) Childhood hero?: When I was a kid I know I really liked Mike Ness and thought he was the coolest dude in the world. I also really liked Gary Roberts and Tie Domi.

8) Last song you listened to?: Clouds over California by Devildriver

9) Last album you listened to?: Total Retaliation by Terror

10) Song lyrics that influenced you?: Pride by Madball had a really big impact on me when I was growing up and was one of the first hardcore songs I ever heard and the fact that it was talking about pain but with a positive spin on it was really huge for me.

11) What did you want to be as a kid?: I always wanted to be either a pro hockey player or a scientist

12) Current celebrity crush?: Um, the only one I can think of right now is maybe Mette Lindberg

13) First celebrity crush?: Oh man, when I was a kid I loved pro wrestling and I was in absolute love with Stacy Keibler!

14) Are you related to anyone famous?: Its a bit of a stretch, but my second cousin is Elizabeth Yarnold. So kinda sorta.

15) Proudest accomplishment?: Sticking to my guns, never giving up on my dreams of becoming a chemist, and finally becoming a chemist. The hardships iv had to face, all the setbacks, all the bullshit, all the times the school board trued to take my education away from me. I never gave up, I never stopped fighting, and it is a huge source of pride for myself.

16) What do you do to keep fit?: I try to eat healthy, I try to go for walks and work out 5 days a week.

17) Biggest Flaw?: I am so god damn selfdestuctive and most of my late teens and early twenties were dedicated to learning how to manage that.

18) Whats one thing you will never do again?: Get in the car with a drunk driver. I am so lucky nothing happened but I think about it from time to time and I just can not believe I would do something that fucking stupid.

19) Random fact about yourself?: At birth I was actually given the name Paul, but since I looked so much like my dad they changed it to Glenn jr. Oh and my parents were not sure if I was going to be a boy or girl so they had a female name picked out if I was a girl. I would have been named Brittney. Thank god that didnt happen!

20) Do you believe in ghosts?: No I do not see the arguement for them

21) Do you believe in aliens?: I mean not in the little green men sense, but I mean life on another planet seems rather logical based on the sheer size of the universe.

22) Do you believe in any conspiracy theories?: I do think that all major political parties are bought and in the pockets of big business, although I do believe it still matters what party is in power and small changes can still be taken care of by political parties.

23) Ever had a crush on a friend?: Um, yea in high school there have been friends who I thought were attractive and kinda thought about maybe dating, but I almost never tried though just because usually it involved someone who didnt want the same things I did, plus i came with a lot of baggage back then.

24) How old were you when you had your first relationship?: Depends on what you count as a relationship but I will say i was 11, or however old you are in grade 7.

25) How old were you when you lost your virginity?: I was 16 and I had absolutely no fucking idea what I was doing!

26) Last person you spoke to on the phone?: My fiancée

27) What celebrity would you most want to have dinner with?: Oh my god Bill Burr!

28) Do you have any Tattoos?: Yes on my chest.

29) What do you like to do on the weekend?: Usually spend it with lady, then work out. Sunday is for football.

30) Dodgeball or Kickball?: Hands down its Kickball! I love Kickball so much!

31) What do you prioritize more, Relationship or Career?: My relationship for sure, Family is the reason I work, I work to provide. Family is everything.

32) Band or artist that you like but none of your friends like?: Oh man that could be basically all my music for most of my friends, but even my hardcore music loving friends just can not accept that Type O Negative is an amazing band. Even if a lot of their music was super corny, Peter Steeles deep epic voice is legandary!

33) Favorite band from your Country or state?: Hmm, My favorite band from Ontario Canada would be Alexisonfire.

34) What city did you go to post secondary in?: Hamilton, The steel city!

35) Are you currently reading any books?: I got back into Classical Lit. I am currently reading 20,000 Leagues under the Sea.

36) Who is your favorite superhero?: Since I was a kid I was really into Spawn. I had a bunch of the comics and even still own a copy of issue #1

37) Favorite Color?: Depends on what its on, but either Red or Purple

38) Favorite band?: Deftones

39) Favorite book?: The Outsiders

40) Favorite TV Show?: hmm, I dont know if I have one. I loved Sons of Anarchy, I love South Park, I know I am forgetting something obvious but I just cant think right now

41) Favorite Movie?: This is a really tough one. The Departed was really great, Lords of Dogtown is another one I really like.

42) Favorite animal?: I really like Owls

43) Favorite Smell?: Campfire

44) Favorite Shoes?: I typically wear Vans, or DC. But my favorite shoes of all time are Circa AL50 (Black and White Pinstripes)

45) Favorite Season?: Autumn

46) Favorite chain restaurant?: I really like Symposium. Its a smaller chain, but its still a chain!

47) Favorite board game?: I really like board games, I really like German style board games. My favorite would likely be Stone age.

48) Favorite Holiday?: Christmas for sure. Being with family, eating food, all the preparations. I love Christmas so much. All of Yule is great but Christmas is just extra special!

49) Favorite Food?: My usual answer is Hard shell Tacos, but I also Really like sushi, and I really like pan fried salmon.

50) Favorite Sport?: Hockey is always going to be number 1, but there is nothing like sitting down and relaxing on a sunday afternoon and watching football. Also during the worst month of the year ( Febuary) the only good thing is curling season really picks up. But my answer will always be Hockey #1!

[shurisneakers]

harmless (x)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety, smidge of angst, mentions of violence

Word count: 7.8k (i went overboard. clearly.)

A/N: as well all know, i am a humanities student writing science geeks. if any of this sounds unrealistic or nonsensical, it’s because it is and i am honestly too exhausted to research data privacy and AI so here’s my take on how STEM should work i.e. the power of friendship  <3 major shoutout to @iamlittlesparkler for the idea for this chapter!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part  || Series Masterlist

“As you know, we have a busy week ahead of us.” 

Coffees line the conference room table, pens click against the stacks of paper that settle in front of various agents and the smell of deodorant mixed with post-training sweat lingers at the back of the room like a disgusting witch concoction. 

“The annual parade is coming up and since there are a few security threats, SHIELD has been asked to step in. Therefore, all of you will be working security this week, possibly even at the parade.” Murmurs broke out in the room the minute this was said; mostly from first year field agents who were way too excited to have earpieces and fingerless gloves. 

Bucky, on the other hand, doesn’t think much of it. They’ve dealt with threats before, most were declared empty the minute it got out that SHIELD or the Avengers were involved. It’s the 12th one that year. 

“That’s only if we don’t catch it first,” Steve continued. “Our first priority is precaution. The tech and analytics teams are working on it. However, if you see anything suspicious, bring it up with Director Fury. He’s going to be around to make sure we’re not overlooking anything. Do you have any questions?”

More whispers erupted at the mention of Fury’s name. Wait till they realise he lives up to his name when they accidentally manage to set him off just by existing incorrectly.

Bucky smirks at the thought.

“You can leave then.” Steve straightens up as chairs shuffle against the carpeted floor, over twenty people leaving the room.

“And remember, if you see an eagle today, be sure to stand there and thank it on behalf of Steve for its service. Freedom! Liberty! And whatever else,” Tony calls out from the corner of the room, earning a sigh from the captain. Others only snicker as they close the door behind them.

“Thanks.” Steve stares at him stone faced, bemused at the symbolism that had been bestowed upon him.

“Gotta keep the patriotism high.” The only ones that remain are the official team. Bucky thinks that he should have left with the other agents but apparently, it was rude and not a good show of team spirit.

“How serious is this threat anyway?” Clint has his head face down on the table, hand holding his to-go coffee cup so it doesn’t fall over. 

“We’re not sure.” Steve finally takes a seat on the chair in front of him. “It’s the biggest event we’ve had this year, wouldn’t put it past them.”

“If it’s those Welsh kids again, I’m gonna punch a hole through their house this time,” Clint warns, voice muffled through the furniture. 

“It’s not them, we checked.” Nat had her leg up on the armrest of Clint’s chair. “Tech team’s been working overtime to figure it out.”

“You have anything that could help?” Sam sends a nod towards Tony.

“I got a few things but it’d take a while to put it together.” 

“Didn’t you learn quantum physics in a night?” Wanda’s picking apart a cookie into pieces, chewing slowly.

“Thermodynamic astrophysics,” he corrects her. “Quantum science took lesser.”

Bucky scoffs slightly at the brag, eyes still trained on the table in front of him. Maybe if he made no noise, they would forget he’s here.

“Yeah, so this should be a piece’a cake.”  

“If your cake was somehow made out of a highly specified tracker that somehow doesn’t violate the data privacy of the entire world while analysing millions of terabytes worth of information, then yeah. A piece of it.”

“What he means to say-” Bruce interjects, “-is that we’re trying. It’s just taking longer than usual.”

“Well, the parade’s this Sunday. Think it’ll be done by then?”

“Hey FRIDAY,” Tony crosses his arm over his chest. “How many hours have I slept this week?”

“Three and a half, boss.”

“How much more will I be getting?”

“From previous experience, about six.”

“Yeah, we can get it done.” Tony looks back at Steve. 

“Ask someone on the tech team to help you out.” Everyone was well aware of Tony’s bad coping mechanisms and how futile it was to get him to change his mind about it, but they still tried.

“They’re too busy.” Bruce pressed his lips into a straight line. 

Bucky tunes out at this point. If he could help, he would have reluctantly chimed in by now, but he couldn’t. 

“So what now?” Sam rips Clint’s doughnut into two, keeping one half for himself while leaving the other to the latter who still hadn’t lifted his head up from the table.

“I actually asked Fury if I could call in an external to come help,” Tony pipes up. 

“And he agreed?” Nat raised an eyebrow.

“After he realised I wasn’t going to leave his office until he said yes.” He pulled out his phone, rapidly typing out a message before hitting send. “It didn’t take too long.”

“Do we know this person?” Steve asks a little suspiciously.

“Well-” Bruce sneaks a glance at the broody man on the chair, “-kinda.”

Everyone can tell Bucky isn’t paying attention by the way he’s glaring holes into the plant. He doesn’t mean to, it just so happens that it looks like he wants to kill it. Nobody tends to bother him during meetings, knowing well and fully that he did not care.

“You’re about to.” Tony jumps up, making his way to the door to pull it open.

Bucky perks up. An open door means they can leave, right? He can go watch The Bachelor? He’s not sure what everyone was talking about, but if the meeting was over he could go ask Wanda who was always kind enough to help.

“Our newest recruit,” the billionaire announces, quickly adding the next part, “on a trial basis.” 

Bucky looks at the door.

His jaw drops open.

“No,” he says loudly, posture immediately stiff as a plank. 

“Hello to you too, Barnes.” You roll your eyes before sending a small wave to everyone else. “Hey everyone.”

“What are you doing here?” He looks like he’s seething. 

“Don’t tell me you forgot about our date.” You cross your arms over your chest in defiance. “You told me 3 o’clock, you player.”

“What is she doing here?” He whips to Steve for an answer.

“Hey Y/N,” Sam greets with a smile on his face before Steve can reply.

“Sam Wilson, good to see you again.” You grin.

“Right back at ya, sugar.” 

Wanda looks amused, Clint finally lifts his head off the table at the mention of your name while Nat takes her feet off his armrest, and Steve’s body relaxes when he realises what’s going on. 

“Okay.” Tony claps his hand. Bucky shoots daggers at him. “As you all know, this is Y/N. She’s going to working with us this week.”

“This is ridi- how did you even find out about her?”

“Aside from the fact that she’s all you talk about?” Clint snorts. Bucky shifts his glare to him. It was bullshit and an exaggeration and Clint was going to get a shoe up his ass very soon.

Your grin only grows bigger.

“We saw one of the repulsors she made some time ago,” Bruce answers his question like the sane person that he is. “Tony’s had her in mind for a while.”

“Repulsors? How on ear-” Bucky connects two and two together before turning to Sam. “You. You got her this job.”

“Sam’s my best wingman.” You send him a small heart made from your hands. Whether the pun was intentional or not, no one would know.

“Don’t look at me, I had nothing to do with this idea.” Sam raised his hands to brush off the blame.

“You’re a villain,” he points out loudly.

“I’m a saint.” You raise your hand to your heart in mock offence. “I have done nothing wrong in my life, ever.”

“Listen, Robocop,” Tony interrupts your conversation, bringing the attention back to him, “I cleared it with Fury. He’s the boss here.”

“Fury doesn’t know-”

“What don’t I know?” The atmosphere of the room changes the minute he saunters in. 

With an eyepatch on his face, gaze sharp and a long black coat, Nick Fury puts Bucky’s dark outfits to shame. Not like he was competing. 

Bucky doesn’t continue his sentence. Nick’s imposing presence loomed at the doorway, putting a stop to the ridiculous arguments that were beginning to boil. Instead, he looks at you, only to find your attention trained on the man of the hour.

“Nicholas,” you half cheer from where you had shifted to in the middle of all the commotion. 

Nicholas?

Nicholas?

No one had ever called him Nicholas. 

“Y/L/N,” Nick addresses in return. “Been a while.”

“You haven’t come to the lair in months, Nick.” You pout at him. “I even sent you an invite.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows. Since when are you on such good terms with Fury? Since when was anyone on good terms with Fury?

“It must have gotten lost in the mail,” he fires back, “Or maybe it’s because I just happen to be the busiest man in the damn country. Take your pick.”

You roll your eyes, muttering something under your breath, but the good natured smile on your face shows that you didn’t take any of his passive- or straight up- aggressiveness to heart. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was interrupting your little tea time.” He looks around the rest of the room with an edge in his voice. “Don’t you all have work to do?”

“We do,” Tony interrupts, holding up his hand before pointing to Bruce and you. “Everyone else just sorta sits around and looks pretty.”

“I’m gonna go talk to the organisers, see what spots are most vulnerable.” Steve stands up. “You coming?”

“Yep,” Sam responds, flicking Clint’s shoulder to drag him along. “Come on, man. When was the last time you took a shower?”

“I’ll go see what the kids are up to in training. They’re probably flying off the handle right now.” Natasha brushes off crumbs from her lap. “Barnes, you in?”

Bucky silently shakes his head, eyes focused on you as you introduce yourself to every Avenger who walks out of the room, sharing a small fist bump with Sam.

“I’ll do it,” Wanda volunteers instead, finally leaving behind only the Science Bros, you and Bucky in the room with Fury. 

“I’ll give you a tour of the lab.” Tony beckons and you nod, following him. “New eyepatch, Fury? Prada, I assume?”

“Stark,” Nick says curtly. 

Bucky stares after you, arms still folded across his chest.

“Any problem, Sergeant?” 

Other than the fact that his arch nemesis was now working with his friends, no, not really. But that did seem like a pretty big one.

“No,” Bucky mumbles instead, getting up from his place finally.

Apparently, no one else was worried about the possibly lethal combination of you and Stark, even with Banner there to dilute it. 

Fine.

Guess he just has to observe you the whole week.

Well, half a week. It was Wednesday. 

He observes inconspicuously over the rim of his coffee cup. He has a newspaper spread in front of him at Bruce’s table. 

It’s not suspicious. He’s been there multiple times to sit in silence with the scientist who occasionally tinkers with something while engaging Bucky in tidbits of conversation. He finds it calming, refreshing even

Today he has an agenda. Everyone knows about it too. 

“You know he’s staring at you, right?” Bruce looks up briefly from the giant blueprint laid in front of the group. 

Tony had been dragged away to get a proper meal into him after he stayed up for 36 hours straight with caffeine keeping his system running. 

“He has a tendency to do that.” You’re looking over the plan the three of you had come up with the day before. There were certain changes to be made in terms of efficiency. “Turns out if you annoy him, he stares harder.”

“We’ve heard about the inventions. Inators, he calls them?”

“Yeah,” you point out something on the sheet, drawing a circle around it to come back to later, “only good things I hope?”

“He doesn’t really talk much.” Bruce writes down a small comment against your arrow mark. “But if he hated them, he’d have a lot to say. So I’d take it as a compliment.”

“Would it annoy him if I did?”

“Probably.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment, then. Pass me the ruler?” You draw a line connecting two pieces. 

Bucky’s ability to lip read is excellent but he refuses to do it, for privacy purposes. He knew that SHIELD had pulled some strings and had another teacher substituting for your classes the whole week since your other option was to come only after school hours. Anything else about this plan was murky.

“You gonna sit there all day?” Tony looks over his shoulder, following his line of sight.

“I’ve done it before.” He continues to look over the newspaper at you with your finger extended at something on the blueprint as you explained something to Bruce.

“You look like- how do I say this nicely.” He wasn’t going to. “A fuckin’ stalker.”

“I’m supposed to stop her from doing anything evil.”

“Sure.” Tony snorts. “That’s what this is. Should I get you a fedora and sunglasses while we’re at it?”

Of course Stark wouldn’t care; he brought you into this project. It was pretty much impossible to get him to agree with Bucky.

Bucky just narrows his eyes and continues his observation. 

The menu of the cafeteria keeps changing. They like to keep things interesting.

Every time they do, Bucky spends too long staring at the menu, trying to figure out what exactly is familiar enough to order. Vietnamese week had him eating pho the entire duration it stayed.

“You plannin’ on eating anytime this century, sarge?” He recognises your voice immediately. 

He knows what time your break is and he knows that you generally eat lunch in the cafeteria with the science team. Generally, the three of you pour over solutions and debate points all through the meal, and he spends the time getting acquainted with his new, lowkey Instagram account. 

He blocks the Bucky Barnes hashtag the minute he gets an account again. God save his eyes from people asking him to break their back like a glow-stick. However, one afternoon of accidentally watching three cat videos has led to his entire explore page being taken over by them and he’s been trying for three days to get it to stop. 

“Just trying to-” he tilts his head. “-understand what I’m reading.”

“Not a big fan of Greek food?” You join him in looking at the menu. 

“Never really had the chance to try.” Tony and Bruce don’t seem to be in the room, probably pushing aside their meal to work on it as they’ve often done.

“Ah.” You already had your order in mind but you wait there. 

Two minutes later he’s still staring at the menu. He can feel your presence next to him, unmoving. It unnerves him.

“Why are you still standing here?” He cranes his neck to look at you.

