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n7punk · 9 months

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“By the Sea (Drown Me Already)” Fic Notes

By the Sea is done! It took a longer than I was expecting with everything that happened in my life, but it’s also longer than I was originally intending so that's to be expected lol.

Playlist:

This AU was purely vibes for a while, and thus the playlist was mostly vibe-based at first, but a few of these are very good fits.

GOOD GIRL ERA (SIDE A) — UPSAHL. FBL (SIDE B) — UPSAHL. WEEKEND — Betty Who. Silk Chiffon — MUNA (feat. Phoebe Bridgers) Bed — Niko Rubio. Love Seasons — Nina Nesbitt. Yellow — XANA. bad idea right? — Olivia Rodrigo. Casual — Chappell Roan. HOT TO GO! — Chappell Roan. Shy — K.Flay. Naked In Manhatten — Chappell Roan. Borderline — Sigrid. Minute — Kim Petras.

Epilogue Life:

I did more of a traditional epilogue than I usually do, so there’s not too much to say here, but they date working through their issues for six months before Catra officially moves in with Adora and not long after Scorpia, Entrapta, and Perfuma move in together. Catra does stay at the marina for a lot longer than she ever thought she would before eventually getting too fed up with the waves and getting an opportunity to work for one of the resorts instead.

Chapter 1:

⦁ This AU is heavily based on an area I used to visit as a kid, which sucked so much you can bet there was not a single resort there, but it was the basis of my beach experiences, so it inspired certain parts of this set up. I wanted to do a resort-type AU, but there are also some moral issues when it comes to resorts so I focused on the general vacation town angle.

⦁ I made a lot of jokes about not knowing jackshit about what I was writing, which is partially true, but I actually have Some experience related to the water parts of this fic, it’s just rather removed, and I don’t know the first thing about diving. I haven’t even been to a beach in seven years, but I dated a girl with a boat once and I leaned heavily on that experience lmao.

⦁ “Hot surfer chicks coming to the marina might make it a bit more bearable.” Catra, honey, you have Got to stop jinxing yourself.

⦁ Entrapta was right about Perfuma being anxious. She has so much experience trying to decipher emotions that are easily evident to others and picked up on the body language.

⦁ My POV for fics is always somewhat reactionary. If I do a fic that is primarily from one perspective (Adora POV in Roses & Thorns) it’s almost inevitable that the next fic (Catra POV in By The Sea) will swing the other way to balance it out. That’s not planned at all, it just happens a lot. My brain misses whatever girl it got to spend less time with lol.

Chapter 2:

⦁ Mermista’s dad owned the marina for several decades before he sold it to Netossa when he retired because Mermista wasn’t interested in running it and also in middle school. They get a free boat spot for life.

⦁ I mentioned this in a comment but couldn’t expand on it at the time: Adora and Catra’s relationship is very inspired by the setting. It’s a surprise reunion in an unexpected place, which works well with the vacation town vibes, but they’re both also worried about losing it, which matches with the transience of such a place.

Chapter 3:

⦁ Adora’s small talk was actually really important stuff for diving, that just didn’t have any relevance to the rest of the office, nor did Frosta care, and to Catra it just sounded like weather small talk.

Chapter 4:

⦁ Catra kept up most of their photos from high school. There’s one or two she had said something too glowing about Adora in the caption and thus deleted in a fit of spitefulness, but for the most part she couldn’t stand to lose them. Except that one. That one hurt so much every time she read it because it just seemed like lies, and when she was feeling generous enough to not view it was that, it was the ramblings of a best friend who only felt friendly. It was either lies, a goodbye, or a consolation prize to being “friendzoned.” She wiped it from her account and then quickly regretted it.

⦁ On Adora’s part, you can guess, but she wiped her social media in a low fit after her shoulder. The last thing she had posted was a photo taken by the training pool, gushing about how excited she was for the scouting. It hurt too much. Every photo from college did, and every photo from high school had for a while, but those were at least good memories. Now everything from college was tinged with regret and failure. She saved a lot of the old photos — mostly from high school — and even screenshotted some captions or comments — Catra-related, or even left by Catra herself — and then stuck all of that on her harddrive and pretended none of it existed. After she found a life again, she found herself occasionally going back to look at those high school photos, but she rarely revisited the few she saved from college. It took her months to feel like she could post again. It wasn’t until the next summer, when she hoped enough of her college friends had moved on or forgotten either her or what happened, that she felt comfortable doing it, and when she did she went public on her account, trying to open back up her life. Being public also felt like it gave her a layer of separation from those old high school/college followers even if all it really did was add more strangers to the pool.

⦁ I went back and forth on how to describe the age of the account and the timing of the incident, because they’re kind of halfway. Adora’s shoulder got injured at the end of sophomore year, and her social media existence started many months later, after healing time, so her account got remade roughly two-two and a half years ago and she got injured around three.

⦁ The post of Adora getting fancy dinner after the surfboard post was because her friends saw her anxiety and her overworking herself to get the money to get it fixed and knew she would never let them just pay for the repairs, so they took her to dinner instead and didn’t let her pay for the check. She needed a good time with her friends, and the free meal couldn’t hurt.

⦁ The line about crutches in Adora’s caption is actually something I said to my friend once when they were feeling ashamed of their aid. When you need them, you need them, and something being a “crutch” doesn’t mean it’s bad or unnecessary.

⦁ Adora’s injury was her “breaking the sword” moment in this universe.

⦁ It got cut because it was awkwardly shoehorned in the dinner conversation, but Adora’s Serenia bio says she has four years of experience because she actually tried diving while at college, but it was basically just some fun lessons she did that she never expected to go beyond that. It’s part of why Mara took her under her wing so hard, though. She recognized Adora’s trauma with water, but also how it was so tied to her identity and left her feeling like a shell after “failing” at swimming, so she found new ways for Adora to use those talents and find fun in them. And honestly she needed another hand with the town’s growth.

⦁ I’ll be honest: my knowledge of torn ligaments comes not from sports, but from my dog tearing her knee. I remember the vet told us some wild statistic like half of all dogs will have torn their other leg within a year of the first injury but we made all the lifestyle changes recommended while healing from surgery to mitigate risk factors and she never had any more problems! That was like six years ago now and she’s still super peppy. You’d have no idea she’s a senior dog with a knee surgery under her belt. Oh anyway that’s why I mention the injury lingering because yeah it can affect dogs at least so bad they fuck up their other leg the same way from compensation within months.

⦁ Adora talking about being happy in Bright Moon making her realize how much she missed Catra actually was a pretty big revelation for her. College was just hard the whole way through and Adora was distracting herself from her pain (emotional and physical when she overworked herself) by… overworking herself more. Taking a full load, spending too much energy at practice, working a part-time job after school, she had absolutely no room to breathe and honestly the only surprising thing is that it took her that long to get injured. She never had room to look up and see what was missing because she was explicitly avoiding doing that and pretty much everything was a pain point. Once she was healed and happy, the loss of Catra reared its head again and refused to be pushed aside, even if she was more prepared to process it. It was a lot less painful, but still present.

Chapter 5:

⦁ I think Bow 100% is the kind of guy who would enjoy being made into a sand castle but sand is so unpleasant in a lot of places and to get it out of your binder you’d have to take it off and then put it back on, which is kind of difficult on the go.

Chapter 6:

⦁ Okay so the “armor” from the title is Catra’s bravado combined with the emotional armor of making her wants and Adora’s lingering eyes all about desire instead of acknowledging the enormity of her feelings. Adora is doing a similar thing in her head, but she’s also trying to deny her desire too, so her head is a full on shitshow.

⦁ Originally the grocery store scene was going to be later in the fic when they were “Maybes” because I love the casual intimacy of grocery shopping together (romantically or platonically! It’s just fun), but I needed an Adora scene in this chapter to give a little more of a read on where she was at (denial) and the chapter was really short without it, so I decided to write it now.

⦁ I have actually seen a guy “rescue” a grocery store lobster and keep it as a pet for years on youtube. The transformation she went through under his care is insane.

⦁ Apparently cats and dogs aren’t really suppose to have nuts because it’s a big risk to them, but for the most part it has nothing to do with toxins and is just because they’re a choking hazard or at risk of being a blockage since cats and dogs don’t usually chew things up a lot. Anyway there are a few that are actual problems and that’s specifically raw cashews.

Chapter 7:

⦁ I actually wrote the scene with Mara talking about Adora surfing before chapter five, but it was too early in the fic for that and they needed to build more before something that important. The entire point of putting it early was Catra being surprised by how quickly Mara was willing to accept her and thus wondering what Adora had said about her in the past, but 1) it’s honestly still like that even being pushed back, and it’s more reasonable in that regard, 2) it was both too assuring and too insecure for the vibes I wanted.

⦁ Everything from chapter 8 was originally in chapter 7, but then all the swimming/hook up stuff got so long I had to separate them out, so CH7 ended up being mostly transition. I tell myself transitions are important when I just want to write angsty trash make outs lol.

Chapter 8:

⦁ The make out against the pool deck is like The Scene Lite™️ for this fic. It’s one of like two points I was building to early.

⦁ The original idea for the fic was that Adora would live in a house on Mara’s big property out of town, but when I went to write this scene Adora just said some stuff about living twenty-five minutes away and that got abandoned.

Chapter 9:

⦁ Honestly you can take your pick on whether Bow couldn’t arm wrestle Sea Hawk because it would make his arm too sore to drive or the losing penalty was taking shots. Both were ideas.

⦁ The closet scene is The Scene™️ for this fic. I think I wrote it before the first hookup scene in the first outline when things were more antagonistic (more on that later).

⦁ It’s so not relevant to the fic so I’m sticking it here, but Adora’s old swim coach was almost as bad as Weaver, but that actually worked out for her when it came to scouting. The swim coach wanted Adora to go pro for the glory to her team, and she knew Weaver wanted her to go to a local college, so when scouting started, the coach worked with Adora behind Weaver’s back to help her get seen and apply. This made it even easier to hide, and without it she probably would have needed Catra’s help to pull that off, thus assuring Catra actually knew about it and wasn’t totally blindsided. Adora’s coach actually helped her out and drove her to the airport for her flight out since Adora had a total blow-up with Weaver when she found out. It was something Adora needed, but it was still self-serving.

Chapter 10:

⦁ Their whole conversation here was supposed to be a quick joke and then it became the entire chapter somehow and that’s just the story of all my fics tbh. I really wanted it to be quick since I didn’t want people to think I was making light of IRL racial fetishes but I truly do think all of that would function very differently in any world with multiple species, especially the more diverse the species get and thus the less alike. It starts becoming increasingly harder for a human to be wired to find them attractive, and obviously the species in SPOP aren’t that different, but it’s a topic that always intrigued me in Mass Effect/sci-fi fic that there really is nothing like in our reality, so I was interested in at least brushing up against it and that’s how the joke happened. I’ve made some jokes about it before but they were always the quick jokes I meant for this one to be and obviously that didn’t end up happening here.

Chapter 11:

⦁ A lot of people clocked it but the musical song was Dead Girl Walking (not the reprise) from the Heathers musical (which is infinitely better than the movie, god, don’t watch that thing).

⦁ I went back and forth on if Catra would like the Ferris wheel, because on one hand, they have their secret place really high up and she doesn’t seem to be afraid of falling off the railing, but on the other hand, cats getting stuck in trees. Lol no but it is very different when you’re in something that feels as precarious as a dangling basket versus a solid building seemingly made from steel.

⦁ Okay so Bow’s whole thing here was actually written before I had the idea for Adora to ask Catra if she’s aromantic and I ended up turning this scene into that Seed Of Doubt instead of the single mention. It was another thing I meant to be a quick joke (well, Catra to be the joke where she managed to act unbothered so well — to Adora at least — that she screwed herself) but it ended up expanding into a full plot point. Also I should probably mention here I’m greyaro for the people who don’t follow me on Tumblr usually.

Chapter 12:

⦁ Let’s just say that Catra’s work day here is incredibly realistic.

⦁ I know I’ve mentioned this fic spiraling a few times, but the title “Surfboard at Midnight (I Just Might Swim)” was originally on… chapter 5. Okay, okay, it wasn’t that bad because I came up with the name before the chapter contents, but yeah, I was constantly kicking it back. The title belonged to chapter 5, and then 6, and then 8, and then like 10, and then 11, and 12, just constantly kicking it down the road as things leading up to the skinny dipping moment spiraled.

Chapter 13:

⦁ I originally said the POV for this fic was whoever because I wanted to leave the door open for having a scene from Scorfumtrapta’s perspective, but that was back when the fic didn’t have plot, and as the lesbians got increasingly dramatic, the focus on their relationship fell into the background. The main scene I was thinking of was what ended up being turned into the dinner scene. At the time, I just thought it was funny for Scorpia to realize months late that she was in a three-way relationship, but in the fic it turned into this thing about Catra feeling adrift and alone even with her friends, which wouldn’t have come through if I had used Scorpia’s perspective or something.

⦁ This chapter has a Secret Theme. So sometimes — quite often — I’ll write scenes in my head for a fic that I know have no place in it. Maybe it conflicts with the overall tone (in the fic, or just that portion of it) that I’m going for, sometimes it doesn’t super make sense, etc. Some of these things end up repurposed or I do find a way to integrate them, and that’s what this entire chapter is. When I was outlining Catra turning up at Adora’s in the middle of night for sleep cuddles, I wasn’t actually planning to put it in the fic, but then it was really sweet and I realized fit with the transition of their relationship, so it became an unofficial part of the outline before being promoted to part of the story.

⦁ I did say this entire chapter was from scenes that weren’t supposed to be used, though, so what about the boat scenes? Well, the boat scenes were originally outlined… for Roses & Thorns. Yes, okay, I know. Let me explain. That fic wasn’t supposed to be nearly as horny as this one, but when I was writing the very end of it I had this vision of a scene with the two of them messing around backstage (being vague to avoid spoilers if you haven’t read it). It included some of the dialogue that ended up in the make out scene on the boat, but I knew it wouldn’t fit with the rest of the fic to suddenly have them getting hot and heavy on screen, so I just kind of saved the dialogue with the plan to implement it somewhere else down the line. As I was outlining this fic I had the idea for them to hook up in the storage room at the docks at one point, but I ended up moving it to the boat because that would have necessitated luring Netossa away first if they wanted to get away with it, which was less likely after the summer rush faded.

⦁ So I don’t know how all phones work but on iPhone you can set certain people to break through Do Not Disturb and Adora put Catra on that list because sometimes they would text past when hers activated for the night.

Chapter 14:

⦁ Kinds of chocolate according to Catra: White Dark Super Dark Baking Semi-sweet Sweet Milk Orange (wildcard)

⦁ The “there’s other ways to get these endorphins” thing really goes to show how little Adora understands what Catra is doing. Those kisses are “I love you”s and bids for assurance that Adora just isn’t getting and thus isn’t giving back because she’s so focused on not taking advantage of Catra and the such.

⦁ I’ll be honest I tried to get them together here and it didn’t work. Catra reacted too strongly, too fast. When I first outlined this scene I was thinking about another possible get together (that didn’t end up happening) and wondered how I would even get out of this scene without them getting together and then when it came time and the plan had changed I couldn’t MAKE them talk.

Chapter 15:

⦁ Samantha is dressed like a butch prince and I think that’s great. Also I pulled the name Samantha out of my ass because I didn’t feel like coming up with a reference like a week ago- psyche nevermind the song it's from literally just came on shuffle as I was posting this so it's actually from a Leah Kate song and I just forgot why I picked it.

⦁ This chapter easily could/should be split into two, but I like the flow of it all being together.

Original Outline:

So, this AU didn’t have an outline. It was pure vibes when I started it, with plot just taking vague shape in the back of my mind as I wrote. Pretty quickly I had a few big scenes — the make out at the pool, the closet scene — but I was building the rails as I drove at first. As such, I kept having ideas that pushed the few ideas I started with further out in a spiral.

When this AU was extremely nebulous, there were some different ideas for the concept where maybe Catra worked for the resort so she and Adora were closer to being coworkers, and then others where they all worked totally unrelated jobs on the pier but were hooking up in the “offices” when others weren’t looking, which is closer to what the final thing became, but these were all fleeting ideas before I really started writing. Originally the AU featured more antagonism between them at first too, with Catra denying even being her friend at first, but again, things just happened as I wrote and that didn’t materialize at all.

There was a draft with a very different final chapter/get together, but I honestly might use it in another AU where it fits a lot better (there’s a reason it was kicked) so I don’t want to say what it was lmao. Aside from that, this AU was something I wrote as the ideas came to me, which is fun to do sometimes.

Upcoming:

I’ve got a couple of one shots in the works and then we’ll see what AU takes me, but for now I’m playing around in canon universe (mostly).

#btsdma #ficmeta #fic notes #new share link will go up later

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ros3ybabe · 1 year

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Do you have any study tips for people who find it hard to concentrate for long periods of time, or just struggle to even sit down and focus?

Hi! I'm so sorry for the late answer, I've been busy with classwork, curating my schedule for the next few weeks, and just life in general.

I myself struggle to sit down and focus and have trouble concentrating for long periods of time. Everyone works differently and some things may not be helpful to everyone, just a disclaimer!

Something I do that really helps me is to have a set "ritual" I do every time I need to or at least know I need to do school work or productive things that I personally want to do.

My current "ritual" includes the following, in order:

Make a cup of my preferred drink (currently iced coffee with one sweet n low and French vanilla creamer) + grab a glass or bottle of water

Set out all my necessary materiales (studying ex: textbooks, stationary, technology, planner, etc)

Take a deep breath

Write out a todo list that is managable for what I want/need to accomplish

Flick on my desk lamp

Begin the first step for the first talk (open textbook, go to website, write out note title, etc)

My brain got into the habit of "lamp flicks on, sip of coffee, time to work" and it became very automated.

Lately, I've tried to spread out my necessary tasks out throughout a week (within necessary due dates) with daily planning for flexibility of my schedule and whatever things pop up. I believe being flexible with scheduling tasks helps a lot because sometimes I have more energy on some days than others, and other times, I need to allocate energy to other priorities.

For concentrating for long periods of time, I try to figure out my limits, and do whatever I can to work with myself and not against myself. I have severe unmedicated ADHD (as well as other things mentally) and I've learned to listen to my brain and body as best I can.

I can not concentrate if my phone is not near me or within eyesight when I study. I will be too preoccupied thinking about my phone and any missed notifications if I can't see my phone. Answering texts and calls while doing homework does not interfere with my productivity as it takes me a few seconds to type out a message and hit send or answer a call and listen/explain that I'm busy. (it's usually my dad who calls me, and I have no problem stopping my work to talk to my dad).

I need caffiene to give me that push to start. Once I taste my coffee, I know it's time to crack down on my assignments and start focusing on my work.

Background noise!! Very rarely can I listen to music when working at home, so I usually have a comfort show or some youtube video playing in the background while I do work. When I'm on campus, I listen to a specific playlist while doing schoolwork, usually more mellow music like Lana Del Ray, The Neighborhood, Chase Atlantic, MARINA, Mitski, Arctic Monkeys, Mother Mother, Cigarettes After Sex, beebadoobee, Taylor Swift etc. I normally listen to K-pop, but my favorite songs are too upbeat for getting work done.

I try not to watch the clock or set a timer because I never really know how long some assignments will take and if I'm watching the time pass I tend to get anxious and then my mind will wander from the task at hand.

Water!! I have to remind myself all the time, but having water at my desk or study area keeps me hydrated, which keeps me focused and awake.

I try not to eat big meals right before I do work. If I do eat something substantial before I need to work, I always wait 30 to 60 minutes so I can perk back up and properly focus on my work.

Never push past my physical energy limits. If I'm falling asleep at my desk, if I'm yawning uncontrollably, if my body feels heavy with fatigue, I will not push myself past exhaustion as that is no longer healthily productive.

Sleep is a priority!! If I'm sleepy and tired and groggy, I can't work properly. When I'm low on sleep, I also tend to over do the caffiene and overeat, which makes me both uncontrollably anxious and shaky while also making me more lethargic, thus inhibiting my work ability.

Listening to my body and learning how I work best has been the most helpful in my concentration and productivity abilities. I know when I'm feeling off, how to determine what I need in order to feel more regulated and functional. Good, healthy habits and a little self intuition go a long way for me.

I hope this was helpful in some way. I didn't want to give generic or basic tips because this is not a one size fits all topic. I'm open to any other questions!!

Til next time, lovelies!! 🩷

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alienaiver · 1 year

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Something to think about on this fine day....

Shinou has to get a vaccine. He hates vaccines. You make them more fun with bandaids in the most absurd colors and designs.

But what designs does he pick to put on your arm when you get your vaccine?

dira ur making my brain go crazy !!!!! that is the cutest little thing in thE WORLD !!! i couldnt help but write a little smth for that 🥺🥺

its 715 words and i dont mention the needles or go into detail abt the vaccine itself !! 🧡✨

ty for inspiring me my beloved !!! its good to get out of the one-track-mind i get in when i work on One Project ! 🥹🧡✨

(also all this is written on my phone, i havent had energy to proof read as it just came quickly to me !!! 🧡)

"hitoshi, get up." you playfully smack at his forearm but all it does is make him curl more in on himself. you snort a laugh and when you try to get your hands underneath the blanket to tickle him, your cat Soup joins the fray. you sit back on your haunches with a raised brow, "you can't hide in there forever. we have to leave in a few minutes."

a sound between a groan and a whine is heard from the pile in front of you before he dramatically throws the duvet off of him and spreads his arms fully onto the bed, "I don't wanna." he moans with his eyes glued shut. you shake your head at his childish antics from his valid fear, "i know baby but you gotta. im in the high risk group, right? and with your job you-" he starts blabbering noises to make you stop before he admits with a pout, "i know.."

you lean down and kiss his forehead, "is there a way i can make this easier? a treat from starbucks on the way back? a muffin from the bakery?"

shinsou huffs, "y'kno we have shared economy, right?"

you roll your eyes, "it's the act of me buying it for you, not the actual money spent."

he blows you a raspberry. you laugh and kiss his nose, "what if we bring our own band-aids? the ones you love with the kittens?"

shinsou's eyes show his earnest excitement about that when he tries to steel his expression. then, he grabs your cheeks with his hands and looks into your eyes, a serious expression painted in his features, "will you put it on me?"

you smile, "if they let me."

it makes it easier. you're also incredibly lucky that the lady vaccinating the both of you is incredibly kind and patient. she lets you go first to show shinsou that it isn't that scary and she lets him put on a band-aid on you if he sanitizes his hands first, which is a good step for him to know that she'll let you do the same when it's his turn. he spent a few minutes debating which band-aids each of you should get and when you see what he put on you, you can't help but coo at him.

it's the one with the black cat that looks like his old cat, the one aizawa and yamada had back when he moved in with them - he's been very careful about when those band-aids are to be used lest they run out, but here he is, willingly putting one on you.

for himself, he's chosen the one that he knows is your favorite. it's the one with the cat you think is the cutest because of the pose. the doctor goes through each step carefully for shinsou as you hold his hand and keep his eyes focused on you.

it's honestly over before he realizes, but he squeezes your hand a moment longer than necessary, as if to silently thank you for being there through his odd anxiety (you don't think it's half as odd as he thinks himself). he only lets go when you need your hand to put on the band-aid.

he sighs out in relief after you've put it on, but let out a surprised yelp when you pat the area after you've put on the band-aid. you heave in a quick breath before you apologize, "i'm so sorry babe that was reflex! i didn't mean to.. oh god, it didn't hurt too bad right?"

he ends up just laughing at you, "you're really hurting me after i've gone through this?"

on the way out you're holding hands, your thumb caressing the hand in yours, reminding him you're here and that he was very brave. when you prompt him about which reward he would like, he scratches the back of his neck as he admits, "i'd like both the coffee and the muffin.. and a kiss."

you happily oblige to all three wishes, only teasing him about being greedy but promising him you'll never deprive him from what he wants. it's a successful day.

you're not sure how to tell him that he'll need to repeat it next year. you'll wait at least 10-11 months before telling him, you think - and you'll maybe buy the specific band-aids as soon as possible and hide them, so you're sure you have them if they're out of production next year.

#AAAAAA DIRA UR MAKING ME GO CRAZY THIS WAS SO CUTE #honestly shinsou being afraid of it is such a cute thought. he'd ve so precious abt it #AND THE BAND AIDS 🥹🥹😭😭😭😭#bnha x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou hitoshi fluff #bnha fluff #nohr.writing #nohr.bnha #idk if this is over 500words but im Pretty Sure it is so i put it under the read more just in case !!!#edit i counted after and its 715!!!#nohr.talks #lovenote: dira 🥰✨

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xiufenssri · 5 months

Text

Writing this for my doctor's appointment on the 30th of April

I have an appointment with my psychiatrist on the 30th. Decided to write down some of the symptoms(?) that I feel are a bit alarming.

Slight backstory: I was diagnosed with CPTSD, Chronic Insomnia, and Anxiety back in 2018. Fast forward to February 2024, I came to a conclusion to see my doctor again because of my inability to do focused work for more than an hour. I tried using various methods- as I have probably mentioned in my past posts, productivity hacks i.e., the Pomodoro Method was one of the many methods I tried to improve productivity. It worked for a time but it seemed like my body in it of itself was rejecting working for too long, favoring the act of rotting in bed and doomscrolling through basically every social media platform known to man. Eventually it came to a point where it was affecting my work. I no longer was earning as much as I wanted(I work freelance, so the number of hours I work every week determines my salary). I wanted to solve it, of course. We're living in this wretched late-stage capitalistic society, so I couldn't have it.

