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stardewtales · 3 years

Note

Your shane x reader are some of the first I read when i got into sdv, and they still hold a li special place in my heart <3 I love the way you wrote shane, jas, and the farmer (you kept the farmer rather neutral, but you still gave her moments of personality, rlly great stuff!), anyway, I'd love any shane related stuff you would do, but if your looking for a request, the reader teaching him abt farming/gardening (planting hot peppers together eee) i think would be rlly cute-ok bye lysm!!!

A/N: hey lovely!! If you're still around, thank you so much for this. I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to get to your request, but here it is! Hope it lives up to your expectations xx

Shane can feel you hovering behind him.

"What is it," he groans, not bothering to turn around.

"Sorry," he hears you say. "Just, be careful with the roots, please? I don't want all your work to be for nothing."

Well, he can't exactly fault you for that. If anything, he's ashamed because he was distracted while you showed him the whole thing about the roots.

He turns to look at you. "Would you, uh... mind showing me again?"

His stomach twists as you smile at him, thoroughly amused. "Sure thing. Here, let me get in there..."

You kneel beside him, knees firmly planted in the dirt beside his. You proceed to show him how to dig around the roots instead of into them for a second time that afternoon. For a second time, he finds it hard to focus with you so close, but he fights that a little harder this time.

"Here," you hand him back the trowel, "give it another shot."

He can't miss the way the look you give him is so damn encouraging. You've given him plenty of variations on that look by now, with various degrees of concern thrown into the mix. He proceeds to try digging up the pepper plant again, the sun boring down on the back of his neck as he does it.

"Am I getting it right, now?" he asks, glancing up at you quickly.

"Couldn't do it better myself," you nod exaggeratedly, and he fakes throwing dirt at you in retaliation.

It gets a laugh out of you, clear and joyful. It stirs something inside him, the feeling that's been nagging at him sort of often these days. It hits him like a ton of bricks in that moment that this is the feeling he used to chase all the way down the bottles, the sort of rush he used to think would make up for everything else.

He must've made a face when he realized it, because your brows furrow in concern.

"Are you o-" you start, but you're cut off short by a girlish squeal further down the field.

Him and you both shoot up, surveying the surroundings.

"Jas?" you half-shout, concerned.

"I think I need some help," her voice pipes up sheepishly, and the two of you finally spot her, fallen on her butt among the sunflowers.

You huff, relieved, and tell him you've got it with a brief touch on his arm before you leave in Jas's direction. Now that he knows she's not hurt, he can go back to making sense of his thoughts, yet he barely registers the lingering feeling of your fingers on his forearm.

He kneels and gets back to work, distraught. His first instinct is to worry. The therapist Harvey connected him with cautioned him pretty early on about the way some addicts replaced one addiction with another, and that all good things should perhaps be enjoyed in moderation while he was on the road to recovery.

You're the best thing in his life by far, but he failed to keep you at arm's length a long time ago now. He's not dense enough to be unaware that he's developed some pretty strong feelings for you. But this particular feeling is new-ish, and he doesn't quite know what to make of it. As his fingers dig up the pepper plant out of the ground and he gently removes chunks of dirt from the roots, Shane hopes really hard this doesn't mean he's allowed himself to veer all the way of the right path he's been trying so hard to stick to.

He hates to think about it, but maybe he needs to cool off on seeing you so often so he can at least get a grip. He can't even recall the last time he went a day without seeing you. Sometime in the spring, probably? It's the very end of summer now.

After he's transferred the plant to the wheelbarrow, Shane stands up and looks around. You're still helping Jas uproot some sunflowers, even though her initial job was just to collect the stray seeds. Officially, he and her were there to help you wrap up the summer crops so you could transfer some to your greenhouse. In reality, he was helping you; Jas was causing more trouble than she was helping, but you didn't seem to mind at all, more than happy to show her over and over how to handle things properly.

He didn't know how you did it. It's like you had an endless well of patience, and he knew he ought to have reached the pit of it by now. And yet, he had not. There were depths to your kindness that reached far enough that even after dealing with him through his recovery, you still had plenty left for Jas in all her fumblings and ill-advised adventures.

For the rest of the afternoon Shane managed to clear his mind and just keep working somewhat efficiently. Marnie came around just before dinnertime to get Jas, who was too exhausted from running around by then to protest. Marnie had also let him know she'd save him a portion of dinner for when he came home, but to take his time, which he'd made sure to thank her for.

It wasn't long until Jas left before you and him moved on to replanting the uprooted plants into the greenhouse. He liked that part more than the digging up; liked the hazy warmth of the greenhouse more than the blaring heat of the field. The two of you worked mostly in silence, both exhausted, him perhaps more than you.

After you planted the last of yours and he was halfway through his own last plant, he heard you clap your hands together to shake the dirt off your gloves, before you fully shrieked.

"What's wrong?" he quickly turned towards you.

"Your neck!" you replied, walking over to him. "Did you not put on sunscreen like I told you to?"