“I’m just seeing how long it takes for you to order.” You shrug. “So far it’s been five minutes and forty six seconds. Forty eight now.”

“Go away.” The concept of someone standing beside him, waiting for him to do something reminded him far too much of him trying to bag his stuff at the grocery counter rapidly while other customers waited to pay. 

“Six minutes and thirty seconds. This is just sad now.”

“Your face is sad.” It was pathetic that he had now resorted to this.

It earned a laugh from you. 

As entertaining as it was to be able to get on his nerves by just standing silently next to him, you finally ask, “Do you want a recommendation?” 

He eyes you wearily. “You gonna give me food poisoning?” 

“Not today, no.” You shake your head slightly. “Maybe tomorrow.”

He stares a little longer. You remain unshaken in your offer.

“Fine.” He sighs, stepping aside. 

You tell him that since it’s his first time, you’d get him something basic. He thought it made sense. 

He argued with you when you ended up paying for the both of you, only shutting up when you told him he’s holding up the line and that he could pay you back later. It doesn’t stop his incessant mumble complaining. 

He ends up with gyros at his table and you sitting opposite him with your meal. He asks where the Science Bros are. You tell him it’s Science Hoes now, as christened by Tony, and that they’re in the lab.

“So?” You look at him eagerly.

“What?”

“How is it?” you urge, nodding at him.

He takes a cautious bite, really taking his time with it to annoy your impatient ass. 

“Well?” You raise your eyebrow at him.

“It’s-” he pauses, looking down at his food. “-good.”

“Aha.” You lean back victoriously. “Knew it.”

He likes it. He also knows that this is probably going to be the only thing he orders for the next week unless you had planned otherwise. 

“You’re not eating?” He gestures to your untouched tray.

“Taking it up to the lab. Got a few things to work on and we’re already behind.” You gather up your stuff and get up.

“Uh-” he pauses from practically inhaling the entire thing. He was already halfway done with it. “-thanks.”

“No problem. You wink at him. “Try figuring out what’s wrong with it.” 

You turn on your heel to leave, taking your order with you. He can see your shoulders bobbing with silent laughter. 

He stares down at his plate, swallowing slowly. 

He pokes at it with a fork, lifting up the leftovers to check if there’s anything underneath. Nothing. 

He checks to see if his limbs are still intact or his face was a different colour. Nope.

His stomach twists in worry about what’s going to happen. He still has a bit left but he pushes the tray aside.

The rest of the day he spends supervising you has you occasionally catching his eye, only to laugh. It only freaks him out more.

It takes eight hours of waiting and self induced tests later to realise there was nothing wrong with it. You were just playing with him.

He’s surprised to find you in the rec room when he strolls in with Sam, given that you haven’t taken a break all day.

You don’t share the same surprise... almost like you expected him.

“How long have you been waiting for me?” he immediately asks.

"I wasn’t here for you.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Heard that Wilson was makin’ an appearance here soon so I stopped by to get a good look at him."

"Take a picture, it'll last longer.” Sam laughs, inserting a dollar into the machine and punching in the code for what he wanted.

"Gladly. Strike a pose, would you?" You grin, raising your phone.

“Maybe when I’m not covered in sweat.” Sam counter offers and you accept with a thumbs up.

“You going to the parade, Sam?” You toy with the can in your hands.

“I’ll be working security, so probably.”

“Sarge?” You take a swig of your drink.

“Huh?” He snaps back into the conversation, putting a stop to the mental list of reasons he was making of why you could be here at the same time as him. He knew your schedule, it wouldn’t be very hard for you to figure out his.

“You coming to the parade on Sunday?” you ask again.

“I guess.”

You wince.

“What?” he asks instantly, curiosity making him a lot sloppier than usual.

“It’s just- you wear so much black.” You gesture to his current getup to prove your point. ”I feel like all the bright colours would vaporise you if you looked at them.”

He doesn’t look amused.

“You know, like Prince Philip.”

“I think I’ll be fine.” He gives you a sarcastic smile.

“You comin’ Buck?” Sam laughs, unwrapping the bar he bought from the machine.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” Bucky says offhandedly, still glaring at you innocently drinking your soda.

Sam chews absentmindedly on his protein bar as he walks out, amused at the situation Bucky pulled himself into.

“What’d you do?” Bucky asks, studying your body language.

“I bought a soda.” You lift the can to prove your point. “And now I’m drinking it.”

“Why are you waiting for me?”

“I thought I’d return the favour,” you point out. “I’m supervising you.”

“Don’t.” He walks to the vending machine, pulling out his wallet for some loose change. There was a Snickers bar he had been craving since morning that he bought every alternate day. Small joys.

“Why? I have the time.” You take a sip, setting it down with a clang.

“You’re only here for this week.” Bucky counted the coins he had. He’d use a dollar but he was trying to get rid of the jingling in his pocket that made him sound like a fucking clown when he walked.

“Actually,” you begin innocuously, “Tony offered me a full-time position.”

Bucky’s movements stop, hunched over the money in his palm.

“What?”

“Yeah.” You nod seriously. “A full nine-to-five as a researcher here.”

“And you’re taking it.” He shakes himself out of the minor shock to assess the damage.

“I don’t know. I got a lot of things to consider.” The chair scrapes against the tiled floor as you stand up. “But maybe you should get used to seeing me a lot more around here.”

He punches in the code for his Snickers. The row whirs forward slowly.

“See you at the lab.” He hears you discard the empty can in the trash before exiting.

He waits patiently for his bar to drop while his mind internally screams about the consequences of having you work here. You wouldn’t be evil anymore. Unless you were here to steal secrets from the Tower. On the pro side, his weekend would be free again. On the con side, his weekend would be free again.

His bar stops right at the edge of the row. He waits for it to fall over. It doesn’t.

He shakes the machine, suppressing the primal urge to beat the shit out of it when the damn bar refuses to fall.

He punches in a few random buttons hoping that at least it would give his money back.

The little monitor instead flashes a new message across the screen.

‘Have a good day, sarge <3’

Motherfucker.

Captain America looks less daunting up close, you realise. But he is still a very large man with very large shoulders. You know at least four people who would like to scale him like a tree, not that you’d ever tell him.

“Hey, Y/N.” He sends you a small smile when you walk into the room for a mid-week update. A clipboard in your hand, report attached and a few stationery items in case some points needed to be noted done, you look professional and ready.

“Afternoon, Captain.” Tony saves a seat for you and Bruce beside him since you’re on the same project. You almost miss the fact that Bucky isn’t in the room.

He walks in a few minutes late; tall, dark and brooding, immediately bringing the excitement in the room down by 40% by just existing. 

Bucky surveys the room before catching your eye. He picks up his chair with ease and drags it over to where you are, sitting right beside you, ignoring the small cry of protest from an agent whose view he now obstructed. Everyone else just silently shifted over.

“Clingy much?” you whisper at him, eyes still trained on Steve who had waited till everyone was seated to continue.

“I’m supposed t’be keeping an eye on you,” he rebuffs in a hush.

“Well, you’re late. What if I went rogue, huh?”

“Therapy ran overtime,” he mumbles.

“Oh.” You blink. “How was it?”

“Same old.”

“You good?”

He refrains from answering when Steve starts addressing the room but yes, he was fine. He sends you a nod to confirm. 

“This is just a usual checking in. We’ve received all your reports, but just to keep everyone on the same page-”

Bucky logs out mentally. He knows what his job is, he’ll probably lead a division of the security team or join the mission to neutralise the threat in case they find it first. Either way, he’ll figure it out without having to listen to an intern nervously stammer their way through their team’s report. 

On the other hand, you’re not listening either. You were until you saw Bucky’s eyes glaze over while glowering at the window, assuming that he had stopped paying attention when his gaze doesn’t shift.

You should be listening. You’re new here and you should know what’s going on because any bits of detail are crucial to the working of your system. 

Instead, you rip out a sticky note and discreetly place it on the back of Bucky’s metal arm. He doesn’t notice.

You bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling. More post-its from your pile of stationery make their way onto the vibranium, shades of pink, purple, green and yellow decorating his arm like a bulletin board. 

You’re about to contemplate sticking one on his shoulder blade when he whips around to look at you. You freeze, hand in the air with a sticky note. He looks down at his arm, a scoff escaping him in disbelief. 

“Are you serious?” He twists his arm to check the extent of how far you’ve gone. “What are you, six?”

“How’d it take you so long to notice?” You watch as he tugs them off one by one, counting to see how many you had managed to get on there.

“It’s impossible not to zone out in these shitty meetings,” he mumbles, pulling off the last one, crumpling all of them into a ball to throw at you. You skilfully avoid them. 

“Don’t you feel pressure or heat or anything here?” You poke at his metal arm.

“No.” He clenches and releases the fist. “It can block bullets though.”

You snort. “Bet that’s a popular line in bed.”

He rolls his eyes. “I mean, it helps that I can’t feel anything. Sometimes,” he adds the last part as an afterthought. 

“Like when you’re blocking bullets.”

“Especially then.” He nods. 

“Would you ever want to?” you ask casually. “Like if you got the choice, would you prefer having feeling in that arm?”

“I don’t know.” He’s thought about it, but it doesn’t seem feasible in his line of work. He’d like it, though, to feel sand slipping through his fingers and the comforter under his palm. “Maybe when I’m retired.”

“Aren’t you well past that age?”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes. “And pay attention. You’re next.”

“So you are listening.” True to his word, Steve asks about what’s going on with your team. “Traitor.” 

Tony shoots off about how you only had to test it out on a small batch first to see if you could acquire the targeted data without compromising anything else. You chime in about a few specifics, and Bruce more or less just confirms what you both are saying, only stopping to let them know that you’d be finished in a day or two.

Steve nods, moving on to the next committee.

“Did I get a good grade?” you whisper when you lean back again.

“B minus at best.” 

“Fuck you, dude. I was great,” you protested. “It’s definitely worth a gold sticker.”

Someone shushes you sharply. You apologise quietly, whacking Bucky’s metal arm when you see a dumb smirk on his face. 

He narrows his eyes at you. 

You try sticking another post-it on him.

You’re only here for a week. That’s what he’s been told. Over six times, actually, after which he’s been told to go away the next time he asked.

No one’s brought up the job offer so he asks Tony if it was true and all he gets is a dismissive ‘yeah, whatever’. Besides, you haven’t told him if you accepted or denied it yet so isn’t sure if this entire thing is set in stone, per se.

So then why do you have a giant box of your belongings that you’re lugging around the lab, looking to set down?

And why does Tony allow you a table right in the centre of the lab for everyone to see as soon as they walk in?

There are a gazillion trinkets, picture frames and obnoxiously bright stationery that stands out against the dull minimalism of the lab.

“Every single one of these is a fire hazard,” he reports, standing over your desk.

You give him a side glance before reaching over to the side of your desk, pulling up a fire extinguisher and setting it on the table in front of him. “I came prepared, bitch boy.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. He chooses to look at what exactly you’ve brought with you because it’s a lot.

There are small cards with ‘thank you!’ sprawled on them in uneven lettering, bits and pieces of paper with small cartoons on them, little clay models and other miniature trophies with ‘you’re the best!’ under it.

“Your students gave you these?” He can’t remember the last time he gave his teacher anything other than a headache.

“Sometimes they learn or communicate better when they have something to keep their hands busy.” There’s a certain fondness in your voice that he isn’t used to hearing. “I end up with a lot of doodles and craft.”

“’s nice of them.” He can tell that this means a lot to you. He hasn’t seen it before.

He thinks the little decorations are adorable and maybe he’d keep another fire extinguisher on hand, just in case. 

Until you start pulling out a set of framed photos and his smile drops.

Several collages of Bucky in flower crowns, him with terribly edited backgrounds of beaches and mountains, a photo of him laughing with ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ next to it in an italicised font.

“What the fuck,” he states, grabbing one of them.

You stifle a laugh, pulling out several more to place along your table.

“Where did you fucking get these?” He starts pulling them off the table one by one.

“I don’t think you know how much the internet is obsessed with you.” You set an especially large one of him in a Hello Kitty bowtie right in the centre. He doesn’t miss the star shaped frame you chose for this.

“What is wrong with you?” He swipes that up immediately, looking for a place to discard, possibly burn these pictures. “Why do you even have these?”

“It’s imperative that people know we’re friends.” You bite your lip, bringing out the last thing to annoy him.

“What is that?” A teddy bear with a blue jacket and a grey felt arm stared into his soul.

“A Bucky bear.” Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh. “Limited edition.”

He snatches it along with the fifteen other picture frames, thinly veiled distress and mostly disgust on his face.

“I hate you.”

“But I love you.” You lift the small heart shaped locket you hung on one of the pictures of your class.

You use both your hands to click it open for him, watching his face morph into one of disbelief.

Bucky my beloved, it read on the right with a small picture of him on the left looking intensely disgruntled. He doesn’t bother asking where you found that specific picture of him outside a Burger King at 3am.

He doesn’t even make an effort to take it away this time. He knows that you’ll simply bring up more and more until you drove him crazy.

“You still have to see the Avengers calendar.” You reach for the inside. “I changed all the pictures to you, it looks great-”

He turns around and leaves before you get a chance to flip open the pages.

He wanders around, looking for the best disposal area he can find. He knows there’s a giant fireplace in the common room in the Tower, and for that, he’d have to go up a couple of floors.

He steps into the elevator, chin pressing down on the several picture frames in his hands to prevent them from falling over.

No one sees him carrying a couple of fan edited pictures and merchandise of him. Which was good.

Unfortunately, the doors ding open on the next floor and his best friend steps on with possibly the worst timing ever.

“Buck?” Steve sounds confused. He should be, considering the sight.

Bucky shimmies slightly to get a better grip on his belongings. “Steven.”

Steve glances at what he’s holding.

“Is this,” Steve pauses, trying to frame his words correctly to sound as supportive as possible, “a therapy thing?”

“No.”

Steve waits for a further explanation.

“It’s Y/N’s,” he elucidates. Steve’s eyebrows furrow.

“Why are there so many pictures of you?” He looks at the content in his hands a little closer. “And a bear.”

“She’s evil. And I hate her.”

“Alright.” It doesn’t answer his question but his friend looks irked enough.

The elevator dings to the common room floor.

Bucky turns on his heel to head toward the place to set all the pictures on fire. He saves the picture frames to give back to you though, he’s sure those cost money. But he makes sure every last square inch of the picture with several hearts around his portrait burns to ash.

Bucky knows that by the time Saturday afternoon rolls around, the three of you would have been working for thirty hours straight, scrambling to get the last minute details done.

You’re still at it but he can tell through the adrenaline of the upcoming deadline that you’re exhausted. 

Now he’s grouchy but he’s not an asshole. He’s already done two coffee runs for the team and brought you food when you didn’t show up for lunch. He mumbles something and dismisses it when you call out a ‘thank you’ his way. He considers it a debt repaid for the gyros.

He’s still keeping an eye on you but along with an emergency box of doughnuts for any sugar rushes that may be needed and bottles of water that he occasionally leaves at the corner of the table for you three to subconsciously keep yourself hydrated. 

“Are you sure we checked it?”

“Yes.” Bruce nods.

“Double checked it?”

“Yes.”

“Triple checked it.”

“Yes.” 

You look satisfied enough to move on to the next item. “Pass me the welding torch for a second.”

Bucky has a book in front of him that he hasn’t moved beyond the second page of. He’s more interested in seeing who collapses from burnout first. He has the infirmary on speed dial. 

After another hour or so Tony holds up a silver tablet, roughly the same size as a smartphone, examining it from all sides.

“That’s it,” he states. “The final product.”

You exhale lightly.

“We should name it.” You have your hands on your hips, looking down at it in wonder. Maybe the zero hours of sleep was finally kicking in because you couldn’t believe you were finally done. 

“You got any suggestions?” Tony asks. 

To be frank, no, you didn’t.

“No.”

“Okay, we’ll do that later.” Tony sets it down, not sounding too disappointed. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, tell the team to get down here, please.”

“Yes, boss.”

Bucky jumps off his chair to join you in the lab, leaving the book behind. 

It only takes a few moments for the others to join. Fury and Steve walk in together, already engaged in conversation.

“Greetings.” You clap your hands together. “We did it. We think.”

“We think?” Nick raises an eyebrow.

“We know,” Bruce clarifies quickly, stepping in. “We’re positive it works. We tested it out.”

Tony pulls up the holograph of F.R.I.D.AY’s system, sliding the tablet to the middle of the table.

“Is it secured under FRIDAY’s core?”

“Locked and loaded.” Tony hits the table lightly to signify that it was safe.

“I think we’re ready,” Bruce confirms.

“We better be, or else half the country is suddenly going to lose their internet connection,” you say under your breath.

“What?” Bucky’s eyebrows knit together.

“Nothing,” you beamed, “Okay F.R.I.D.A.Y., run sequence, global parameter.”

“Running sequence,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. parrots. 

There was no going back now. 

From what Bucky can see, Tony looks fairly confident but you have your bottom lip caged between your teeth, chewing on it nervously. 

There are several hundreds of photographs popping up and disappearing within a minute. Everything looks like it’s going according to plan.

The giant holograph of the AI dims. Your face drops when F.R.I.D.A.Y. seems to sputter to a halt. 

No one breathes.

In the midst of the tension, Clint mutters if they should play some background music. It’s followed by a swift ‘ow’ when Natasha flicks him in the shoulder.

You could hear a pin drop.

It suddenly picks back up again, running faster than the last time and the sigh everyone collectively heaves is almost comical.

It runs for a few seconds more before a list of names suddenly pop up accompanied by a series of photographs and geo locations.

“Sequence complete. Six names detected, zero encroachment on public or private databases,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. broadcasted. “Location determined to be Holland. Exact coordinates are computed into the quinjet.”

You let out a small cheer, looping your arm around Bruce, squeezing him in a half hug. He has a smile on his face, dropping his head as he laughs slightly. 

“How dangerous are they?” Tony, however, continues to ask.

“A few prior convictions and a series of similar threats. Danger level determined to be at approximately five out of ten.” 

“That’s not bad,” Steve commented. “Looks like we don’t need the full team there.”