And so I saw my doctor with that in mind, and she said she'd up my Fluoxetine intake and screen me for ADHD the next time I see her, given that I do a series of laboratory exams to determine the state of my body after more or less 5 years of taking Fluoxetine on and off. I haven't gotten back to her because mental healthcare is fucking expensive and I felt alright.

So there's that. I skipped the follow-up, went about my March, went to different places, had the time of my life, all while maintaining my meds and living my "best" life, whatever the fuck that meant. Perhaps you can deduce; you've seen the photos. Assuming someone has even the slightest interest in this little corner of the internet lol.

Alright, backstory over. Let's proceed.

You see, before all that happened, sometime in March (before all the travelling and the living my best life™ shenanigans), I was having a big bad depressive episode. It lasted for a few weeks before March 10. That episode culminated into one huge hopeless crying fit, as it always does.

So I was having a fistfight with my depression. The fistfight (crying fit - a meltdown, if you will) included the typical feelings of hopelessness, and the terrifying notion of it not feeling better ever. As usual, I ended up banging my seemingly hollow chest and crying, "I'm just a girl, why is this happening to me?" in front of my poor boyfriend who, bless his heart, was trying his best to console me.

But here's the weird part. I cried and cried for what felt like an hour (not sure how long it was actually tbh), feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders while simultaneously feeling the sheer emptiness inside me... but for some reason, a switch flipped and it was... gone? I felt alright. Great, even. I stopped crying, wiped my tears, and went to my office space to resume working while nursing a headache.

It's now the 24th of April and (surprise, surprise) I went through the horrific cycle again. Sick and tired of going through the usual pattern of feeling absolutely miserable and missing work for the past few weeks, etc etc., I ended up crying beside my boyfriend again.

As I was decorating his pillow with tear stains and snot from the mess that is Maria Angelica Espiritu, I felt it again.

The switch.

The switch only took a second, but it took me a few minutes to assimilate to the situation. One thing was for certain though: I was sure that I was "okay" even before the tear stains on Stephen's pillow were dry. Again, I had the same disoriented feeling and the annoying headache, but the depression cloud seemingly disappeared, completely. This time though, I felt super confused. What and why is this happening?

This was when Stephen suggested to document it. This might be something important. Has my brain chemistry changed?

So I guess that's what I want to explore on my doctor's appointment this 30th of April.

Is something wrong with me? Is this a sign that I'm healing? What's happening to my lil ol brain?

I'll update when I find out.

#mentalhealth #actually mentally ill #mental health support #mental illness #mental health que

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andrewskennedy50 · 2 years

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Blog Post #1

Emma Rathbone’s article and Max Stossels's lecture brought some very interesting perspectives to the topic of social media. I appreciate Mr. Stossel’s approach to the topic of social media because it focuses on how human psychology, particularly in the developmental period of people’s lives relates to the effects of social media.

In Mr. Stossels’s lecture, his slot machine analogy helped me conceptualize how the effects of getting a “rush” from anything involving dopamine can all be extremely addicting. When I think about how social media affects me daily, I would be foolish to assume that this “rush” does not affect me somehow. Even on an app like Instagram, I find that sometimes when I make a post, I frantically return to it several times over the next few days to see how many likes it gets. Another example is that when I use Twitter and I reply to another user about a specific topic I disagree with, I feel anxious/excited feeling and check for a reply from them every ten or so minutes until it arrives. When social media gives me that “rush,” I find it hard to put my phone away and be present in the real world, even to watch a movie or share a meal with a family member.

Even though it is difficult at first, forcing myself to take a break ends up being really rewarding every time I do it by about the 3-day mark. I do this every year when I sail on a 3-day sailboat race from Port Huron, Michigan to Mackinac Island. On this race, I am on a sailboat with seven other people without internet access. The small space on the boat forces us to interact, whereas taking a “social media break” in your regular life you might do other introverted activities. On these ventures, it becomes much easier to get into the moment of things and I feel more clear-headed, but the sailboat race ends, and social media seems to always creep into my life again in one way or another. Giving up social media entirely would be difficult, and it would likely hinder access to people I have connections to, but I no longer live around.

Limiting social media in a logical and intentional way would likely be the most beneficial change for me. Some examples I would like to implement are removing all social media use before 9:00am every day and removing all social media from 8:00pm until bedtime. The time periods I mentioned are the times when I honestly would like to be relaxed and clear-headed, so that is why I chose them specifically. Mr. Stossel seems to suggest the reason that I might become more clear-headed is that we are constantly attempting to multi-task when we are glued to our phones. Once humans are forced away from their phones, they even score better on tests and retain information in general. As Ms. Rathbone puts it, “before the internet” people were allowed to be completely in the moment, even lost in it. Her article nostalgically paints images of inner peace, moments where we were all ignorantly bliss to the future where we no longer can be completely lost in the place where we are. Reading her article makes me ask questions like “if life was clearly so much better when social media was not in it, why are so many people unwilling to give it up?” and “what kind of harmful psychological effects could this bring to a species who have not had this tool for more than 30 years to adapt their brains to this type of connectivity and communication?”

How would you respond to those questions yourself? I would love to hear would you might have to say, so feel free to reply!

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padfootastic · 2 years

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so i was working on this modern prongsfoot au thing right? i haven’t touched it in a couple months so i went back to my notes to get a feel of it bc i wanted to start writing it again (i remember being so excited for it, making character spreadsheets and doing geography research and having an entire scene list). and my notes are,,,Something

#prongsfoot #arrogant sirius black ftw!!! he’s my baby #no but it’s so fun going through all of these #i really wanna write some too bc i just…really like this ykno?#it’s single parent james and model sirius #and supposed to be fluff and getting together shenanigans and no angst in sight #but i’ve barely got a few thousand words down :(((#i need to know how actual fic writers do this stuff #seemingly effortlessly too #because It Is Not Easy #my brain does not like focusing on one thing for longer than a few minutes #so a multichapter is so fkn tedious #my other one is stuck at 34k 😭😭 i don’t even have a viable first chapter to upload help #why am i whining in the tags lol #pen’s writing

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enluv · 2 years

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The Set Up

— jake sim x fem!reader

wc: 3.2k+! (rip my fellow mobile users...and myself this is the most I've ever written??)

warning(s): angst, fluff, slow burn, college!au, diabolical genius big brained jay

SPOTTED: a rare sighting of coco actually posting?! [REAL!]

Being in love with Park Jongseong was never in your plan. You hadn't meant to fall for him, but it happened and it happened fast. His charming smile and delicate demeanor had you swooning and just like that you'd fallen under his trance. There was just one problem. Park Jongseong was not in love with you, yet.

Jake's plan consisted of five very big and important parts. Oh yeah, another thing you hadn't counted on happening was Jake, Jay's best friend, to find out about your budding crush. He'd really stumbled on it by accident, catching you in the act of leaving his friend a letter confessing your love to him. Jake had then ridiculed you by saying, "If you want to catch his attention you can't do what every other girl does. You need to stand out," of course it discouraged you a bit but he quickly brought back up your spirits. "Luckily I'm here! Don't worry, I'll help you get him, but you have to follow my steps or it won't work, okay?" and when you'd nodded his smile grew tenfold.

STEP #1 – CATCH HIS EYE !

"Jake I really doubt he'll notice me from all the way over here," you stated, whining as the boy next to you focused on the game happening in front of him.

"Y/N he won't notice you from here but, he will notice me and once he takes a glance at you next to me, he'll be very curious." Smart plan but you’d never admit it to him.

"Well I guess that makes sense..." you mumbled turning your attention back to the game, Jay had just scored for your school's team.

Jake was right, after the game had came to an end Jay sought out his best friend, and immediately he'd stared you down as he stalked over to you two.

"Hey man, congrats on winning the game. I mean Sunghoon still looked way cooler than you but I guess you did okay," said Jake jokingly.

"Mhm yeah thanks, where did you sit? Didn't see you in the dugout."

"Oh! I sat with Y/N, we watched the game from over there. Oh yeah, Y/N! Come say hi, why are you so far from us?"

He beckoned you over with one hand, the other was placed on Jay's shoulder as he excitedly shouted your name. Taking slow paced steps towards the boys, you bowed and whispered a quick hello to them. Jake's eyes lingered on you for a bit longer than usual. This was the first time he noticed it.

STEP #2 – FLIRT WITH HIM IDIOT !

Jake claimed that after the night of Jay's baseball game, the one you'd attended, he wouldn't stop smiling and asking questions about you.

Now your mission was to flirt with him, not too hard but a few flirty comments here and there would easily help you move things along.

However, flirting with Jay proved to be a lot harder than you'd originally thought. Not only was he constantly surrounded by girls fawning over him, he was also never alone, often he could be found hanging around the other boys on his baseball team (Jake being one of them but he'd taken the semester off to focus on his studies, per his parents request). You'd hoped your professor would take a hint and pair you with Jay but with no luck he'd paired you with Jake.

Jake made your classes bearable and even a lot easier, he was naturally smart with a fun personality so classes were never a bore.

Jay watched the scene in front of him and nodded, finally understanding the situation.

STEP #3 – HANG WITH HIM ALONE ?

You'd become discouraged after step two didn't work out but Jake reassured you that you could easily redeem yourself and get the plan back on track. He had a plan, a plan that was so detailed, it couldn't be messed up. Or so he thought.

It started as any other weekend, you'd woken up to Jake pounding on your door, yelling that today was the day and to be excited. He stormed in the minute your opened the door and walked right up to your closet, quickly picking out an outfit and throwing it towards you.

"Jake will you please tell me why you just waltzed into my dorm room and rummaged my closet?"

"Yes but first get dressed, we’re on a tight schedule Y/N! Chop! Chop!" He shouted pushing you towards the bathroom to change.

"I have to admit, you have good style Jakey. Now can you tell me where you're dragging me off to?”

"Why yes I can Y/N. You see this is all part of my master plan, we are going to hang out at the mall. I invited Jay and when he gets there I'll pretend I got a call and say I need to go, inevitably leaving you two alone on a date!"

"Wait you're leaving me alone? With him?" you asked eyes wide with worry.

"Yes Y/N, a date doesn't consist of three people."He replied eyes rolling for his usual dramatic effect.

"Well not with that attitude it doesn't, and what if he knows what you're trying to do?"

"He won't. Now sit down, I told him to meet us at the food court."

Thirty full minutes had pasted and Jay was nowhere to be seen. Jake had called him three times already but to no avail he got sent straight to voice-mail.

"Maybe his phone die-" your tone was cut short as Jake's phone rang loudly, the caller ID depicting Jay's name. As Jake picked up he nodded following whatever was being said on the other line before sighing and hanging up.

"He can't make it, something about coach calling an emergency meeting for the team. So guess it'll just be us today."

"Wanna go to look at the fish down below?" you asked hoping to raise his spirits, and when a smile crawled back onto his face, you knew it'd worked.

Had you looked around just once you'd see that Jay sat a few tables away from you both, smiling as he got up to leave the mall, his plan was going smoothly.

STEP #4 – MINGLE WITH HIS FRIENDS !

Jake's plan hadn't succeeded since the first step and you'd started to get anxious, but more than anything, the silly crush you'd had on Jay was now faltering. With more unsuccessful attempts at getting his attention and even flirting with Jay the feelings you'd once claimed were love, had went and gone, but new ones had formed and it was slowly becoming more evident that it would be harder to accept them.

Jake could probably relate if he'd actually spoken to you recently, but the boy had been avoiding you ever since your accidental day alone at the mall. To recount, the day was spent laughing and smiling, no thoughts of Jay or Jake's silly plan to get you and his best friend together had crossed either of your minds. At the end of the night he walked you back to your dorm and securely held your hand the whole way. Neither of you cared really, just enjoying the time spent together.

Jake is walking towards the main buildings front office when he sees Jay pulling you along, laughing as you shout at him. His heart sinks and he realizes that maybe his silly little plan had actually worked and in turn Jay now had his eye on you.

Later that day both yourself and Jay walked into the cafe that held his other friends, some of whom you'd met before and a few you had not. With Park Sunghoon and Lee Heeseung being the only people you knew, you'd naturally drifted towards them, talking about god knows what until everyone showed up. Sunoo and Jungwon walked in first, having just gotten out of classes that both ran later than usual. Next to arrive was Riki, a high school senior who just so happened to smile his way into the college group of friends, and finally was Jake, but he wasn't alone. A hand was clutched in his, he'd introduced her as Lili. They had history of trees or something together, not that you cared much. He gushed about how smart she was as she hit his arm playfully begging for him to stop. You'd brought the cup of peach tea up to your lips to cover your scowl.

Jay watched from across the room with an amused smile. "Does he know that she's in love with him?" asked Heeseung quietly, he too watched as you'd rolled your eyes for the fifth time today.

"No I don't think so," he paused looking for the right words, "Jake was convinced she had a thing for me but it's pretty obvious to anyone who she likes."

"Jake's clueless, he'd miss a robbery even if it happen right in front of him," spoke Sunghoon.

"Maybe you should help him Jay," whispered an equally amused Heeseung before walking back to the group with his drink, Sunghoon following soon after.

STEP #5 – GET THE GUY !

It'd been two weeks (not including the week you tried but failed to get his attention) since Jake had last spoken to you. Funny how things work out, one minute you're enjoying a nice and "accidental" date and the next he had Lili hung around him twenty-four seven. Jay had reassured you multiple times that the two were not an item but it was hard to believe with the constant posts about one another that haunted your Instagram feed. Speaking of Jay, you'd made it clear to him that you didn't usher any school girl feelings for him anymore, but he knew that and when he finally got you to fess up about Jake's plan he laughed. As much as you denied liking Jake he could see right through you which lead to where you were now, stuck in your dorm with Jay babbling about how he now has a plan to get you and Jake together, funny how the two boys thought so alike.

The idea of a brand new plan did not sit right with you and you'd quickly shut it down. Jake had a “girlfriend” and you'd have to accept that.

"You're so boring Y/N, he is so in love with you. I saw it from the very first day that I laid eyes on you." Jay could honestly recount all the times he'd noticed Jake's lingering gaze on you, or the subtle touches he left, even the way he spoke to you was a sign of his true feelings.

"Jay he is not in love with me please shut up."

"Stop being stubborn and listen to me for a moment, okay?" He asked staring straight into your eyes. A satisfied hum left his lips when your mouth squeezed shut as he began.

"That day he introduced us, he didn't once look up from you. His eyes stayed on you as if you were the only person on that field. I don't know how to describe it but he just looked so smitten, I don't even think he knew it at the time."

"Jay that proves nothing, so what if he looked at me."

"Let me finish woman! I tested the theory out myself that night. I kept asking questions about you, and not for me, but for him. Y/N he knows how you like your eggs in the morning," he paused looking towards you.

"I don't like eggs."

"EXACTLY! Why the fuck does he know that? Every time I asked a question about you, he was able to answer. He literally knew so much, it was kind of concerning. Aside from that, he doesn't shut up about you, like ever. It's always Y/N this and Y/N that. No offense but I don't care if you hate milk and prefer dry cereal."

A million thoughts ran through your mind as Jay continued, "Does he really?" and "So why did he continue with the set up?" were the two most popular.

"Y/N, what happened on the day I canceled? What happened after the two of you went down to see the fish?"

Shock filled you, he was there, he had set you up.

"We spent the day together, then after he held my hand, and walked me home."

"SEE HE DOES LIKE YOU IDIOT! WHY WOULDN'T YOU TELL ME THAT HAPPENED? I'VE BEEN MAKING A FOOL OF MYSELF TRYING TO CONVINCE YOU," he shouted jumping up from the floor and pointing an accusing finger at you.

"He was just being nice Jay, it's common courtesy to walk someone home when it's late at night."

"No he was not and I'll prove it to you! Watch." Jay pulled his phone from his back pocket quickly dialing Jake's numbers. After three rings he picked up, muttering a small hello to Jay.

"Jake I'm gonna do it, but I need your help." Confusion spread across your face as he spoke in hushed whispers.

"Yes this Friday," his voice grew louder as he faced you, "yes Jake, this Friday, as in tommorrow, I'm going to ask Y/N to be my girlfriend."

Silence filled Jake's side of the line, he stood frozen. He was too late.

As Jay hung up his smile grew sheepish. "Jay what the hell do you mean you're going to ask me to be your girlfriend. I thought we established that I like Jake, as in your best friend.”

“3...2...1!”

Your phones text tone sounded just as Jay concluded his countdown and a single message popped into your notifications:

Jake: Can we meet at the mall? Have to talk to you about something before tomorrow. Please?

Jay’s face held a smirk that screamed, “I told you so.”

STEP #6 – WELL, KISS HIM !

Jake Sim is great at many things, he's a star athlete, top of his class, an amazing barista on the weekend, and so much more but what he isn’t so great at is expressing how he truly feels when under pressure, and that's exactly why he's had you sitting in front of him for about an hour now just babbling about plain nonsense that even he's annoyed with.

“Jake, is there a reason you asked me to meet you after avoiding me for weeks or can I go? Jay and I have plans.”

His faces falls momentarily but he's quick to mask the hurt, “Are you guys a thing now?”

He knows asking this question can only hurt him, Jay was pretty clear on the phone about where you two stood or where you will stand tomorrow. Even he himself isn’t too sure why he's called you here on a random thursday night but hearing what Jay planned to do had sent him spiraling.

“Why does it matter to you? Wasn't getting us together your whole idea in the first place?” You'd never meant to sound so harsh but having been ignored by him for weeks on end only to see how easy it was for him to contact you felt upsetting, betraying even in a way.

“What if that's not what I want anymore.” The sentence comes out confidently and loud enough for not only you to hear but Jay included, who was hidden away not too far from you both after insisting he come with.

Jake isn't sure how it happens but the next moment he remembers is feeling your lips crash onto his, the feeling warm and almost familiar and as you two pull part you whisper the words, “That's all I wanted to hear idiot.”

EPILOGUE: THE SET UP !

“Dude are you ready to go? If we miss the last game because you're too busy making out with Y/N, I’ll actually kill you both,” shouted an annoyed Jay through his roommates closed door.

A soft giggled escaped your lips as you fixed his uniform, “We should get going before he comes in here and beats you up, it’d be pretty sad to have a black eye for your last game of the season babe.”

In the end both Jay and Jake revealed their not so subtle plans to one another, both laughing at just how far they'd go to help the other find happiness.

Although Jake’s plan hadn't reached its initial ending he was happy with its results nonetheless. Jake often secretly thanked Jay for forgetting his baseball glove back then in his locker so many months ago, though at the time he had cursed at him in his head a few times, if Jay hadn’t been so forgetful he would have never caught you leaving a love letter to his best friend which is what initially started your plan together, and that plan had just so happen to start the beginning of his long happy life, with you by his side forever.

coco’s ♡ note: Hello my lovely toots! I have truthfully had this in my drafts for over a year now and could never seem to complete it but here it is, all done and happily finished! I hope you can enjoy it as much as I do, it took me forever but I’m glad I am now able to share this piece with you! Take it as my small way of coming back to writing :) Feedback is greatly appreciated since this is my first piece in a while and I want to know your thoughts on it if that's possible!

#enhypen #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen angst #enhypen jake #enhypen jake x reader #enhypen jake imagines #enhypen jake sim #enhypen jake sim #jake sim x reader #jake sim scenarios #jake sim imagines #sim jake angst #jake angst #jake sim

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hellotherekenobi · 2 years

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───WISHES TO BE THOUGHT.

Summary: whilst hiding out in Reefer Rick’s boathouse, you visit Eddie to ease his worries, and he soon realizes things might not be so bad as long as you’re by his side.

T/CW: spoilers for Season 4 Volume 1!! It’s literally littered with them. Eddie’s POV. Mentions of death (semi-detailed), and dead animals.

A/N: hi, hey, hello. I cannot apologize for the fact that all my other WIPs are currently neglected just so that I can write for the loml. Brain rot took over, y’all.

Word Count: 4,869

1986 at Hawkins High. It was supposed to be his year, his turn at hauling ass from the restrictions of high school and making his way out in the world, preferably with his band to hit it big time. He felt it in his bones, he knew this year would be different, but how far off the mark Eddie Munson was about just what this year would hold in store for him.

First, there was Chrissy—the happy, beautiful cheerleader who somehow remembered his name enough to schedule a deal out in the woods—who had the life ripped from her, crushed limb by limb, back flat against his trailer’s ceiling. Then there was the Hawkins’ basketball team and terrorizing leader, Jason, who was out for blood, thinking Eddie was the reason Chrissy was dead. Not to mention now, as a cherry on top, that the bright kid in his D&D club somehow knew exactly what was going on and that this was far from anything heard about in news reports, in fact, more so found within the pages of a fantasy book or storyboard related to one of his campaigns.

So, great. Not only does Eddie have to fear certain death from a bunch of air-head jocks, but he also has the impending worldwide doom threatening to target at any minute by a devilish being whom the group refers to as Vecna—and he would be lying if he said the very mention of it didn’t bring a cold, painful shiver down his spine. Hiding out in Reefer Rick’s boathouse was his only refuge at this point, with the comfort of knowing that Dustin and the rest of the group—and amongst them, Steve Harrington of all people—were trying their damnest to clear Eddie’s name and save his ass and the whole of Hawkins from what he could only call the devil.

Amidst the comfort of their aid was also yours, which he sometimes can’t believe is actually real. You and Eddie have been friends for a long time, much longer than anyone he’s known at school—excluding his bandmates, of course. The two of you had classes together until you graduated and Eddie was left behind army-crawling to pass with enough flying colors to get him out of the educated hell hole. A first surprise was that you kept in contact with him, then you rocked up to a few of his shows. As far back as he can remember, he’s seemed to always have your support.

So, really, your support now shouldn’t come as a surprise to him, but he’s been so on edge with everything that’s happened that he could only conclude in his head that you would believe the rumors and leave him for dead. Instead, you found him before the sun had even set on his first night held up in the boathouse, and you offered more than just a friendly shoulder to lean on—you offered food, supplies, reports, and beer, thank goodness.

Eddie was hoping for a miracle, and if he really thought about it then it would be no doubt that it came in the form of you still sticking by his side and believing him no matter what.

That doesn’t mean to say that he feels any less worried about everything, though. Sure you’ve been a big help, and when you stay longer than what he would think then it helps ease his mind a little from focusing too deeply on the bad of the situation, but his nerves were still sky high, and jittering at any and every sound that came from outside the boathouse might as well be second nature to him now.

Hearing the engine of a car was the first thing that startled him, then the sound of footsteps over dry leaves. He was curled up in the old boat situated in the middle of the shed, blanketed by the tarp like a kid hiding underneath bedsheets, so he hadn’t enough time to tumble out quietly enough to race to the window and check to see who it was, until, of course, the shed down swung open harshly, hitting straight into the side to make a loud bang noise, and Eddie jumped with as much might as a startled rabbit would by the abrupt entrance.

Then, light seeps through in the form of your voice. “Geez, Eddie! Put that bottle down, why don’t you?”

With an exasperated sigh, Eddie lowers the hand holding a smashed beer bottle in the form of his only weapon of defense. Hearing your voice and seeing your face was like coming home for Christmas, but did you really have to scare him like that? He would have appreciated a more subtle entrance, seeing as even the sound of a fly around here makes him freak out.

“Why the hell would you barge in like that?” Eddie groans, dragging a hand down his face and digging his fingers into his cheek. “A warning next time!”

“Sorry,” you recoil, shrugging your shoulders up only slightly before pushing the door shut. “It’s windy as anything out there, the door flung open by itself.”

“Right,” he says through clenched teeth, the tension in his body nowhere near gone.

He’s honestly getting used to the weather out here. That, or, he’s just becoming numb to it all because of how caught up in his own mind he seems to be at all times. It’s a dangerous place to be, especially since it likes to torment him with grotesque memories of how Chrissy’s body looked when he couldn’t get through to her, and how even though there seemed to be nothing he could do, he should’ve tried harder. Now the town really does think him a freak, and not in the fun, mockery way he was content with being labeled as. No, now he’s the freak who killed a high school student in his own trailer.

He grumbles to himself, hating how twisted his mind gets and how easy it is to slip back into panic mode, but he shakes his head a little bit, the long strands of his hair whipping from left to right, trying to shake the thoughts out of his ears. Right now he should focus on the fact that you’ve come to see him, even though it felt a little obligatory as the group was apparently busy chasing leads, so really you were the only remaining option. That’s why you still come here, right? Eddie can’t think there could be any other reason other than the fact that you’re a good friend and a good human, too.

A brown paper bag is hooked under your left arm, filled to the brim with more stuff to keep Eddie going while he’s nested up in this place. “It’s freezing out.”

Only now does Eddie notice the way you’re shivering, only slightly but still something he should have picked up on sooner—though he was scared out of his wits so he couldn’t exactly blame himself, nor does he think you would.

“It’s colder by the lake,” he says, stepping toward you and taking the bag from your arms and setting it down on the bench, which you smile gratefully at him. “I can’t exactly feel it right now, not with what��s going on.”

“I guess that’s a good thing,” you look him over, settling at his eyes when it seems you’ve assessed that he happens to be faring fine physically. “Do you want me to bring a blanket next time?”

“That’s okay,” he shakes his head, smiling tiredly as he gestures over to the boat in a frustrated, sluggish manner. “I’ve got a tarp.”