Shane instinctively reaches for the back of his neck, and while the sunburn doesn't hurt yet, he can feel the tell-tale heat coming off of it.

"Ah, shit. Think I missed a spot."

You tut at him, shooing his hand off so you can take a better look.

"You big idiot," you chastise him affectionately. "You're lucky I have an infinite amount of aloe in the house from last summer."

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

As Shane steps out of the shower and into your steam-filled bathroom, he can already tell he'll be sore from all this work. He doesn't know how you do this every day. He tries to get a look at himself in the mirror, but it's too fogged up. Probably better that way, he thinks.

He's used your shower plenty of times before, and he's glad that at the very least it doesn't feel as awkward as it used to. While he was still in the pits of getting sober, you'd graciously let him stay over on your couch so Jas didn't have to see him struggle when it got too hard. He still doesn't know why you did that, or how to repay you for it.

After putting on his clothes, he steps out into your living room, where you're waiting for him with a huge tub of the goo you intend to smear on his sunburn. You've showered too, and made him do it after you because otherwise you claimed he'd just wash off the aloe later, which was probably right.

"C'mere," you beckon him over to sit on the arm of your couch.

He chuckles. It's funny to him, how bossy you get when you're trying to take care of him. Nevertheless, he does as he's told and dutifully sits down like you instruct him. And waits.

Nothing happens.

"You okay back there?" he asks, looking over his shoulder.

You raise a brow. "Aren't you gonna take off your shirt? How am I supposed to get this on you otherwise?"

He feels a bubble of panic rush up. He's in better shape than he used to be, but he's still not much to look at, and he doesn't like the idea of you finding that out like this. "Is that really necessary?"

You sigh, and he knows there will be no convincing you. He feels the tips of his ears burn as he lifts his shirt over his head, dropping it at his feet and taking precious care not to look back at you. "Happy?" he mumbles.

"Hmhm," you hum quietly behind him.

You bring your aloe-coated fingers to his burning skin, and instantly he feels consumed by ice-cold flames. He was not prepared for you to touch him quite so gently, to work the gel into his skin in tiny, careful circles. His throat runs dry as he's reminded of his earlier conclusion that he needs to take some time away from you, for both of your sakes. If the way his body is reacting to this isn't proof, he doesn't know what would be.

You let him know you're done, and he promptly puts his shirt back on. He wishes he hadn't when the stickiness gets a hold of the collar.

"So, just a heads up," you start, screwing the jar of aloe vera shut, "I'm gonna be really busy tomorrow I think. So maybe hanging out in the evening when I'm done would be better?"

He's taken aback by the way this is coming up faster than he anticipated. Still, No time like the present I guess, he thinks to himself.

"About that," he clears his throat, "I think it might be better if I spend some alone time for a while."

He watches you still. You look up at him slowly, visibly confused. "Have I done something wrong?" you ask, and it kills him. "I'm sorry if I have, I know I can be a little overbearing sometimes," you start to ramble, but he cuts you off.

"No, no, none of that," he tries to reassure you. "It's just, uh, how do I say this," he scratches at his head, genuinely at a loss. "Remember how I told you my therapist said I should, like, maybe be careful about things I enjoy a lot? And about... strong emotions?"

You nod, but he can tell from your slight frown you're still confused.

"Well, it's kinda like that. I feel really good when I'm with you. Maybe a little too good. Strong stuff. But I don't wanna depend on you to feel... good. I wanna keep this healthy, yeah?"

You ponder his words, and he can tell he hasn't really gotten his point across. "I mean, I think I get where you're coming from, maybe? But Shane, I think it's okay for you to have a support system. Is it really so bad if being with a friend makes you feel good? I think that's how most people feel."

He shakes his head, huffing. "No, it's not like that."

"Then what is it like?"

His eyes meet yours, and he feels weak. "Please don't make me say it," he whispers.

"Shane," you reach out to touch his shoulder, "You're worrying me."

He swallows. Before he knows it, it tumbles out of him. "I have feelings for you. I have for a while. And lately it's gotten a little out of control. So I need some time away from you to get over it, okay? I don't want things to be weird. I need you too much to have things be weird. So I need to figure it out before it gets there."

You stare at him, and he sees so many emotions run across your face that he gets dizzy.

"You... what?" you say quietly after a while.

He feels heat rise from his chest all the way to his ears, like some twisted type of nausea. "Forget it, alright? That's not the point I'm trying to make. I just..." he breathes, "I'll see you in a few days, yeah?"

He doesn't wait for a response. He goes for the door right away, in a real hurry to leave this place where everything is so blatantly yours, down to the smell of your lotion lingering in the air from your bare legs.

But you don't let him leave. He feels your hand on his arm, a real grip this time, and the next thing he knows you're reaching for his neck and bringing his mouth to meet yours. Shane thinks he's forgotten how to make his blood run, how to make his lungs breathe, how to make his limbs move. You're pressing your lips on his with a fervor he didn't even know you had in you. Then, with an instinct of its own, his body kicks back into gear, and he feels himself wrapping his arms around you, bringing you closer yet as he pours all the energy he has left into kissing you back.