“Romanoff, Barton, Wilson, Rogers can go ahead and take care of that,” Nick finally spoke up. “Everyone else is working security tomorrow, just in case anyone else decides that terrorism is on their fuckin’ to-do list for the day.”

“Buck, assemble a team and go over strategy for tomorrow,” Steve adds on. “Everyone else go suit up, wheels up in thirty minutes.” 

“Fuckin’ Holland,” Sam scoffs, shaking his head. “Of all the places.” 

“What do you have against Holland?” Nat asks as they leave together.

“Just don’t like ‘em.” Their voices grow faint the further they get.

“Hey.” A small greeting from behind you has you turning around.

Wanda stands in front of you and you have to ignore the fact that the most powerful being on Earth is talking to you. 

“Hey,” you say back.

“I just wanted to say congratulations. You did a great job.” Bits and pieces of her accent poked out. She didn’t seem like she was putting in the effort to cover it up as opposed to the press interviews you had heard a few years ago. 

“Thank you.” You smile. “T’was a team effort.”

“Well, we owe you one anyway,” Steve joins the conversation, leaving aside Tony who was still talking to Bruce.

“I wish I was humble enough to turn it down but I’m not.” You laugh. “It’s nice to have an arsenal of superheroes at my disposal.”

Steve looks like he’s going to respond but his attention is drawn towards F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s announcement that the quinjet was ready to go. He shoots you an apologetic look but you sign for him to go on, you’d meet with him later.

You watch as he claps Tony on the back, telling him to go get some sleep and something with more nutritional value than a pizza pocket in him, nodding at Bruce before taking leave. 

“Y/L/N,” Nick stands beside you, looking ahead at the conversations being had as Steve tugs Clint along with him.

“Nicky,” you tease.

“I know at least seven underground prisons I can put you in if anyone hears you calling me that,” he says stoically. 

“We all know you won’t get rid of me.” You shake your head. “Who’s gonna send you a Christmas card then, huh?”

He simply shakes his head, jutting his hand out and offering a handshake. “Not sure anyone here could handle another day of a highly caffeinated, sleep-deprived Stark.”

“Just say ‘thanks’, Nick, geez.” You roll your eyes. 

Bucky watches the entire interaction unfurl; only the body language, not employing the lip-reading ability. 

“You’re welcome.” You let go of his hand, a devilish look on your face. “You know what I want in return.”

Nick gives you a long, hard stare that could probably melt through Steve’s shield before turning around to leave. 

But Bucky doesn’t miss the subtle high-five he gives you while walking out, unbeknownst to anyone else, bringing the biggest grin to your face.

He makes it a point to ask you what the fuck kind of leverage you have over the man for him to play favourites with you. 

You finally collapse at your desk, letting out a loud exhale. You clench your eyes shut, your body finally melting into your chair. You look exhausted.

He’s not sure how to help. You don’t seem like you have the energy to tell him.

Bucky leaves a doughnut and water bottle on the table in front of you before shuffling out of the room quietly. 

He’s certain that he’s spent far too long in Bruce’s lab this week. He liked the man as much as the next guy, but he probably wouldn’t come down there for the foreseeable future. 

You’re at your assigned desk, reading light illuminating the space. Thankfully you’ve cleared up most of your stuff from the table, leaving no more liabilities to fall over in case he walked into the desk. 

“So you’re done for the week.” His voice surprises you. You were scrolling through your phone, slightly hunched over.

“It appears so.” You put your phone down, swivelling the chair to look at him. 

“How’d it go?” He leans against your table, making sure he isn’t using his full weight.

“Well, I slept for fifteen hours straight, so...” you leave him to connect the dots. He’s done the same several times.

“You’re probably gonna need more,” he says, mostly from his own experience, “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Actually-” you reach beside your table and lug your gigantic box of belongings onto the table with a loud thud, “-you won’t.”

He looks at the box that was nearly overflowing with its contents, the majority of the space being taken up by empty picture frames. “I thought you said Tony offered you a job.” 

“He did,” you confirm. “I didn’t accept.”

“Why?” He watches you shift through a few things, adjusting it so that it wouldn’t fall over.

“This whole thing- it’s cool and all, but it’s not what I want to do.” You shrug. “I like teaching. I miss my class.”

He gaze lands on one of the thank you notes sticking out from the corner of the box. “Ah.”

“Back to school from tomorrow.”

“And evil on the weekends?” he prods, dropping a pen into the heap of stationery. 

“Obviously.” You give him a lopsided smile. “Where else am I gonna use all this brilliance?”

You point to your head. He lets out a small exhale in the form of a laugh.

“Speaking of-” You look like you just remembered something.  

You rummage through your backpack and pull out a small container, handing it to him.

“What’s this?” He turns it over, looking for any hidden clues. “Are you proposing again, because I’ve said no-”

“I’m not proposing,” you interrupt, “yet.”

He gives you a deadpan look.

“Open it,” you urge, and he complies.

Two small squares sit side-by-side. They’re slick black, barely bigger than the face of a dice.

“You put one of them here-” You tap on his bicep “-and the other here.” You tap his shoulder, a few inches below his clavicle.

“What does it do?” He thinks it’s like Nat’s little taser things, a nifty little tool that he could use on missions.

“It, uh-” you hesitate “-it allows you to feel sensation in your metal arm. Heat, pressure, texture.”

His breath hitches in his throat. He doesn’t mean for it to happen, it just does.

“You said that sometimes you’re glad you couldn’t because of the bullets and stuff. They’re detachable, so just take them off when you go on missions and wherever it is you Spandex ambassadors go.” You scoff slightly. 

He can’t remember the last time he felt something soft with that arm or used it for something that wasn’t directly related to his job.  

“I’m not messing with what the Wakandans gave you. It’s the most advanced piece of tech out there.” You shrug. “But if you ever want to feel it when someone attaches sticky notes to your arm, this could work. Just thought it’d be nice to have an option.”

He can’t decipher what he’s feeling right now. He looks up at you, only to catch you eyeing him cautiously, assessing his reaction. When you notice he’s looking at you, a nervous smile makes its way onto your face. 

His stomach does a flip. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly. 

“Don’t mention it.” You sound a little relieved, picking up the box that he’s pretty sure weighed a ton what with all his memorabilia in it. “See you next week.”

He doesn’t know how to explain what it means to him. 

Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets. “What are you doing later?”

“Nothing.” You pause. “Why?”

“Are you gonna watch the parade?” 

“Yeah, probably.” You shift your weight to your other leg to compensate for the box.

“Want some company?”

“Aren’t you heading a security division?” You have to consciously hide the bewilderment from your voice. 

“Yeah. The place I’m stationed just so happens to have a good look into the street,” he explains, toying with the bracelet on his wrist. “Can’t really promise that I’ll be paying attention to it or that I’d even be there the whole time but for the most part...” he trails off. 

“Uh-” You force yourself to shove aside your surprise at his determination, “yeah, sure. That’d be cool.”

He nods. “Okay. See you there.” 

“See you,” you murmur as you walk to the elevator. 

He opens the tiny container to look at the small chips. They’re still there, silently like they don’t change his world just by existing. 

Gosh.

Next part

[ijwrsmff]

Hello there

This one is a bit lengthy but can i please get headcanons of the straw hats reaction to an admiral reader(gender neutral please) who quits the marine to join them, and is at first is distrusted but does something to gain theirs trust

I hope it's not too much trouble

It's no trouble at all! I really like this idea, it was a ton of fun to write! I hope you enjoy it ^^

Luffy:

He found you during a fight with the marines

He noticed...you were so much stronger than the marines you were fighting with

Maybe not strong in comparison to Luffy...but he was extremely powerful so comparing to him isn’t fair

He saw you deal what should have been a finishing blow to his crewmates…

But for some reason you never hit them hard enough to kill them

Down them, sure...but never kill

He makes quick work of the other marines, and approaches you with a smile

“Join my crew!”

You looked at him baffled

“Quit the marines and throw away all my hard work to become an admiral because some...kid thinks I would be a good match for his crew? No thanks.”

Luffy left it at that, but knew he’d see you again soon

You encountered him once more at a nearby island

“Is...is that offer still on the table?”

He grinned wide and pulled you by your hand to his ship

He couldn’t put his finger on it...but something was special about you

He just knew the crew would love you

After they get over their initial distrust that is

But Luffy? He trusted you already

No hesitation, he knew you had a good heart and that’s what really mattered

Zoro:

He didn’t trust you...at all

He would go silent when you talked to him, giving you the silent treatment

He didn’t trust the marines...how was he supposed to know you weren’t there as a spy?

You tried to talk to him a couple times...but he just pretended he was sleeping

One day, he was up in the crow’s nest training and you walked in

“Mind if we spar? It’s been a while since I was able to.”

Since you left the marines

He huffed but gave a firm “sure”

He didn’t go easy on you, which surprised him when you handled yourself fairly well

You parried his attacks, and gave a few good jabs of your own

He respected your strength

He still won...but he expected to beat you within seconds

Not minutes, nearly half an hour of sparring

From then on, he’ll make small talk with you

Every once in a while he’ll go to take a nap and he’ll pull you down to lay beside him

He also sits next to you at the dinner table, even helping you fend off Luffy when he tries to steal your food

Overall...he respected strength. And if Luffy chose you...you were here to stay

Once he starts to trust you, he’ll protect you at all costs

Nami:

She trusts Luffy’s decision...but that doesn't mean she has to trust YOU

She won’t go out of her way to be mean...but she won’t help you if it means bending over backwards

She interrogates you, wanting to know why Luffy had chosen you

After days of interrogation on and off...she thinks she sees why

You were unhappy in the marines

Sure...you managed to become an admiral...but the happiness you had hoped to feel just wasn’t there

She discovered that in the short time you’ve been on this ship, you’ve felt happier than you ever did in the marines

She’ll be nicer after that, slowly building up her trust in you

“Want me to show you how I chart the islands we go to?”

Even if cartography wasn’t your thing, you figured it would help get you closer to Nami

After that, you would spend hours upon hours with Nami

She can be very...very protective

So once she trusts you, any comments about you that weren’t warranted she’d defend you

She wants to get closer to you, and spends the majority of her time with you

Either sitting on the deck or working on her maps

She even tells Sanji off if he starts to bother you, making the hearts in his eyes break

She’ll protect you...and she knows in her heart you’d protect her too

Usopp:

He is so...so scared of you at first

You were an ADMIRAL

How could you just give up that position to join a crew?

Doesn’t trust you for a good long while

He’s convinced you’re a spy

He lets his imagination get to him, and that drives a wedge between you two

You don’t blame him...the situation is sketchy, but you were genuine

You would spend all the time needed to get the crew to trust you

After only being with them a short period of time...you trusted them with your life

And that’s never happened before

In the marines...people wouldn’t go out of their way to save another if it meant getting hurt in the process

During battle, you stepped in front of Usopp and took a harsh blow, forming a long slash across your chest

After that...he’s significantly nicer to you

He visits you in the infirmary and looks...troubled

“What’s wrong Usopp?” You give him a concerned look

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you save me...you’re hurt now. Because of me.”

You smiled at him...so he did care

This was a good first step

Maybe eventually you can become even closer

Sanji:

He’s reluctant to trust you at first, but Luffy seems to see something in you…

Just like he saw something in him

So he tries to get closer to you, even going so far as to not flirt with you

Not until he got to know you better

The first time he really began to see the trust between you building was a regular day

Nothing particularly special about it, except you went into the kitchen while he was cooking

“Mind if I help?” It was your attempt to get closer to him

“Of course! Here, I need this mixed.”

You cooked together in relative silence, small talking every once in a while

Overall it was...nice

It was a bonding experience and he cherished it

That day, he sat next to you at the dinner table

You gave him a wide smile, which he returned

He would defend you to anyone who spoke ill of you after that

He could be quite protective, and it showed

Especially to Zoro, who made comments about your being a spy (which only made Usopp and Chopper panic more about the situation)

“Hey marimo! They don’t deserve the bullshit you’re throwing at them. Back off.”

“What are you gonna do about it, shitty cook?” A smirk formed on Zoro’s face

Oh dear...it looks like they’re fighting again

You went to speak up, but Nami stopped you

“They get like this sometimes. Though it’s impressive how quick Sanji was to take the bait this time...I think he likes you.” She gives you a wink and your face flushes

Who knows what the future will bring...all you know? Is that you made the right choice to join this crew

Chopper:

He wants to trust you...he really does

But the nagging fear of you hurting his crew is at the back of him mind

He avoids you, not wanting to risk getting hurt

Once you get injured in battle...he realizes how unfair it was that he did so

“I’m sorry y/n...you’re hurt. Please follow me to the infirmary.”

He keeps it relatively formal, only talking when he needed to do something to check on you

“Would you...come back in a couple days so I can check on the wound and how it’s healing?”

You gave him a smile “yes doctor! Thank you!”

“Hehe you don’t have to thank me I don’t deserve your thanks I was just doing what I’d do for any of our crew!” He swayed back and forth, his paws on his face as he smiled

You could swear you saw flowers around him…

After that, he invited you to play games with him, Usopp, and Luffy

While Usopp was still reluctant, Luffy was 100% on board

“Come on y/n! Play with us!” Chopper smiled up at you and...well...there’s no way you could say no to his adorable face

So you joined in

It was fun...more fun than you thought possible to have

You laughed as Chopper tagged you, and you spun around picking him up in a hug

“Chopper...thank you.”

He smiled and laughed, “for what? Tagging you?”

You shook your head, putting him down

“No...for being a good friend.”

And he was, he was your best friend. You grew closer to him in the days following and you were certain you made the right decision

Robin:

She knows what it’s like to not be trusted by the crew initially...but at least with her it was one pirate to another

You were a marine

And not just a marine...but an admiral

She is reluctant to trust you, but will give you the benefit of the doubt

She spends a lot of time with you, gauging if you’re a threat to her crew or not

She would sacrifice herself for any one of them...you’re no exception

She almost thinks its her JOB to determine if you’re a threat or not

It wasn’t until your first battle together that she finds she trusts you

You give her a look, and she knows to use her devil’s fruit

You both coordinate perfectly together, and it shows your trust

She has only battled so flawlessly with her crew...which means you’re entirely one of them now

She will defend you from that fight forward, and stands up for you when the others express their doubts

“Y/n? Would you like to read with me?” She pats the spot next to her and smiled at you

“Of course! What are we reading today?”

The two of you grow closer and closer, spending hours upon hours just...enjoying each other’s company

She looks at your smile and knows...she would do anything to keep that happy smile on your face

Franky:

He doesn’t trust you...but he doesn’t...NOT trust you

He’s reluctant to get close, but finds it’s really easy with you

He’s newer to the crew, but he trusts Luffy’s judgement

So he doesn’t have any reason not to give you a chance

He’ll spend time with you, requesting you sit in his workroom as he works on a specialized weapon for you

Over that time, you make a lot of small talk

It brings you closer together

“Y/n! What do you think?” He’ll say holding up your now finished weapon “Pretty super, right? Don’t you just love it?” He has a look of pride on his face that makes you grin

You take the weapon into your hands and feel the weight is perfect

Not light, but not overly heavy either

“Thank you Franky!” You jump up to hug him and miss seeing his face turn a dark crimson

“O-of course! Anything for a crewmate!” He hugs you back, lightly as if he’s afraid he’ll break you

This makes you laugh, “Franky...I was an admiral remember? I won’t break from a hug!”

“Well then...take this!” He lifts you up, spinning you around in circles

You both laugh, pulling each other closer and closer

Once he sets you down you see the fleeting color of pink on his cheeks

You were sure your face mirrored the same color

He knows in that moment he would protect you

Even if you didn’t need it

Maybe...protect isn’t the right word

It sounds so...one sided

“I’ll protect you...will you protect me?” He looks sheepish, almost as if he hated asking

You lean up and kiss his cheek

“I’ll protect you Franky. I’ll protect all of us...this crew...it’s special.”

He nods, knowing exactly what you meant

“Then we’ll protect each other.”

And it was settled

Brook:

As soon as you stepped onto the ship he approached you

“Your name is y/n...correct?”

“Yup! That’s me!”

He leaned down so your…”eyes” were level with each other

“Can I see your panties?”

SLAP

“...is that a no?”

It’s safe to assume...he doesn’t judge you for being an admirable

Though seeing some of the crew be distant from you...it only motivates him to speak to you more

You looked tired after playing with the crew on deck, so he approached you

“Would you like me to play you a song to help you sleep?”

You stared wide eyed, not knowing he was the musician on the ship

“Sure! Would you...maybe be able to teach me how to play an instrument?”

“Which instrument would you like to learn?”

You hummed, “I’m not sure. I’ll get back to you on that.”

And so he played you a song

It put not only you, but Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper to sleep

He would have grinned if he could, and looked over his crewmates with love

As he finished the song he looked at you once again

“Sleep well y/n...I’ll see you tomorrow.”