Woo-hoo, right? That’s pretty much the type of excitement he could manage. Sure, his trailer isn’t that fantastic either—it wasn’t exactly a home, just a place he and his uncle could sleep and keep sheltered—but he hasn’t exactly stepped up the ladder much with this place, even though it’s the only place he can think of that will keep him hidden. For how much longer, he doesn’t want to think about. That, at least, is something he fights his mind on dwelling over.

“Right,” you smile at him, more so to offer some friendliness to how pathetic that comment about the tarp really was. “Well, I’ve got food, water, and some books to keep you sane.”

Eddie crosses his arms, leaning back on the side of the boat as your hands dig through the contents of the paper bag beside him. “I don’t think I’m in the mood for reading.”

Give him pizza and D&D any day, just don’t give him a paperback. He’s a little over reading books with how he’s had to retake his senior year twice already now. He should know, though, that you aren’t the kind of person who takes no for an answer.

“It’ll help take your mind off of everything,” you say whilst still rummaging through the bag. At last, you pull out a cassette player triumphantly. “But maybe music will help you feel better.”

He chuckles, taking said cassette player from your hand and flipping it over in his hold. It never ceases to amaze him how all it takes is a few words and a smile from you to make him feel like everything was going to be okay. Before Vecna, Eddie didn’t really believe in magic, though it became his entire personality, and even though it would be cool to cast a few of his own spells if possible. But now knowing the truth, he’s got to believe you’ve got some magic in you too. Hell, your name alone was practically a saving grace.

Nodding at the player in his hand, you continue. “I still had some of your old cassettes in my room, so I thought they’d do the trick.”

Eddie’s brows furrow a fraction, tilting his head at you. “You had my cassettes in your bedroom?”

You raise a hand at him—something to say, stop talking right now—when that look on his face turns teasing, leaning on the bench with one arm. “You gave them to me when we worked on Mr. Cane’s science project together. You said, and I quote, that ‘other music will rot your brain, but this will blow your mind.’”

An airy laugh breaks through his smile, tucking his hands even further under his arms with them crossed over his chest, the cassette player poking at his skin. “I totally forgot about that.”

“Aren’t you glad you have me around to remind you?”

Yes, he wants to say. Yes, I’m more than glad to have you around, and please, oh please, can you stay? As much as he wants to say it, he doesn’t want to feel like a burden. He already had to have some sense knocked into him when you started looking after him here, but he can’t help but feel that you could be spending your time doing other things than buying him supplies while he awaits the fire of an angry mob one of these days.

“The roads are pretty quiet,” you inform him. “There’s not a lot of activity on the school’s end. I think the police are keeping them at bay while they’re investigating.”

“Right,” he nods, thumb spinning one of the many signature rings on his fingers. “That won’t last for long.”

“Hey,” you nudge his arm, gaining his attention on you. Your voice comes through to him a little softer, more sturdy in a soothing way. “You’re going to be fine. Dustin and the others will sort this whole mess out and before you know it you’ll be jamming out with the band again while I sit all pretty and watch you play.”

He offers you a small grin, but it fades pretty quickly. First, he feels like a burden to have you fret over him. Now, he feels guilty that you would waste so much time on him even if things were to go back to normal. There are so many things he’d do differently if he could just rewind time and set things straight. For one, he reasons, he wouldn’t have run. As time ebbs away, he’s starting to fear that running is becoming his most prominent attribute.

It’s the sound of you folding shut the paper bag and shoving it across the bench that wakes Eddie up from his deep thought, watching as you look around the boathouse for something, which he soon realizes is a chair when you opt for sitting on a stack of toolboxes off to the side. It takes what feels like a span of minutes for him to register what you’re doing, and then those minutes turn into stretched-out silence that he couldn’t poke at even if he wanted to.

Scratching the back of his head, he watches you let out a breath and then look at him with eyes that say why the hell are you staring at me? “Uh, are you... staying?”

“Yeah,” you nod at him, your tone of voice emphasizing that it should be obvious. “You think I’m just gonna drop some supplies at your feet and book it back to riot town? No way.”

“Oh,” comes his reply, something edging on boyish. Thank you speaks the voice inside him, the one that prods him to say what he feels instead of bottling it up like he so often does. At least, he does when it comes to pretty people... when it comes to you.

Suddenly the nerves of being found, of getting his ass beat and buried, are replaced with nerves of you sticking around, for staying for whoever knows how long and what the hell he is going to do in the time that you stay here with him. He’s not exactly got a list of things up his sleeve to entertain you with, nor is he sure he’s the best host when said place of residency happens to be a drug dealer’s boathouse because everything on the outside of it was threatening to rip him to shreds. Magic or not, you seem to have taken him up on his wish for you to stay. Now he’s wondering if that was the wisest thing to wish for if he only had three chances.

With a tap, tap, tap to the cassette player still in his hand, thumping with his thumb, he crosses the limited distance from the boat to where you sit on the other side, crouching down beside you and raising a hand at you when you offer the toolboxes you’re currently sat on. Honestly, he’d much rather hover like this than sit on those metal boxes which look oh so comfortable. Not.

Another sigh slips past your lips, this time because even if Eddie was the guy on the run you still would offer up a seat to him. It’s just the kind of person you are. That, together with a long list of other reasons, is why Eddie likes you so much. You gave him more than just a chance when you became friends all those years ago, you saw beyond the stereotypes he was labeled with. You saw him for himself, for all the things underneath the titles and the flamboyance. You’re one of the extremely few who see him like that—his uncle being one of them—and, in all honesty, one of the few that he lets see him like this. Not Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson, just Eddie. Somehow, he really likes being just that around you.

It’s a miracle you don’t catch him staring, but he scares himself a little bit into thinking that when you speak. “It’s quieter without you around, you know.”

He huffs, looking around the boathouse. This place was quiet. He’s sure all of Hawkins is shouting his name in anarchy. “I bet everyone is loving that.”

“I’m not,” you say, eyes meeting his when he turns to look at you, a response simmering in disbelief. “I really hate the quiet.”

“Then you’d love it here,” he jokes, waiting for the smile to grace your lips and lift his spirits.

Instead, it’s short. “They’re all saying such terrible things, and it’s killing me because I know I could shut them up if I just said something but... I know I can’t.”

The strain in your voice is evident, even though your eyes look like they’re glossing over how badly you feel. It hurts him to see you like this, and stings a bit, too, knowing that you feel this way because of him. It shouldn’t be like this. You should be having the year of your life, just like he thought he would have, instead of sitting with him in an old, worn-down boathouse. You deserve better than this, better than him, and far better than being tied to the name of what the town believes to be a killer. What kind of comments must be thrown your way because of your association with him.

Eddie places a hand on your knee, squeezing assuredly. “I don’t need you on the defense. Just keep bringing me Honeycombs and beer and that’s as much fighting as I need you to do.”

Finally, you chuckle. It’s warm, brightening your expression—making you shine, though he sees you like that even when you’re not smiling, but he’s too hesitant to ever say that.

“I see where your heart lies,” you snicker at him, leaning to the side to push onto his shoulder playfully.

No, you really don’t. If you saw where his heart lies, you’d be staring straight into a mirror.

He keeps up the role of jester, just to see you smile. “Hey, I’ll take anything over the expired Spaghetti-O’s in the pantry.”

“Oh, ew,” you grimace, earning a chuckle on his end.

“That’s a smell I’m not going to forget.”

“Even worse than the time there was a dead rat in the ceiling during one of your campaigns?”

He laughs, patting your knee like he’s emphasizing each word that comes out of his mouth. “Even worse than that. Absolutely disgusting.”

You laugh in return, shaking your head. “I’ve missed you. I even miss Hellfire,” when he perks up a centimeter, you show him a youthful smile. “Occasionally.”

“Oh, of course,” he waves you off as if he actually believes a word of it. “I know how much you love those sessions.”

“And how much is that?”

He feigns consideration, pressing a finger against his bottom lip. “About as much as you love Spaghetti-O’s.”

You knock your knee against his and he bubbles over with delight, bitting down on the nail of his finger as he lets your laughter swallow up the dullness of the room. Really, when he thinks about it, this place isn’t too bad when he’s got someone here to make him forget about his problems. Hell, he knows it’s true; this place is the best damn place on earth when you’re by his side.

The wind bellows against the boathouse, making it creak, and it’s as if he’s left the window pried open because you shiver even just by the sound of it. “You still cold?”

“A little bit,” you nod, running your hands up and down your arms.

“Here, this’ll help,” he peels off his jacket and vest combo, shaking them out like they have dust all over them. When you protest, he simply shushes you and all about throws the clothing over your shoulders, tugging the ends of it forward so that it wraps around you completely. “What kind of gracious host would I be if I didn’t offer you my jacket?”

He’s kneeling in front of you now, still moving the material like he could close it up anymore. He feels your breath fan his face before you say anything. “Isn’t that what a gentleman does?”

“I’m a gentleman,”

“Sure you are.”

Eddie opens his mouth, pressing a hand onto his chest with mockery offense. “I can’t believe you think so little of me.”

He laughs it off before you even reply to his comment, already feeling that bubble of friendship surrounding the two of you like a little world tucked away in a snow globe. At least, if anything and after everything, he’s certain he’ll always have you in his life, even if it was just like this. Maybe, when all odds are put against each other, having this with you is enough.

But then you speak, and Eddie convinces himself that he sees that bubble all but pop. “I think the world of you,”

Your eyes meet and, if Eddie is being honest with himself, he’s not exactly prepared for how strong your gaze on him is. It’s not sharp, not at all a stare, but rather the kind of look someone gives a person who remembers something about them, like their birthday or that one random fact they mentioned when they thought no one was really paying any attention. It’s a look that says to Eddie, loud and clear, that he’s your snow globe—the kind of person in your life that you couldn’t imagine it without.

“Yeah?” he whispers, more so because if you said that just to be kind then he wants to be certain, otherwise the fluttering in his chest might all but explode if he lets himself tip into hope.

“Yeah,” you nod, moving your hands up to cover his two still holding onto his jacket. “Your hands are warm.”

“I’m afraid I can only offer you the tarp,” he tilts his head, mind and heart racing. Slow down, damn you.

You shake your head at him like he really had the option up for an offer, then lean forward to kneel down in front of him, completely off of the toolboxes. You’re close, so close to him, and he’s losing all sense of reality because there’s no way in hell that you’d be this close to him unless he’s imagining it. His heart skips a beat in his chest when you don’t stop there but continue to lean forward, and he’s sucking in an inaudible breath before your head slips beside his, your arms wrapping around him.

“You’re warmer than the tarp,” your voice pulses against his skin, writing itself there too when you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck.

He’s too shocked to process what exactly is going on, his mind still spinning at thinking, for one second, that you were going to close the gap between you both rather than go in for the hug. Though he’s hugged you countless times, and almost each one being the very thing he held onto since it was the closest he’s ever thought he’d get to you, this one is different. It’s not a hug to say hello, or goodbye, or even to support him after a performance with his band, but this hug is comfier like you’re slotting yourself against him as if you were fitting yourself into a home. He’d give you the damn lock and key if that were even remotely possible.

“Hey,” he speaks, masking the shake of his voice by playing it off as a chuckle. “Don’t take me for all I’m worth.”

He feels the curl of your lips against his skin and even that alone has his eyes fluttering shut briefly, almost sending him falling forward. But he holds his position, finally wrapping his arms around you, more so for the support. The very action has you humming contently, taking in a deep breath before you pull back slightly but leave your arms where they are. If he thought you were close before, you all but prove him wrong. Just an inch closer and your noses would be touching. He imagines yours would be cold.

“I can’t leave without a hug first,” you say, and he thinks oh. “I’ve missed those as well.”

“Me too,” he whispers, half because he does and half because he doesn’t want you catching the disappointment on his face. “You better head out before it gets dark.”

“Yeah, that would be a good idea.”

It’s true, so he nods. But you still kneel there and still keep your arms around him, not even so much as shifting to make a move to stand up. It’s silent with the absence of your pleasant goodbye, even though he’s waiting on you to say it. He’s waiting on you to do a lot of things—speak, for one, and move away like he would have thought you would be doing by now. Maybe he’s the one who’s supposed to do something, but he hasn’t a clue what that something is. Did you want him to say something else? Are you waiting for him to take his jacket back? He hasn’t actually forgotten that it is your birthday, right?

It’s drawing out too long now and Eddie has no idea what to do, so he accepts the embarrassment of asking and simply goes for it. “Was there anything you wanted—?”

Before he even finishes his sentence, your lips are on his, completely silencing him, even though the remaining words muffle against both your mouths, and the peak of his voice gets buried there, too. Entirely taken by surprise, Eddie can’t do anything but hold his breath with eyes blown wide, totally frozen on the spot. Before the life can find its way down his arms and to his fingers, you’re pulling away from him, and he’s ready to hear you say that it was a mistake and that you weren’t thinking straight, since he’s hardly thinking in the same manner right now, not with that kind of shock.

You wait there, watching him. Eyebrows upturned in expectancy, holding out for his response. His mind is blank, his thoughts and heart flatlined. He doesn’t move, doesn’t move, and he needs to hurry up and do something otherwise this moment is going to go from amazing to uncomfortable within the next breath. On his own, he’s not sure if he would have reacted, but the feeling of your fingertips against his back, starting to slip away from him, is the very shock he needs to charge straight through his bones and kickstart his heart back to life.

And he caves in, and he kisses you. Both hands on either side of your face, guiding your lips back against his and pressing them fully this time, completely head first into the dizziness just that one kiss had him feeling. This time it’s not one pair of lips but two moving against each other, over and over again, agile and gallant and quickly growing impatient since he’s waited for this moment for what feels like his entire life, and you assure him that you’ve wanted this too with how your fingers curl into his Hellfire Club shirt, pulling him into you like the space between you both is disgraceful.

He parts his lips and you share his breath, and when he tilts his head to kiss you deeper this time, the hum in your throat practically vibrates through him, and he replies likewise with a slight smile on his lips by the way you shiver in reaction, knowing that it wasn’t the cold that did that to you. It was all him, all for you. Dangerously his lips weigh against yours, breathless and sweltering and indecent. He knows he’s too far gone to disguise this moment as anything less but passion and longing, but the way you kiss him back—eager and mercurial—soothes that spike of worry to conclusion.

You’re sucking in a breath by the time he lets you breathe, his nose and forehead against yours, his eyes still shut. He fears that the moment he opens his eyes you’ll be gone and he’ll be left with the slap of the truth that he was just simply lost in his thoughts again. Your breathless chuckle settles that assumption, though, and he slowly looks at you through half-lidded eyes to meet your smile, smitten and bright as he always sees it as. It takes one look and he’s chuckling too, awestruck in the moment.

“I’m not dreaming, right?” he asks genuinely, feeling ridiculous. “That just happened?”

When you nod, your noses brush against each other. “Yeah, that just happened.”

He lets out a breath, not being able to hold back just how wide his smile grows. “Good, because there’s no way I could go back to being friends after that.”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around him once more, tenderly this time. “I don’t want to be anything less.”

That very spoken promise has Eddie lit up, head over heels in bliss. It seems too good to be true, but he knows you mean every word of it, and sitting in wait in this boathouse really isn’t that dull anymore. Come danger, come creature, come magic; Eddie will face it all since you just gave his heart the courage he never knew he could have. He has you and that is far better than anything else on his mental wish list. He’d give them all to you, and he’ll give you all of him too.

1986. Maybe, with you in his arms and your kiss still lingering on his lips, this really will be his year.

Taglist: @eddiemunsons-asiangf @eunoiamaa @3ternalreal1ty @lumenseal @munsonlover @twinerd14 @psychedelephantt @megmeg-chan @dameronology @overly-obsessed-with-you @doublesunsets

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things s4 #stranger things spoilers #stranger things vol 1 #eddie munson

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oilivia · 4 years

Text

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” - w/ Kenma, Suna, Atsumu & Oikawa

a/n: i decided for my first post to do a fun little prompt with some of my favorite haikyuu boys. all characters are aged up, you can find the tws separately for each drabble. smut after the cut. no beta, so please excuse my horny brain.

Pairings: Kenma w/ daddy kink & deepthroating; Suna w/ riding & creampie; Atsumu w/ teasing & mindbreak; Oikawa w/ oral & reader on phone

Wording: 1.8k

if you want to request drabbles, i have a list of prompts here.

Kenma

tw: daddy kink, praise, dacryphilia, rough deepthroat, throatpie, petnames

“Just like that, baby” you hear Kenma praise you. Your head is bobbing up and down his cock, your cheeks hollowed as you do your best to take in as much of his length as possible.

You gag when he starts thrusting into your mouth, his tip bruising the back of your throat. He doesn’t hear your whimpers, not with his headphones on. He just feels the delicious way your throat tightens around his cock when he pushes it too deep. He can’t see the tears in your eyes or the way your makeup starts running down your face either, not while you’re under his desk and his eyes are focused on the game. He loves using your throat for his pleasure, you’re such an obedient little girl.

Nimble, desperate fingers play with your aching cunt, but it’s not enough to satisfy you. You need more than your own fingers to cum, you need daddy’s cock. Nothing else could properly fill your needy hole, he made sure of this each time he fucked you until you could barely remember your name. Only daddy could make his baby cum now. Moans struggle to escape your abused throat as the thought of Kenma’s cock spreading your hungry cunny has your hips moving on their own, desperate for the tiniest bit of friction.

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” he asks as he takes off his headphones, a hint of teasing in his tone. You look up, your glassy eyes meeting his. He loves you like this, naked and on your knees, legs spread and dribbles of liquid oozing from your pretty cunny. Your makeup is smudged and drool is pooling at the corners of your mouth as your lips envelop his girth. There truly is no prettier sight to him.

Kenma cups your cheeks with his palms, as he starts shoving his cock harder between your lips, grunting every time it hits the back of your throat “Just like this, baby, make daddy feel good and daddy’s gonna make his little baby cum so hard you won’t be able to walk tomorrow, okay, angel?” his voice is soft, but his tone commanding.

You whine, his words making your insides clench around your fingers. It wouldn’t be long now, you think, just a few more minutes. And when you feel his cum spurting in your mouth, you happily gulp it, making sure you don’t waste even one drop, you want to make daddy proud.

Suna

tw: cowgirl, slight teasing, nipple play, creampie

It is just like Suna to lazily lie on his back, his hands behind his head and eyes fixed on your body as you bounce up and down his cock. You’d say he’s lazy, how he’s making you do all the work, but the truth is, he just loves to see you take control of your own pleasure until you make yourself cream on his cock. There is something so alluring about the way his sweet innocent looking girl hungrily takes what she wants. If only your friends would see you like this, how would they react?

That’s not to say Suna doesn’t like taking control, oh no, he does. But the way you whine and demand his help as you tell him how much of an ass he is for making you do it all by yourself while your face is flustered, skin burning under his fingertips. It’s all just turning him on too much to drop the act.

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t ya?” Suna smirks when he sees the way your legs shake, barely able to hold you up as you’re fucking youself on his cock. The way you gyrate your hips, the way your tits bounce, the way his cock slides so easily in and out of you are slowly making him lose his cool.

“I wouldn’t be needy if you helped me, Rin” your voice is breathy, soft moans escaping you. You try to give him an angry look, squinting your eyes slightly, only to widen them as you let out a loud cry when you feel him thrust sharply, his hips slamming into yours.

“Is that what you want, hmm?” his hands grab your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulls you harder against him. He hissed. You were close. He could tell by the way your cunt milked his cock with every thrust, squeezing him. All he had to do was suck on those pretty nipples of yours and you’d come undone.

“You’re such an asshole” you gasped, each word getting roughly pounded out of you. Still, you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips when you felt his plush lips latching on your nipple. The way he flicks it with his tongue sends tingles to your core. The last push is when you feel his teeth bite your sensitive bud, the pressure snaps, your body shaking, your hips grinding uncontrollably as Suna tightens his hold on you.

You look mesmerizing, your skin glistening with a sheen of sweat, your eyes closed and your pretty mouth open as you moan Suna’s name over and over. Watching you, he can’t hold it anymore and cums inside your twitching walls, filling you up as he’s kissing down your neck.

Atsumu

tw: teasing, orgasm denial, fingering, nipple play, dacryphilia, mindbreak

Whines and cries fill the room as you’re squirming under a smirking Atsumu. His fingers are buried deep in your drooling cunt, his mouth sucking and biting at your nipples. He pauses just as he feels your desperate walls throb and clench around him.

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t ya?” He feels his cock twitch at the sight of your fucked up face. Tears are welling in your half-lidded eyes, tongue is lolling out of your mouth, drool drips down your chin. You look perfect, Atsumu thinks. His perfect little slut.

“Please, ‘Tsumu, I can’t - I need to cum” you plead, your throat raw from the moaning and begging. You aren’t sure how much more you can take before your sanity slips.

This has been going on for at least an hour. Just as you’d feel yourself coming close, he’d stop, relishing how needy you were for him. Your luscious thighs spread, covered in the slick weeping from your perfectly pink cunt. It took all his self-control not to mercilessly shove his throbbing cock inside your hole and fuck you until you break.

He wouldn’t. Not yet. He knows you can take more. Your back arches when you feel his fingers move again, scissoring, pressing against your sensitive spots as his thumb rubs your clit. Your vision blurs, heels digging into the mattress. He hisses when he feels your nails scratch the skin of his back.

“‘Tsumu, please” you try to articulate, but your words are too slurred to be coherent. He grins. Now you were ready for his cock. With a pop, he pulls out his fingers, licking your juices with a satisfied hum. You let out a desperate whine, your cunt clenching around nothing, the emptiness inside you driving you crazy.

He pushes his tip past your rim without much effort, your drenched walls sucking him in with ease. He watches your chest heave up and down when he bottoms out inside your cunt, your legs shaking as you struggle to take his length. That’s his good little slut.

You look prettiest with his cock splitting you open, he thinks as he starts slamming his hips against yours, enjoying the way your walls clam on his length with every thrust.

Oikawa

tw: teasing, oral (f receiving), fingering, reader on phone w/ someone else

Oikawa is good with his mouth. And not only when it comes to talking everyone’s ear off. You writhe when you feel his hot tongue slide across your clit, just barely touching the aching bud. You buck your hips, trying to feel more, desperate to get Oikawa to touch you properly.

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” he chuckles, spreading your folds to get a better look at the way your muscle rim was clenching around nothing. It was so hypnotising. He could see just how much you ached for him, how much you need him to make you cum.

He is pulled out of the reverie when your phone rings. You scoff when you look at the screen, the last thing you want is to get interrupted, not when you have Oikawa’s face between your open legs. But at least you didn’t start yet, you should just answer and get it out of the way.

“Hi mom, yeah, I’m good, argh-” a moan escapes your slightly parted lips when you feel Oikawa’s finger tracing your slit, gathering your slick, teasing your sensitive nub. “No, no, I’m okay, I just stubbed my toe” you lie, doing your best to control your breathing as you feel the setter push a lithe finger inside your tight cunt. He watches the way your face contorts just a bit from the pressure, a devilish smile plastered on his pretty face.

You swear silently. Your mom won’t stop chatting. You don’t want to be rude and end the call, and truth be told, the threat of getting caught is turning you on even more. That, and Oikawa’s teasing grin when he adds a second finger, scissoring them.

“Fuck, I want to see you squirm, see how long it takes you to cry out my name” he whispers with a smirk. He watches your chest heave when he lowers his head again and presses his mouth to your aching clit. Your free hand grabs at his hair, pulling, eliciting soft whimpers from him.

When he adds a third finger you gasp, air leaving your lungs as your back arches, your pliant body responding to his every touch. You can take it, just a bit more, you think. But you don’t get to finish your thought, not when you feel the way he curls his fingers, rubbing your sweet spot with every move. The coil in your abdomen tightens, you’re close now, but not there yet, not for a little while longer.

And then you feel it, his lips closing on your clit, sucking, his tongue flicking it. “Gotta call you back, mom, sorry, the door-” you desperately press the end call button, just as your body starts to trash, your thighs squeezing Oikawa’s face as you chant his name “Tooru”.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader smut #haikyuu smut #suna smut #atsumu smut #kenma smut #oikawa smut #oikawa x reader #atsumu x reader #suna x reader #kenma x reader #oikawa x reader smut #atsumu x reader smut #suna x reader smut #kenma x reader smut #♡.cherry #tw: mindbreak #tw: daddy kink

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cjsinkythoughts · 3 years

Text

The Shield

Paring: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 5595

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, John Walker, Emotions, Character Death, Mentions of Blood, I know people had a hard time with that last scene so please take caution because it is in this part! GIF at end is the ending scene, so be careful when you get towards the bottom! I feel like I’m forgetting some, so just know this one’s a bit more than the others.

A/N: Here it is, folks! The Part we’ve all been waiting for! It’s the longest one I’ve written so far but so much happened and I couldn’t find a better spot to end it than where the episode ended. Thank you all for being patient with me today. I know I didn’t get this out as quickly as I would’ve the past few weeks, but you guys are so awesome! Seriously! I love that you understand I do have a life and work comes first! Thank you, thank you!

This Part is a doozy, guys, and…I’m sorry? But not really. I’m SUPER excited to see where this is gonna go, especially considering Episode 5 is supposed to be the real tear jerker. I can’t believe there’s only two more episodes! I’ve grown so attached to these characters just in the past month! I’m so glad I’m able to share some of my thoughts and feelings with you guys, too! You’re honestly the best!

I’ll be doing more One Shots this week, so look for those on the Masterlist. I’m still taking requests for them, so if there’s anything you want explored about the reader and her relationships that you don’t think will be explored in this Series, just ask and I’ll try to add it to the One Shot list.

As always, this isn’t beta’d so please excuse any mistakes! Thank you for reading, be kind to yourself and others, enjoy this part and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

(I couldn’t decide on which GIF to use because there are so many good ones! Thank you Tumblr Creators!)

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

“Doll…hey. Doll. C’mon, sweetheart. We gotta get moving.”

You cracked your eyes open begrudgingly, squinting up to see Bucky’s amused grin, head tilted and eyes soft. “Huh?”

He chuckled as you rubbed your eyes, confusion lifting an eyebrow. “The funeral. Zemo said we’ve gotta go if we’re gonna make it in time.”

“Wait, but…huh?”

Sniggering again at your reaction, he held up your phone. “You passed out in the middle of a chapter, sleepyhead.” He teased lightly, grabbing your hand and gently pulling you to sit upright. “It’s almost been an hour.”

You huffed tiredly, stretching and placing your feet on the floor, taking back the phone he held out to you. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You haven’t been sleeping well.” He stated, like it should’ve been obvious. “How’s your arm feeling?”

“Better than earlier. It’s just sore. That’s all.”

He studied your features for any hint of a lie. Not finding one, he nodded, holding out his hand. “Okay. But tell me if it starts bothering you.”

You placed your hand in his, marveling for a split second at how big his hands were compared to yours - something you noticed every time but still it never ceased to astound you. He tugged you up, and you looked up to meet his worried eyes, remembering his question.

“I will, Buck. Promise.”

He nodded, tilting his head towards the door. “C’mon, cuddle bug. We don’t wanna miss this.”

A groan passed your lips, but you nodded and followed Bucky out into the main room, where Sam chuckled at you from his spot at the table. “Sleeping beauty has finally awoken.”

You flipped Sam off groggily. “Are we going or not?”

“Do you wanna wake up s’more first?”

“No.” You answered the one armed brunette. “I’ll just splash some water on my face or something. I’ll be fine by the time we get there. Where’s-”

“Looking for me?”

Zemo strolled out, now dressed in that coat of his, that smug smirk on his lips. You scowled. “I wish I wasn’t.”

Sam stood up, standing subconsciously between you and Zemo. “Let’s head out.”

You nodded in agreement, shooting the Baron one more glare, before following him out the door and into the city, Bucky right besides you, shoulders brushing as if you weren’t ignoring him just hours prior.

The walk was mostly silent, a few jests between Bucky and Sam plus a couple comments from Zemo here and there. You talked about strategy, with Sam bringing up the fact that he wanted to try convincing Karli to step down. Zemo didn’t look pleased with the arrangement, but both you and Bucky relented, agreeing to let Sam at least try.

It wasn’t until you were close to your destination according to Zemo that anything exciting happened.

“Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit!”

Hell. No.

The moment the voice registered in your brain, your jaw tightened, your teeth starting to grind together as you held back the very not nice things you wanted to say.

“Ah! How’d you find us now?” Bucky called out, tucking you into his side protectively, and a little possessively you noted, as Walker and Hoskins came down the steps, the two groups nearing each other.

You were relieved when the subject of Zemo escaping jail went by relatively quickly, Walker latching onto the fact that you were going to talk to Karli instead of focusing on the escaped fugitive in front of him.

You very nearly punched him when he ran in front of you after Sam told him the plan, making the four of you stop in your tracks, but Bucky’s arm tightened around your shoulders, holding you in place next to him.

“You’re gonna let him do this?” Walker questioned Bucky in disbelief, self righteous judgement practically dripping from your tone. “You’re gonna let your partner walk into a room with a super soldier alone?”

Bucky’s jaw ticked. “He’s dealt with worse. And he’s not my partner.”

“And you?” Walker narrowed his eyes towards you. “I expected more from you; the last original Avenger.”

You snorted, shaking your head. He obviously didn’t know how chaotic the Avengers were. What Sam was proposing? You’d seen it a million times with Steve alone. Not considering Nat, Clint, Thor, even Bruce and Tony. All of them willing to try to negotiate before running in, bullets raining and hell rising. “First, I’m not the last original. I’m technically not even an original. Second, I trust Sam with my life and I’m standing by his decision. He’s my brother. As a soldier, I would’ve thought you understood that.”

Before he could respond, Sam stepped around Bucky. You saw the reluctance in Walker’s eyes as he admitted a temporary defeat once Hoskins agreed with Sam. The fact that he was so unwilling to try to save more lives - including Karli’s - made the truth that he wasn’t, and would never, be your Captain harden deeper into your heart.

Ignoring Walker’s confusion as you followed the little girl Zemo befriended - which was weird, you’d admit, but it was getting you closer to Karli - Bucky’s arm slipped from your shoulders, hand sliding across your back and skimming down your arm to grip your hand. Even through your jacket, you felt goosebumps erupt along his fingers’ trail.

You finally came to your destination and you let out a small breath. If everything went smoothly, this mission could finally be over and you could go home and take a bath, get take out, get out a bottle of wine, watch TV, and just relax.

What a dream.

“Hey.” You stopped Sam before he could go through the entrance of where the girl said Karli was, holding his forearm. “You want me to come with you?”

He shook his head. “I think it’ll be better if I go alone.”

You nodded, letting go without any hesitance. “Okay. Be careful.”

“Always.” And despite all you’ve been through, no matter how many times he’s followed Steve’s lead in doing something stupid, you knew he meant it. You nodded again, before he disappeared around the corner.

You leaned back against the wall, Bucky once again wrapping an arm around your shoulder now that you weren’t walking - he liked having mobility on the move, hence the reason he held your hand instead - leaning besides you and pulling you against his chest.

Ten minutes. You tried looking at Bucky’s watch, which was on the wrist of the arm around you. He noticed and turned his wrist slightly, bending his elbow more, which brought you even closer to him, showing you the time.

Giving a small sigh, you nodded slightly and dropped your head back against his bicep, your hands shoving in your pockets, one of your feet coming up to rest against the wall. Bucky shifted to your other side so he could stand in front of the doors to where Karli and Sam were, pulling you against his back, arms wrapping around your shoulders tightly.

It was a long ten minutes. You kept eyeing Walker, and you couldn’t help the anger burning through you as he held the shield in his hands. That damn shield. It wasn’t his. It would never be his. And he would never understand it. The fact that the shield didn’t make Captain America. The shield isn’t what made Steve a good man. Not even the Serum did. He already was one. Steve made the shield what it was, not the other way around.

But then you remembered a conversation you had, years ago, and your eyes flitted up to Bucky’s hardened face, the brunette staring intensely at the ground.

You didn’t get it. You were confused. You knew how important Barnes - Bucky - was to Steve. But apparently you didn’t understand it quite yet.

You watched from the entrance of the hallway, leaning against the wall, as Bucky went under once more.

Steve stood there for a moment longer, before turning and walking towards you. “Why’d you do it?”

He raised an eyebrow at you while you turned to walk with him down the hall. “Do what?”

“Give up the shield. And don’t say it doesn’t belong to you. It does. Howard gave it to you. You’re the reason it’s…a symbol.”

He hummed. “And what exactly is it a symbol for, honey?”

You scoffed. “Uh, freedom? Justice? Resilience? The defense of the whole life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness thing?”

He stopped, facing you with a strange expression on his face, thoughtful. “I dropped it because I can’t be that anymore. Not right now. People don’t have the same beliefs they used to have. How can I stand up for freedom and let the Sokovia Accords track every person they deem a threat, just like HYDRA tried doing? How can I be a symbol for justice and let Bucky take the fall for something that he wasn’t in control of? I can’t. And until the world is ready to change…I can’t be Captain America.”

And suddenly, it seemed to click. Steve gave up the shield for Bucky because the world wasn’t ready to admit it was wrong. Just like Sam gave up the shield for himself and his family because the world wasn’t ready for the truth that would come with him becoming Captain America.

God…when did a metal circle become so complicated?

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty lil’ head’a yours?” His whisper in your ear startled you out of your thoughts, his nose brushing against your temple tenderly as he placed a chaste kiss on your cheek.

You looked up at him and shook your head. Of all the things Steve gave up, he never gave up Bucky. And it used to confuse you, but you understood then. His blue eyes sparkling with curiosity and slight concern, his fingers tracing patterns along your collarbone with a barely-there touch that was so light it didn’t seem to exist. You finally understood. Not just Steve’s decision, but Sam’s too. And maybe you didn’t understand it fully, and that was okay, because you weren’t them, so you never would, but you understood a little bit.

“Nothing.” You shook your head, keeping your voice down so the others couldn’t hear, the conversation being a private one, “I’m just waiting for this to be over.”

He hummed, nodding in agreement, setting his chin on your head. “Me too.”

Walker started pacing the room about half way through, getting too antsy for your liking. “Shhh.” Bucky mumbled under his breath, feeling you tense as Walker started talking. “It hasn’t been ten minutes, John. Just sit tight.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me.”

“He knows what he’s doing.” Bucky stated confidently, straightening slightly from his leaning position, arms falling from your form. The two of you exchanged glances as Walker checked the clock over on the far wall, blocked from your view.

“I’m going in.” Walker strode across the room, heading for the entrance, no doubt willing to steam roll anything - anyone - in his way.

Bucky stopped him with a hand on his chest. You glanced back and forth between the two as Walker spoke, arms crossed tightly over your chest. “Buck…we promised him ten minutes.” You reminded him, seeing his resolve crumble a bit. You could guess he was thinking of the nightmares. The people he couldn’t save. The blood he already considered on his hands.

Walker used his moment of hesitation, shoving past him roughly. “I’m not waiting.”

“John!”

“Walker!”

You followed after him, you and Bucky arguing with him and Hoskins about giving Sam more time, but it was too late.

“Karli Morgenthau! You’re under arrest!”

“Fuck.” You hissed out when you saw Sam’s panicked expression, looking at you confused. Walker was flown across the room when Karli punched him, Bucky shoving Hoskins out of the way to run after her.

“Y/N-”

You threw your hands up. “I tried, Sam! C’mon!”

You and Sam ran over to some stairs, turning corners and trying to remember what the building looked like from outside to cut her off, but you only ran into Bucky again.

“I wish we had the layout or something.” You grumbled. “We were that close-”

“We’re not done yet, doll.” Nodding, you followed the boys out, Bucky pausing every so often to try to hear anything. “I’ve got gunshots.” At that, the three of you took off towards the sound, Bucky leading the way.

Just around the corner from where Bucky heard the gunshots, you thought you saw a couple people slip around another bend. Noticing you had stopped, Bucky backtracked. “You okay?’

“Yeah.” Deciding it wasn’t worth the pursuit, you turned to him and nodded towards the doorway Sam already went through. He gave you a look, but nodded and the two of you jogged into the room.

You sighed heavily, seeing Zemo knocked out on the floor, Walker standing over him and broken vials that were previously full of, what you assumed was, the Serum. Hoskins ran in right after you, meaning no one but Walker and Zemo knew what happened. Meaning you would probably never get the full, true story.

What fun it is to work with manipulators and liars.

********************

“I don’t like him.” Bucky grumbled, the two of you walking up to the place you were staying in, Bucky holding the door open for you.

“I know you don’t, Buck. I don’t either.” You had asked Bucky to go with you to get some fresh air once you got back, Zemo having woken up a few minutes after and Walker and Hoskins had to make a call or something official like the good soldiers they were. “He’s hiding something.”

“You think?” Bucky scoffed, giving you a look.

You rolled your eyes. “I mean…I don’t know. When we found him and Zemo…my gut twisted.”

He nodded in understanding, his face twisting into a scowl. “Yeah. Mine did too.”

You stopped him before you could walk through the door to the main room. “Do me a favor?” He nodded again with a little hum. Catching his chin between your fingers, your free hand moved to smooth out the creases between his brow. “Stop brooding so much. It makes me worried.”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, features softening slightly. “Are you really gonna leave in the morning? I know you’ve had a lot of people telling you to take a break, and it’s selfish for me to ask you to stay, but…I dunno if I can finish this without you.”

“I-” You sighed, ducking your head as you thought of a response, before looking up in his wide eyes, begging for you to stick around longer. “Let’s just finish the day and see what happens next. Okay?”

He bit his lip, nodding slightly. You gave him a smile, before tugging on his hand. “I need a drink.”

He chuckled at that. “That I can fix, doll.” He, again, opened the door for you, and the two of you walked in.

“What a gentleman. Straight outta the 40’s.” You joked, making him roll his eyes.

He took off his jacket, heading to the kitchen, while you sat on the opposite side of the island. “Somethin’s not right about Walker.”

Sam gave you two an amused look. “You don’t say.”

“Well, I know a crazy when I see one.” He opened the lid of the bottle he grabbed, starting to pour two glasses of whiskey for the both of you. “Because I am crazy.”

You rolled your eyes as Sam responded, “can’t argue with that.”

“You shouldn’t have given him the shield.”

Giving Bucky a disapproving look over the rim of your glass, you sipped your drink, narrowing your eyes when he ignored you. “I didn’t give him the shield.”

“Well Steve definitely didn’t.”

Your glass slammed down on the counter. Why did he have to bring this up right now? Seriously? You were just having a nice conversation about places you wanted to visit while taking a walk outside. Why was he suddenly snapping?

Before you could scold him, the doors burst open, making your head whip over as Walker stormed in, “ordering” you to hand over Zemo.

You stayed sitting, leaning on the counter and facing the opposite wall as Sam told him off, giving an amused snicker as you sipped your drink. Bucky sat besides you, facing Walker, and you recognized from the angle he was positioning himself that he was blocking you from Walker’s view, whether intentional or not.

You raised an eyebrow, turning in interest when Walker put down the shield, knowing Sam wasn’t about to fight the man. What an ego the blonde had.

Before anything could happen, however, a spear pierced through the air, lodging in the pillar next to Walker’s head.

Your frustration with Bucky’s comment flew out of your head as Ayo and a few other Dora Milaje walked in. Bucky sat up straighter and you stood up, leaning ever so slightly against his arm.

You nearly facepalmed, a sound of complete disbelief leaving you as Walker introduced himself. Sam looked over at you two, an entertained, slightly incredulous smile on his face.

Sam tried warning him. He really did. But Walker, you’ve come to find, was an arrogant, egotistical narcissist who only wanted to win and would do whatever it takes to do so. Even when there wasn’t really a winner. At least, not in that situation. It seemed that Walker liked ignoring the gray area in the world, which wasn’t good. Not in the least.

Which is why you couldn’t really feel sorry for the man. You saw it coming as soon as he told them they didn’t have jurisdiction. And the moment he touched Ayo?

You put your chin on Bucky’s shoulder - who had stood up from his spot - watching the Dora Milaje kick Walker’s ass, wincing and cringing mockingly at the right moments, making Bucky smirk at you.

“We should do something.” Sam said, although he didn’t look thrilled about the prospect.

Bucky crossed his arms. “Looking strong, John!”

You gave a slight snort, not wanting to encourage anything, but unable to hold in your amusement. Bucky winked at you, clinking his cup of whiskey with your own, before taking a gulp.

“Bucky.”

You huffed and stepped back at Sam’s tone. “C’mon, Buck.”

“Fine.” Bucky grunted. “But ‘M not happy about it.”

Soon, the three of you, plus Walker and Hoskins, were all occupied with a member of the Dora Milaje. You knew you couldn’t take them; they were on a higher level that Natasha, and you could barely beat her. But you weren’t necessarily trying to win.

It was a strange fight, knowing that no one - except Walker, probably - actually wanted to hurt anyone. Of course, that didn’t stop one of them from exploiting your injured shoulder that she spotted rather quickly. The hits were quick and precise, the tip of her spear cutting along the graze, hitting the spot just perfect enough to reopen it. The stitches that had been placed only a couple days ago ripped, making you wince and clutch your now bleeding shoulder.

“Oh fuck.” You groaned. “You were always good with those things.”

She gave you an almost apologetic look, before she looked over to Ayo, who stepped through the room towards the bathroom where Zemo had locked himself in during the chaos.

When you caught sight of the shoulder thing she did to Bucky, his metallic arm now laying on the floor, his eyes wide and his stance stunned, your jaw nearly dropped. You guessed it made sense that they had a way to do that, but, still. None of you were expecting it.

“Did you know they could do that?” Sam asked once they started leaving, Bucky picking up his arm and connecting it to his shoulder.

“No.” The arm whirred as he swung it, getting it back to normal.

You couldn’t help the little giggle that left you, making Bucky raise an eyebrow at you. You tried holding in more laughs, but they just kept coming. “She-she...she disarmed you!”

Bucky rolled his eyes as you chortled, holding your stomach and bending over. “Ha ha. Very funny.”

“Oh come on!” You straightened and wiped your eyes. “That was good! Wasn’t it, Sammy?”

Sammy chuckled and nodded. “I’ll admit, it was pretty good. This, however, is not.”

Your laughter died as Sam made his way over to the bathroom, the light air that came with your cackles dissipating as quickly as it came.

“I can’t believe he pulled an El Chapo.”

You stared at the drain that was uncovered - large enough for Zemo to slip inside and escape. He did it. The son of a bitch finally did it. It took him long enough. You would’ve betted against him days ago.

“I can.” Bucky turned and grabbed your hand. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

*********************

“I thought you told them.”

Bucky looked up from wrapping your shoulder, an eyebrow raised. “What?”

“I thought you told them. The Dora Milaje. Wakanda. T’Challa. I thought you told them about Zemo.”

He leaned back with a sigh. “It was kinda a last minute decision. You know that. You were there.”

You nodded. “I do. But I also know what they’ve done for you. Shuri and Ayo. I was there for that, too. And you know what he did to them. To their country. Their king.”

“I know, I know. I almost died several times because of it.”

Your eyebrows pinched in confusion. “So why-”

“I thought it’d be quick. I thought, maybe, I could do it without them finding out and then we could get to Karli and they wouldn’t be disappointed. Win win.”

Your cheek caught between your teeth as you thought. “You could’ve just asked-”

He shook his head. “They would’ve said no. You know that.”

“Okay. Fine. Yes. I know that. But…but giving them a warning would’ve been better than this.” He hung his head, closing his eyes. “Bucky. Hey,” hooking a finger under his chin, you tilted his head back up to look at you. “I know it’s been hard for you. Everything has. And I’m sorry I dragged you into this. I shouldn’t have let you come along. You should be healing, and it’s my fault you’re not.” He opened his mouth, face scrunching up in disagreement, but you shook your head. “It’s true. I just…I didn’t know it would come this far.” You gnawed on your bottom lip studying those captivating eyes, before sighing. “Which is why I’m not leaving.”

He perked up, those pretty eyes going wide, jaw slackening. “You-you’re not?!”

You shook your head. As much as you wanted to run away, you couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right. “It wouldn’t be fair to you or Sam. I promised to help, and I brought you into it. So I’m gonna stay.

“Are you, uh…are you sure? You don’t hafta if you don’t wanna, doll. I know I kinda pushed you earlier, but-”

“I’m sure Buck.” You nodded firmly. “Just…do something for me?”

“I dunno if I can promise not brooding, sweetheart.”

You giggled at his words. “Not that. Just…stop giving Sam a hard time. About the shield. Please.”

His soft features hardened and he scowled. “If he didn’t give it up-”

“He thought it was going to the museum. I told you about that, remember? I told you we’d go when I got back.”

Giving a slight nod, he sighed. “We never did.”

“We will. But, I’m serious, Buck. Please. It’s not his fault. He did exactly what Steve did.” At Bucky’s confused look, you pursed your lips, looking down at his hands, starting to play with his fingers. “Remember how I was thinking during those ten minutes we had?” He nodded. “I was thinking about how Steve gave the shield back to Tony. After saving you. In Siberia. You remember that?” Another nod was given, so you continued. “It was for you, James. Because you made him realize that he didn’t want to be the face of a country that preached one thing, but did another. And that’s what Sam did. He did it for his family. For himself. Because no one wants to fight for a country that goes against your personal beliefs, no matter what they say.”

“I-I don’t understand.” Bucky’s eyes squinted, his brow creasing as he tried processing what you were telling him.

“That’s okay. Not everyone will. Really only they can understand their own reasoning. But you have to try to understand that he did what he thought was best for himself. For Steve. For the shield. And I know - dammit do I know - that it’s the last thing left of him. But it is just metal. Isn’t it? Steve’s the reason it is what it is. No one else. And no one is going to change that.”

Bucky took a breath, glossy, worried eyes meeting yours. “Walker’s going to ruin it. I know he is. I can feel it. Everything Steve worked for. I don’t care about Captain America. I care about the kid from Brooklyn who wanted to make a difference, no matter how little he was. I trusted him. I followed him through bullets and blood, with only that shield between us and them. He was home on a battlefield in Italy across the ocean from New York. And that shield was the welcome mat. It doesn’t matter what it says, what it looks like…but it protected my home when I couldn’t. But now? I feel like it’s tearing my home down. Pulling out the bricks. And it hurts. It was never about the shield, Y/N. It was always about the man it protected when I couldn’t be there for him. And now?”

Gathering him in your arms as he trailed off, you gave a couple little sniffles, pressing your face in his hair, nails scratching the nape of his neck lightly. “I’ll be your welcome mat, Buckaroo.” You offered.

He shook his head, pulling away to hold your face between his hands. “No, sweetheart. You’re not the welcome mat. You’re the new bricks replacing the old. You’re…you’re my home, now, doll.”

You swallowed thickly, unable to handle the rush of emotions that just poured through you, the sudden change in topic making you feel more vulnerable than you’d like. You leaned forwards, placing a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, feeling him go lax in your arms. “And you’re mine.” You murmured softly, before getting up and heading out for the room, unable to stay any longer. You still had a mission to do. One that became even more desperate with Zemo loose, Walker unhinged, and Karli being so close.

******************

There was a silent agreement to not bring up your conversation. Not yet, at least. Sam had eyed you both when you came out of the room, saying you were ready to get moving, but he didn’t say anything either.

None of you really knew where you were going, only what you had to do. Find Zemo and get to Karli before Walker could. Both of which were a lot easier said than done.

Until Sam got a call from Sarah, who told him Karli contacted her personally and threatened her and her sons. She left a contact number for Sam, evidently wanting to meet. His phone dinged not a minute after he texted the number.

“She said come alone.”

“Well that’s not happening.” You opposed, crossing your arms.

Bucky nodded with your sentence. “We’re coming with you.”

Sam didn’t say anything against it, the three of you exchanging glances, before heading out to the location, changing into your tactical suits along the way.

Karli didn’t seem to mind you and Bucky tagging along, and you understood why the moment she mentioned not killing Sam because he wasn’t hiding behind a shield. It was a distraction. They were going after Walker.

It was confirmed only moments later when Sharon contacted Sam. “Looks like he found them, or maybe they found him.”

As soon as Sam announced that it was Walker, you jumped into action, Sam disabling Karli for just the right amount of time for you to get a head start. “I’ll send you the location. Go.” He told Bucky, who nodded and took off in his super soldier sprint. “You hitching a ride?”

You rolled your eyes at his slight tease. “I hate this so much.” You grumbled, catching his hand as he took off in the air with his bird costume. He held onto you tightly, like the millions of times you’d done this before, although it didn’t make you any less dizzy, traveling that fast, that high, with only his hold keeping you from dropping. “You’re lucky I trust you so much!”

He gave a small chuckle at your shout over the wind. “We’re landing! Brace yourself!” You followed his order, just in time for him to break through the glass ceiling of the building Walker was in. The both of you landed on a platform on the staircase just as a Flag Smasher was thrown through double glass doors, down the stairs, and into a power box. Your eyes went wide as Walker strolled down the steps, oozing a confidence that made you nervous. The moment Walker stopped the Flag Smasher - the Super Soldier - from hitting him with the pipe, you knew even before he twisted it like a pretzel.

“Sam.” You breathed out. You couldn’t even do anything, only watching as the Flag Smasher got up from being thrown again, and running down a hall.

“What’d you do?”

“They got Lemar.” Was the only reply he gave, brushing past you and Sam. You gave Sam a look, but he just jerked his head down the hall, in the direction the Flag Smasher went and the way Walker started heading. You nodded, willing to drop it for now to save someone’s life, but you were so bringing it up once this was done.

Jogging into the room, you should’ve expected the ambush in the room, but, to be honest, they didn’t take as much advantage as they could’ve, so it wasn’t too difficult of a fight. You had trained with Steve millions of times before, so you knew how to go against a Super Soldier. Granted, your Cap wasn’t trying to kill you while training, but it was better than nothing.

You protected your shoulder, knowing that was your weak point, while trying to disguise it so whoever you were fighting wouldn’t realize your Achilles’ Heel. Something you often found while dealing with Steve, and even Bucky, was that Super Soldiers, as quick as they were, tended to favor the super strength side of their enhancements. This made it easier for you to dodge the attacks, knowing most of your blows wouldn’t do much.

Knowing you wouldn’t be able to stay on the defensive for long, you decided to try to get an advantage over them. Disarming them and taking their knife was easy enough. A small advantage, yeah, but now you had a weapon, and you could work with that.

You weren’t exactly sure when Bucky joined the fight, but he did, immediately coming over to you when you body kicked your opponent, helping you up. “That was a Steve move.” Your eyes caught sight of the Flag Smasher behind him and you shoved his shoulder down, throwing your knife, making it land solidly in the man’s shoulder. Bucky looked up at you from his crouch, impressed. “And that was a me move.”

You shrugged. “I’m a visual learner.”

You, Sam, and Bucky were about to go for another round with the guys when a sickening crack sounded behind you, and you whipped around.