[gender-i-hardly-know-er]

"Just five more minutes." with Logan +anyone

sorry this took forever lmao but here :] i made it loceit bc i love them

could be platonic or pre-romantic, whatever you want

warnings- swearing, vomiting, stress, a lil arguing

~~~

Logan was the first to wake up, most days. He made breakfast, started on chores, and planned for the rest of the day, all before anyone else was out of bed.

Unfortunately, today was not most days.

When Janus came downstairs, Logan was nowhere to be seen. No coffee, no breakfast, no sign of his normal routine. Logan never slept in… something had to be wrong.

No one else was awake; Janus decided that the responsibility of checking on Logan must fall to him. He walked upstairs to Logan’s door, taking care not to wake anyone else. He knocked softly, and spoke as quietly as he could.

“Logan? Are you alive?”

No response. He tried again.

“Logan. You’re always up by now. What’s the problem?”

Nothing.

“Okay, be that way. I’m coming in-”

“Just five more minutes…” Janus took a step back at the sound of Logan’s voice. It was hoarse; he sounded sick.

“Are you feeling o-” he was cut off by what sounded like… retching.

Janus threw the door open to find Logan in bed, leaning over the side. He looked wrecked. Virgil-level circles under his eyes, hair wild, and glasses missing from his face, his grimace was a fitting accessory to his overall state. There was a- ugh- puke bucket on the floor where Logan was leaning.

“...You’re sick”

“Great observation, Janus. A regular Hercule Poirott.” Janus had never heard Logan use that level of sarcasm before, his words dripping in irritation punctuated by a pointed eye-roll.

“Oh, I’m so sorry for seeking the clarity you so adamantly preach, I’ll just stick to every assumption I have in the future-” Janus crossed his arms, not to be outdone. Lying and sarcasm were his thing.

“Shut up. Just shut up. Why do none of you ever know how to shut the fuck up?!” Logan’s head was in his hands. “I have a pounding headache, I’ve vomited twice this morning, and my whole body is intermittently experiencing stabbing pains and muscle spasms, I don't have the patience for your bullshit right now!”

Janus was stunned. Logan had never snapped at him like this. He must feel worse than Janus thought.

“... Okay. I’m-” Janus chose his words carefully, trying not to set Logan off again. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Logan looked at him like he was crazy. “You… you mean that? You want to help?”

Janus was almost offended that Logan thought he’d just leave him here in his misery, but he just nodded. He could’ve sworn he saw Logan’s eyes start watering; he’d keep that to himself, though.

“Could you,” Logan looked at the ground. He was hesitating. He really didn't trust Janus, did he? Janus didn't know why that hurt him; but Logan continued, “Could you make breakfast? I’d do it, but I’m having trouble standing.”

Having trouble standing? God, Logan, what the hell’s happening to you? Despite his worried thoughts (since when did he worry about Logan?), Janus did as he was told. He made the toast he knew Logan ate every morning, grabbed a jar of Crofter’s and a butter knife, and started a pot of coffee. Logan probably wouldn’t want coffee, with how bad he was feeling, but Janus did. He carried Logan’s breakfast to his room, along with a glass of water, and gave them to him, nodding in acknowledgement of Logan’s small “thank you”. They sat in silence as Logan ate and Janus sipped on his coffee. Janus didn't miss the way Logan stared at him when he thought he wasn’t looking.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” Janus asked. “This doesn't seem like regular sickness.”

Logan didn't answer for a moment. Janus saw his eyes shifting back and forth, lost in thought. He finally said, “It’s nothing major. No concern of yours,” Janus highly doubted that, but he let Logan continue. “I’d like to go back to bed, just for a bit.”

Janus looked Logan in the eyes. He looked miserable. Janus couldn’t just leave him like this. Not because he cared or anything; that’d be absurd. Because Logan is the only other side around with some goddamn common sense, and if something happened to him, Janus would be fucked. And maybe he did care… a tiny bit… barely at all, really, why would anyone think he cared? He didn't! Mostly-

“I’m sorry, but I can't let you do that yet. Not till you tell me the problem. I’ve never seen you like this- or any of the others, and it’s strange,” Janus explained. “We shouldn’t be able to get sick without Thomas also being sick, or unless he’s going through something that would cause that, like when his ego is bruised.”

“... what does it matter to you?” Logan crossed his arms over his chest. Janus just looked back at him with a raised eyebrow, gesturing vaguely. He really didn't know why he kept asking, but he wasn’t stopping now.

Logan rolled his eyes. “If you must know, I’m suffering from stress-induced nausea and muscle aches. I will be fine. Let me sleep.”

Janus just stared at him as he thought. Stress-induced? Was he really that tense? He glanced at the plate of food and decided Logan had eaten an acceptable amount. He’d had over half his glass of water. Sleeping could do him some good. But Janus knew Logan wouldn’t learn from this. He’d keep taking care of Thomas and everyone else over himself, he’d still let everyone else walk all over him and make him do more work, he’d still let himself get to his breaking point. Janus had to do more.

“What do you need to get done today? I can do some of it for you.”

“No, you don't have to-”

“I know I don't have to. I’m offering. You need your rest. And once you’re up, we need to have a talk about your habits; you need to be more selfish. I’ll take care of some things for you, and you’ll be able to do better in the future. You like efficiency, don't you? You can't be efficient and productive if you’re wearing yourself down like this. You need a break,” Janus saw Logan refusing to meet his eye- he had him. He even used the reasoning Logan loves so much to come to that conclusion.

“... I need to proofread the script for the next video. And prepare for a meeting with the team. Don't fuck it up, please.” Logan turned over in his bed and covered himself with his blanket, effectively ending the conversation.

Janus lingered for a moment before getting up and flicking the light switch off. He left with a quiet, “sleep well” and didn't wait for an answer.

[beskarberry]

Blue Orchid

Flowers for Ishtar, Chapter 1

(Nonhuman!Mando x f!Reader) [+18!]

You’d had to bite down on the corner of your blanket when you thought of him pinning you to the wall or bending you over the dashboard, stuffing you full of his length while he groaned his praises in your ears until you were soaked.

This was not at all what you had imagined.

Next->

Summary: You discover your hunting partner isn't human, which in a galaxy far, far away isn't that strange until his alien needs become too much for him to hide.

Rating: Explicit as FUCK

Word count: 9.2k

Content warnings: Major kinks: breeding and pregnancy, eggs and oviposition, mpreg/fpreg, alien genitalia. Minor kinks: praise, eating and weight gain. Kink sprinkles: threw some things in like just a tad of sex pollen, hair pulling, spanking, a very brief daddy kink, the idea of a/b/o. There's a few more but if you're familiar with my writing you know what's up. Negatives: body horror, dysphoria.

A/N: Yeah... um... hm... So this is some weird shit but if you enjoyed Garden of Ishtar this will be right up your alley. If that was weird and creepy for you then this is not for you! You have been warned!!!

There’s something strange going on with your partner.

Mando, as he insisted on being called, even though that was clearly not his real name, had been acting differently recently. Though he was an odd one from the get-go, the burly, short-tempered, efficient hunter took some getting used to, but now something about him was off.

It was a strange partnership you’d gotten yourself into, ever since that day you had been sitting in the same cantina booth as him on Nevarro, arguing with Karga over the last available bounty puck.

“Karga, I’m not splitting a puck with this guy.” You’d barked, crossing your arms and leaning back with a huff. Next to you, the armored stranger grunted in agitated agreement, his plated shoulders catching the light as they stiffened. You didn’t know each other, and as far as you could tell the only thing you both had in common was that you both worked for the Guild.

“Well that’s too bad!” The old agent stated, shaking his head. “This is the last one I’ve got until next month, so unless one of you wants to wait until then, this is all I have left. You're going to have to work together as a team.”

“Unless I kill her first.” The iron giant said coldly, not even looking your way.

“I’d like to see you try.” A knife flew from your belt to the table as you buried the tip of it in the faux wood counter, glaring daggers with your eyes at his shiny metal head.

“Easy now, we’re all friends here! Can’t have my two best hunters fighting, or killing each other…”

“Bullshit, I’m the best hunter here, Kargsy, and you know it.” Fury seethed from your words, but it was seemingly lost on the other man. “Tinman here can go fuck himself.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“No, but I fuck yours with it!”

Greef slammed a fist down on the table, making the trio of spotchka glasses bounce and spill. “That’s enough, either you two figure out how to play nice or neither of you will be getting this puck, or any other pucks for that matter! And that’s final!”

That was six months ago.

Despite your differences, the pair of you made for a terrifying duo, between his heavily armored body and your quick, nimble blades, it was like hell itself had released its most deadly demons. The bounty was found, hunted, and captured so quickly and easily that the minute the Razor Crest touched back down on Nevarro you were both excitedly harassing Karga for more.

Your newfound companion didn’t talk much, but what he didn’t say with his words he made up for with his actions. He gave you a little backstory, filling you in on his Mandalorian heritage and what that meant regarding his helmet and armor, and you were fine with the condition that he would never show his face around you. What he did show you was how lethal he could be, a whirlwind of blasters and beskar, an immovable object that coupled neatly with your unstoppable force.

It was poetry in motion.

Bounties fell at your feet like wheat before the scythe, wracking up credits like Kessel-running smugglers which you both blew on firearms and vibroblades as if the galaxy was ending tomorrow. What didn’t go towards guns and ammo went towards food and fuel, the Crest blasting off of Nevarro again and again and again.

As time went on, you slowly started to warm up to each other. You couldn’t really say you were friends, just work partners that happened to be flawlessly efficient at what they did. It was a fine arrangement, but over time small, but significant changes between you started to catch your attention.

You’d pinned a bounty, a large, malodorous Twi’lek that nearly squirmed out from your grasp, only to earn themselves a vicious cold-clocking to the back of their tentacled skull. Breath heavy and eyes burning with aggression, you’d slogged the captive into the carbonite freezer like you were taking out the trash, your wanton strength not going unnoticed by your companion.

“Good job.” Mando had said with a tilt of his helmet, watching your chest heave with adrenaline. “Such a strong verd’ika, can’t wait to see what you do to the next guy.” He’d never complimented you up to that point, if he spoke to you at all. It’d caught you off guard, but in a good way, and you knew right then you wanted to hear him say it again.

So you kept doing a good job.

And you did it on purpose.

The next bounty you held in place while Mando punched their lights out, holding steadfast against the living sledgehammer that was your partner, wincing every time you felt his fists explode against the Aqualish’s exoskeleton. When they’d keeled over, you let them fall to the floor, jumping slightly when Mando patted your shoulder, impressed with your ability to hold your own.

He seemed kind, when he wasn’t retaliating against your snide remarks or beating the living shit out of a bounty. Often when it was just the two of you he was almost soft spoken, asking you if you got enough to eat or if your wounds needed tending to, but not once did he ever make a pass at you.

That was somewhat of a surprise, but you didn’t even know what species he was, so there was a good chance you weren’t even on his sexual radar. He looked human, he obviously wasn’t a Togruta or a Twi’ with that helmet, and he was too tall to be a Rodian or Ugnaught. Too broad to be Gungan.

He was humanly proportioned to a sinful degree, his wide armored shoulders and cinched waist giving you wicked thoughts in the late hours. Even his fucking voice did something to you, the deep, gravelly husk of it almost reverberated in your chest when he spoke, and more than once you wished it would vibrate for you somewhere else.

But you were just two hunters making a living, nothing more.

Recently, however, something had started to change; and it wasn’t something that you liked. You weren’t buddy-buddy, but in the recent weeks his demeanor had started to wane. Mando was always private, taking his meals alone and keeping the fresher door locked when in use, but even when he wasn’t dealing with the necessary inconveniences of being alive he was starting to avoid you more and more.

At first you let him have his space, it was none of your business what was bothering him if he wasn’t going to speak up about it. But as the weeks seemed to drag on his temper began to flare more often, his sentences getting even shorter than they already were, his words sharp and vindictive.

You let it slide until he was rude to a merchant in a Bespin market, demanding more food rations than what he was being offered. Mando had left the market with so much dried meat and canned vegetables that it was falling out of his satchel, leaving a breadcrumb trail of bantha-in-a-can as he stormed back to the ship.

He was eating more often, too, squirreling himself away from your campfires or tucking himself up in either his sleeping cubby or the cockpit; whichever was further away from you at the time. You had your own space in the upstairs part of the Crest where he’d strung a ramshackle hammock for you, but it was so close to her reactors that you frequently woke up sweaty whenever you were in hyperspace.

On one such occasion you decided to sneak over to the ladder hatch when he thought you were sleeping, carefully peeking into the hold below. You could see him in his alcove, but just barely, only his back visible to you from your vantage point. He was eating, a lot. You watched his back and shoulders heave with each desperate bite of food, gorging himself as if he’d been lost in the desert for weeks.

The next cycle he kept his back to you almost constantly, like he was trying to hide something from view, but there were very little private spaces in the ship, especially while the stars streaked by overhead. Try as he might, he couldn’t hide his secret from your prying eyes, though you weren’t surprised with what you saw after watching him eat like there was no tomorrow.

He was gaining weight.

It was just a little at first, maybe just an illusion brought on by some extra layers of clothing; hyperspace was chilly, after all. However it soon became obvious as his extra warmth began to pudge over his belt and upset his armor that it wasn’t all fluff. You checked the larder after he went up to the cockpit to work on the navigation, and you were alarmed to find that almost half of your rations were already used up after having left Bespin only three cycles ago.

Something was definitely up with your partner.

You were watching him now from where you sat on one of the supply crates, toying with a vibroblade while he rigorously cleaned a plate of his armor, his back turned to you. His beskar was spotless, nary a drop of blood or spec of dust remained. He was just trying to distract himself from his newfound curves, but you were starting to get frustrated.

It was time to get to the bottom of this.

“Hey, are you feeling alright? You’ve been acting-”

“I’m fine.” he barked, the aggression behind his words making you jump. You weren’t afraid of him, or he of you. Your partnership was mutually beneficial and respected, and it wasn’t like him to be so short with you in close quarters. You weren’t having any of it.

“That’s crap and you know it, something's up with you, I can tell. You wanna talk about it?” Though he wasn’t looking your way, you cast your eyes at his pudge muffin, hoping he would catch your implications without you having to put it into words.

He said nothing, instead he rose from his seat and hurried up the ladder to the flight deck, sealing the airlock behind him.

You didn’t see him again until the ship dropped from hyperspace.

It was a quiet couple of days, and fucking boring too. Mando didn’t even come down to use the fresher or grab food, which made you nervous after seeing him stress eating like he had been. The Crest touched down on Jedha not far from an enormous crater that the Empire had put there in its heyday, but even when the engines went quiet, the blast door remained sealed.

“Mando? You still alive in there?” You asked tentatively with your ear pressed to the door, rapping your knuckles against the durasteel.

“Fine.”

“Are you coming out?”

There was a long pause, then: “...No.”

You grumbled and donked your head against the door. “Are you gonna make me go get this bounty myself?” He didn’t answer, which unfortunately meant the answer to your question was ‘yes’. You sighed heavily like you’d heard him do innumerable times. “You suck. Do you need anything before I head out?”

“No, thank you verd’ika.”

He was still alive, and talking, so those were both good signs, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong with him during your entire hunt. The bail jumper you were after came quietly, which on a regular day would make you angry that you had even wasted fuel for such a lame chase, but you were anxious to get back to your partner.

You marched the delinquent up the ramp and goaded them into the freezer, filling the little cabin with carbonite fog. Though you were making a hell of a racket, you still hollered up the ladder before climbing it, only to find the cockpit empty. Nervously you searched the upper floor, checking everywhere from your hammock to the fuselage, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Jumping down the ladder, you quickly scanned the hold, only to realize that you’d run right past him. The door to his cubby was closed, like it always was even when he wasn’t in it, but outside on the floor near the entrance were piles of empty food tins. Horrified, you checked the larder, your eyes going all the way to the bottom of the crate. He ate everything!

“Mando! I’m back! Open up!” You yelled, pounding your fist on the door, not giving a flying fuck if he was asleep. Something was very, very wrong.

“You’re back already?” He called, his voice weak and hoarse behind the door, making your blood run cold. Oh Maker no, don’t tell me he’s sick.

“Yeah, and I’m worried about you! Open this damn door before I rip it off its rails.”

“You need to leave. You can’t be here.”

“‘Scuse me? Fucker I live here! I’m not-”

“Please, you’re not safe.” He pleaded, his voice sounded broken and desperate, like he was trying to choke something back.

“Not safe? Mando you’re not making any sense, I already took care of the bounty, they-”

“You’re not safe from me!”

A weird mix of emotions flooded through you, first the worry for the health of your partner, the confusion at his panic, and suddenly the rage that burned behind your eyes at the mere notion of him thinking you couldn’t peel him apart like a can of sardines.

You’d had enough.

“Fuck you, chum bucket, this ends right now! Hope you’ve got pants on because I’m coming in!”

“No! Don’t, please!”

“HERE I COME!” You bellowed as you slammed your fist into the glowing button panel on the wall, deaf to his fretful protests. The metal grate rattled as it rolled upwards, and briefly your eyes caught the back of his head right before his helmet sank down over the dark curls that he kept secret. The fact that he even had hair was the least startling thing of all.

What hit you first was the smell.

Inside the sleeping cubby where the Mandalorian was hurriedly scuttling into the deepest reaches, the pungent scent of...something hurtled through your synapses. It didn’t stink, quite the opposite, it smelled delicious. Warm and rich, like honey on fruit sitting out on a beautiful summer day, the alien aroma making your mouth water.

“What the fuck is that smell?” you roared at the man huddled as far away from you as he could get, his body lost to the shadows behind the scattering of armor he had discarded. You didn’t like that one bit, feeling something akin to pity at his doubled-over, armorless frame. You sniffed the air again, taking deep, greedy inhalations and trying to decipher what the fuck was going on. “Are you eating starfruit?! You fuckhole! You’re snacking without me!”

“Please leave me alone.” He grumbled, wedging himself even harder against the back wall. “I’m fine, really, I just want to be alone.”

“Well that’s just too fuckin’ bad, you’re sick, and the least you could do is tell me what’s wrong. I have a right to know if my partner is gonna up and die on me.” He pleaded again, his voice sounding whiny even through his vocorder, but you were having none of it. “I’m coming in.”

“Dammit all, why won't you leave me alone?!” He was yelling now, but in his anger he turned enough towards you that you could see his front, making you gasp.

Big.

“Holy fucking shit, Mando, are you… are you pregnant?!” Hidden by his broad backside no longer, his protruding belly caught the light, jiggling a bit when he wrapped his arms around it.

“No! I mean… sorta…”

“The fuck do you mean sorta?!” you were screaming now, blown away by his swollen guts and the fact that he was very much not pregnant only a few days ago. “What the hell is that then?!”