Hoskins was against a split pillar, a crimson streak running down his forehead, head lolling to the side, lips red and cracked. The fight stopped as Walker rushed over to his friend, but you knew there was no way he survived. A punch from a Super Soldier? That hard?

Eyeing the Flag Smashers, you turned to Sam and Bucky when they started dispersing, Karli running out as well. They nodded towards you and the three of you took off after her, not wanting to let her get away again and, for you, at least, wanting to give Walker some time.

You weren’t expecting his grief to turn into such raw hatred.

Running up to the city square, you didn’t actually see it happen. Just the aftermath. Which was good, considering you nearly threw up just seeing that.

You heard the change in Bucky’s breathing, barely recognizing the way he stepped in front of you, only realizing you stepped closer when you felt his sleeve against your palms, fingers tightly wrapped around his forearm. A choked sound came from somewhere, but you didn’t know it was you, even as Bucky reached his arm around to hold your waist, keeping you behind his shoulder.

Tears leaked down your face silently, eyes unable to look away as Walker straightened, sliding the shield on his arm, too nonchalantly for someone who just murdered another in front of a crowd full of people, cameras pointed towards him.

The shield. That piece of metal you had been wondering so deeply about the past couple of weeks. The link to the first person you’d ever loved. Ruined. Tarnished. Stained.

You could barely breathe, your throat clenching so tightly it was a wonder you were able to get anything out at all.

“James…”

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navegandoaciegas · 3 years

Text

1-2-3 Way

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader x Steve Rogers

Warnings: smut, bed sharing, there was only one bed???, loss of virginity, dom/sub undertones, dom!Steve, sub!reader, switch!Bucky, unprotected sex, praise, slight degradation, overstimulation, face fucking, fingering, slight spanking, edging, doggy style, aftercare.

Summary: There’s only one bed and you have to share it with your childhood friends Steve and Bucky.

A/N: Listen… there was only one bed is my favorite cheesy trope, I’m sorry. Thank you for the commission, @maryfloat , I hope you like this!!

It’s so clichè, the way that the receptionist offers you a tight lipped smile and an apology. There must have been an error with the reservation, maybe the server crashed or something, she says, you’ve booked one room, and that room has one bed only. Coincidentally, everyone’s in town at the same time as you, and the only hotel in the area is fully booked.

How unfortunate.

She hands you the keys whilst Bucky hauls your suitcase and his up the stairs, and Steve follows behind him. She eyes them warily and whispers to you, asks if you’re safe and comfortable, and apologises again for the inconvenience.

When Steve, ever the gentleman, proposes they sleep on the floor, you’re almost tempted to accept and thank him. They’re big and strong, and one night on the cold, hard floor won’t kill them.

You hate sharing beds anyways. It gets too warm with more than one body rolling around, and then someone hogs all the blankets, or kicks you in the shins, or elbows you in the ribs, and you can’t catch a break.

Instead you scoff and wave him dismissively. ‘I trust you guys more than I trust myself.’

And you do, really. You’ve known them since those awkward middle school days, where Bucky was chubby and covered in painful acne, and Steve was dangerously skinny and a foot shorter than you. You’ve fallen asleep on their shoulders on long road trips, occasionally napped on their legs in their dorm rooms, fallen asleep on Steve’s hospital bed when he was a frail kid and you and Bucky took turns visiting him.

You trust them, you really do, but still, sharing a tiny bed with them seems more intimate, definitely more wrong, than anything you’ve ever done.

It sends a weird signal down your stomach that your brain can’t quite interpret. You’re not anxious, but as you sit sandwiched between them, you can’t say you’re relaxed either.

Bucky sits to your right, computer perched on his lap, open on the Netflix account he pays for and Steve and you leech off of. He makes the most money with his waitressing job, the old ladies love tipping him for his flirty remarks and bright smiles, so it’s only fair.

Steve munches on a chalky protein bar to your right, a frown on his forehead as he chews with his mouth open and judges Bucky’s recommended section.

“You’re not making me watch another sci-fi, Barnes.”

“And you’re not forcing me through another Studio Ghibli movie, Rogers.”

“C’mon, at least those are relaxing-,”, “and cute,” you quip, intercepting Steve’s snack and taking a bite out of it just to spite him. He side eyes you, pinching your side as hard as he can.

“Oh? I forgot you were the ones paying for the account.”

“This is literal blackmail, holding the damn Netflix over our heads like that.”

“Not sure that blackmail is the word you’re looking for, but go off, bud.”

“Don’t smartmouth me.”

“Or what?”

They bicker like they’ve always done, and you’ve been friends with them long enough to have learnt how to drown out their voices when they fight.

Sometimes your friendship feels like it’s always been, playful, sibling like. They roughhouse you, you make fun of them. It’s familiar, warm, comforting.

No matter how bad school gets, no matter how uncertain your future seems, no matter how many times you get your heart broken, you know that Bucky, Steve and you will always be there to pick yourselves back up.

Some other times the lines get blurred, and it’s scary. But the scarier it gets, the more rewarding it becomes to look for signs, finding them in the smallest of things, like how Steve gets all sulky when you go out on dates, or how Bucky constantly seeks your approval for whatever he does.

You space out as they pick a movie, your mind eerily quiet, your body weirdly warm.

There’s a pit in your stomach that you can’t understand fully. It’s been there a while, ever since your friendship has started to shift, and your stares have been lingering as much as their affectionate touch.

Your eyes travel from Bucky’s black t-shirt to his side profile, tracing the gentle slope of his nose and his pouty lips. Lately, you’ve been looking at him a lot more, catching yourself in the act and shaking yourself out of your thoughts.

What thoughts, you don’t know. Your mind is blank more often than not when you’re set on him. When you’re with them.

You’re doing it again, unconsciously, until Steve elbows you in the side, and you’re rudely snapped out of your reverie.

“You’re too quiet,” he mumbles, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Which is weird since you never shut the fuck up,” quips Bucky, hitting you with his shoulder, effectively bringing you back to reality.

You resist laughing because you’ll never give him the satisfaction, and just swing back at him.

“I’m just tired, ‘s all. My neck hurts a lot, guess we’re getting old, huh.”

Bucky just shrugs and presses play on the movie they’ve chosen. You smile at Steve as convincingly as you can to get him off your case.

He nods at you, not quite sold, but leaves it at that, knowing better than to prod you.

“Want me to give you a massage?” he asks, wiggling his fingers in front of your face.

“Please?” you pout, turning your back to him.

Your thought process was that you can never refuse Steve’s healing hands. You didn’t think it through so much, clearly, as he kneads the knots in your neck and you feel your lower body coming alive, a warmth pooling awkwardly in your belly.

Bucky gives you the most offended, betrayed look you’ve ever seen, frowning and pouting like a petulant child.

“S’ not fair. I want a massage too,” he whines, shimmying his shoulders in your direction, offering you the best puppy eyes he can muster.

Cute, you think. “Gross,” you say, “I’ll give you one if you stop with the face.”

He just sticks his tongue out, wiggling between your legs.

The movie plays in the background, your mind too focused on Steve’s warm hands on your bare skin and Bucky’s back muscles flexing under your touch.

The hot feeling in your chest is back when his eyes move from the screen to yours, a goofy smile on his lips, features relaxed.

You bury your hands in his silky hair, scratching his scalp. He almost moans, butting your palm like a kitten.

He’s so effortlessly sweet that it hurts.

It’s silent in a comfortable way, with the sound effect of the movie lulling you all, except your traitorous brain, in a serene state.

It’s a kids movie, and you’re just giving yourselves a massage like you’ve done hundreds of times before, but something feels different about it, in the way that Steve’s warm breath tickles your neck, or the way that Bucky turns around every few minutes just to smile at you.

At some point your hands stop moving, and your back is flush to Steve’s front as he holds you in his arms, Bucky’s head on your lap as he hugs your thighs to his body, fingers absentmindedly caressing your skin, hiking up your legs, higher and higher-, goosebumps erupting all over you. He stops just before the hem of your shorts, making his way down to your knee, just to do it all over again.

You can no longer deny the fluttering in your core, nor the slick gathering in your panties at the thought of what would happen if he just crept higher.

By the time that the end credits roll around, you're cocooned in their warmth, Bucky asleep on your stomach, your own eyes droopy. You’re drowsy, pliant in Steve’s hold as he adjusts you both comfortably on the pillows.

The last thing you feel, as darkness envelops the room, is his lips on your forehead as he whispers to you good night.

You hate sharing beds, but when you wake up in the middle of the night between them, you think you may not hate it as much as you thought.

Bucky is a messy sleeper, arm swung over your hips, legs sprawled over half the mattress, face buried in the pillow next to yours, back gently rising with every breath he takes.

Steve is more put together. He sleeps on his side, lips parted, one arm under the pillow, the other close to your side, his fingers intertwined with yours.

You don’t know how long you spend staring at the ceiling, heart hammering in your chest, wondering if this shift in your friendship will bring you closer or break you apart in the long run. You don’t want to entertain the chances of them breaking your heart, or you breaking theirs.

Even the possibility of having to choose between one of the two seems absurd to you.

The bed creaks under Bucky’s weight as he turns to you, tightening his hold on your hips. You’re paralized as he nuzzles his nose in the crook of your neck, a breathy whine escaping his lips. All your blood travels to your face when you feel his hard on rub against your legs, his hips uncounsciously rutting on you.

“So soft,” he mumbles, eyes fluttering open.

You’re staring at each other, almost in a daze, and maybe it’s because it’s pitch black outside and you’re in your own little dimension, or maybe it’s the adoration in his bleary eyes, but you don’t turn away when he closes the distance between you.

The kiss you share is soft, lazy, tentative.

You prod his mouth open with yours, tongues swirling together with no rush and no shame. You’d imagined kissing your best friend would feel more awkward than this, and instead his warmth, his taste, his hungry kisses, everything about it seems natural to you, like it’s what you’re supposed to have been doing all this time, a chance you were too scared to take.

You’re so lost in the moment that you barely register the lips on your neck and another set of hands making its way under your t-shirt, settling on your stomach, fingers barely grazing the underside of your boobs.

As soon as his mouth detaches from your own, Steve is pouncing on you, his kiss more rough and demanding than Bucky’s, tongue less hesitant as it explores you, wiping any remnant of sleep out of your mind.

You’re breathless as he invades all your senses, barely wrapping your head around the fact that your shy friend is eating you whole and the flirty, outgoing one is just looking with hunger and rubbing himself on your leg.

Steve breaks away from you, a string of drool connecting you, his eyes dark with desire. He pecks your lips again, smirking at you as he lowers his face, leaving a trail of kisses on your jaw, to the column of your neck, down your collarbones, settling between your tits.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, grasping the hem of your t-shirt, “Can I touch you? I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

You nod fervently, growing needy with each passing second, “Please Steve, just touch me.”

Bucky gets bolder, kissing you with more conviction this time. Your clothes are shedded, his bare skin heated against yours, your hands in his hair.

Steve takes his sweet time making his way downwards, leaving a trail of bruises on your chest, stomach, hips, kneading your ass. He settles between your legs, looking up at you as he closes his mouth on your clothed pussy, sucking through your panties and leaving a wet mark on them.

You’re embarrassingly horny, arousal dripping out of you, nipples stiff as Bucky plays with them. You want him to rip your panties to shreds and take you right there and then, but Steve has other plans, enjoying the way you’re so pliant underneath him.

He grabs you by the hips, turning you around with your face down and your ass up in the air. The string of your underwear is almost swallowed between your puffy folds, stained with your slick.

Steve takes a deep breath before tugging the string up, teasing your swollen clit with the material, raptured by the way you’re so open and ready for them, glistening with desire.

Bucky sits back on the headboard, eyes half lidded, legs spread before your face. You trace the outline of his hard cock through his boxers, mouth watering at the idea of him inside you, filling you up.

Steve doesn’t give you the time to touch him before he’s tugging you upwards by the hair, flush to his chest. His breath tickles your neck as he teases you through your panties.

“Are you gonna be good for me? For us?”

You don’t have to think about it, strings of ‘yes’, ‘please, ‘touch me’, leaving your lips as if having a mind of their own. It would be embarrassing to be this wanton with anyone else, but with them, everything is like it’s meant to be.

“Then be a good girl, okay? Show Bucky how good you can be with that pretty mouth of yours,” he grunts in your ear, pressing his hard on against your ass cheeks, “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

You nod, grind yourself on his cock, so pent up and desperate for release that you rub your legs together just to feel the string of your panties digging in your folds, hoping it would help soothe the ache in your cunt.

“Of course you have, you little slut,” he grunts, pushing your head down on the mattress as Bucky tugs his underwear down.

Yours is ripped by Steve, thrown somewhere in the room, exposing your quivering hole to the cold air. Arching your back, you silently beg for something, anything, which comes in the form of a sting and a loud smack reverberating in the stuffy room.

Steve smacks your pussy again, and again, and again, until the sharp pain in your clit becomes so pleasant that you could come just from that. Bucky wastes no time yanking your head towards his crotch, slapping his heavy cock on your cheek, until your face burns with humiliation and need.

Your hands tremble as you reach for him, hesitating before licking a stripe from the base to the tip, savoring his musky pre cum. You swirl your tongue around the head, teasing his sensitive slit with kitten licks, hands fondling with his balls.

Steve’s thick finger prodding at your entrance makes you gasp, giving Bucky the perfect opportunity to shove your face down his cock until you’re coughing, lungs burning, clawing at his things as he holds you down.

“Calm down, Bucky. Stop bein’ so desperate,” Steve’s voice is muffled in your ears as you struggle for air, feeling light headed.

He plunges a finger inside your pussy, then another, eased by the embarrassing amount of wetness dripping out of you.

Bucky whines something in return, yanking you up. Tears blur your vision as you heave, barely getting enough air in your lungs before he pushes you down again, using your head as a flashlight.

He keeps you still, nose buried in the dark hair of his pelvis, as he stands on his haunches. Grabbing your face with both hands, he starts relentlessly pummelling inside you, fucking your mouth with abandon.

With a broken moan he thrusts all the way down, his balls slapping your chin, fingers clamping around your nose when you start gagging.

“Oh, she likes that. She’s squeezing my fingers,” Steve says, scissoring his fingers between your gummy walls, “Do it again.”

Bucky pinches your nose one more time, depriving you of all air. Dark spots start appearing at the sides of your vision, mind hazy. He lets up before you faint, barely giving you time before he’s stuffing your mouth with his cock once more.

Steve lays down between your legs, face up. From his perspective he can see your glistening pussy, your tits bouncing with the force of Bucky’s thrusts, and his cock disappear between your abused lips. You’re being so good to them that he feels like rewarding you.

His hands guide you to sit down on his face, your moans muffled as he latches onto your swollen clit. He sucks on it until you’re on the edge of your orgasm, walls quivering with the need to release.

He stops just before you can reach your peak, and spanks your clit again.

“You’re not coming on my mouth now.”

Your throat vibrates around Bucky’s cock with moans of pleasure, spurring him on to hold you down longer, chasing his own orgasm with a string of curses.

“She’s gonna faint, idiot,” Steve scolds him, tearing you away from Bucky’s cock, drool dripping down your sore jaw.

“She can handle it,” rasps Bucky, rolling his eyes.

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” you frown, slapping Bucky’s hands away when he reaches for you.

“Brats, both of you,” Steve sighs condescendingly, “Be more gentle. And you,” he warns, pinching your inner thigh, “don’t talk unless it’s to beg for more, ‘kay?”

There’s a pause, an awkward moment when you don’t know where to look, what to do with your hands, waiting for Steve to take control again, like he always does.

“So-” Bucky starts, looking up at Steve for guidance, “What now?”

“You’re both- y’know, it’s your first time actually doing it, right?” he asks after pondering for a second, eyes darting between the two of you.

“Yes,” you both respond, and he hums.

“Then you two should go first, be each other’s first times. It makes more sense. I got her ready, so it shouldn’t hurt.”

The idea of Bucky’s cock inside you makes you a bit anxious, considering how much you struggled taking him in your mouth, jaw still sore from his abuse, but it also fills you with warmth.

You trust them blindly, and you want this, you want him to be the first one inside you for whatever reason.

There’s no need for words between you, a tiny nod and a reassuring smile all you need to settle on the pillows, spreading your legs for Bucky to settle in between.

He’s always so sure of himself, but in the moment he looks like a lost puppy. He pumps himself a few times, and braces his weight on one arm as he lines his cock with your entrance.

He gives you one more kiss, tasting himself on your lips, before pushing past your entrance. The tip is barely in by the time that you screech, the pain sharper than you imagined, and Bucky halts immediately despite looking like he’s about to bust on the spot.

Your pussy feels like it’s burning, and no amount of fingers inside you could have prepared you for the stretch of your walls.

“It’s okay,” Steve whispers in your ear, a hand rubbing your shoulder to comfort you, “You’re doing so good, being such a good girl, you’re so perfect. It will go away before you realize, promise.”

“Okay, okay, I can do this,” you pant, digging your nails in Bucky’s back.

“Let’s switch, it will hurt less if you’re on top,” Steve suggests, and you and Bucky comply.

He lays down on the pillows as you straddle his hips, propping yourself up on his toned abs. Steve kneels at your side, holding you up as you hover over him.

Your heart’s beating out of your chest as you grasp Bucky’s cock, taking a deep breath to steel yourself before inching down on him, whimpering with every centimeter that gets swallowed by your gummy walls.

The stretch feels like it’s splitting you open, and if it weren’t for Steve’s strong arms, you’d collapse and cry on Bucky’s chest.

Steve whispers praises and reassuring words in your ear and kisses your tears away, swirling his fingers around your clit to help you out, and Bucky caresses the sides of your waist, mumbling broken apologies to you, kissing your neck.

Once you finally bottom out, you still and slump on Bucky’s shoulder, burying your nose in his hair, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent.

The pain is throbbing, burning, but it becomes more subtle and bearable the longer Bucky stays inside you.

“Okay, it’s getting better” you wheeze in an attempt to encourage yourself, “But I can’t feel my legs now.”

They break in a fit of laughter, easing the tension in the room.

“Let’s switch again,” Bucky proposes, slightly out of breath with the way that your pussy is squeezing him in a vice, “I can move.”

You nod, clinging to his neck as he lifts you up, careful not to let his cock slip out of you.

“I want to feel you close,” Steve says, slightly out of breath, “Lay her on me.”

They help you lay on his chest, Bucky’s cock still buried inside you, the pain fading away in a dull sting.

You’re sandwiched between their bodies, enveloped by their warmth and affection, coated in your slick and their sweat, and despite the discomfort, you’ve never felt as full of love as now.

Bucky seeks permission with his eyes, then reassurance from Steve, and starts rocking his hips tentatively, biting hard on his lips to keep himself from cumming embarrassingly fast.

His cock drags against your walls, a ring of white cream slowly accumulating around the base.

It’s not painful anymore, slightly uncomfortable at times when he’s accidentally too rough, but the burn is now a simmering heat that grows in your core with every thrust.

Steve sings praises in your ear, “Look how good you’re doin’, taking Bucky’s cock so well, you’re such a good girl,” whilst Bucky rutts needily on you.

He’s sloppy in his movements, and his hips don’t have a rhythm to them. He takes you high, close to a release, just to fuck it up again when he stutters, involountarily edging you over and over again.

“I’m close, I’m so close, I’m gonna cum inside you,” he moans.

In a blur you’re on your stomach. Bucky positions you on your knees and pummels inside you again, thrusting more forcefully as he loses himself in the pleasure.

You whimper between Steve’s tender kisses before Bucky tears you away from him, yanking you flush against his chest.

“I love you, I love you, love you so much, love you,” he keeps mumbling, tightly clutching his arms around your stomach and tits, slamming you hard on him.

At that angle Bucky’s cock pushes against a sensitive spot inside you that makes the coils in your stomach tighter, your clit throbbing and your walls clamping down on him.

Steve, never one to be outdone, sits back on his haunches and manhandles your head down again until you’re faced with his hard, leaking cock.

He’s trimmed more neatly than Bucky, but he’s just as big and intimidating.

He slaps his cock on your lips, smearing his precum on you. You’re a moaning mess, automatically taking him in your mouth, savoring his musk on your tongue.

Your jaw is still sore but you do your best to accommodate Steve, eager to please. You relax your muscles and let Bucky’s thrusts do the work for you, already lightheaded with the lack of air.

They keep stuffing you with their cocks, bouncing you between each other, the lewd sounds of your squelching pussy and the bed creaking filling the room.

Bucky’s fingers teasing your clit, your lungs burning, your vision going spotty, it’s all too much for you.

Just as you think you’re about to reach your peak, you feel Bucky pause and stutter, a choked moan escaping his throat as he comes, stuffing you full of his warm cum. Steve comes at the same time, and you almost choke on his release as he spills his load down your throat.

It feels good, you’re fuller than you’ve ever been, but it’s still not enough to push you over the edge.

You both collapse on Steve, exhausted, cum pouring out of your hole and onto the sheets. You expect him to take you immediately after, instead he snakes a hand between your bodies, finding your sensitive clit, overstimulated with all the touching.

“You did so well, baby, you were so good for Bucky. Now cum on my fingers, cum for us,” he moans, twirling your bud between his fingers.

Pent up as you are, it doesn’t take long for you to finally come, almost blacking out with the intensity of your orgasm, your limbs shaking and quivering between theirs.

When you come down from your high, you’re tired out, your whole body is sore, your hips and legs hurt, and the cum seeping out of your entrance reminds you of the burning pain there, now back with a vengeance.

When morning comes, you’ll have to remind Steve to buy you Plan B.

The exhaustion catches up to you as soon as your head hits the pillow, a loud ring in your ears as you barely register your surroundings, Bucky already asleep by your side in true Bucky fashion while Steve takes care of you both, cleaning you up and tucking you in bed.

He whispers ‘I love you’ and kisses the tip of your nose.

Maybe one day you’ll say it back.

For now, you let yourself rest in their embrace, always the three of you like it’s meant to be.

—

Damn, 4k words of porn. This felt like giving birth or something sksjshj

Please, share and leave a comment if you can 🥰

#bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #stucky x reader #steve x bucky x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you

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mackenzielovee · 3 years

Text

crazy love (part 6) - rafe cameron

a/n: feels soooo good to be back with you guys. i hope you enjoy this part and i have more for you soon ;) (not my gif)

Summary: You finally get to the bottom of what's bothering Rafe.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex

Word Count: 6k

series masterlist

my writing

When you wake up the next morning, Rafe's already up. He's staring at the ceiling with one arm tucked behind his head, looking like he's deep in thought. You notice how he's not touching you, which makes you feel oddly uncomfortable. You yawn and reach over, wrapping your arm around his chest. He doesn't react or even look over.

"Good morning, handsome," you say sweetly, trying to gauge some sort of reaction from him.

He sits up and climbs out of bed, leaving your touch behind, "I'll drop you at school on my way to work. Do you wanna take a shower?"

"With you?" you smirk at him.

Rafe avoids your eyes, scratching the back of his neck and staring at the floor. You frown.

"Rafe," you sit up, "Are you okay?"

"I'm just gonna shower first. Takes me longer to do my hair, anyway. I'll be out in a bit."

He walks to his bathroom and closes the door, but your heart sinks when you hear the lock click. You lay back down in his bed and rack your brain over your last conversation with him, wondering if you said or did something to make him angry or upset with you.

When you don't come up with anything, you reach over and grab your phone. In front of your favorite picture of Rafe on your lock screen is a text from your mom, a few Instagram notifications, and a message from JJ. You sit up when you see it and then check the time he sent it. Eleven forty-seven last night. You unlock your phone to read the message in its entirety.

JJ: Got your message. I'm sorry for what Kie said to you the other night. I've been trying to figure out what to say to you and still don't know. Might be easier if I see you. If that's okay. We can talk about it. I looked around John B's for whatever is yours. Got a box for you. Let me know what you think. Thanks, for the job thing. It means something to me.

You smile at the message, glad he's not pissed and calling you a whore. Even after you break his heart, he's still one of the sweetest boys you think you'll ever come across.

I'll get a box for you, too. Maybe we can meet in the next few days. My schedule's pretty wide open. Looking forward to it.

You fire off the text and then lock your phone, focusing all your energy on Rafe now. You lay there and think about it until the lock turns and he steps out. Of course, you think, he would step out with a towel wrapped just a little too low around his waist, his skin still glistening from the water.

"Damn," you mumble under your breath. Rafe's jaw is clenched, he doesn't even try to hide a smile even though you know he heard you.

"We're leaving in half an hour," he informs you, stepping to his closet to pick out his clothes.

You stand up from his bed, pulling his shirt over your body. You step over to him, but know better than to touch him.

"Can I pick out your shirt today?" you ask him, already looking over his closet. You're thinking red today, given you've never seen him in a red collared shirt before.

"Get in the shower," he grumbles, "Twenty-nine minutes now."

You step away like he's stung you, but tell yourself to not take it personally until you can figure out what's going on with him. You sigh and go to his bathroom, locking the door behind you just to be petty. You turn the shower on and get in, quickly washing your body and then getting out again. You wrap Rafe's spare towel around your body and then emerge from the bathroom, watching as he glances up at you, then swears and looks down again.

He looks back up at you after a minute, his eyes softer.

"Those are your options," he mumbles, pointing to four shirts he had hung up on the knob of his dresser.

You smile and step over to them, examining each shirt carefully as Rafe does his hair in the mirror of the dresser. You hold each one up to his skin, making Rafe shake his head at how seriously you're taking this. You want to ask him if you can have full reign over his closet, but you decide not to push it because of his mood.