He was caught now, you’d seen his shame and there was no going back. “They’re… they’re my eggs.”

You stood a moment, staring at him while your mouth flopped uselessly like a dying fish. Welp, there’s your answer, he is not human. There were lots of sentient species in this great big galaxy you called home, many of which produced offspring via eggs, so you weren’t as surprised by that as you were by the suddenness of it. Of... him.

Mando rubbed at his belly, curling in on himself as if doing so would shrink him down into nothingness where he could disappear into oblivion. “Please, it’ll pass, I’ve just… I’ve never had anyone around me while I...grmph... deal with it.”

His groan of pain broke your stare, pumping determination into your legs along with the burn of adrenaline. “Do… do you need help? Is there anything I can do for you?” You leaned forward into the alcove, reaching for him. “Are you in pain?”

“...I-I’m f-fine.” He shirked away from you, avoiding your touch. “Happens every couple of years, just...hmmph… it’s not usually… so much.”

Now you were just plain fascinated, climbing up slowly on your hands and knees, trying to be delicate. “Mando, I’m your partner, I’m not just gonna stand around while you suffer. Tell me what I can do to help.” The warrior flinched hard when your fingers found his shoulder, reflexively protecting his belly. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Cyar’ika, please, I don’t want to...hmmph… do anything that I-I’ll regret.”

“You already ate all our fucking food, what more could you do to piss me off?” You said with a laugh, trying to break the tension. Carefully you brushed your hand along his clothed shoulder, a thin smile dancing over your lips when you felt him shudder.

“You shouldn’t touch me, I’m dangerous.”

“You ain’t shit, and I’ve seen how you’ve stiched my wounds closed, you won’t hurt me. I know you.”

“No you don’t!” He screamed, flipping around all the way to try and shoo you out of the cubby, but his hefty gut kept him rooted in place. You couldn’t help but stare at his rounded middle, his flack coat straining to keep zipped shut as the weight of him wobbled delightfully. It made you laugh.

“Mando! You’re gonna be a m... da... parent! You’re gonna be a parent! Why didn’t you tell me?! I would have baked you a cake.”

“It’s.. it’s never been this bad.” he stuttered, consigning himself to the fact that he was stuck with you. “I grow a clutch every year or so, but it’s usually just a handful of... them.” he hissed with an air of disgust, shame creeping into his voice. “They pass without much issue, but it’s never been this much.”

“What do the other Mandalorians do when this happens?”

He shook his head, guarding his middle. “Mandalorian isn’t a race, it’s a creed. The Mandalorians rescued me after an army of droids killed my parents and everyone else in my village. I… I don’t know what species I am, and neither does my clan. There’s no record of my village, or where they found me, and I can’t find anything on the holonet about… this.” His visor tilted down to his tummy. “I might be the last of my kind.”

“Mando, that's terrible, but I’m sure there’s more of you somewhere. There’s gotta be! Maybe if you took off your helmet I could see-”

“No, helmet stays on. I don’t need to add the indignity of a broken creed to this mess. Now please, mesh’la I’m begging you, lock me in here and let me ride this out alone. I don’t know if I could live with myself if I hurt you.”

You scuttled closer on your knees until you were right up against him, cautiously reaching out towards his swell. His visor snapped at you, his body flinching harder into the corner, but he was trapped. “Why do you think you’ll hurt me?” You whispered as your palm met the straining fabric cradling his shameful secret.

He grabbed your wrist so hard you felt your bones grind from the strength of his grip. “Because…” he growled, the timbre of it so low you felt a shiver run down your spine. “Because I don’t know what I am, but I know I need to put these eggs somewhere, and I want...I need to put them… inside…” He trailed off when a painful contraction shook his body, making him let go of you to hold himself together. “Get out now! It’s starting… please I can handle this alone but if you’re near me… I don’t know what I’ll do!”

“Shut’cher gob and tell me what to do, and don’t tell me to leave because I won’t!” You didn’t know jack shit about human births, let alone alien gestation, but you’d been through some fucked up situations, what’s one more for good measure? “I’m guessing you need to get your pants off.” His breathing was heavy, his helmet tilting with each laboured heave, but he nodded and started to fumble with the zipper of his trousers.

Your heart leapt to your throat. In the darkness of your hammock you’d imagined what it would be like to undress him, taking each of his beskar plates off and trailing your fingers down his tight clothes, revealing the man underneath like unwrapping a gift. With your fingers lost between your legs you’d pictured his muscular shoulders and broad chest, maybe even a trail of dark hair that led you all the way down his beefy abdomen to his thick, heavy cock. You’d had to bite down on the corner of your blanket when you thought of him pinning you to the wall or bending you over the dashboard, stuffing you full of his length while he groaned his praises in your ears until you were soaked.

This was not at all what you had imagined.

His gloves and his girth were giving him a hard time, so diligently you stepped in to help him undress. Your nimble fingers found the button and zipper with ease, the heat of his groin making your cheeks flush rosy pink, and then red when you pulled the zipper across the bulge in his pants and flooded the tiny nook with the perfume of his sex.

The hair surprised you, you didn’t think that an egg-bearing creature would even have curls, but there they were. Dark brown and soft against your fingertips, growing from lovely, sun-bronze skin, but that was the last of his human traits from there on. Ultimately, you were expecting a cock, horrified by the implications of what that meant in this situation, but as the zipper’s teeth continued to split, your eyes were greeted with something that made your guts flip.

It was fucking blue.

The thing sitting heavily between his legs was the prettiest ocean blue you had ever seen, with coils of deep indigo veins running up it’s length between bands of bioluminesce. Long, thick, and glowing, Mando’s half-hard trouser meat sprang out of his open pants, a relieved sigh wheezing through his modulator. It was shaped like a wang dangler all the way up to the head, but there it was something else.

At his tip a circle of petal-shaped protrusions cinched together like the blossom of a flower right before it bloomed. The knobbed end of his thingy wept with clear juices, beading deliciously from between each little bud. Your eyes were locked to a particularly fat drop of precum as it slicked down his length to his base where you found another feast for your eyes.

A hole.

He didn’t have balls, you guessed they were somewhere inside him, instead he had a fat, juicy cunt, his quivering cock growing from where a clit would be on a human. It was just as alien as his length, a dark cobalt that lightened to vibrant teal around sharp teeth that lined his widely spread folds. Those rightfully made you nervous, and fucking confused. What the hell are those supposed to latch on to? Me?!

“I’m disgusting, I know.” He whispered, turning away from you to study the wall while you studied his excitables.

“What? No you’re not, you’re… you’re beautiful.” He snapped back towards you, his visor searching your star-struck eyes for the hint of a lie, but there wasn’t one. He was looking at you, but you weren't looking at him, you were looking at him, straight through his groin into his vulnerable soul. There was just so much, and you wanted to touch all of it. Reflexively you licked your lips, wondering if he tasted as good as he smelled. Your fingers crept forward, hovering inches from his cerulean length. “Can I?”

A sharp inhale echoed in the cubby, followed by a stark nod. “Be gentle… it’s... argh… sensitive!”

“Shhh, Mando, I’ve got you. I’m gonna take good care of you.” Your fingertips met his heated flesh, making him shudder and groan. His strange length twitched from your touch, making another pearl of precum shimmer from the tip. You wrapped your hand around him, stroking the velvety length that weighed heavily against your palm. His helmet hit the wall with a deep, guttural moan, sending molten waves of heat to your own growing need.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck mesh’la...your hands are amazing.” The man purred, letting his arms fall from his belly to his sides where his fists tangled in the threadbare sheet. His hips thrust upwards into your slow tugs, rutting into your palm. In the tight quarters the mouthwatering scent of honeyed fruit grew stronger until you were sucking down your own spit to keep it from flooding your mouth.

“Hehe, yeah? You like this?” You flicked your wrist in languid spirals, running your thumb over the weeping blossom to drag warm slick down his length and towards your second goal. His toothy slit parted for you as you got closer, the pearly white fangs curling away from you safely. With one hand still on his beef, you rubbed your fingertips around his flushed hole, sinking a digit down to the knuckle.

“Yes.” he moaned breathlessly, his womb jiggling when he convulsed from your touch. You sank another finger inside, scissoring him open while you fisted his cock. “K-keep doing that and... and…” His heels scooted on the mattress when he clenched around you, his swelling length pulsating in your hand. A needy whine busted out of his modulator, and between your sunken digits you felt something grow.

“Go ahead, Mando, come on my hand, or in my hand, I don’t care. That’s a good boy.” He bucked into your steady thrusts, lost in the combination of filling and being filled. His walls fluttered around your fingers, and you felt something press against you when he bore down, but instead of something popping out of his cunt, something went up his length.

*Pop!*

From the tip of his spear, a bright orange ball sprang from him, surprising you so much you let go of his throbbing shaft and pulled your fingers from his slit. Excitedly you plucked the egg from where the halo of petals parted, presenting the orb to you like a priceless gem. “You did it! Look, Mando, it’s a… ball! Congratulations.” You were beaming, so proud of yourself for midwifing him through the process, but he was shaking his head.

“There’s more… and… and I’m starting to get desperate. You got me started, I can take it from here. Thank you for your help.”

“I’m not leaving til you’re done, but let me go find a bucket or something to… oh no!” In your hand the soft shelled egg started to dissolve and wither in the dry air, turning into goo that dribbled down your arm. “Oh shit! Oh shit Mando I’m so sorry! I-I don’t know w-what happened!”

“No no… It's alright.” He shook his head, bringing a hand up to caress his swell. “They never make it. It’s ok though, it's not like they’re fertilized. Please leave me now, your hands aren’t going to tide me over for long, and I don’t want to do something I’ll regret.”

“You keep saying that! I don’t understand, why do you think that you’ll-”

“Because I want to breed you.” The singular black eye of his visor snapped viciously towards you, making you pale. “I’m sorry, but it’s all I can think about. It’s been getting worse the closer I’ve gotten to my heat, but I don’t want to do that to you, I respect you too much. Please… forgive me.” He looked away from you shamefully, but his luminous length was still pulsing with the rapid beating of his heart. “I think being around you is why I’m so full, you’re just so damn beautiful… a-and I want you.”

Maybe it was the sickenly-sweet spice that he was putting off, or the cum soaking your hands, or even the vulgar fantasies that you imagined to yourself in the night, but you were intrigued. “You wanna do what now?”

“Breed you.” He growled, his voice so dark and sinful everything inside you clenched around nothing. “Fucking stars ever since you stabbed the cantina table I’ve wanted to be inside you. Feel your pretty little pussy squeezing me, hear those sweet moans you make when you’re alone at night… yes I can hear you. You’re louder than you think you are. But I want to be the one making you scream.” His growls turned to forced laughter. “I wish I’d gotten to before...this.”

“I don’t mind this…” You hummed, dragging your fingers along his velvety length, but he caught your wrist again, shaking his head.

“Stop, before I can’t hold back anymore.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to hold back.” You batted your lashes at him and bit your lip, leaning seductively towards his hunkered body. “Maybe I wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t know what I’d do to you, what my… ugh… eggs… would do to your body.”

“Maybe we should… find out?”

“You don’t know what you're asking.”

“Neither do you.” With that you rolled forward to kiss at his big blue eel, making him curse out your name and grab a fistful of your hair.

“Mesh’la…”

You hummed and lapped at his crown, his nectar tasting even better than it smelled. Sweet and succulent, driving you crazy with need. Your venomous tongue could be so kind when it wanted to be, swirling around his knobbled head and flicking at his frenulum. Beneath you he was a mess, writhing and bucking with desperation. Lips slick with spit, you sank your mouth as far down as you could take him without gagging, fisting the rest with one hand and teasing his cunt with the other.

Fingers digging into your scalp, Mando fought the urge to fuck your throat raw, your obscene sucking threatening to toss him right over the edge. You hollowed your cheeks and spun your tongue, lapping around each sensitive bean and plunging into his slit to drink him down.

His muscles swelled and clenched with another pass, and you barely were able to pull your mouth away when a new sphere spat out his tip, rolling away from you to melt elsewhere. “Mando, they’re going to waste, what are we going to do about that?”

“Take your fucking clothes off so I can fuck them into you, pretty girl.” He was gone, the husk of his voice making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. “Let me breed you properly, make you mine. Show you what it means to be mated by a Mandalorian.”

You obeyed, rocking back on your haunches to peel your shirt away, releasing your breasts into the hot, steamy space. The black swath of void where his eyes should be drank in the sight of you as if you were the last glass of water on Tatooine, his hand coming up to pinch at your pert nipple. “These are beautiful. I’ve dreamed about these for so long, but they’re so much better in person.”

“They taste better, too.” You crawled over top of him, your knees in between his, waving the heavy dewdrops in front of his armored face. “You wanna?”

“My creed…”

“Party pooper. Fine, then you better help me open up, you’re packin’ more than I think I can fit.” You’d taken lovers before, once you’d even taken a Wookie on a drunken dare, and if it wasn’t for the persistent wet dog smell it might have been the best sex you’d ever had. But Mando was thick, and even thicker when his cock swelled to push out an egg.

“Are you really ok with this? You’re not just saying…”

“Mando~” You purred, pressing your softness against his pulsating length, shivering when you felt his fangs scrape your thighs. “Breed me. They’ll just melt back out anyway, what’s a little...fun?”

He reached a hand up tentatively to your face, his helmet shaking slightly from side to side while he hunted in your eyes for any resistance, any clue that you were just saying that to make him feel better, but he found none.

“How did I get so lucky…”

“You’re about to get even more lucky.” You teased, taking his hand from your cheek to pry the black and yellow glove off, chucking it somewhere behind you. The flesh of his hand matched the flesh of his groin, a soft golden tone that looked like it was kissed by the sun, but not once had you ever seen him bare an inch. It was also very human, looking much like your own, save for the length and thickness of his fingers and the dark hair that grew from his knuckles. They were very much the hands of a man.

Yay!

Your pants fell away next, disappearing out of the cubby and onto the floor with the collection of empty ration tins and discarded armor. Naked as the day you were born, you clambered over him and flopped against his side, letting your legs fall open. “Touch me, Mando, get me nice and ready to be bred.” He growled against you, rolling on his side and cradling you to his chest so he could easily sink his fingers into your fluttering heat.

“Fucking stars, you’re soaked. This all for me?” You nodded and whined, your eyes rolling back when he dove one finger inside, then a second, curling them upwards to find that hidden patch of nerves you could never really reach on your own. “Gonna get you nice and open, make you cum so you can take my clutch. Would you like that, mesh’la, want me to fill you up? Swell your belly full?”

You mewled at the debauchery of it all, blissed out of your mind as he finger fucked you relentlessly. His fingers sank into you all the way to the knuckle, his thumb drawing tight, diligent circles on your clit. Mando snaked his free arm under your neck, pulling you in close to his muscular body and leaning his helmet against your brow. The cold metal burned against your sweating forehead, the steam of his breath coiling out from under the sharp iron edge with every ragged breath.

“That’s it, come for me, beautiful. Almost there.” Your nails dug into his clothed shoulders and made you realize he was way more dressed than you were. Need to fix that. With shaking knees you squirmed and writhed on his slick hand until he brought you over the edge, your walls trying to break his fingers as you came, drenching the thin sheets. “Good girl, such a perfect little cunt. Give me one more, cyar’ika.” All his gentleness evaporated as he thrust into you, his thumb pressed to your sensitive button and making you fall apart all over again.

“Fuck me, Mando, please! I want you in me, you’re not the only one with wet dreams, y’know.” He rumbled a laugh and pulled his arm out from under your neck and his fingers from your sopping mess, dragging the wet of it across your bare thigh. Hauling himself up, he moved until he was between your legs, pulling his remaining glove off and working to undo his flack.

With bated breath you watched him hurriedly undress, wondering what other fun alien treats he was keeping from you. As the dark fabric fell away, your eyes were gifted with the sight of his body, though besides the wandering blue tiger stripes and his obvious non-human bits, he was remarkably close to a man.

Except for the parts of him that were glowing.

Strings of faint teal lights followed the flow of his body, mixed intermittently with yellow stars. It wasn’t enough to illuminate the little alcove, but it was a beautiful sight nonetheless, a constellation of stars you could call your very own.

His chest was wide and muscular, a trail of dark brown hair dusting down his sternum and over the swell of his middle. His arms and shoulders looked like tree trunks, ribbons of countless scars marring his flesh with shimmering whites and pinks. Pushing his pants all the way off gave you an even better view, though he had considerably more glow streaks further down his legs, spanning from the sapphire spire around his hips.

He was fucking gorgeous.

What does his face look like, then?

“You’ll tell me if I hurt you, right?” He asked sweetly, grabbing his beast and dragging the leaking head against your thirsty little cunt. You bucked your hips up to him, trying to notch him in your entrance, but he pressed his tip into your clit to make you writhe. “Tell me, I need to hear it.”

“Yes, Mando, now please please fuck...me!!” He snapped forward and thrust his appendage into you, bottoming right out even though his full tummy was in the way. He held himself still, his body shivering with delight as your excited walls rippled around him. Deep inside you felt the little buds at his tip teasing at the tight ring of muscle that protected your innermost sanctum, politely asking for entry.

“Fuck-ing Maker, I knew you would feel good, but...ah… so much better than I ever imagined.” You giggled at him, reaching out and rubbing the taut flesh of his abdomen where it sat heavily against your own, rocking your hips side to side. His fingers dug into the skin of your knees with a broken curse, trying to hold you still. “Keep doing that and I’m gonna…”

“What? This?” You arched your hips into his, trying to coax him into gear. “I didn’t know you were such a tease, tinman.” His helmet vibrated with a growl before he was sliding himself out, making sure you felt every inch of his length drag along your walls. The head of it almost managed to drop out, sitting tantalizingly at your gates before thrusting into you with reckless abandon.

You shrieked, impaled on his otherworldly spire again and again, the noise of it wetly echoing in the cubby. Above you he grunted with the strain, hooking his elbows under your knees and going to town. You were helpless, head rolling back, eyes fluttered shut as he filled you over and over again, moaning out his name.

Though he was lost in the heat of the moment, he wished the name on your lips was his real name, the one he had sequestered away when he took his oaths. Din. He fantasized about it in the night, the short syllable tumbling from your full lips, wet from sucking him dry. Din! He wanted to snuff out the sound of it with his own mouth, capturing your tongue and tasting you fully, plundering the hot wet hole that would so beautifully sing his song.

“Din!”

But Mando would have to do.

For now.

Both of you could feel he was getting close to something, his thrusts quickening with his breath. You felt your heartbeat gallop in your chest, thundering against the walls of its cage with excitement. He was gasping, struggling to pull oxygen in through the iron that protected his face. Hips snapped against yours, the slap of skin sounding obscene in the little space. You arched your back and bore down on him, your coiled muscles milking out his release.