"Well, you'll look handsome in any of them," you tell him. When he doesn't react, you say, "But I think the dark purple is your color today."

Rafe doesn't respond, he just grabs the hangar from your hand and removes the shirt, silently sliding it over his head. He still has his towel resting on his lower half, not having picked out pants because he didn't know what color you'd pick.

You inch away and look for your clothes on the floor. They're your only option for school today, since you hadn't actually planned to say the night last night. Maybe that's why Rafe's ticked off.

He opens the top drawer of his dresser and pulls something out, then steps over to you. His eyes are cold, his face sad, as he holds out his hand.

"Here," he says, revealing the underwear he had taken from you the first time you met up with him after the break, "I washed them. You can put the ones from yesterday in my hamper."

You smile at him, and for a split second, you can see a smile on his face, too. He wipes it off quickly and then steps to his closet to finish getting dressed.

The room stays quiet, and when Rafe is dressed and slips out without saying a word, you sigh and sit down on his bed. You dress yourself in your clothes from yesterday, thankfully now with clean underwear, then look around his room.

You realize you've never actually spent time looking at the things he has in here. There's a shelf with trophies on it, so you step over and look at them. A few are old - from his baseball days. He had played when he was in middle school, but gave it up when he joined the golf team in high school. He had a few trophies from that, too, plus a picture of his golf team senior year when they had attended regionals. You smile, not having known that.

Rafe comes back into the room with two mugs in his hand, and you note how handsome he looks in his purple shirt and dark pants, hair freshly slicked back and watch on his wrist. He silently hands you a mug, then takes a few steps back from you to lean against his dresser.

"I didn't know your golf team went to regionals," you say, pointing to the picture.

He just nods, taking a sip from his mug. You sigh and set your mug down on his dresser, stepping toward him.

"All right, Cameron," you say, crossing your arms over your chest, "You gotta talk to me."

Rafe's eyes flick up to you and he speaks before he can think twice, "What, so you can just run and talk to JJ?"

You furrow your eyebrows at him, watching as he reaches up and runs his hand over his face.

"What?"

"We have to leave in seven minutes, let's not get into this right now," he says, looking at his watch.

"No, let's please get into it right now," you argue, setting your hand on his arm. He tenses under your touch, making your heart sink.

"Y/N, not now," he shakes his head, then shuts his eyes, "Shit, you don't even have your backpack. Come on, we'll run by your house."

"I don't care," you shrug.

Rafe rolls his eyes, then steps over and grabs his wallet, keys and phone. When you stay planted in your spot, he grabs your phone and purse, too.

"Let's go," he commands, holding his bedroom door open for you.

If you weren't irritated with him right now, you'd love the way he holds your purse for you. You never pegged Rafe Cameron to be a purse holder. You huff and walk out in front of him, not bothering to wait on him. He just follows behind you down the stairs, then out the front door. He turns around and locks the house up, then opens the door to his truck for you. You don't thank him, but he doesn't notice. When he climbs in the driver's seat, he hands you your purse and phone without a word.

"I don't understand," you say after he start up the truck, pulling away from the house, "How did JJ suddenly come up?"

Rafe scoffs, keeping his right hand on the steering wheel instead of your leg.

"He didn't just suddenly come up. He's been there all along."

His voice is quiet, but you still decipher some hurt in his voice. You watch as he watches the road, not bothering to steal glances at you like he normally does.

"Rafe, if I did something-"

"How often do you talk to him?"

You furrow your eyebrows at his question, wondering why the hell he's asking you all this now.

"Not often," you say, voice sounding offended, "He's kinda been busy being pissed off."

Rafe laughs now, shaking his head, "But he got your message, right?"

You jaw drops as you figure it all out. He looked at your phone. He swears under his breath when you don't reply right away. You sit back in your seat, not wanting to say anything that will hurt his feelings. You close your eyes and steady your breathing, calming yourself before you speak again.

"I called him last night to-"

"Of course you fucking did."

"-to tell him about the job," you finish your sentence, your voice harsh, "And to apologize. It's not like I was calling to tell him I wanna get back together. You're being a little dramatic, Rafe."

Rafe looks over at you for the first time since you two climbed in the car, eyebrows raised at you like he's daring you to continue.

"Dramatic?" he questions, "I'm sorry, you're right. Talk to your ex-boyfriend every goddamn day. No reason that should bother me."

You scoff, wanting to tell him just how wrong he is. Even though he thinks he's hiding it, you can tell there's more that's upsetting him than just the fact that you called JJ. You don't reply, you just stay quiet.

When you two pull up to your house, Rafe puts the truck in park and waits for you to climb out.

"What is it, really?" you ask him, your voice softer. He looks over at you, wanting to play dumb, but knowing it's useless.

Rafe looks down at his lap, "He told you he loved you, didn't he?"

You want to scream 'hell no' and tell him he's being crazy, but the emotion in his voice makes your heart sink. This boy, this sweet boy, just needs a little reassurance. You unlock your phone and pull up your text chain with JJ, then silently hand it to him.

"I'm gonna go get my backpack," you say, sliding out of the truck.

You give him an extra few minutes while you're inside, grabbing some mascara and brushing your hair before you head back out.

You're not surprised at all when Rafe's standing in front of his truck with his arms crossed. You smile sympathetically and walk toward him, your heart aching when he opens his arms up.

"I'm an asshole," he tells you, "I'm sorry."

You shake your head, placing yourself between his arms and pulling him close. You let him squeeze you, trying to give him all the physical reassurance he needs. After a minute, you look up at him.

"I meant it when I said it," you say, watching him move his head to the side, "It's you, Rafe Cameron."

He grins and kisses you, heart swelling in his chest. You smile against his lips and then push him away after a minute.

"You're gonna be late to work," you remind him. He just shakes his head and kisses you again.

"Don't care," he mumbles.

He knows he'll never get enough, so he gives you a few more quick kisses and then puts you back in the truck. You couldn't be happier when he sets his hand in its rightful place on your leg as he starts the truck up again.

Rafe pulls up to your school, and even though you both can feel eyes on you, he leans over and kisses you anyway. He grabs onto your cheek after a few, holding you to him to deepen it.

"Rafe," you laugh, "You really have to go if you want to make it on time."

He shrugs and kisses you again, "This is so much better than my damn job."

You laugh and let him kiss you once more, then pull away. He groans, throwing his head back like a little kid.

"Go on, handsome. Talk to you later."

He smiles as you climb out of his truck, giving him a quick wave. You close the door and step away, but you can still hear him roll the passenger window down.

"Have a great day, gorgeous," he yells after you.

You turn around and blow him a kiss, then walk off. You look up, still grinning like an idiot, and spy Kiara and Pope. They'd been watching the whole show from the second Rafe's truck had pulled into the parking lot. You roll your eyes at Kiara, earning a flip of the bird from her.

Rafe texts you while you're at lunch, saying he spoke with Rose and she would like you to join she and Sarah after school for dress fitting, and selection for you. Because Rafe already has a tux picked out, Rafe says Rose is going to pick out a few matching options for you and you can pick from those. You're in the middle of typing out your response when you hear a familiar voice.

"Hey."

You spin around in your seat, eyeing the blonde boy you know so well. His injuries from his fight with Rafe are healing, but still very prevalent on his face. He's wearing sunglasses to cover up his black eye, but the rest are completely visible.

"Hey," you reply, your tone more surprised than his, "Sit. Please."

JJ shakes his head, disappointing you, "I'm fine. I just wanted to see if I could drop your stuff by your house tonight. I don't really wanna have an emotional conversation in the middle of the courtyard."

He laughs lightly, but both of you know it's not really funny. You frown and set your phone down on the table, leaving Rafe's text half answered.

"Um, tonight's no good. How about tomorrow?"

"Gotta work."

"Oh. Sunday?"

"Taking the boat out. We'll just talk about it some other time."

JJ smiles tightly, then turns on his heel to walk away. You swallow, then call after him.

"JJ."

He spins around, adjusting his sunglasses, "Yeah?"

"It's just good to talk to you."

His smile comes out more sympathetic this time, but still sad.

"Yeah," he nods, "You, too."

You let him walk away this time, feeling like at least you've made some progress. You finish your text to Rafe, saying that would all be fine, and he says he will come get you when he gets off work. The lunch period ends not long after, so you rise and start walking toward your class. You see JJ and the group from a distance, and not surprisingly, JJ is the only one who smiles to you. John B gives you a little wave, trying his best to keep it discreet so as not to be bitched out by Kiara. Pope pretends he doesn't even notice you.

You sigh and walk off to class, perfectly content for the first time with being all by yourself at school.

Rafe rings your doorbell when he picks you up. He arrives a little before six, expecting your parents to open the door but shocked when he finds Macy standing there instead. In all her fourteen-year-old glory, she stares at the preppy boy from Figure Eight holding a bouquet of flowers and sporting burning red cheeks.

"Are you here for my sister?" Macy raises her eyebrow after Rafe introduced himself.

You come out of your room and can just sense him close by, then spy Macy with the front door open. You catch a glimpse of Rafe's dark purple shirt and rush to the door.

"It's okay, Mace," you tell her, pushing her away from the door. Macy stares at Rafe, making a face when she spies his shoes that probably cost more than her entire closet.

"Good to meet you, Macy," Rafe smiles, even though Macy never actually introduced herself to him.

She smiles awkwardly and then walks away, leaving the two of you to talk. You take a deep breath and then smile at him, eyeing the flowers in his hand.

"Hey," you break the silence first.

"She hates me."

You can't help but laugh as his cheeks turn red again, then he groans and thrusts the flowers at you.

"Here. I got these because I felt bad you have to spend the entire evening with my step-mother. Now your sister thinks I'm a preppy asshole," he grumbles.

You shake your head at him and grab onto his shirt, pulling him inside. You grab onto his neck and pull him down to kiss you, trying to kiss all his anxiety away. It seems to work, because his body practically melts into yours.

"The flowers are beautiful, thank you," you smile when you pull away, "And Macy doesn't hate you. She just doesn't know you."

"Yeah," he scoffs, "And she doesn't care to, either."

You laugh and take his hand, leading him into the kitchen so you can put your flowers in a vase.

"She'll come around. She just needs to get used to you. Don't worry about it."

Rafe sighs and sits down at your kitchen table, resting his head in his hand while you dig around the kitchen for a vase.

"When am I gonna meet your parents?"

Your head snaps up to look at him, having not realized until that moment that you hadn't even told your parents you and Rafe are together. Not like you've had time - you haven't seen them since it became offical.

"Soon," you shrug, "We'll arrange something."

"Maybe they can come to the party next weekend," he stands.

You swallow, not wanting to hurt his feelings but not wanting to get his hopes up, either. You know your parents don't have the time, money, or patience to get what it takes to attend a party like that, and then actually sit through a party like that.

"I'll see," you settle on that being your best response, earning a kiss on the cheek from Rafe.

"Wonderful. We should probably get going."

Rafe leads you out to the truck, ready to drive you back to Tannyhill and into, what he calls, Rose's Lair. He seems to think this entire experience is going to chase you off, but you welcome it with open arms. You can't see how it could be that bad.

"Oh, wonderful!" Rose greets when you and Rafe walk into the guest house out back.

Rafe had informed you on the ride over that Rose uses the guest house as a 'staging area' for getting the family ready for events. She has a few people working, taking measurements and doing fittings whenever anyone needs a new outfit. According to Rafe, every member of the family needs a new outfit for every occasion on the island. Which means he has spent a lot of time in the guest house.

"You must be Y/N!" Rose greets, a wide smile on her face as she steps over to you, "So lovely to meet you."

Rafe tightens his grip around your hand, making it harder for you to pull away from him to step into Rose's greeting hug.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Cameron," you say shyly when Rose pulls away.

"Oh, Rose, honey, please," she smiles. You love her already, although you can tell Rafe doesn't exactly feel the same way about her.

"Want to show her the dresses, Rose?" Rafe asks, trying his best to speed this along so the two of you can leave.

"Absolutely! This way," Rose waves, leading the two of you inside.

Your breath hitches when you see John B sitting on the couch in what is considered the living room, watching Sarah get her dress fitted. He sits up straight when he sees you enter the room with Rafe.

"Rose," Rafe snaps when he sees John B, "You told me it was just you and Sarah."

Rose shrugs innocently, not knowing what's happening, "He needs to get a tux fitted, Rafe. This isn't amateur hour."

Rafe rolls his eyes and tugs on your elbow, turning you to face him.

"Let's just do this tomorrow," he says.

You shake your head at him, giving him a small smile, "I'm fine. We need to clear the air, anyway."

John B stands from the couch, giving Sarah a reassuring nod he's not going to be far. Rafe grabs onto the fabric of your shirt, gripping it tighter and tighter as John B comes over. John B shoves his hands in his pockets as he walks, making him look even less threatening to you.

"Hey, Y/N," he greets you, only bothering to nod at Rafe.

"Hey," you smile back at him, then turn to Rafe, "Give us a second?"

"Baby-"

"Rose," you call, immediately knowing Rafe won't leave the two of you alone, "Rafe showed me a picture of his jacket, and I think the sleeves may be a little short. Will you have him try on the jacket and take a look?"

Rafe widens his eyes at you as Rose claps her hands. You haven't even seen Rafe's jacket, which both of you know.

"Oh, Y/N. You may have just saved the day. Rafe, come with me. I'll have those dresses out to you in a minute."

You nod as Rose grabs Rafe's arm, which he quickly yanks from her. He turns back to you, clenching his jaw as he looks between you and John B.

"Five minutes," Rafe mutters, then looks to John B again, "Hands off."

John B holds his hands up in defeat, and you listen as Rafe gripes and grumbles when Rose leads him off to fetch his jacket.

"So," John B starts awkwardly, "I heard you got JJ's job back. That's pretty cool."

You nod, then point off in the direction Rafe went, "Rafe did it, actually."

"Not out of the kindness of his own heart, I presume."

You look up at John B, silently telling him he's right. He tries to hide a smile as he thinks about you actually asking Rafe Cameron to get a Pogue a job at the Club.

"He doing okay?" you ask, not able to contain the question anymore.

John B shrugs and nods, "Uh, yeah. As well as you'd expect, I guess."

An awkward silence falls over the two of you. You lick your lips and look around, trying to quickly come up with something else to discuss.

"You and Rafe seem happy," he says, his voice tense.

You nod awkwardly, "We are."

John B bites the inside of his cheek, then exhales loudly and runs a hand through his hair. He leans his head in to you, speaking a little quieter than before.

"Look, you know JJ's my boy," he tells you, "But I could tell you were struggling. You seem a lot better. So, if that's what you needed to do, I don't think it's really fair of anyone to blame you. Do I agree with the way you went about it? Absolutely not. But I don't think you deserve to be fucking crucified for it, either. So, that all being said, I'm sorry for what I said the other night. Calling you selfish and all that shit. I was just pissed."

You make sure he's through talking before you even think about your response. You're honestly so blown away by how both JJ and John B have been so sweet throughout this whole thing. You know you've given them every reason to turn their backs on you and never think twice about it, but they haven't.

"Thank you, John B. Really. That means a lot."

You give him a smile, only widening it when he wraps his arms around you. He squeezes you and then releases you quickly, "Don't want Rafe to kick my ass, too."

You sigh, shaking your head at him. John B just snickers, which makes you laugh. You see Rafe emerge from the back hallway, eyes rolled halfway back in his head.

"Rafe-"

"The sleeves are not too short, Rose!" he turns back, "They're supposed to sit like that!"

"But it would look so much cuter if-"

"I'm not going for cute! Jesus!"

Rafe throws his hands up in the air in frustration, wondering how the hell this project got turned around on him. You give John B a look, then step over to save Rafe.

"Hi, handsome," you greet, trying to butter him up so he's not too mad at you. You reach for his hand, which he swats away.

"Y/N, thank God," Rose groans, "Wouldn't the sleeves look better if they covered Rafe's watch?"

You glance at Rafe only for a split second before you look back to his step-mom, "Honestly?"

Rose nods quickly, holding up the jacket as if it will hold your answer.

"I think it must have just been the angle of the photo. Those sleeves look plenty long."

You've never done anything like this before, so you impress yourself. Apparently, that's the only person you impress, because Rafe groans beside you.

"Dresses, please," he pushes you toward Rose lightly, then adds, "A little skin wouldn't hurt."

You look back at him and narrow your eyes, while Rose scoffs behind you.

"You wish," she tells him, then grabs onto you and whisks you away.

She leads you into what you assume is supposed to be a bedroom, but now looks like a huge closet. She leads you directly over to the rack in the middle of the room, pushing everything forward and revealing four hangars.

"Okay, honesty will not hurt my feelings. Tell me what you think."

She picks up the first one and holds it up against yourself. You look at the dress and then at her, feeling guilty. But he words ring through your head, and you wince as you shake your head.

"No problem, we got this," she assures you, hanging that dress back up and picking up the second.

"Maybe," you nod, considering it as a real contender.

"Okay, lovely," she cheers, picking up the third.

You smile when you see it, and Rose instantly knows she's done well.

"This is it, huh?" she grins at you. You nod, wide smile still spread over your face, "Yay! Go try it on. I can't wait to see it!"

You take the dress from her and step into the bathroom, cracking the door as you put it on. It's a beautiful, silky light blue gown with a v-neck that comes down just long enough on your chest. You even think it exposes more than you'd like, but you figure Rose can fix that for you. You stare at yourself for a moment in the mirror, wondering what Rafe would think of it.

When you step out, Rose's draw drops. It makes your cheeks heat up, biting your lip as you hope you get the same reaction from your boyfriend.

"You look incredible," she gushes, "That fits you... beautifully."

"You think so?" you question, "It's not too low in the front?"

Rose shakes her head, stepping toward you and making mental notes of the few areas on your hips that need to be pulled in.

"This is it," she says, nodding her head, "It's perfect. Ah! I'm so excited!"

You smile at her, and gladly accept when she gives you a hug. As much as you loved Wheezie the other night, Rose has quickly become your favorite Cameron. Besides Rafe, of course. You both hear a knock on the door, making you stop gushing.

"Rose! Y/N and I would like to get out of here today-"

He pulls open the door, stopping in his tracks when he lays his eyes on you. You stare at him and swallow, immediately trying to read his expression. He swallows, then lets his mouth fall open slightly as he stares at you. His eyes shamelessly rake over your body, stopping extra long at your exposed chest. Rose grins, then grabs your hand and squeezes it.

"I'm gonna give you two a minute," she says, "Don't do anything to the dress."

She winks at you as she leaves, silently telling you she told you so. Rafe steps out of her way, closing the door behind her.

"Hi," you say shyly, wishing he would just say something already.

"Hi," he replies, laughing slightly, "I, um."

He trails off, shaking his head when he can't come up with the words. You're about to just come out and ask him if he likes it, when he rushes over to you and wraps a hand around your neck, pulling your lips to his.

You smile against his lips before you let him take over completely, glad you've finally got your answer. He pushes you back against the dresser, then lifts you up and sets you down on top of it. He never breaks the kiss once, not until he starts moving down your jaw and neck. You moan when you feel his tongue against your exposed skin, feeling him suck on your skin. You have no idea the visions he has of marking you up before this party just so everyone knows you belong to him.

"I'm torn," he tells you, kissing down the valley of your breasts and then back up to your jaw line.

"What does that mean?" you ask, your voice weak and breathy.

"Should I let you wear such a dress in front of every horny prick on Figure Eight?" he debates, more to himself, "Because, fuck, I'd just spend the entire night staring at you, but so would they. Then again, they wouldn't have time to wonder who you're there with, because it would be made abundantly clear."

You laugh, tugging on his hair lightly to get him to pull off your neck and look at you instead.

"Are you really considering telling me I can't wear this?"

Rafe shakes his head vigorously, "You're wearing that fucking dress."

You smile and lean down to kiss him again, then smile when he pulls back to stare at you again. His eyes trail down your body again, only making you feel more and more confident.

"Goddamn," he mutters, licking his lips.

"Okay," you laugh, "You're gonna have to get a grip."

He steps back as you climb down from the dresser, then takes your hand in his and wraps his other around your waist. He pulls both of your hands up in the air and then starts swaying the both of you ever so slightly.

"What are you doing?" you laugh.

"Practicing," he shrugs, "Can't believe I'll be dancing with you, my girlfriend, at a Kook party next week."

"A dream come true," you snicker, but catch a sweet grin on Rafe's face.

"It is for me," he says quietly, then tucks you into his chest as he continues to sway.

Rose knocks softly on the door and then peaks her head in, but neither of you bother to move away from each other.

"You two are so sweet," she says.

"Thanks, Rose," you smile, knowing Rafe is rolling his eyes above you.

"Y/N, let's get that fitted. There's just a few place I want to bring in on you. Rafe, feel free-"

"I'll watch," he tells her, stopping your dancing and wrapping his fingers through yours instead.

Rose shoots her eyebrows up and then nods, waving you to come out to the living room, where Sarah had been getting fitted earlier. John B and Sarah are sitting on the couch, talking and smiling to each other, when you emerge from the room.

"Holy shit, Y/N," John B says, never having seen you in anything other than shorts and a ragged old shirt.

"Watch it," Rafe mutters to him.

You snicker and roll your eyes, nodding your head to silently thank John B.

"Yeah," Sarah speaks up, gawking at you, "You really look gorgeous."

"Thank you," you smile.

Rafe sits down in a chair across the room from his sister and her boyfriend, content on just staring at you in that dress until you have to take it off. The fitting doesn't take long because of how well the dress already sits on your body, and Rose calls it 'perfect' after a bit.

"Well," Rafe stands up, facing you and Rose, "That zipper looked complicated. Might need me in there to assist. Don't worry, I'm happy to do it."

Rose scoffs again, then rolls her eyes, "Rafe, the zipper is about five inches long and stops halfway down her back. I think Y/N can handle it."

"She's awfully bad with things like this, Rose. You'd be surprised."

"Okay," you speak up, getting uncomfortable with this conversation, "Thank you, handsome, but Rose will be in there if I need anything. It won't kill you to socialize with your sister and John B for five minutes."

Rafe makes a face at you, "I can already feel my pulse weakening."

You break into a smile at that, watching Rafe laugh with you. He grabs your hand and squeezes it, then lets you go as Rose takes you back into the room to change.

"That was easy!" Rose cheers.

"Yeah, I'm glad. I was a little worried," you admit before you can help it.

You step into the bathroom to change back, but leave the door cracked so you and Rose can still speak.

"Worried Rafe wouldn't like the dress?"

You want to say yes immediately, but you don't want to sound too insecure. You pull your shorts and shirt on quickly, and when you come out, Rose can tell your answer just by the look on your face.

"He seemed to really love it, sweetie," she says, giving you a smile.

Rose reaches a hand out and takes your dress as you glance over to the spot on the dresser that Rafe had quite literally shown you how much he liked the dress. You smile slightly, then look back over to her.

"He did, didn't he?"

Rose smiles again, "You two are going to be the best looking couple there. Aside from Ward and I, you know."

She adds the last part just to make you smile, which works. She comes over and pulls you in for another hug, and you're so grateful that Rose is as sweet as she is. Rafe had made you think this entire event would be awful.

You thank Rose for everything and then step out to find Rafe again, who's sitting in the same chair he had been, looking exasperated.

"I'm just saying, Rafe," Sarah speaks, "You could just consider applying-"

Rafe stands abruptly when he sees you, stepping over and grabbing your hand like his life depends on it.

"Yeah, thanks so much for the advice, Sarah," Rafe grunts, "Gotta run."

You look up at him as if to ask what they were talking about, but he just shakes his head. You don't push him, not after the way he had been this morning. You hope to never see that side of Rafe Cameron again.

"Let's get you home," he whispers in your ear, leaving a kiss on your cheek.

You nod and allow him to lead you out of the guest house and out to the truck. You realize then, you'd let him take you anywhere.

Tags: @hollandsour

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@kaysturnt

@rafeswh0re

#drew starkey #drew babe #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron imagine #rafe imagine #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe fic #rafe obx #rafe cameron #rafe smut #rafe fluff #rafe angst #outerbanks rafe #rafe #obx rafe #rafe cameron smut

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

Text

Oh shit, I never told you that Merlin isn’t my actual name??

Igraine reveals… one hell of a secret, and not the one you’re thinking of:

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4(final part)(coming soon)

TW: Uther being a Jackass I guess?

Arthur knows about his dumbass servant’s magic. He wasn’t best pleased, in fact, he was furious when he first found out; how is supposed to protect his servant-turned-best-friend-except-that’s-super-secret-even-from-himself if he’s off doing stupid shit like Sorcery in Camelot?!

He was a lot more sympathetic when Merlin explained that he’d been born with it, and that his destiny was, literally, tied to Arthur’s. That, mixed with the fact that Arthur tended to get himself into a LOT of trouble, without even realising it most of the time, means Merlin has no choice but to be doing stupid shit like Sorcery in Camelot.

Merlin is currently giving Arthur the silent treatment, not that Arthur seems to notice. The two of them were waiting for Morgause to finish whatever it is she was doing to, apparently, allow Arthur to speak to his mother.

She doesn’t take long, and though Merlin keeps his distrustful gaze on her the whole time, he still can’t quite tell what it is Morgause has done. She looks to them with a blank expression, though her focus is mainly on Arthur as she gestures him forward:

“It’s ready, Prince Arthur. Close your eyes, both of you.”

Arthur frowns briefly but does as told. Merlin raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms, and staring Morgause down; she rolls her eyes and huffs quietly when she realises that he isn’t going to take his eyes off her, but gives in, turning away and performing some sort of simple looking (though Merlin gets the distinct impression that it isn’t simple) ritual.

The Witch lets out a deep breath and steps back, and Merlin’s hard stare is finally drawn away from her when a shower of golden sparks materialises in a cloud in front of The Prince.

Arthur opens his eyes to see Igraine standing there, practically glowing, looking every bit the glorious Queen she once was. She gives him a soft smile, and Arthur can only stare, his mouth moving of it’s own accord:

“Mother?”

Merlin stares on in suspicion as Igraine’s smile grows:

“My son.”

She pulls him forward into a tight hug, and though Arthur had started off forcing himself to be wary, he falls into the hug easily, struggling to hold his tears in. They pull back after far too short of a time, and though Merlin was still distrustful, he wishes she had held Arthur just a little longer.

Merlin’s heart breaks as Arthur goes on to apologise for being born, but his feelings quickly turn to anger as Igraine explains the truth, how his people were being hunted, burned, vilified, all because Uther was too much of a hypocrite to admit his mistakes or listen to reason; but he couldn’t lash out now, this time was for Arthur, not him.

Igraine’s face falls even further, and she grips Arthur’s shoulders tightly:

“But we do not have time to talk of this, I can feel the other side pulling me back, I must be quick. Arthur, my son, you have a brother, and you must find him.”

Merlin’s eyes go wide and he tenses in place; this had better not be some twisted trick on Morgause’s part to destroy Arthur, because he would destroy her in return if it was. And he would do it in a far messier way. Arthur just looks shocked:

“A brother? How?!”

Igraine smiles mournfully:

“A twin. He was so small when he was born, I thought he wouldn’t make it, but though I can’t see his face, I know he lives, I can feel it. He had hair dark as the night sky, a complete contrast to your golden wisps-”

She lifts a soft, gentle hand, and runs it through Arthur’s hair with a smile:

“-but his eyes, oh his eyes were just as golden as your hair, before they faded to the colour of the sky.”

Arthur gasped but Merlin tensed even further, certain that this must be some sort of trick:

“He was magic?”

Igraine smiles again and nods:

“It’s not common, but not completely unheard of for people to be born magic. Your brother was, and it was beautiful.-”

He smile falls into something more angry, though she’s clearly trying to hide it:

“-Your father... did something. I do not know what; by the time my soul was restful enough to be able to look back upon the world, it was too late, he was gone somewhere I could not see. I know he still lives, your father was too much of a coward to admit his mistakes, but too much of a hypocrite to keep to his convictions and destroy the child, which I can be grateful for. I feared he had been sent far away, but you must find him, restore his heritage.”

Arthur nods vigorously, his eyes wide and desperate, and Merlin finds himself desperate to believe that this spirit is true and genuine:

“What else can you tell me about him? Do you know where he is? What he looks like now?”

Igraine’s face falls into a soft smile again, though she shakes her head mournfully:

“He is powerful, extremely so. I worried he was dead until I suddenly felt him; he appeared in Camelot, around three and a half years ago. His power is vast, I can sense it stretching for miles and miles, though I can not pinpoint the epicentre; he is somewhere within the Kingdom, you must find him.”

Merlin frowns in confusion, stepping forward to interrupt, though he desperately doesn’t want to:

“Did you name him? Your son?”

Igraine looks to him suddenly, as if she weren’t aware they had company, but quickly turns almost her full attention to Merlin with a soft smile:

“You. You looked after my boy, thank you. Thank you for all that you have done. And yes-”

She looks back to Arthur:

“-I named him, though I whispered it with my last breaths, Uther would certainly not have used it, and I do not know if Gaius heard me.”

Arthur responds quietly, his cracking voice heavy with too many emotions to name:

“What is it? What’s my... my brother’s name?”

“Myrddin.”

Merlin takes in a quiet gasp, and Arthur, always with at least one half of his brain focused on his manservant, turns to him:

“You know that name?! Merlin, do you know someone in Camelot with that name?”

Merlin just stares at Igraine, his eyes wide and his hands shaking:

“How... how do you think he got out of Camelot? How would Uther have sent him away?”

Igraine’s face is confused, but mostly curious as she takes a step towards him, still with one hand on Arthur’s shoulder:

“Gaius and Balinor possibly, perhaps Nimueh, though I imagine she fled rather quickly. They were Uther’s closest friends before the purge, and they all practised magic, they would have been... sympathetic, tried to help the child. Why? Are Arthur’s questions relevant? Do you know my son??”

Merlin’s eyes flickered between the two of them, but when Arthur says his name again, his voice nothing short of desperate, his gaze fixes on The Prince:

“Arthur, I... I never told you, because I didn’t think it was... relevant, but... Merlin isn’t my real name.”

Arthur recoils, shocked, and utters a dumbfounded “What?!”. Merlin gulps, and looks to Igraine briefly before resuming his fearful, and slightly confused, stare on Arthur:

“When I was young, my magic was still strong, but I had no control over it. I would subconsciously summon animals to my side constantly. Mostly small things, but the occasional stag or bear would wander through the village to find me. But... but what came most often where the birds; the village is essentially in the middle of a forest, and... and there were thousands of merlins. So I got that as a nickname, Merlin, and it just stuck.”

Arthur just shakes his head, caught off guard but mostly just annoyed:

“You heard my mother, Merlin, we don’t have much time, what is this-”

Merlin interrupts him:

“Just listen!! My real name.... it’s Myrddin.-”

Igraine takes in a quiet gasp, mumbling more to herself than anyone else “Gaius heard me.” but Arthur just stares. Merlin holds his gaze, but after a few moments, he looks back to Igraine:

“-My mother... she... she wouldn’t lie to me, nor would Gaius... this... it’s a mistake. It’s... it’s a common name, right?!”

Igraine responds in a hushed tone, though Arthur barely moves, still staring at Merlin as though he had gained a new head:

“Show me some magic, my boy.”

Merlin stutters and shakes his head, laughing incredulously before he notices her pleading face and looks to Arthur, almost for permission. The Prince gulps before nodding, just once, and Merlin lets out a deep breath. He holds his hand out in front of him, palm up, and without even needing to mutter a spell, a single flower grows; a Camelot-red Tulip, it’s petals dipped in gold.

When his eyes fade back to blue, he looks up to see the others’ reactions: Arthur is smiling softly, always eager to see Merlin’s magic, as if he had forgotten the situation at hand, but Igraine... oh, Igraine was staring at him with such wonder, tears slipping down her pale cheeks.

Merlin drops the flower without a second though and shakes his head minutely, but Igraine just nods, allowing the hand on Arthur’s shoulder to slip down to his hand so she could tug him forward, towards Merlin:

“Myrddin, my boy, my son. You came home all on your own.”

Merlin just shakes his head again and steps back:

“No. No this... this isn’t real, this is a trick, or... or something. How do we prove it? How do we know you’re not lying or some trap laid by Morgause?!”

Igraine sighs, but nods, understanding:

“Ask Gaius and your... your mother, and thank her for me, for raising you with so much love. The doorway is closing, I can feel it.-”

Her gaze moves lovingly between then two of them, and when she steps forward once more, she takes Merlin’s hand before he can move away, pulling the two of them into a tight hug:

“-I am so endlessly proud of you both, and I love you, always.”

She fades from the air, and within seconds Arthur’s arms are falling in on themselves, nothing under them to hold their weight and forceful pressure.

The Prince’s head whips towards Morgause, who until that point had been completely forgotten about:

“Bring her back!”

Her stare is fixed on a frozen Merlin, though she slowly looks to Arthur when he takes an intimidating step towards her and goes to open his mouth again:

“I can’t. The doorway closes of it’s own accord, I can’t bring her back again. But that was... unexpected. I apologise, you shouldn’t have had to find out like that.”

Arthur shakes his head angrily at her denial, but quickly refocuses and looks to Merlin, who still hasn’t moved an inch. He puts a soft hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly until the other man looks at him; Arthur isn’t quite sure what he was expecting, but Merlin’s eyes to be filling with tears definitely wasn’t it:

“I... this can’t be real. My mother, Gaius, Kilgharrah, they all would’ve known. Why wouldn’t they tell me?”

Arthur pulls him into a hug, silently vowing to stop Merlin’s suffering as soon as he’s possibly able, that they would discover the truth no matter what. Merlin’s arms just hang limply at his sides, though he does push his face into Arthur’s neck as The prince responds:

“I... I don’t know, Merlin. Maybe they thought it would get in the way of that destiny of yours, maybe they were waiting for my... for The King to pass.-”

He pulls back, but keeps his hands on Merlin’s shoulders:

“-Lets just... get back to Camelot, and we can figure it out. We can go downstairs to talk to Kilgharrah.”

Merlin shakes his head, stepping back and wiping his sleeve over his eyes roughly before walking purposefully towards the horses:

“No, he’s the least likely to be honest, we’ll talk to Gaius. Though if any of this is true... I’m having some bloody harsh words with my... with Hunith.”

Arthur flinches slightly at the anger in Merlin’s voice, but after a quick glance to a slowly retreating Morgause, he follows him to the horses and they start the fast paced journey back to Camelot. The only words exchanged, around an hour in, were Merlin’s quiet, humourless:

“Gwaine’s never going to believe this.”

And Arthur’s responding snort of derisive amusement.

They manage to stay out of sight when they arrive back in the city, which is good really. Arthur’s lowly simmering rage had been reaching taller and taller heights with every pound of the horses’ hooves against the hard ground. But before he confronts his father, they need confirmation, in the form of Gaius.

They stalk quietly through the castle, using servant corridors and hidden passages to avoid being seen, but all bets are off when they reach the Physician’s chambers.

Gaius looks up with a quiet gasp when the two men burst in, locking the door behind them. Arthur’s blank stare and Merlin’s barely concealed anger force his shock and relief to morph into confusion:

“Merlin, Prince Arthur, where on Earth have you been? The King has been panicking, sending out patrol after patrol to search for you.”

Arthur’s face remains blank, and when Gaius looks to him for an answer he just moves his gaze to Merlin, allowing him to determine the pace of this much needed conversation. Merlin’s dark gaze is now fixed on the floor, though his jaw and hands are tightly clenched, and his breathing is shaky in his anger. His voice comes out lethally quiet, and Arthur can tell that it’s only a matter of time before he explodes:

“Gaius, what’s my name?”

Gaius just looks slightly taken aback, like he hasn’t quite grasped Merlin’s meaning despite its plainness:

“My boy, whatever are you-”

He’s interrupted when Merlin looks up at him sharply, his eyes blazing and his face turning slightly red:

“It’s a simple question Gaius: What’s. My. Name?-”

Gaius’ eyes flicker to Arthur in confusion, but Merlin breaks from his near frozen stature, moving with a speed that Arthur had never seen in him before to slam his hand on the table:

“No, don’t look at him, look at me. What’s my name, Gaius?!”

Gaius nods, his eyes sad as he gulps before answering quietly:

“Myrddin, but you already knew that.”

Merlin takes a deep breath and nods, his fingers tapping rhythmically, though a tad aggressively, against the table. Arthur goes to step forward to put a calming hand on his shoulder but Merlin shoots him a withering look and he stays back. Merlin’s hard stare returns to the resigned physician:

“And my parents?”

Gaius gulps again but straightens his posture, putting up a confused façade, though it’s easy to see through:

“Hunith is your-”

Merlin slams his hand on the table again, much harder this time, and a voice in the back of Arthur’s head—the one at the forefront was spitting obscenities and planning rather gruesome ways to murder his father—makes a note to check his hand later, a hit like that had likely broken something, though Merlin was clearly too furious and confused and upset to notice:

“DON’T LIE TO ME!”

Gaius is taken aback at Merlin’s bitter yell, but he softens again at the tears on his ward’s cheeks; he collapses into a chair on the other side of the table, rubbing his eyes tiredly before looking up at the distraught man:

“Uther and Igraine Pendragon. You are a year older than your mo- than Hunith led you to believe, and you are Arthur’s twin brother.-”

Arthur turns away angrily, vocalising the curses that had been playing on a loop in his mind, and Merlin nods, pushing his injured hand into the table without even realising:

“-I am so sorry, my-”

Merlin shakes his head and holds a hand up to stop him but doesn’t say anything, not pulling away this time when Arthur steps into place beside him and puts a hand on his shoulder, waving the other one aggressively at the elderly physician:

“You had no right, no right to keep this from us. I grew up being taught to hate magic, miserable and alone, and Merlin grew up hating himself, just as miserable and alone, if not more so. You had no right to take us away from each other.-”

Gaius goes to respond, but Arthur stops his excuses before they even make it past his throat:

“-No. There is no excusing this, you and my father took my brother from me, and there will be no forgiving that. I’ve known about Merlin’s magic and our entwined destinies for over a year, you’ve had every opportunity to tell us, but you didn’t. That’s not even mentioning the nature of my... our mother’s death. You are a coward, and in your cowardice you have been cruel; I will not stand for it. Where is my- where is The King?”

Gaius nods slowly, standing on almost wobbling legs before gesturing to the door:

“The King is with Sir Leon trying to figure out where to look next, they’re in the council chamber. You are right, and I am sor-”

Arthur cuts him off with a sharp gesture and a dark look, taking Merlin’s uninjured wrist and pulling him towards the door. The servant (Prince?) follows easily, unable to meet Gaius’ gaze and allowing Arthur to drag him briskly through the corridors towards the council chamber.

By the time they reach the chamber, Merlin has broken out of his stupor, wiped his tears, and pulled his wrist from Arthur’s grip, instead walking alongside him and using just as much force when they both push the doors open and stride in.

Uther and Leon both look up rapidly, startled at the sudden intrusion, but whilst Leon looks relieved and sends the two of them a small smile, Uther looks angry:

“Arthur. Where have you been? I have had search parties out looking for you. Arthur?”

Arthur doesn’t answer for a few moments, but a glance at Merlin by his side gives him the confidence boost he needs and he straightens his back, draws his sword, and stares The King right in the eyes:

“I know what you did to my mother, and I know what you... what you took from me.”

Uther stands tall, glancing to Leon briefly as he announces:

“Leave us. No one is to enter.”

Leon looks between the three other men, but doesn’t make it to his second step towards the door before Arthur has his sword pointed at his chest, though The Prince’s gaze stays on his father. Leon knows it’s less of a genuine threat and more of a way of emphasising his words, but that doesn’t stop him from taking a slight, wary step back:

“No, Sir Leon, you will stay.”

Leon glances nervously to the red-faced King, but doesn’t move. Uther looks furious at Arthur’s denial of his orders, but The Prince pays him no mind, finally turning to look at Leon with a slightly softer look in his eyes:

“Sir Leon, do you bear witness?”

Leon frowns slightly, looking between Arthur, Uther, and Merlin once again, frown deepening as he spies the unshed tears in Merlin’s eyes and the purple bruise forming over one of his hands. He finally looks back to Arthur, moving to stand to attention with one hand held over his heart and the other resting on the hilt of his sword:

“My Lord Prince Arthur Pendragon, I, Sir Leon, bear witness.”

Uther just splutters angrily, but Leon pointedly keeps his gaze on Arthur until The Prince nods at him and is the first to look away. Merlin had stayed silent the entire time, but visibly relaxes when Leon swears to stay, and that just makes the knight even more curious; this seems to be just as much about Merlin as it did Arthur’s parents.

The Prince moves his gaze—and his sword—to be pointed at The King once more, and he takes a deep breath before forcing the words from his mouth:

“You used magic, against my mother’s will, so that you could conceive. Is this true?”

Uther huffs angrily, gaze dashing to the other two men before it settles on Arthur again:

“This is preposterous, Morgause has lied to you.”

Leon is practically holding his breath at the side of the room; he can clearly tell that Arthur is moments away from striking his own father down, but does he interfere? Does he let it happen? And he still has no clue what’s bothering Merlin so much, other than the obvious pain in his hand.

Arthur takes slow steps towards Uther, inching the blade closer and closer to his throat:

“You are the one that’s lying. You started a genocide because you insisted on blaming magic for your own mistakes, and that’s not even the worst thing you did.-”

Arthur lets out an incredulous laugh, and Uther takes a step back as Leon tenses and Merlin stays blank:

“-I had a brother, a twin born with magic. You were too much of a coward to admit your mistakes but too much of a hypocrite to stick to your convictions, so you sent him away instead of killing him.-”

Uther goes pale, taking another stumbled step back as Leon’s eyes go wide, his gaze jumping to Merlin with a sudden, dreaded clarity.

(Perhaps Leon had picked up on Merlin’s magic a few months ago, and perhaps he had come to the conclusion that the younger man was the best protector Arthur could have.)

“-Do you even know his name? Mother said you would likely refuse to use it, but do you even know what it is?!”

Uther quickly regains his anger, his fury snapping into place as he gestures threateningly and thunders:

“It was an abomination! A creature of magic that destroyed your mother and almost tainted you! I should have slaughtered it where it lay-”

Merlin takes in a sudden breath at his words and Leon clenches his jaw; itching to comfort the younger man, but knowing that he wouldn’t exactly be welcomed right now. He’s meant to be here as an impartial third party.

Arthur throws his gauntlet down before Uther can finish his aggressive assertion, and Merlin gulps, moving properly for the first time since he’d entered the room. He grabs Arthur’s arm and pulls him back slightly:

“Arthur you can’t, he’s your... he’s The King.”

Arthur glances to him:

“I don’t care, he took you from me, he had no right.-”

He looks back to Uther, who is now staring at Merlin with a shocked venom. No one notices the way Leon quietly draws his sword; impartial his arse, he’d protect Arthur and Merlin to his dying breath:

“-You are the abomination, and you will pay for your crimes. Perhaps you should’ve sent Myrddin, that’s his name by the way, further afield, perhaps I’d have been more inclined to keep you alive until I found him. Pick it up.”

Uther’s gaze doesn’t move from Merlin as his face grows redder and redder. He doesn’t look down to the gauntlet, nor does he look at Arthur, nor does he notice Leon creeping closer:

“You. You foul, hellish, beast!”

Without another second’s of hesitation, he lunges forward and draws his sword all in one move. Arthur reacts too slowly, not expecting The King to attack Merlin instead of him, and Uther pushes him out of the way, swinging the sword down harshly toward Merlin’s chest before Arthur can block him. Merlin is too shocked and angry and scared and upset to even think of using his magic, so just stumbles back helplessly, falling and landing harshly on his already broken hand, yelping slightly.

Before anyone can even blink, Leon is there, stood over Merlin with blazing eyes and his sword raised. He parries the King easily, and by the time Uther has processed one of his own knights turning against him, Merlin has scrambled back, injured arm held to his chest, and Arthur has moved to stand at Leon’s side, sword raised.

Uther can only stare in furious bewilderment, but it doesn’t take him long to concede that he has been outmatched. He calls for the guards, though once they’ve spilled into the room, six in total, they stutter to a confused stop when they see The Prince and The First Knight seemingly defending a servant (a well-loved, well-known servant), from The King.

Arthur, without looking away from Uther, speaks harshly, his voice controlled and forceful and, frankly, Kingly:

“Arrest The King and escort him to his rooms. Remove all weapons and bar the windows and doors, I want him under constant guard.”

Uther screeches angrily, both at Arthur’s words and the fact that the guards make no moves to detain The Prince and the knight, like he clearly wants. Before he can actually say anything, Arthur speaks again, his voice even louder than before, first to the guards:

“NOW!-”

And then back to Uther:

“-You will either be arrested for your crimes, both against our family name and humanity as a whole, or I will kill you where you stand.”

Uther tries his best to stare Arthur down, but there really is no competing with the fire in his eyes, and it only takes one short nod from Leon for the guards to step forward and confiscate The King’s sword before they pull his arms around his back and push him towards the door. He digs his heels in and begins screeching again, though they can only make out the odd word, it’s mostly just “BETRAYAL!” and “SORCERY!” and “HOW DARE YOU!”. Arthur pulls Merlin to his feet gently, frowning at his purple wrist and knuckles before sighing and rolling his eyes, nodding to Uther and muttering, just loud enough for Merlin and Leon to hear:

“I don’t suppose you could do something about that, could you?”

Merlin looks shocked, but huffs out a gentle laugh when Arthur just raises his eyebrow in question. He looks to Uther just as the guards struggle to open the door, muttering a quiet spell under his breath, his eyes flashing golden. Leon takes in a slow breath at the obvious display of sorcery; he’d been constantly on edge since he discovered Merlin’s talent, desperately fearful that someone would find out. Thankfully, the guards are entirely focused on the task at hand.

Uther quickly goes quiet, his head drooping, and Arthur grimaces as the guards struggle to hold his sudden dead weight. He has to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing aloud when they turn to him with questioning looks; he just nods and gestures regally for them to keep going.

Soon, the room is quiet again, only the three men remaining. Leon looks between them apprehensively but Arthur just takes a fortifying breath before focusing his attention on Merlin’s arm, holding it gently in front of him and frowning worriedly:

“I’m guessing you haven’t gotten any better at healing magic since the arrow incident?”

Merlin scoffs and rolls his eyes:

“That wasn’t my fault, you’re the one that yanked it out of my shoulder and left the damn head in. And for your information, yes actually, I’ve been practicing. But I really think we have more important things to deal with at the moment, like the fact that the council is going to freak out when they find out you had The King arrested.”

Arthur shakes his head, giving Merlin a firm look:

“Merls, I just found out that you’re my twin brother, you are the important thing right now. Heal your hand, I don’t care how long it takes. Leon will take care of the council until we get there.”

He looks pointedly to Leon, and the knight nods, clearing his throat with a confused frown as he replies:

“What... uh... what would you like me to tell them, My Lord? Before your arrival? And where would you like them?”

Arthur smiles, grateful that Leon knows to take cues from him, knows what to focus on, knows that he is being trusted:

“Take them to the Throne Room. Tell them that Uther has been forcibly removed from the throne, that I have discovered the existence of my magical twin brother, whom I intend to have announced as Crown Prince within the week, and that I plan to legalise magic.”

Merlin, already pale and shaky, flinches, starting up with a “But I don’t want-” but Arthur cuts him off with a harsh, though fond glare, looking back to Leon to see the knight’s face shocked and pale. He purses his lips, before humming thoughtfully and speaking again:

“Actually... that probably wouldn’t be for the best. Just inform them that it’s an emergency, reassure them we haven’t started a war or anything, and tell them I’ll be arriving shortly.”

Leon visibly relaxes and nods, giving Merlin a soft smile and ruffling his hair quickly before striding from the room. Merlin huffs at the affection, but Arthur can tell he’s secretly pleased and copies Leon’s fond smile. Merlin looks to him confusedly:

“Why will the council have to wait? It’ll only take a few moments to heal myself.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow, nodding at Merlin’s hand pointedly and crossing his arms as if he were expecting failure. Merlin just rolls his eyes before looking down to his injury and muttering a few words, grimacing as his knuckles realign, and the bruise recedes. It doesn’t disappear completely, but the bones and deeper muscle tears have obviously repaired themselves, and Merlin looks very proud of himself as he looks back to Arthur:

“That’s the best I can be bothered to manage-”

Arthur huffs disapprovingly but knows he isn’t going to get any better than that:

“-so why are the council waiting?”

Arthur sighs, putting a hand on Merlin’s shoulder and leading him to the door:

“Well, you look one stiff breeze away from keeling over, and I imagine you’ll want to speak to Gwaine?”

Merlin looks to him suspiciously, but allows Arthur to lead him through the castle towards where Gwaine was almost certainly pacing worriedly in his rooms:

“I thought you didn’t approve of Gwaine?”

Arthur grins wolfishly:

“Oh, I don’t, especially now that I know that you’re a Prince, and my brother, but it’s my duty as the oldest to threaten him more than I already have.”

Merlin stops suddenly in the corridor and pulls Arthur back:

“Hang on a minute you prat, first off, when have you ever threatened Gwaine? And second, who said you’re the oldest?”

Arthur’s smile just grows and he grabs Merlin’s uninjured wrist to start pulling him down the corridor again:

“Literally the day I found out he was attempting to court you, which was about a month before you figured it out by the way,-”

Merlin grumbles, but doesn’t argue:

“-and I’m the oldest because I said so, and mother said naming you was... was one of the last things she did, so you obviously came out second, idiot.”

Merlin rolls his eyes yet again, but doesn’t say anything as they come to a stop outside of Gwaine’s room. He takes a deep breath, and Arthur moves his hand up to his shoulder again, giving him a small smile and a supportive nod.

The Warlock knocks on the door, and Gwaine opens immediately. The knight relaxes significantly when he sees that it’s the two of them back from God knows where, though he tenses again as his eyes run over them; he takes note of Merlin’s red eyes, injured wrist, and generally shaky demeanour. He also quickly catches on to the protective way Arthur is standing behind him, and the way The Prince’s loose hand shakes slightly with left over adrenaline.

Despite himself, Merlin relaxes and smiles when he sees Gwaine; with everything that had been going on he hadn’t really had a chance to think about how much he missed him, about how much he needed his support.

Gwaine pulls them into the room quickly, shutting the door behind him and turning around to see Merlin looking at him sheepishly, and Arthur staring at him with a predatory smile:

“What happened? Where have you been? Is everything ok?!”

End of Part 1!!

Hope y’all enjoyed this!! I probably could’ve fitted more in, but I figured this was a good point to stop. Part 2 and 3 are out (link @ top), part 4 won’t be too long!!

Drop comments and things lads, I love y’all!!