And then you fucking felt it.

The clever little buds on his tip stuffed themselves into the cradle of your body, teasing your cervix open and leaving something behind. Inside you felt the soft little ball swell your womb sweetly, giving you a feeling of fullness you’d never experienced before. You keened from the sensation, bringing your hands up to your belly, searching for your treasure.

“Are you alright? Am I hurting you?” Mando asked urgently between broken breaths, a weathered palm coming up to caress your face. You tittered and nodded, his relieved sigh felt through your legs and stomach.

“Got any more for me, big boy?” You purred, dragging your nails through the soft hair on his bulging abdomen where he obviously did.

“You’re going to ruin me, cyar’ika.” The pulsating length stuffed inside you slid out slowly, stringing a line of precum from your slick heat to his flushed blue tip. “Get on your knees and I’ll show you how much more there is.”

Scrambling out from under him, you flipped yourself over like a slutty little pancake, presenting your ass in front of him to feast on with his eyes. The rough pads of his fingers dug viciously into your fleshy globes, making both of you groan. “Gonna give you all of me, beautiful. Tell me you want that?” He was trying to be dirty, but the sincerity in his voice made your heart flood with honeyglow.

“I want it, tinman, I wanna be full!”

A dark, lecherous laugh rumbled behind you while he lined himself up, rubbing himself over your slit before plunging in. Stars flashed behind your eyes when he hit your deepest reaches again, making you drop to your elbows. He circled the bones of your hips with his hands, squeezing and rubbing at your waist while you adjusted to the new angle. Impatiently you clenched around him, earning yourself a stinging swat on your backside that made you squeal.

“Bad girl, you have to wait.” He growled behind you, making you whine and earning yourself another spanking that was followed by a soothing palm. “You gonna be a good girl while I breed you?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“‘Scuse me?”

“-snrt!-” You were having too much fun now, begging underneath him for friction with a roll of your hips, giggling through the cock-dumb grin on your face. “I’ll be good~”

“I know you will.” He slid forward, the angle hitting something destructive inside you, and you could tell he felt it. Memorizing your insides, he rocked forward again and again, building you up higher and higher to make you squirm. Fisting the sheets you cried when the lightning cracked up your spine, your cunt squeezing the life out of him and soaking him through. Your orgasm sucked another egg from his cock, the gentle weight sitting pretty next to the first.

“More…” you mumbled into the mattress, curving your ass up and brushing the underside of his swell. “Please…”

“You’re fucking perfect, mesh’la, so perfect for me.” His voice behind you sounded wildly different, lacking the gravelly modulation you’d grown used to, replaced with a rich baritone that tied your guts up in knots. Curiosity almost got the better of you, but before you could turn around to look at his bare face he covered your eyes, his broad palm spanning the entire width of your face. “No peeking. Be a good girl or you won’t get any more.”

He set his empty helmet down by your head, giving you something to look at if you could keep your eyes open, but his filthy cadence made your eyeballs roll back til they were gawking at your brain. Mando plowed you like his life depended on it, his fuckstick swelling inside your walls with each pass of his spend.

Reaching back, you rubbed your steadily-filling middle, the weight of his brood already making you show. Your devious digits kept going, fingertips teasing around where he melded into you, your lips stretched tightly around him. He jumped when you stuffed your hand back even further, careful not to catch on his goddamn crotchteeth to finger his cunt.

“Mesh’la!” He cried, bucking into you and pushing at least three more eggs into your womb with a single thrust. Above you he curled against your spine, his belly flattening while yours continued to swell. His arms left your hips to snake up your body, crossing between your breasts like a seatbelt and hauling you up off your elbows to his chest. Buckle up, buttercup! His sweaty pecs stuck to your spine while he kissed at the side of your neck.

You wanted so badly to look.

Instead you closed your eyes and let yourself get lost in the passionate kisses he pressed to your skin, his teeth grazing the tender flesh under your jaw. The fact that he even had lips crossed a few dozen species off of your list of possibilities, and even more when you felt the tickle of facial hair. Mando’s heated kisses tracked up your throat to nibble at your ear, his thrusting getting messy behind you.

“Can you cum for me again, beautiful? I wanna feel it.” The hand between your breasts slid up to your throat, pressing ever so gently while the second found your clit and spun devious little circles. His scruffy beard scraped your shoulder as you writhed on him, tears springing to your eyes with your crashing orgasm. “Mmph, that’s my good girl. So fucking perfect!”

His hips stuttered, slapping against your ass with a final burst, the fill of him swelling your middle to capacity, bouncing with fullness. Heavy, desperate breaths puffed against your skin as he came down from his high, caressing you with his hands and the sharp point of his chin; mumbling praises in your ear. “I didn’t think you could get any more beautiful, look at you…”

At his purring you flickered an eye open, looking down past your breasts at where you were swollen with his clutch as if you were swollen with child. His broad palms danced along the taut flesh, sliding from your precious tummy to the drops of your breasts, his hums of contentment rumbling between you. His chest and abdomen were flush with your spine, his body returned to its natural shape while yours had changed so drastically.

Between your legs his spent cock throbbed, making your combined arousal drip down onto the destroyed mattress when it softened and released. You whined from the loss, whining louder when he sneaked his fingers inside, feeling your stretched walls and musing about how wonderful you felt.

You reached forward for his helmet, handing it back to him and trying not to look at the warped reflection of his face in its sloping surfaces. He took it from you gently, letting it sink over his face so you could get off of your knees. You flopped heavily over on your butt, sitting upright and petting your full womb with a blissed out look on your face.

He laid next to you, holding you close to his body as if you were his cute little wife expecting your first baby together, and not a pair of interspecies hunters giving in to your primordial needs. You leaned against him, sighing contently and watching his serpent retreat into his body, the rows of teeth biting together and showing you why he didn’t wear codpiece with his armor.

“That’s fuckin’ weird, dude.” You laughed, brushing a fingertip along the glistening enamel.

He winced behind you. “I know, I’m sorr-”

“No, I like it.” you crooned, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. “That was fun. How often did you say this happens?”

“About once a year, but… uh… I can still get hard, without a clutch, if that’s what you’re asking?” You nodded with a laugh, curling up against his side so your full womb rested on his hip. He sighed contentedly, drawing circles on your belly with his fingers. “How does this feel? Does it hurt?”

“No, not at all, actually feels good. Feels full. I like it, I’m almost sad that it’s not gonna last.”

“Me too, you look so good like this. I could get used to it.” You hummed in agreement, shifting your legs apart so that when the eggs withered and turned to goo they could easily make their way out.

Should be any second now.

The two of you waited, laying together in post-coital bliss, just enjoying the feel of each other’s bodies, tracing scars and stars, exploring the wonders you’d kept secret from each other.

You waited.

And waited.

The minutes ticked by, at first it was a blessing, giving you time to bask in the afterglow together, but as the minutes turned to quarter hours, then halfs, you started to get worried. “Mando? I can still feel them, they’re not breaking down.”

“I’m sure they will, they always do.”

“Ok…”

They didn’t.

Hours went by, and even after waddling to the fresher shower and trying to squat them out, the eggs remained. You got washed up, half morbidly, half exuberantly watching the way the fresher water dripped from your belly while you cleaned up.

Outside the shower you toweled yourself off, taking extra steps to dry under the swell of your womb, but you struggled to reach all the way around. Mando knocked on the door politely before letting himself in, dressed only in his helmet and pants. Dutifully he took the towel from you and got to the places you couldn't reach while you were carrying his potential young.

It was surprisingly intimate, maybe even more so than being stuffed full of his length. He started on your legs, between your thighs and up to their apex, then softly wiped at your tummy and hips. His deft hands dragged the towel under each breast, then your shoulders and arms, then lastly your neck; draping the wet fabric around you like a cloak when he saw your bunching brows. You looked nervous.

“We’ll figure it out, mesh’la, I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.” He stated with determination, brushing his thumb down the curve of your cheek and turning your eyes to meet his visor. Your hair was still wet, and now so were your eyes, the first twinges of fear creeping into their corners. He didn’t like what he saw. “Close your eyes, lovely girl.”

You did, squeezing back the mist that was starting to form. He let go of you, and you heard the sound of something heavy and metallic being set down on the sink. The towel around your shoulders was lifted over your head, draping it over your face. You were about to give him hell, mad that he would want to hide your face when you were clearly getting emotional, but instead you felt the wet fabric being lifted as he joined you underneath.

Then he kissed you.

Warm, petal-soft lips pressed against your cold wet ones, suddenly surprising you before you melted into him. His kiss was as gentle as his hands that were making their way up to your jaw, holding you steady while he slotted his mouth to yours. He felt human, the edges of his teeth dull like yours, thankfully not sharp like the ones between his legs. Tasted human, too.

You kissed him back, darting your tongue out with an experimental flick, licking his plush lower lip. He inhaled sharply, caught off guard by your forwardness. His fingers coiled around the back of your head, tangling in your wet hair as his kisses grew in intensity. The smooth muscle of his mouth danced with your own, letting you both taste each other for the first time.

“Ner cyar’ika, I’ve waited so long for this.” he purred against your lips, his words heavy with adoration. He kissed you again, pulling you into himself hungrily and tickling your nose with his mustache. Your own hands came up, slowly dragging over the expanse of his chest to the sinewy length of his neck, and finally to the edge of his jaw.

“Can I touch your face, Mando? I won’t look with my eyes.” He nodded against your lips, his nose bumping the side of yours. Cautiously you wandered your fingertips along the edge of his jaw, the stiff bristles catching under your nails. He shivered with need when you scratched him, carding through his scruff like you were taming a massif.

His sharp jawline led you up his cheeks, their softness dusted with erratic bristles. You ran your thumbs under his eyes, exploring his cheekbones and the creases that bordered his large eyes. Pressing your forehead to his and pulling your lips away, you circled your thumbs down the sides of his well-defined nose to the line of hair above his lips. The creases that your hands found told you he wasn’t a young man, but he probably wasn’t too far beyond your age either.

And you imagined him to be very handsome.

It wasn’t until your hands found his ears that you remembered he wasn’t the same species as you. They were pointed, and sensitive if his little moans of pleasure were anything to go by.

“I don’t ever want you to see those, they’re ug- oh!” You cut off his self depreciation to tilt his head between your hands, pressing a kiss to each of his ears with a seductive puff of steam. “St-stop, you’re giving me goosebumps.”

“Stop being so mean to yourself, buckethead, only I can be the judge of that, and I bet they're cute!” He laughed, the sound warm and brassy, but not enough to distract you from your current predicament. “What… what are we going to do about… this.” You took each of his hands in yours and set them on your full belly, letting him caress his handiwork.

He sighed, pressing a kiss to your forehead in the dark of the towel, his lashes brushing your skin when he dropped his brow to yours. You heard his lips part with a smile, imagining the way the wrinkles around his eyes would bunch, wistfully hoping that one day you could see them for yourself.

“Mesh’la I-… I have no idea."

Next->

If you liked this fic, check out Garden of Ishtar! It's chapter 9 in a series but can be read stand-alone. Enjoy~

TAG LIST:

@mrsparknuts @cookiejuicedesu @kaermorons @ironbabey @theflightytemptressadventure @emesispo @what-iwish-youknew @misscamptl @t3a-bag @poppunkdee @misscamptl @pandastasia @simpingmess @lilychristine01 @inaturenymph @buttercup--bee @blackd0gdesignuk @tanzthompson @transientblueseraph @jasmincita @sunnnygiiirl123 @beskarboobs @doin-stuff @marvelranger

[alberivh]

VEILLE CONGRATULATIONS FOR YOUR MILESTONE YOU DESERVE IT MY LOVE >_< !!!

can i request for first and last letter with childe? T^T childe has so much potential for angst,, thank you for this!! <3

The first and Last

summaries : where childe open his ‘safebox’ after a long time ever since your last appearence in his dream. and because of his undelightful sight of numbness and vulnerable feeling, he decided to read the first and the last letter from you, his dead fiancé.

character : childe x GN! Reader

contains : sickness (implementations of bronchitis), major character death, heavy angst, slight comfort/hurt, over all pure angst, mentions of losing weight.

A/N : hELLO AERI! Thank you very much for requesting this, i hope this suits your liking! (( also please do check aeri’s page @dilucbar for more interesting genshin fic and writing hehe ))

as childe breaks onto the ground of his empty mansion, his numbness began to drown him onto an exhaustion. An empty exhaustion to be exact. A simple pushed-over of his feelings are now an inexistent memory of his, he used to be so bright, but now, What happened to those charming smiles of his? Could it be burned by your ashes? Or did he just simply forgot how to provide his mistakes to love you? He doesn’t know either, All he could felt are just a simple empty tears, scrolling down through his cheekbones. making it seems like he still hide an emotions underneath the crack of his facades.

he drags his body into his bedroom. It’s heavy feelings occurs his way onto his side of the bed, drowning it scents onto his nose. It was pretty messy, full of untidied shirt, fragrance of a dandelion parfume, and most of all, which has always been in a perfect shape and form, covered by a red ribbon, a small box has been in ‘that’ bedside for about 237th days now. The box was an unpleasant sight for him, it was a remembrance for him to realize you were gone and you couldn’t be back. After all death have always craved those who loved him forever and after.

so tonight he decided to open this box. To bring back his vulnerable emotions back. to bring back those glazing eyes of his when he saw you buried underneath the rock of your tombstone. Numb and sorrow are all he could felt, excitement while opening this treasure of his lover pieces are nothing more than a natural hunch of his nature.

The box are full of your handwritten letters you’ve left for him. You’ve always collected the copied of your letter into this old wooden-tile box incase if anything happens to you, he could recollect his memory to remembered you again. ‘In the old days, if you lost your track, find me again through this box darling, sincerely, (name).’ Written in the top of the box instruction. He opens through the first letter of the stockpiles , it was one of your first letter for him. The most memorable one in fact. Written in the most familiar and comforting handwriting he has missed for ages.

to my dearest, ajax.

I haven’t seen you in ages, where have you been? Have you had a good time with the new recruits? Are you feeling well? Do you have any new interest while exploring the inner city of fontaine? AHH I HAVE SO MANY QUESTION FOR YOU, YOU SHOULD JUST BE BACK SO I COULD INTEROGATE YOU MOREE,, I was about to surprised you back then with a classic snzehnayan dish you’ve always craved for, but you know.. you just disappeared to a dust and it make me thinks you are a hallucination of mine, but now i’ve heard you have an amazing time in fontaine, i couldn’t help but smile and feel relieved. i’m glad you had a great time darling, Really glad in fact!

So please do bring me some souvenir as a return of your..compensation for keeping me waiting hehe, i’ll see you soon then!

from, your lover, (name)

It was your last letter you’ve sent to your lover, before childe came screaming on your name at the emergency room, searching for your figure to be embrace in his arm. To comfort you he said, despite the worries and sweats he witness while in his way to check your structure, you’re his fiance after all, He couldn’t lose you for everything, childe is too selfish to expect the best of you.

He remembers when he was feeding you, taking care of you like another baby-sibling of his and still loves you nonetheless. Maybe only childe could do it, he prepared everything for you, leading you with the wheelchair or even hand carry you in one arm if your condition lead you to be more clingy to him. He does it all for you, for you to be happy and stay a little bit more longer than he expected to be. Just for you to be more selfish, so death could wait longer for your arrival.

Bronchitis is the name of the disease, a deadly one in fact. If it were not taken care of, maybe you were already dead by now. Maybe it would be pointless for childe to scream your name in the emergency room, searching for you, anyone but you.

as you were coughing in his arms ; making many form of mucus in your lungs, while he carries you in his shoulder, patting your back so you could feel much more in ease. You feel so light now and you’ve lost so many weight, it worries him to the edge. Though your tenderness have always lingers onto his body, it still stressed him, you’re not supposed to be gone this fast, you’re supposed to be alive and well. Let him die, he is a murderer of the innocence yet he still live long and well. How ironic it is for the sinner to always stand as the first and the last?

“ajax..i’ve prepared so many things for you, these past days..though i would say i’m still scared of letting you go..”

“Hmm..and why is it my love?” , curious and in interest of knowing much more of your recent condition, he asked you straightforwardly. Voice gone anxious and body became colder than before, you find it precious how he always prioritize you over everything.

“i just don’t want to die..i don’t want to..this breathing ventilator sucks..i really want to be with you ajax, i really want to..” you were sobbing in his jacket, hiding your face in his embrace, not wanting him to see the awful side of you for being too egoistic for your own stability.

“just, ajax..if i left you..please take that box i’ve always brought..read the last letter if you’re ready..i loved you…so much..”

you’re lost in the snow, starting your new ways in heaven. Leaving him behind ; alone. even after encouraging you to stay longer than he will, though if he think it again, it was all a bullshit for you to stay. now, he is ready to witness the pieces of you he always wanted to knew, a new pieces of you to be loved again by him. Just please let it be a decent farewell, he didn’t ask for more, but just a decent love and farewell are all he could ask for.

opening in terror of expectation. he found himself to be quite charmed by the appearence of this letter. Sniffs and sobs crawling down to his cheeksbone, making it seems like he was finally reaching his emotions after the emptiness he felt these past seconds.

to, my dearest, ajax.

Ajax, You probably read this when i’m already gone. It might be hard to move on and live another life, still I hope your managing well in your current life, i’ll always look upon you my love. Just please do not harm yourself, i’ve always been worried about you since i lay in this painfully awful bed. So please, would you keep it mind..? i loved you so much that i have no hesitation to continue to love you more in the afterlife. I’m just too selfish for you, for you to withess nor to love.

I don’t think i’ll be able to send you all of my letters for you in this box i’ve always treasured. Though i have certain thoughts to be filled when i wrote this letter. I know i haven’t been a good lover for you, you’ve always taken care of me and i could only nod in gratitude. I really wish the god’s gave me two chance to live with you again, just for myself to stay even if it pains me. I don’t want to die, i don’t want to. I hope i could live another day everytime i sleep in your arms, i don’t want to lose another person because my time has losen up. I regretted this, everything.

And if in another life i could called you by your name again. Please do recognize me as your old lover. Thoug if it meant for me to forget about you, at least those deja vu from our past could bring you back to me. I do not beg for more sympathy from you, you’re too precious for me. You shouldn’t have suffer this much because of me. I loved you ajax. even if it were only the last chance for you to met me again in your dream or hallucination. I wish you a farewell, a pleasing farewell. I couldn’t bare someone to hurt because of their lost, just because i’m not strong enough to stay with you and outlived you.