375 notes · View notes

bb-8 · 3 years

Text

Tech Savvy

Pairing: Tech x female reader Summary: You’re an ex-imperial who has a crush on Tech. He’s awkward about it. Until he’s not. Rating: Explicit (18+, minors DNI) Warnings/tags: crack treated seriously, smut, unprotected PIV, awkward flirting, oral sex, first kisses, accidental exhibitionism, lots of bad jokes, slight angst Word count: 5.4K Notes: It’s smutty crack treated seriously, guys. Read on AO3.

The planet you land on isn’t anything special. It’s a humid swamp world in the Outer Rim that offers enough seclusion for even the Empire’s Most Wanted to pass by unnoticed.

You, being the kind and selfless individual you are, decide to help with repairs while Clone Force 99 are on a supply run. It’s the first time the ship has made planet fall in weeks and everyone is a bit stir-crazy, jumping at the chance to stretch their legs. Prolonged time spent in hyperspace has that effect.

Before he left, you told Hunter that your status as an ex-Imperial put an unnecessary target on their back. You’re still wearing your Imperial uniform, after all, and you know for a fact that the Empire is not exactly merciful to deserters. Especially deserters that committed high treason. Like aiding Clone Force 99’s escape from an Imperial prison.

You definitely didn’t just jump at the chance to stay behind because Tech opted to. That would be ridiculous.

You feel your face heat at the thought.

(What? His goggles are cute.)

The truth is, there’s been something – a tension, as it were – between the two of you since you arrived on board. You know it, he knows it. You’ve been orbiting around each other for some weeks now, and this is the first time you’ve been alone –

“Can you spare a minute?” Tech calls out, pulling you away from your thoughts. You swivel in your chair and shift your attention to him, a bit surprised.

“I was beginning to think you didn’t realise I was on board,” you reply as you make your way to the cockpit where Tech is currently fiddling with some wires.

“You’re...very hard to miss,” Tech replies and your heart skips a beat. “The ship is far too small to miss another sentient being’s presence.”

“Right,” you mutter while taking a seat, trying not to sound too deflated. So maybe he didn’t feel that tension. “What do you need help with?”

“I am taking this opportunity to rewrite the ship’s central comm unit to be more covert when passing through areas with increased Imperial traffic. If I can update the ship’s communication infrastructure to resemble that of a first generation Imperial craft, then we will considerably reduce our chances of being identified. Which is why I am particularly glad you stayed behind today. Considering your, er, history.” He fiddles with a mess of wires in front of him, not once looking up.

“And here I was thinking you wanted me around because you enjoyed my company,” you playfully jab.

“There’s that, too,” Tech replies. “Though it would be advantageous if you could list all of the Imperial access codes you can remember. The computer and I can do some pattern recognition to better–,” he cut himself off and anxiously rubbed the back of his neck. “Apologies, you don’t need a long-winded explanation. If you’re happy to share, you can do so whenever you’re ready.”

You consider protesting and telling him that you find his rambling cute, but you decide not to dwell on it for his sake. You list the codes you remember from the Academy. You keep talking, relaying any tangential intel relating to access codes. If it’s irrelevant, Tech doesn’t stop you.

He is silent for a few moments analysing the data you’ve given him. You watch him closely, admiring the way his brow furrows and his lips purse while he’s concentrating.

“You trust me then?” you venture to say. You play with your hands in your lap. “Even though I was with the Empire?”

“You’re helping us now,” Tech replies, as if it’s obvious. He is still inputting data into the datapad he is holding when he continues, “You trust us, it would seem. And we were soldiers programmed upon our creation to destroy the Republic.”

You fumble over your next words.

“That’s – it’s entirely different.”

“And from my perspective, all that matters is where you are now,” he states with finality.

“Well,” you say shyly, “I like where I am.”

Tech smirks despite himself, briefly glancing up at you from his datapad.

You hold his gaze for a moment, before settling into a comfortable silence. You sit in next to him for several minutes, revelling in his closeness like a brezak basking under the Zygerrian sun. It’s only when you notice yourself blushing like a teenager that you decide to make yourself useful and actually help with repairs like you promised.

++++++++++++++++++++

“Would you mind holding this wire out of the way for me while I solder the capacitors for the localised memory bank?” Tech calls, breaking your concentration. The illumination device you were repairing could wait.

You have no idea what Tech means, if his string of words means anything, and you survey his makeshift workbench for a hint. Several panels are detached, limply dangling from a few brightly coloured wires. Tech is focusing his attention on a large panel that is plugged into a cylindrical storage device.

“Maker, that’s a big data stick,” you can’t help but mutter.

Tech makes an incoherent choking sound.

You do as requested and lean over his shoulder to take hold of the wire he specified between your thumb and forefinger. The fabric of your sleeves brushes against his shoulder armour and it feels as though there is a static shift in the air, like the air around you is alive and humming.

And Tech gulps with the contact. He types a few sets of numbers into his datapad with excess force, seriously testing the build quality of the device. His posture is especially rigid as focuses on testing the wires currently in his lap.

Your pulse is racing. It’s as if each second that passes without a confession threatens to rip apart the very fabric of reality.

“Tech?” He has to feel this too, right? “Why...why did you stay behind today?” you ask, careful to keep your voice even. You need him to say it, admit that he feels it, too. You’re desperate for it.

“You can let go now,” he replied, pointedly ignoring your question.

You let go of the wire, but make no move to step away from him. You’re acutely aware of yourself right now and suddenly self-conscious: about the deep shade of crimson enveloping your face, the way you’re breathing, the clamminess you can feel on your palms. You hope you smell alright and silently pray that any traces of caf on your breath are long gone.

Several seconds pass before Tech looks up, over his shoulder at you. His face briefly flickers with concern.

“Your flushed features and increased heart rate indicates that you are nervous,” he remarks.

Maker, is it that obvious, you cringe.

Your mouth is dry and you contemplate making an excuse, but your brain does not want to cooperate.

“Sometimes I –,” you begin. Void, here I go. “Sometimes I get nervous around you,” you admit, attempting to make your confession sound as casual as possible. You bite your bottom lip in a way that you hope will be interpreted as sensual, or, at the very least, cute.

And Tech? Tech is flustered. Like visibly shaken, blushing furiously, two-steps-away-from-hyperventilating, kind of flustered.

“Please do not be nervous,” he responds tightly. Each word is taking considerable effort to be spoken. “I already told you: we trust you. I am not a threat to you.”

The poor guy. There’s no way he can really be misinterpreting that –.

“No, no, it’s a good kind of nervous,” you attempt to clarify.

“Nervousness is not conducive to high quality work,” Tech chokes out.

“No, I mean like giddy. I feel giddy around you.”

Come on, Tech.

“Would you like a chair–.”

“Stars, Tech, I like you!”

Tech...errors. He attempts to start several sentences with no success before mumbling an excuse that he has to go, “fix the reverse polarity capacitive inductor,” which, to your knowledge, is definitely not a real thing.

So maybe that could have gone better. All things considered, he did seem affected by your admission. On the other hand, he also left the room entirely.

Your face burns with embarrassment and, hey, maybe this backwater planet could make a decent home. Maybe the swamp water would be safe for consumption and you could spend the rest of your days foraging for swamp... berries. Sure, it might be a little uncomfortable, but no less uncomfortable than staying here for one more second.

And this is why you don’t admit your feelings to anyone. Ever.

Ugh. You were so confident, too. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to transport to another star system.

The door to the ‘fresher shuts, followed by a slight scuffle of feet, and a thunk that sounds decidedly like a head hitting the door.

You briefly consider leaving the ship to attempt to meet up with the rest of the Bad Batch. It’s been far too long since you’ve breathed fresh, clean, air and you feel a second wave of self-pity wash over you as you contemplate the thought of breathing in the smell of Wrecker’s feet for several more weeks in the Marauder’s circulated air. They hadn’t been gone longer than a standard hour and there was a clear path to get into town. You could still salvage the day, you could still stretch your legs–

‘Oh you want to know why I suddenly decided to join you, Hunter, after promising I’d help fix the ship? Funny story, I was trying to seduce your brother and he rejected me!’

You physically cringe at that. On second thought, maybe just pretending this didn’t happen would be the easier option. Lesser of two evils and all that.

Well, you’ve endured worse situations than this. Swamp berries, if they exist, probably won’t offer enough sustenance anyway, you conclude. You turn your attention to fixing several access panels that require little to no attention.

++++++++++++++++++++

It takes a long while for Tech to exit the ‘fresher. The door opens with a hiss and you stiffen, not looking up until he briskly walks past you and resumes his makeshift work station in the cockpit. Once he is seated and his back is facing you and you can hear the rhythmic tapping of his fingers on his datapad, you allow your entire body to relax.

You look back down to your newest project: fixing the swivel action on a chair. You’re not entirely sure if the chair needed to swivel, or whether it was supposed to, but it does now. At least Omega would have fun with that.

“Can you spare another minute?” Tech says after a considerable stretch of silence.

His comment catches you off-guard. It’s fine, it’s fine, you are just going to pretend like nothing happened. You can just carry on helping with actual repairs like you promised.

“I’m coming,” you say, while putting your entire weight into tightening a screw.

Tech coughs slightly.

“The, uh, I need your help with the cum system. The comm system!” he stutters.

Your eyes widen and decide it’s best not to comment, furiously thinking about the fact that Tech rarely makes mistakes. You wipe your hands on your trousers and stride over to the cockpit where Tech is fiddling with some wires on his lap.

“Take these,” he says while coiling a piece of wire to make a conductor. He pushes right through the awkwardness and places a handful of resistors in your outstretched hand.

You stand there in silence for several moments before you drum your fingers on the back of his chair. He makes no move to immediately utilise the resistors, so you resign yourself to stand there and watch him work. (You suppress a sigh – you wish you weren’t attracted to him at this moment, but here you are, drawn in by his confidence and fixated on watching his nimble fingers work their magic.)

Normally, you’d have already lost your patience. But not now, not when you are trying to decipher just what exactly Tech was trying to accomplish by calling you over and ignoring you. And that’s when you realise that Tech either forgot you were there or forgot to give you whichever menial task he originally intended.

But there’s absolutely no chance that Tech makes two mistakes within the same standard year, never mind two mistakes within the same afternoon.

You start to wonder if he even has any use for the resistors. Your knowledge of technology is limited, but you really don’t see how they’d be useful with his current task. Maybe this is Tech’s uncharacteristically inefficient way to try to initiate conversation. You really hope you’re not completely misreading the situation, but it’s not like you have any pride left to lose.

“Why did you stay behind today, Tech?” you ask quietly, voice tinged with apprehension and perhaps an unmistakable eagerness. You phrase it more like a statement than a question this time.

He continues to fidget, his leg bouncing anxiously as he works.

“I did some research,” he blurts. “Regarding intimacy between human males and human females.”

Huh.

“I read the specifics on how to kiss,” he continues, “but I fear that I am a bit out of my depth as to how I am supposed to initiate it.” He is still fussing with the wires in his lap, not quite able to look up at you.

“You...want to kiss?” you surmise, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. “Me?”

“Very much so.”

A grin breaks across your face and the sharp sting of Tech’s previous rejection immediately melts away. You deposit the handful of resistors in a tray containing various tools Tech had been using throughout the day before taking a tentative step forward from behind the chair. He cranes his neck to look at you, an unfamiliar expression that you’re not quite able to decipher written across his face.

You reach your hand out to caress his cheek, and sliding your hand down to his chin to guide it upwards as you bend down to bring your lips to his. The kiss is chaste, at first, but Tech proves himself a quick study as slightly parts his lips to deepen the kiss. His goggles nudge against your face and you’re pretty sure you’re leaving a greasy cheek print on one of them.

You pull away to gauge his reaction.

“Was that... satisfactory?” he asks, seemingly dazed. His eyes are hooded and still focused on your lips.

“It was perfect.” You offer a small smile.

He removes the goggles to clean one side of them with a nearby cloth. So you were leaving a cheek print. Once his goggles are back in place, he’s looking at you like he can’t quite believe you’re real, his golden brown eyes blinking owlishly at you.

“I apologise for leaving you earlier. I did not anticipate you returning my affections – it did not seem probable. And I was, regrettably, not prepared,” he mumbles.

“Probable?” It’s your turn to malfunction. You want to usher a thousand reassurances at once.

“Well, no.” Tech shifts his weight uncomfortably, not quite able to meet your eyes. “Hunter or Crosshair usually are the ones who capture the affections of –,”

“I like your goggles,” you interrupt in a rush before you surge forward to press your lips against his, hoping to convey just how much you return his affections. It’s a messy, urgent kiss that Tech returns with equal fervour. His fingers find their way into your hair, pulling you closer.

When you finally break the kiss, you straighten your back and take both of his hands in yours and take small, hesitant steps backwards, encouraging Tech to stand. As he does, the project he is working on slides off of his lap and clatters to the floor. He pays it no attention as he closes the distance between you, his eyes darkened with lust. He kisses you with renewed purpose as his hands wrap around your waist, roaming across your body, before they settle firmly on your ass.

Your hips grind into his codpiece and Tech lets out a low groan that goes straight to your core. He moves to kiss the curve of your neck, sucking at the delicate skin and making you squirm. The dampness between your legs becomes apparent and you press yourself closer to him, desperate for friction where you need it the most. As if he can read your mind, he trails a hand from your ass and places it between your legs, grazing over your clit before cupping your cunt. You involuntarily rock into his hand and moan into his mouth, hardly recognising the sounds you’re making.

Tech’s hand abruptly stills as he draws back to meet your eyes. His expression mirrors yours: searching wide eyes filled with longing, a silent acknowledgement passes between you as you reach the point of no return.

And in that moment you are struck with the urge to want nothing more than his cock in your mouth.

“Can I?” you blurt, glancing downward, hoping he is able to intuit exactly what you are suggesting in that moment.

“You may.” You allow the grammatical correction to slip by. “But I’ve never–,” he begins.

You don’t break eye contact and you begin to drop to your knees. He’s looking at you with his eyes wide, mouth slack. Tech’s bulged codpiece is mere inches from your face, and it’s in that moment that you realise that you have no idea how to undress this man.

And this, this is when you start to worry.

Does it have a latch? Does it even come off?

Your eyes dart from left to right looking for some sort of hint as to how it could be removed. You’re half tempted to just plant a smooch on the armour or the kiss inside of his thigh and pretend that all of this was intentional.

“I can get that,” Tech helpfully chimes in, blessedly oblivious to your internal struggle. He removes the pelvic plate with ease and, to your relief, you can see the shape of his erection straining under a layer of thick black fabric. Black fabric that conforms to his body shape exceedingly well. You reach out to feel his length, gently cupping his balls through the fabric before applying more pressure as you palm his shaft. He soft groan escapes his lips.

It catches you a little off guard, actually, to see him so hard. Knowing he’s been hard underneath his armour this entire time. Wondering when else he’s been hard and you had been none the wiser.

His cock has an attractive silhouette – it’s thicker than you expected and you can feel the patch of pre-cum that dampens the black fabric near his tip. You reach for his waistband and pull it down before slowly wrapping a hand around his shaft. He hisses with the contact and brings a white-knuckled fist to his lips.

You peer up at him through your lashes and you lick your lips, preparing to tease him a bit before taking him as deep as you can manage.

And that’s when something inside Tech snaps.

He looks down at you with wild eyes and places his hand on the back of your head to guide your mouth to his cock, apparently unable to continue the role of a passive observer for any longer. Clearly intent at putting his newfound research to good use. You lick a wet stripe from the base to the tip, before taking him in your mouth, the pre-cum tangy on your tongue. His grip tightens on your hair the same time he tilts his hips forward to push his cock further and you hollow your cheeks, sucking hard enough to make Tech groan and his knees buckle. He braces himself against the back of the pilot’s chair, captivated at the sight your mouth stretched around his length.

You begin to bob your head in a steady rhythm, taking him as deep as you’re able. You drag your tongue and press it flush on the underside of his cock, looking up at Tech with wide doe eyes, batting your eyelashes prettily as he struggles to maintain composure. You continue your pace until sweat starts to bead at his temple and his breathing becomes less controlled.

Patience isn’t your strong point and you’re too pent up not to touch yourself. You bring your free hand down your trousers, between your thighs, running your fingers through your wet folds and hum at the sensation. Tech’s hips stutter with the vibrations and his face contorts in what looks like a pained grimace. He takes a miniature step back and your lips leave his cock with a pop. He’s breathing heavily now and his weeping cock is painfully hard, his balls tight.

“I don’t want to finish in your mouth, mesh’la,” he pants, voice low.

You nod dumbly, currently unable to form a coherent thought or tear your eyes away from his erect length, only inches away from your face.

Tech takes hold of both of your forearms, helping you get to your feet, before wrapping his hands around your thighs, picking you up with surprising ease. You lock your thighs around his torso as he strides over to press you against one of the auxiliary control panels adjacent to the co-pilot’s chair in the cockpit. The incline on the panel is steep and the pressure of his hips against yours is the only thing keeping you from sliding down.

“Let me taste you,” Tech groans against your ear.

You let out a frustrated whine and desperately move to unclasp your trousers as Tech works to open your shirt. You shudder once the cool air hits your sweat-dampened skin and Tech messily palms your exposed breast while nipping at your neck. He helps you shimmy out of your clothing while holding you in firmly place before discarding them on the floor of he Marauder.

And this is how you find yourself spread eagle on the Marauder's control panel in possibly the most undignified position you’ve ever been in.

He goes to remove his goggles and you stop him.

“If they’re not uncomfortable for you, I’d like for you to leave them on.” He quirks a brow at you, quizzical. “What? I told you that they’re cute.”

His face evolves from sceptical to bashful in a few moments.

“Very well, then. I can leave them on.”

Tech moves his hands under your thighs as he lowers himself, draping your legs across each of his shoulders with surprising gentleness for a man who looks like he is ready to devour you. Once he’s on his knees and comfortably supporting your weight, keeping you pressed against the console, he places an open-mouthed kiss on the inside of your thigh.

“A-are you okay with this?” you manage to stutter out. It’s not like you haven’t pictured his head between your thighs before, but something about his head actually being between your thighs fills you with a nervousness you hadn’t anticipated.

He mumbles his assurances against your clit. He begins with slow, languid licks and you suck in a sharp breath as you feel yourself craving more and have to stop yourself from violently bucking your hips up.

Okay, so he’s actually really good at this. You know you really shouldn’t be that surprised, Tech is nothing if not thorough with his research and it’s, er, practical applications. Any thoughts of humour at Tech’s expense are, however, ripped from your mind when he sinks a single finger inside your cunt. His finger curls with a precision that only Tech could manage and you moan in encouragement as he pumps it in and out.

You squirm when he hits the spot that makes you want to beg for more and you feel your bare ass hit a button on the console. The next thing you hear is a soft swish swish sound of the Marauder's screen wipers that you inadvertently turned on. Mercifully, it doesn’t break Tech’s concentration and his hands continue to grip your hips, holding your cunt to his face.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you chant. You writhe again and another button sounds its activation. Nothing immediately makes itself known. You hope it’s not something like a proton torpedo firing into the swampy area the Marauder landed in. Not because there’s anything nearby, but because you’ll die if Tech stops here.

He moans into your core as he brings a hand down to grip his leaking cock, desperate for some friction.

“Kriff,” you grunt at the sight of him fucking his fist, only to hear Tech utter the same exclamation at the same time.

“Is there an echo in here or something?” You smile at him, offering a half-laugh before your face contorts with pleasure once again and you hiss through your teeth.

“Yes?” a new, tinny voice chimes in on the overhead speaker system. “This is Echo... You’ve, uh, turned on the short range comm system.”

You knew Tech was a good soldier, but the reflexes in which he slammed the short range comm transmitter with his free hand surprised you. He didn’t move himself from between your thighs and skilfully cut off the transmission while continuing to work your clit with his tongue and your cunt with his finger.

Before you could die from embarrassment and wonder just how much Echo and the rest of the Batch heard, Tech adds another finger and your entire body jerks and tenses.

“I’ve – ah, right there – Maker, that feels good. I’ve never been with anyone who is patient enough to let me come,” you manage to say through gritted teeth.

“My research indicated that it can take around 20 standard minutes for women to orgasm if properly relaxed, why would others stop prematurely?” Tech replies, only briefly removing his mouth from your cunt to reply.

“Selfishness?” you guess.

Tech seemed to take your admission (and ability to form sentences) personally, clearly intent on rendering you incapacitated. He returns to his attention to your clit and maintains his rhythm, teasing a third finger near your entrance. You whine at the sensation and move to hold Tech’s head in place, because if he stops now, there’s no way you’ll ever forgive him. The pressure that’s been mounting in your core finally, finally peaks and your entire body tenses as you surrender to your climax.

“Tech,” you whine, unable to formulate thoughts, let alone words.

He assures you with a soft groan and tightens his grip on your hip. He can feel your walls clenching around his fingers as he guides you through your climax.

As you come down from your orgasm, you feel like you’ve spent a year in bacta. You can’t move. Honestly, your bones are like Andorian jelly. The feeling is only temporary, however, as you’re overcome with the desire – no, need – to be filled.

“In me,” you urge. “Now.”

He adjusts his goggles and looks at you, spread out, completely ready for him.

“Lie back then.”

Tech settles between your thighs and nudges his cock head against your entrance. He takes a breath to steady himself, rubbing his length through your folds, covering it in your arousal.

“So wet and ready for me, mesh’la.”

Your hands wildly grasp at his chest plate, fingernails scratching along the plastoid, desperate to hold onto anything to anchor you. You meet his mouth with a graceless kiss, before he finally sinks into you.

“You’re tight,” he grits out.

He waits a few moments letting you adjust to his size before he begins to move. He restrains himself, slowly rolling his hips as your cunt stretches around his length.

“More,” you plead, breathlessly. “Please.”

Your encouragement is all he needs before he snaps his hips against yours, setting an unrelenting rhythm. He rocks into you harder with each thrust of his hips, his plastoid leg places slapping your skin.

“You feel so good, cyar'ika,” he pants. You surge upwards to greet his lips with a messy kiss, which only spurs him on to fuck you faster. “You’re, ah, taking me so well.”

“Fuck –,” you whine.

His grip tightens and his whole body starts to tense – he’s dangerously close to coming undone. And that’s when you notice his pace start to slow, his movements clearly distracted.

“Tech?” you mumble. You focus your eyes on his face and he looks dazed, you can practically hear him thinking. You’re about to ask him what’s wrong, but he doesn’t give you any time to panic.

“Elevate your hips by seven to ten degrees,” he states through heavy breaths.

“What?” Definitely not what you were expecting him to say.

Tech seems unfazed by your apparent annoyance. He wordlessly repositions himself, grabbing both of your hips and raising them slightly, holding your body up so it’s just the sharp incline of the console and Tech’s hands keeping you in place.

He began thrusting in earnest again, his eyes screwing shut in pleasure. And, Maker, he was right. The new angle hits a spot that makes your toes curl and you lose the ability to speak almost instantly and mewl helplessly as Tech fucks into you.

You made an undignified noise as you gripped his bicep, desperate to hold onto something, feeling the pressure mount in your core. With Tech’s hands busy holding you in place as he maintains a brutal pace, you bring a hand down to your clit, still wet with spit and your own essence. You barely have to touch yourself before you feel your body screaming for release.

“’M coming,” is all the warning you are able to give him before your cunt spasms around his twitching cock as your vision whites out. Tech grunts at the sensation, unable to hold his own climax off any longer.

“Where do you want me to –,” he grates out.

“Anywhere,” you cut him off, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm. “Just want to feel you.”

“Fuck, mesh’la, I’m going to come,” Tech groans, desperately chasing his release with harsh thrusts. His hips forcefully buck into you before his cock stiffens and he spills himself inside of you. He buries his face in your neck, slowly pumping you full of his cum, before he slumps against you. “Bid jate par me,” he mumbles into your neck, barely audible. “Gotal par me.”

You don’t know Mando’a, but whatever he is saying, the way he is saying it, sends a pleasant chill over your body.

You’re both still breathing heavily when Tech gingerly places you back down with a surprising gentleness for someone who had just been fucking you within an inch of your life. He’s in no rush to remove himself from you, but when his softened cock does slip out and his cum leaks out of you and onto the console, he helps you slide down. When your feet touch the floor, your legs wobble slightly and Tech has to grasp your forearms to steady you, softly chuckling at the state you’re in.

And when you look at him, he looks positively debauched. Sated, but debauched. You probably look worse.

In one swift motion he bends down, brings an arm down under your knees, and lifts you up. You wrap your arms around your neck while he carries you to his bunk. His cool armour against your overheated skin is a welcome sensation and you press yourself closer.

“Your research paid off,” you mumble into his chest as he sets you down on his bed.

“Please do not act so surprised by that.”

++++++++++++++++++++

You and Tech aren’t quite finished with the repairs by the time the Batch return hours later, long after the moons have risen and the bioluminescent plants surrounding the ship have begun to glow. If the squad notice you’re sitting a bit too close to Tech, your thigh pressing comfortably against his, they don’t say anything.

Neither of you were expecting to defile the Marauder all day and Tech was frantically fixing the lever on a storage hatch access panel, attempting to make up for lost time.

“Wrecker!” Echo shouts. “Clean up after yourself, for kriff’s sake.”

“Why?” Wrecker drawls, stomping towards the cockpit. “What did I do this time?”

“You’ve spilled your juice on the console again, all the keys are stuck in place.”

The access lever snaps clean off in Tech’s hands.

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