Ah and remember the souvenir you gave to me from fontaine? i’ve always used it ever since you gave it to me. I don’t know if you realized it or not, but this gift from you have always been one of my comfort, it was the only pieces of you that i could remember when you were not here with me. I have no regrets that i still could hold into it until my death. So take it, it could be the only remembrance of me till the end of the 100 years of your life.

So ajax, know your worth. You are far from perfect yet the sight of you have always been one of the reason i’m alive. Don’t be too selfish to give someone a chance to survive, live well and die well. You’ve always have been my last memory of the lover i clearly love wholeheartedly. Love yourself for me, for you, and for the others who listen to your pleas. Found me again in the afterlife won’t you? I love you.

from, your old lover, (name).

he was crying in tears of hopeless numbness and sorrow. How many times has he been cussing a ‘fuck’ out of his mouth? He doesn’t even know, He lost count. He was crying in the ground, leaving puffy cheeks and eyes behind. your words are too much for him to bare. You are too kind for him, too much for him. The grief of losing you are already too much for him to bare. He doesn’t want to remember you are dead, he just wants to remember how much you loved him. It comforted him, always have been. But now you’re gone, he could only hold into the tiny box of his lovers oath. It’s a curse to be loved by you.

[mid-weast]

Will you keep it down? | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: You and Jungkook attend the same university and have been neighbors for 3 months now. It drives you crazy that he plays loud music at 2AM, and it drives him crazy that you barely acknowledge his presence.

Pairing: Jungkook x Female!Reader; Black!Reader

Words: 2.6K

Genre: enemies to lovers, student!jungkook, student!reader, fluff, mention of smut, angst? (in the form of bickering back and forth).

Authors note: Hi hi! This is the first fic I’ve ever written so if it’s bad I’m sorry. Also it is unedited so if there's grammar / spelling mistakes I'm sorry again! Also this is catered toward the reader being Black but I hope it can be enjoyed by everyone. Thank you for reading! Feedback is appreciated ok love u bye!

“Y/N? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??!? Open this door RIGHT NOW!”

Even though you were studying in your room, his knocks were so loud you nearly jumped out of your skin. You had expected a reaction, but not a full-on explosion.

You and Jungkook have been apartment neighbors for about three months now, and a constant problem is that he blares his music hella loud late at night. Of course he’s a music major so he listens to music a lot, but at this point you don’t care. It doesn’t even seem like he’s working on composition homework anyway, just being an asshole with no regard for his neighbors peace. Now don’t get yourself wrong, you're not just some uptight bitch who complains about everything. Well, you do have several pet peeves but over the years of going to school in Korea you’ve picked and chosen your battles very wisely. In most cases you let things slide. You wouldn’t care at all about someone playing the music loudly, but it is 2 AM, and while you’re up studying you know a lot of your other neighbors are trying to sleep.

You tiptoe toward your front door and twist the knob slowly. You only open the door wide enough to be able to see his face. It’s not that you’re scared that you’re in danger or anything, and you rarely back down from people giving you a hard time. But you were tired, wearing a big ass t- shirt and short shorts (your regular sleep attire), and it was late at night. So if anything was going to pop off you felt pretty vulnerable. Even though you’re the same age, he towers over you and you find his size kinda intimidating.

As usual, you have to crane your neck to see his face, and your view of him is limited by the narrowness in which

you opened the door.

“Can I help you, lil boy?”

From what you can see of him, right away you can tell that he is pissed. Dawning his usual attire of a black sweatshirt with the hood up, black sweats, and stomp a hoe boots, he stood extremely close to your apartment door with his arms crossed. His usually wide, puppy dog eyes are now pressed in narrow slits. His normally pouty lips are formed in a hard line, and his jaw is so clenched you could carve an ice sculpture with his jawline.

"Who the hell do you think you are? You called the cops on me? Are you INSANE???" Jungkook shouts.

Obviously he's mad, and despite the amount of times you've gone back and forth he's never raised your voice at you. The old you would have screamed back at him, but over time you've tried to respond to anger with calmness. Also, you were a little scared because this mf is kind of big.

"I already told you if you keep blaring your music at 2AM, I was going to do something about it!" You respond in a hushed whisper, slightly concerned that your elderly neighbors will be even more disturbed by the noise. "I've told you this a million times, and you barely do anything about it. If anything, it's gotten worse like you're doing it on purpose. People are trying to sleep and I'm trying to study, why is this so hard for you to understand?"

He sucks his teeth. "You're such a little snitch. And I've already told YOU that YOU can't tell me what to do."

"I know I can't...but they can," you nod toward the exit, referring to the police officers that most likely just left out that way with a tiny smirk growing on your face.

If it was possible, he clenched his jaw even harder and you think that he's going to pop a blood vessel. He pushes his way into your apartment, which sends you stumbling back and you grab the door handle to regain your balance. This causes you to close the door shut.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're-"

He steps right up to you and leans down into your face.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, seriously??? Why are you such an annoying little brat? Just because you're a nerd with no friends who gets no play doesn't mean you can take your bitterness out on me.”

You have to laugh in his face at this point because hello??? First of all, who is he talking to? Second of all, you have told him a BUNCH of times to turn his music down late at night. You didn't think that was too much to ask. As far as you were concerned, being aware of your noise level when you live in an apartment is the universal bare minimum for being a human being.

"ME? Who do you think YOU are? Actually let me tell you. You're an entitled little rich boy who thinks he runs the world. I don't give a fuck about how popular you are on campus, how many people fall at your feet to be around you, and how many hoes you have, you cant talk to ME like that. And how are you going to try and tell me about myself when it's too much of a task for you to be a decent neighbor? I've never done anything to blatantly bother you, so why can you just.." You started to panic because usually when you raise your voice out of anger, your voice cracks and tears threaten to pool out of your eyes, but you tried to get a grip and not back down..."why can you just be nice to me so we can live in peace? Is that too hard for you???"

He looked kind of taken aback by your question. Being nice to you? It never crossed his mind. Also, you kind of had a point. When the semester started and you both moved in on the same day, you would shoot him a small, friendly smile in passing but you never seemed interested in getting to know him. He always wondered why that was. It's not that he had a problem talking with girls, since all he had to do was breathe and girls would come flocking around him, but you would flat out ignore him. Even at all the major parties at the beginning of the year and on Thursday nights when students take over the clubs in the city, you'd barely even acknowledge him. He KNEW that you had seen him too, since you would make eye contact, but you acted like he was just another guy at the club.

And he'd be lying if he said you weren't fine. You had thick thighs, a beautiful face, nice curves, and always wore outfits that hugged you in the right places. He always wondered what it would feel like to wrap his arms around your body and press it against his own. He would constantly sneak peaks of you throughout the night at the club, but something stirred in him when he saw that you were chatting up other guys. Was he...jealous? Jealous that you were so eager to pay attention to these dudes who, in his opinion, were decent looking but they were nowhere near his level, and you never even gave him a second thought? One night he even saw you leaving with a man he knew through mutual friends, and he had to physically stop himself from breaking the glass he was holding, because that guy, while objectively handsome, was nothing compared to him. Jungkook wasn't blatantly cocky, but he let his talent, charm, and looks speak for themselves. He was THEE Jeon Jungkook, and nothing ever really bothered him....except you.

Was he....interested in you? Nah, that can't be it. You were some random chick who happened to be his neighbor, who also is one of the only girls he's met that doesn't give two fucks about even having small talk with him, and that infuriated him for some reason. So the first time you came knocking on his door in an adorable pink satin pajama set with a matching bonnet complaining about his loud music, he knew the game he had to play.

He's still standing over you, centimeters away from you face, but you notice that his eyes soften a little and so does his jaw. He unclenches the fists he was holding crossed against his chest

You continue, “I don't care what you do, and I'm DEFINITELY trying to run your messy ass life. Believe me," you scoff, "you don't have enough money to pay me to do that. But when your dickhole behavior fucks with MY life is when it's a problem. And it's BEEN a problem."

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever, little girl, maybe I should call you little mouse now, since now I know that you'll go squeaking to the cops now, don't fuck with me or my music again.”

Without moving your head you look him up and down with a confused expression. "Am I supposed to be scared of you? No seriously, you look like you cry during Disney movies while wearing footie pajamas, and now here you are throwing a fit because I forced you to stop bothering the entire wing with your music?"

Girl...what are you saying??? This man just barged into YOUR place, is in your face, and is strong enough to pick you up and throw you, and you’re insulting him? But you figured if he's going to be rude, you'll throw it right back because you're tired of his bullshit.

Whatever softness he was feeling for a fleeting moment immediately left, and annoyance once again washed over. He straightens up a bit and puts on that annoying confident smirk he wears when he thinks he's won arguments between you two.

"You should be nicer to me, all it will take is for me to tweet one thing about you, and you'll be the most hated person on campus."

At this point, any suspicions that you had about him annoying you on purpose were confirmed. You've concluded that this mf is a bully and you, small and shy but not one to take mess, will put him in his place to-motherfucking-night.

You take a step toward him, now crossing your arms tightly against your chest, but he doesn't even move a hair backwards.

"Clearly you need a rude awakening so here it is. I don't know what type of people you've dealt with all your life, always saying yes to you, letting you boss them around and taking whatever bullshit you dish out, but let me tell you I am not the one. Never have been and never will be. Unlike the other fools around here who cream their pants at the mention of your name, I don't care about who you are. You'll respect ME and MY peace as long as we're neighbors, you get me?"

Now y/n, you have never so boldly stood up to someone, where did that come from, babes? You've tried to not let this entitled little boy get to you this whole time, but with him standing in front of you in the middle of your apartment with that extremely annoying, yet handsome, smirk on his face, and after all the crap he's said tonight, he had you all the way fucked up.

After you said that, he just laughed and looked away. Now you’re standing there fuming and confused...was there a joke you missed? You were being dead serious!

"Something funny?" you ask, narrowing your eyes.

"Nothing, just thinking about how I want to face fuck that annoying little mouth of yours so you finally shut up.”

Your jaw almost dropped to the floor. You've never had a guy say something so blatantly rude and vulgar literally inches away from your face. But again, you weren't going to back down.

"Oh really?" Scoffing and tilting your head to the side a bit while narrowing your eyes even more, "I'd very much like to do the same. Maybe then you'll learn your place."

"Oh please, princess, you probably blanch when someone around you even mentions the word sex." He chuckles and leans down close toward your face again and cocks his head to the side, scrunching his nose and in a pouty voice said, "you're fooling no one, but keep trying, maybe you'll get there.”

You're even more annoyed than you were before, if that was even possible. But if he wanted to play this game, you might as well go there with him. It's true, you were a bit more prudent than more, but it pissed you off that he could tell. Regardless, you do know some things to say that could have him leaving with his tail between his legs.

You pouted your lips and in a babying tone said, “Aww sweetheart you have no idea. You think you're big and bad but like I said, you probably cry watching Disney movies. The same way you'd be crying, begging me to let you cum down my throat as I mercilessly toy with your cock for hours.”

Now it's his turn to go pale. Y/n, his stuck up neighbor who has barely even spared him five seconds of her time just threatened to edge him into submission? He has to pinch himself because he must be dreaming....

“Well I-“

“But I don't even think we’d make it that far, hun” you continue, “because in order to humble your egotistical, disrespectful ass, I'm gonna have to ride your face until you suffocate. And when the paramedics come and I have to explain how you died, I won't even hesitate to tell them that you were a punk ass loser who LITERALLY drowned in my pussy!”

You don’t know who this person speaking is, but it is not you. All of the pent up hostility you’ve held towards him just flooded out of you and you couldn’t stop the words from coming out. To be honest you shocked yourself, but you still stood there with your arms crossed and your face unfaltering, just waiting for him to say something smart back.

He stared at you silently, eyes wider than you’ve seen before and his mouth hung slightly open. He wasn’t expecting you to respond with so much fire, but now he wouldn’t be able to sleep until the image you painted came true. His brain said fuck it, and his lips crashed down onto yours. The kiss is sloppy but passionate, and you swore you heard him quietly whimper.

When he feels you starting to kiss back, he smirks into the kiss. Your lips are moving against each other in tandem, and all thoughts about how much you despise the prick fades away. As you uncrossed your arms and placed them on his chest, you could feel his heart beating wildly. Was he as nervous as you were this whole time? You wonder. You knew he was a player, so he was experienced. But the thought that you made him nervous gave you a tiny confidence boost. His hands slowly slide up the sides of your body to sneak behind your back, to pull you further into his chest. As much as your brain was telling you to resist him and push him away, you couldn't help but fall victim to how soft his lips felt against yours. Suddenly you feel airborne as he swiftly reaches down behind your thighs and picks you up. You instinctively gasp but he doesn’t miss a beat, simply biting your lower lip and locking your lips together again.

“Maybe we should test that scenario of yours, and if it comes true, that wouldn’t be the worst way for me to go” he says, doing that annoying but soul-crushingly handsome smirk he likes to wear as he carries you off to your bedroom.

[refriedweeb]

PUT YOUR LIPS ON MY SKIN ( HAWKS + READER 18+)

A/N: heyyoo! refriedweeb here again with another request from @alexandria-selina and has elements of jealous hawks with his wings (from that tiktok head canon of them puffing out you know what I mean) and this post from @keiqos !

Prompt: “A jealous Hawks where his s/o gets hit on by another pro and she's blushing. She's just being shy but Hawks takes it as she likes it. Instead of getting into a fight with the pro, he shows his s/o why she shouldn't look at anyone else.”

Tags/Warnings: smut, overstimulation, jealousy, mirror fucking, spit, a lil bit of blood, rutting, feral, aftercare, kink, jealous, dirty talk.

Word count: 5,080

Keigo Takami hated hero events. He hated having to wear the Hawks persona day in and day out, especially when it came to being surrounded by his fellow pro heroes. Now, don’t get the guy wrong, he did enjoy what he did for a career despite any behaviors he had to unlearn from the hero commission themselves. He wanted to save people, he wanted to make the world a better and safer place. He just hated all the bullshit politics that came with it. They were heroes, hell. It wasn’t about making best friends and going to fancy events when there was always going to people out there that needed them while they clinked glasses of overpriced champagne.

Though, one thing Keigo didn’t think he minded that much was seeing you dolled up in a dress that led his mind to sinful, dark places. You and Keigo had only recently started dating, after months of him slowly starting to open up to you about the shit that he’d gone through, how he’d really felt about the commission once he’d gotten the sense that he could trust you. It’d been a struggle to call yourselves an item, but now that you could, Keigo felt what he could only assume was peace inside of a darkened and traumatized heart. There was also another emotion that was stirring in him that had nothing to do with peace, and all of those awful things that he wanted to do to your body. None that he would apologize for, of course.

It wasn’t his fault that the commission had decided to host a little event when he was in the peak of his rut season.

And oh, was Keigo in trouble. You’d recently started wearing a new perfume that had driven him up a wall the moment he’d caught the scent on you at the beginning of his mating season. It wasn’t sickly sweet, but sweet enough, and mixed perfectly with your natural pheromones to create a musk that drove his cock to twitch every time you shook some hair over your shoulder, stretched, fucking just breathed. He’d been unable to keep his hands off you for the majority of the weeks that had past, except as of late. You’d told him to keep his filthy paws to himself leading up to the event, not wanting to be bruised or love bit to all hell because Keigo couldn’t control himself. The way that he saw it, the dress you’d picked for the night was to torment him on purpose. Deep red velvet that matched his wings, settling over the curve of your hips, the flow of your waist.

You’d made him promise to be on his best behavior for the night, not wanting any trouble or any media to get wildly stories about what your relationship was really about. But damn, if the moment you were alone with him, he was going to tear that dress to shreds with what little talons he had in place of regular nails. You, on the other hand, your body had been spent. Keigo was insatiable on a good day, but ever since the rut season had started, it’d been exceptionally so. Not that you could complain, your body was sore in a much different, more appreciative way than you felt with sparring.

And yes, you had chosen the red velvet dress on purpose. It was your goal of the night to drive Keigo as out of his mind as possible. You couldn’t read him quite as well yet, your relationship still relatively new, and Keigo working through an entire lifetime of walls to protect his emotional security from the hero commission. His expression was a blank one, but when you locked eyes with him, Keigo gave you the smallest eyebrow raise as he looked you up and down. A silent stamp approval that had heat blossoming up your neck. He wanted to make that perfume you were wearing mixed with his own, he wanted to make sure that anyone who got a whiff of your scent knew who you belonged to. He wasn’t a fan of sharing by any means.

The night carried on, speeches given by the leaders of the commission (which you’d always found yourself by Keigo’s side much to his comfort), Endeavor’s speech, All Night’s retirement speech, and so on and so on. There’s been a light array of snacks while the pros mingled, finding yourself talking to Shinya Kamihara, otherwise known to the world as Edgeshot. It wasn’t very often you got to mingle with the top ten pros, your rank in the high teens, so you found yourself shy. Not quite sure how to handle yourself around such class, experiences, and amazing heroes. You were sure the blush on your cheeks, your neck, was visible from outer space. Shinya was a gentleman, he complimented you on your quirk, your work, and the little bit of history you’d talked to him about on why you had made your choice to become a hero. From your point of view, it was a harmless conversation that was borderline on friendly as you got to know the fellow hero, but from a certain outside perspective it was something a little more.

Keigo wasn’t paying attention to any of the conversation going on around him, his eyes were focused on you. The way you tipped your head back as you laughed, sending another ripple effect of your smell through the air. Was that bastard Edgeshot trying to move in on you? Did he really think he had a chance? He swallowed the jealousy in his throat, though his avian side had a mind of its own on this. His wings, proud and defensive, puffed out. This caused a stir of the other heroes around him, asking if there was something they missed that he’d alerted to. Keigo laughed, the same charismatic Hawks as always, saying they just needed a stretch. He crossed his arms, fidgeting with one of his cuff links. Keigo, jealous? Haha. HAHAHAHA...ha? His eyes were narrowed into slits as he watched you pat Edgeshot on the shoulder, leaning in to kiss his cheek before the other hero moved away.

His instinct was to claim you right then and there. To rub his scent all over you and yours on his so that no one else would mistake you as open. But...that’d certainly cause a scene and that was something he promised he wouldn’t do that night. So, Keigo bit back on his instinct, unclenched his jaw, and behaved for the rest of the night. Anything that came after that was entirely out of his control. You’d floated around to him throughout the night, not doing much outside of brushing hands together, a chaste smile shared between you. This was your first real hero event ever since you broke into the teens of your career, and it was one you wanted to soak in. Keigo knew this, and didn’t want to spoil it for you despite his own feelings on the event. 

Keigo’s mood, his want, took a turn for the worse when it came to someone actually flirting with you. You, not experienced enough with the personalities of some of these heroes to realize what was happening. It wasn’t Edgeshot this time, no. Now...it was Ryo Inui, better known as Hound Dog. And he was like Keigo in a way that he wanted to mark whatever it was that he wanted. Ryo put his hand on the small of your back, where Keigo’s hand was supposed to go. He laughed when you laughed, leaning in close to you as like there was some desperate secret he needed to share with your ears only. Ryo was flirting with his girlfriend and was being so bold about it. No, nope. That would not do for him. His wings fanned out again, this time catching the attention of several people around him, you and Ryo included. Your mouth dropped open in awe at the sight, though when you caught Keigo’s eyes to see his pupils narrowed into slits, something like a firework set off in your belly. 

That fucking mutt dared to spoil that perfume that sent him into a frenzy with his dog-like scent? That wasn’t something that Keigo could stand for in the slightest. That scent was you. It was the scent he had been planning on burying his own in.

The two of you left the event shortly after.

On the ride back to Keigo’s place, the car was silent. Not a word was spoken between the two of you, though it was full of tension in a way where if you breathed, you felt that you could choke on it. He drove fast, shifting gear after gear with aggression that made you wish it was your neck he gripped so hard. As you sat in the passenger seat,  you couldn’t help but rub your thighs together to feel some of that much desired tension between your legs. This didn’t go unnoticed by Keigo, and he hissed. 

Still, the two of you didn’t exchange words until you were behind the privacy of his front door. And even then, you spoke first. “Everything okay, Keigo?”

His pupils were still zeroed in on you, as he stalked towards you, every bit the predator bird that he was. And fuck, if it didn’t make you want to melt into a puddle at his feet. You walked backwards, careful not to trip over the towering heels you were in. His body was hot, flush against yours though he refused to touch you. Keigo wanted to take his time with this, with devouring you. You’d rubbed it in his face how much the rest of the heroes wanted you, being the little flirt that you were. There was no need for him to rush into anything, the way Keigo saw it. “Oh, everything’s fine.” He commented, tone dark. “I could handle that nimrod Edgeshot eyeing you up like some desert, sure. I behaved,” Keigo tipped his head to the side as he shrugged. He’d managed to walk you back into the bedroom you’d been sharing recently. 

“What are you talking about? Edgeshot was just being friendly!”

Keigo’s chuckle was cynical, but it turned the silk of your bundle into a pearl with how quickly it excited you. “He wanted to tear this dress of you just as much as I do.” How he was. “But then you had to go and be a little tease, didn’t you?” Keigo was watching you like a hawk would watch a mouse just before it clutched it in its’ talons. “Had to let Ryo rub himself on you like the mutt he is. In the middle of my rutting season.” Your back bumped up against the floor length mirror behind you as Keigo gripped your jaw, the sharp curve of what would have been talons biting into the skin there. “All I can smell on you is him.”

He clucked his tongue. Sharp, narrowed eyes lowered over your skin and back up. You were breathless and Keigo hadn’t even touched you yet. “That just won’t do, now will it, (Y/N)?”

“K-Keigo, I don’t know what you’re-”

A soft cry of pain rose from the back of your throat as his version of talons sank into your skin, enough to draw a little bit of blood. This was Keigo in his rutting form times a million, a possessive version of him you’d never seen before. Part of you was scared, but the larger part of you was excited. He wanted to claim you. He wanted to make you more than just his. 

“I asked if that would do, (Y/N)?”

Unable to speak with how tightly Keigo gripped your jaw, you simply shook your head from side to side. No, it wouldn’t do. That crooked smirk brushed over Keigo’s lips, and you wanted to taste him so bad. Taste the anger on his tongue, feel the fury in the rows of his teeth. Keigo was pissed, more than anything, that someone had tried to erase his claim on you. So, the only way to make sure that never happened again was to mold the scent of you with his. “That’s a good little slut.” Keigo released his hand from your jaw, the faint tickle of blood that ran down your jaw sending a shiver down your spine.

Keigo turned surprisingly gentle as he turned you around, as he pressed your hands up against the curve of the mirror that you were facing. “I’m going to make you watch me claim you. Fuck you and fill you until there’s no fucking mistaking who you belong to.” His hands dug into the back of your skin, and you winced. “You keep these hands right here, and if you don’t, there’ll be problems. Do you understand, little bird?”

“Yes, Keigo.”

His devilishly wicked smile returned. And so did the greed in his hands. Keigo took his time groping you, the swell of your breasts full in his hands. The winding curves of your waist and hips. Down the silken road of the dress that he swore he’d destroy. He wasn’t soft, gentle. Keigo was at his brink already, but he wanted to take his time with torturing you for being such a teasing little whore. His hands gripped the sides of your thighs, plunged through the velvet fabric so that lines of red were exposed in the slits he left behind. A soft moan escaped you at the sensation of talons digging through your skin, and he watched your expression in the mirror’s reflection as he did it over your backside. “Do you like that, whore?” he whispered in your ear. “When I leave my mark on you? When all you can feel is me?”

“Yes, fuck,” you breathed in response. He buried his face in the juncture of your neck and collarbone, taking a deep breath in that still smelled like mutt, fueling his need to erase that smell completely. His kisses were wet, sloppy, tongue traced over the length of your collarbone, of your neck. A soft sigh escaped you, your grip on the perimeter of the mirror growing tighter as the need to touch Keigo grew. His teeth sank into the soft spot of your neck, your head falling back on his shoulder as he suckled the skin there, a patch of pink blossoming against the skin there that would eventually bruise. The assault against your neck and your shoulders didn’t stop there, either. He ran his nose along the length of your shoulders, leaving trails of wet, angry patches from where he’d bit and pulled at your skin. There wasn’t a single ounce of Keigo that was kidding when he said he was going to erase every trace of anyone on your body but him. His cock was hard, and it would have been so easy to just bury himself inside the soft warmth of your cunt, and god how he ached to.

But the best things came to those that waited.

While his tongue and mouth worked at your neck and shoulders, his fingers played with your breasts, groping and pulling at the skin there with reckless abandon. Fingers pinched at your nipples, sharpened nails ghosted across the tender flesh there. You shuddered, shifted where you stood as you ground against his hips, feeling the thick length of him there. Keigo had barely even touched you, but you could feel the pool of warmth between your thighs only growing wetter. “Keigo,” you mewled. 

“Hmm?” his breath came hot against the ear he had been nibbling on, and your knees knocked together. 

“Touch me,” you pleaded.

“Touch you where?” His tone sounded positively bored, pinching your nipple between his thumb and index finger that caused you to squeal.

“My pussy,” you caught sight of your own desperate expression in the mirror, all while Keigo looked like a predator playing with his food. And in that moment, you realized this was exactly what it was. Keigo was toying with you before he sent you to the next level of existence. Your legs quivered.  “Play with me.”

“Have you been a good little bird?” He asked.

“Yes.”

His hum seemed to be a satisfied answer, because his hands left your breasts, finding a new home at the back of your dress. But rather than go for the zipper, Keigo simply tore the fabric. The sound of it ripping filled the room as it pooled down at your feet seconds later. Leaving you exposed save for the same colored red pair of panties you’d worn that night. The dress had left no room for a matching bra given the dip at your back it’d once had. But that was of no consequence to Keigo. Keigo let out a sharp breath through his teeth as he admired your body and all that came with it. His hands found the curve of your backside, kneading the flesh there with thought. You could feel the tent of him pressing in between your thighs, and you let him slip between your thighs, shifting your thighs back and forth to alleviate some of the tension in his cock for him.

On instinct, more due to the fact that the bird in him wanted to cover you in his scent and his cum, Keigo rolled his hips into you with a snap of a thrust. It pushed you forward, almost sending you colliding with the mirror. “Little bird, that wasn’t very nice of you.” He scolded, letting a finger draw under the band of your panty before lifting it up. A moment later it was slapping against your skin, and you hissed. “I’ll have to punish you. Such behavior tonight...” he drawled, quickly shedding his formal attire until he was dressed down to just his pants. Keigo pressed his chest against your back, rubbing himself against you. His free hand returned to one of your breasts, toying with the nipple there as he murmured in your ear, his voice husky. 

Feral.

“So naughty tonight...” Keigo continued as his other hand slipped down the front of your body, underneath the dark red lace that had kept that pretty little cunt concealed from him. He found how wet you already were for him, slick glaze quick to coat his fingers as he ran them up and down between your legs. “Already so ready for me. You really are the little tease, aren’t you?” A moan escaped you as he teased the tip of his finger around the circle of your clit, but not quite touching it. “So filthy...” he went on, breath hot against where he’d drawn out hickies moments before. 

You were so eager for him to be inside of you, already so wet for him, Keigo had the perfect punishment for you being so naughty. He brushed his thumb against your clit, and your grip on the mirror slid down as you fought not to grab onto him. He was tantalizingly slow as he circled around your clit, tapping against the swollen bud every so often but not often enough for what you needed in that moment. His chuckle was dry, the hand that had been playing with your breast sneaking up to your neck. Your thighs were slick with your need, your core on fire as he teased you closer and closer to your edge. 

Keigo tipped your head back, opening your mouth as he leaned in. As he spat on the tongue you’d pushed out like the slut you were. Every possible hole he could find to fill you with, Keigo was going to. You weren’t going to be able to walk down the fucking street without a single person forgetting who you belonged to. “What do we say, little bird?”

“Thank you,” you rasped as he slid two fingers into you, feeling him stretch your walls as he slowly pumped them in and out of you. He was slow, methodical, holding your jaw in place so that he could look down at that awestruck expression on your face as he finger fucked you. Your belly was on fire, waves of fire rolling as your orgasm wound tighter and tighter around his fingers. Keigo could feel his own cock slick with his precum, knowing he wouldn’t be able to last much longer himself.

 “I don’t like it when other people look at you like you’re theirs for the taking,” Keigo muttered when he the tip of his nail along your clit. The featherlight sensation caused your knees to buckle, your hips to buck as you fell back into him. “You’re mine. And I’m going to fill you so fucking good that no one makes that mistake again.” He stretched your walls further with a third finger, and you writhed in your standing position as he continued to work those fingers in and out of you. The coil in your belly was wound tight enough where you thought

“Who do you belong to, little bird?” His fingers picked up pace, the sound of your silken glaze coating him filling the room while you fought to make your brain remember words. Your mouth hung open as he finger-fucked you, head bobbing against his shoulder as he looked down at you expectantly. “Tell your man who this pussy belongs to, and I’ll let you cum.” He could feel how close you were, the sound of your mewls turning to pants.

“You! It belongs to you!” you whimpered, grinding against his hand, your hips rolled forward to press his fingers deeper inside you. “Please, Keigo!”

This satisfied him enough, at least for now. His pace quickened still until your head was hung forward between your shoulders, moaning his name over and over as you watched him finger fuck you. Your orgasm was on the brink, the precipice of pleasure and all you needed was -

“Ah, fuck! Fuck, Ke-AH,” That needed push found you moments later and you were spilling around the spread of his fingers, your orgasm taking over you as your legs spasmed, knees buckling so that Keigo had to support you with a hand around your waist. Your grip on the outer of the mirror so ironclad you thought you’d break it. It rolled through you in waves, Keigo’s fingers sticky as he pulled them from you, suckling your sweetness of his fingers like it was candy. Shit. 

“What a good little slut,” he whispered. The sound of his belt loosening, the pants falling, re-sparked that fire you’d just doused by orgasming. You could see his cock, curved and thick with a head already milking his cum. “Gonna fill you so good now, gonna fuck you full of my cum.” You watched, mouth dry as he milked himself with a fist. “Gonna watch me fuck you, baby bird.” You could feel the press of his head between your thighs, and you widened your stance to accommodate him. 

Then, without warning, he thrust so hard into you, that you cried out in pain. His thrusts from the get go were borderline violent, painful as you fought against being thrown into the glass of the mirror. A hand fisted into your hair, pulling it sharply enough that you could feel the pain, but with enough leeway that you could still watch as he moved in and out of you, his cock already wet with what was left behind from your first orgasm. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, the smell of sweet sex coming shortly after. You were unable to make any intelligible noises aside from mewls and gasps, while Keigo was behind you muttering to himself about how good your pussy felt, how it was made for his cock, how he was going to fill you up so fucking good. 

The mountain climb to your orgasm started again, your cunt clenching around him as he thrust in and out of you with feverish need. His hips were sloppy, and you didn’t dare tear your eyes away from where he slipped in and out of you. “Such a sweet fucking cunt,” Hawks groaned, twisting your hair tighter in his fist. “My fucking pussy.” he hissed with a thrust that hit the highest point of your wall and caused you pain. Yet you didn’t dare stop. The look on Keigo’s face, the roll of his bottom lip between his teeth, let you know he was close to his high. The sight of him so focused on fucking you wound your belly tighter, and you missed the hand that slipped down to your clit once more. You cried out, the over-sensitized nub of your clit protesting as his thumb found it once more.  The grip you had on the mirror shifted again, a move to get his hand away from where you were most sensitive.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” he growled, and your legs quivered. His eyes were still narrowed into near-invisible slits as you obeyed the order. You shook, spasmed, as he raced your orgasm to line up with his. 

“Please, please, ah, hrnngh, Kei-” your hips found the rhythm to match his almost instantly, and tears sparked in your eyes as the bundle of nerves exploded inside of your body, every nerve ending inside you set on fire, exploding as your second orgasm found you just moments before Keigo found his own. 

“Fuck, fuck yeah, gonna fill you so fuckin-Urngh,” Keigo groaned, fucking into you with one last violent thrust as he spilled himself in you, shooting ribbons of cum that went scorching through your core. There was a moment as the two of you stood there, Keigo still inside of you, breathing heavily. You on the other hand, were shaking all over, barely able to keep yourself on both legs. 

Keigo’s callused finger pad was still resting over your clit, and even the smallest shift sent a wave of pleasured pain coursing through your entire body. You were overstimulated, likely to cum if he persisted again. “Kei...” you whispered.  His head was resting over your collarbone, hung low. He reached out and slapped your hand away, pressed it back to the mirror. He wasn’t done with you.

“Told you, little bird. Gotta punish you.”

A whimper rolled through you, “I can’t, I can’t, I-” you let out a whine as he tapped his thumb against you again, slowly rolling a half-hard cock in and out of you as he started at your clit again. Massaging it slowly, cruelly. Your legs bowed out, slack as it was on Keigo alone to keep you supported with your weight against his chest. “Gotta make sure you know,” his hips snapped against yours again, and those tears that had been hidden in your eyes slipped loose. “That no one else is gonna fuck you this good. No one’s gonna make you feel this good.” he said, your body screaming at you for relief, for the prickling of nerves in your skin to cease. “You’re my good little slut.” You could feel whatever remnants of his cum shooting out into you once more, wetness cascading down your thighs. 

The perfume you’d been wearing now, Keigo noted, was mixed so heavily with his own pheromones and sex, that there was no mistaking who fucked you at night. Who you were mated to. You were all Keigo’s, and that was what mattered to him. But he still had to finish punishing you for being a little tease, for allowing that musky scent to be tarnished by anyone other than him. You were a whimpering, sobbing mess, flushed against his body as your hips moved on their own accord in time with the fingers he was using between your sopping lips. Your cries were pained, unintelligible pleas to cum and be released. Yet, he took his time. Feeling that sweet cunt clamp down around his fingers once he pulled out of you. A moment’s reprieve before his fingers stretched you all over again. He wound you tighter, and tighter, sending that fire racing through your veins.

“I can’-” you cried out, a threatening wave of pleasure and pain coursing through you. “Please let me cum, please. I’ll be good, I’ll be good.” tears were wet against your cheek as he played with you. 

“You promise, little bird?”

“Yes! Yes I promise!” you begged.

After all that time of keeping your hands on the perimeter of the mirror, your third and final orgasm had them flying to Keigo’s hair for stable purchase as it overtook you. Your sobs filled the room as your rode out the final orgasm, your chest heaving in shuddering breaths as Keigo worked you through it, held onto your body tightly to keep you from collapsing. Your legs were soaked, your nether region slick from top to bottom. Keigo pulled his fingers from inside you, slick and thick coated with both of your bodily fluids. His eyes met yours through the mirror as those fingers dipped between your lips, pushing them onto the flat of your tongue as you lapped and sucked them clean. Only when he was satisfied you’d gotten every last drop of each other’s cum, did Keigo pull his fingers from your mouth.

“You did so good, little bird.” he cooed in your ear, nuzzling his nose against the curve of your ear as he placed gentle kisses to sweat-soaked hair. Brushed away the tears on your cheeks. “Such a good girl,” he said, a hand smoothing over the places he’d bitten and marked you.  Lips gentle as he pressed chaste kisses to the place on his jaw where his talons pricked you. The feral need for Keigo to fuck you into oblivion was satiated for now, his touch now gentle as he caressed and soothed you, the aftershocks of an overstimulated orgasm lessening as time lapsed. He was pleased that your scent now, was so heavily mixed of him and that perfume. No one was going to act as Hound Dog had, especially now. His lips were soft against your temple, his thumbs tender against the curve of your shoulders. It was a scent he was immediately fond of, and a scent he’d do anything to protect, to maintain. Keigo hummed, folding you up into the safety of his arms, surrounded by nothing but contentedness.