It's desperation that compels him, because he never imagined this would ever happen outside of his mind, outside of his daydreams. He's not even convinced he'll ever get to do it again, so he's making this one count.

He genuinely has no idea how much time has passed when you break away from him, panting. You're not saying anything, just searching his eyes with yours.

"Please say something," he eventually breathes.

He watches as you swallow, then exhale loudly. "I don't want to see you in a few days only. I wanna see you now and in the middle of the night and every moment of every day. I don't want you to go and get over me, because I don't think I'll be able to get over you if you do, Shane. So don't leave me. Stay. Please."

Your words fluster him a great deal more than he already is. "Okay," he nods, in a half-daze.

"Yeah?" you make sure, still catching your breath.

"Yeah," he confirms. "Anything for you. Of course."

#shane x reader #shane x farmer #stardew shane #sdv shane #stardew valley x reader #stardew valley shane #stardew valley #sdv

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bitchassbucky · 3 years

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.zip

Word Count: 2k

Warning/s: toxic/abusive relationship dynamics, gaslighting and manipulation, abduction, injuries were mentioned, stalking, dark!bucky x dark!reader, emotionally/mentally unstable!reader, dismemberment (not gore-y but still), three very special character mentions, shady corporate stuff, career sabotage?, food mention, sedation/drugging, f-words.

A/N: oh my god, this is the final chapter of CTRL. to all who read from the start, thank y'all so fucking much - from the bottom of my big-ass heart, thank you so much for coming along with this journey. this is my first FINISHED series, oh my god. to @babyboibucky (CTRL's number one fan), @sarge-barnes-sir, and @borikenlove thank you so much for indulging my inner degenerate GHJSDFG and for screaming (affectionately) at me when i first let y'all read the finished draft.

BUT THIS IS NOT THE END (just yet), i will be uploading TWO epilogues very soon: the explicit version and the not-so-explicit version. stay tuned!

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

epilogue:

.eps (explicit)

.eps (cut)

CTRL playlist CTRL moodboard

Your demeanor, character, even tone, changed.

Calculated, cold, unnerving.

But you sat there like a housewife in front of her husband, eating spaghetti and meatballs. Acting all dandy like there isn’t a man strapped onto the chair four feet away from you.

“C’mon, darling, eat! I made your favorite,” your eyes twinkled as Bucky helplessly tugged on his restraints, “oh, sorry, you’re tied up.”

Hm, sick in the head, bad for the heart.

“What do you want?” Oh, wow, even talking hurts for him. His throat is all dried up, he tasted something bitter under his tongue.

You chuckled, moving half a meatball around your mostly empty plate, “for you to stop treating me like I’m stupid.” You spear the meat with your fork, swirling it in the sauce, “I know you’ve been… checking in on me, Bucky.”

Oh, fuck.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I was-- I mean, look at you--” He’s making it worse. You’re mad. You’re angry because he was being a good friend.

He only did that because you were lonely and he’s right: you are lonely.

So lonely that you’re willing to kidnap a grown man to keep you company, “I’m so sad for you.”

“You’re aware you’re the one’s been tied up, right?” You’re curt as you should be, scooting over near Bucky to feed him.

“I can’t eat that—” If he wasn’t sitting down and tied, Bucky would’ve vaulted over you and called the neighbors, she’s fucking crazy!

You giggled, rolling your eyes as if he had the freedom to make a choice right now, “if you’re thinking of screaming… More than half of my neighbors are felons or on parole, I doubt that they’ll call 911.”

Jutting forward the fork, you let the prongs gently touch Bucky’s lips, “now, eat! We have so much to talk about.”

“No. I don’t-- I’m not hungry.” He shakes his head, the fork hitting his chin and clanking down the floor.

“Just eat the fucking food, Steve!”

Bucky flinched at your sudden outburst. The words—the name—seeping in a moment later. Steve? Who the hell is Steve? Was he your husband? Boyfriend? His head throbbed again, his mouth filling with saliva like he’s about to throw up.

You kneel down, pulling a napkin from the table to wipe the meat and the sauce from the floor.

“This better not stain.”

—

He promised thrice.

Once over pasta and meatballs, once over dessert, and once when you were clearing the table.

You relented, of course. Half because you love him and half because it’s getting annoying.

“As long as you don’t leave me, okay?”

“Yes, I promise. I won’t leave you.”

Bucky’s still seating on the dinner chair, slightly slumped without the ropes holding him up, “look, I’m really sorry about the anesthetic, I went overboard with it.” You look over to him—at least he’s regaining his fingers and arms again.

“It’s okay, babe, I wouldn’t trust me either.” If he could stand up, he’d go over and hug you. Helping with the dishes, peppering you with sweet kisses.

A genuine laugh slips out of your lips, “ugh, still… I’m really sorry.”

The last of the plates were neatly stacked, cups and cutleries were placed gently on a drying rack. It was getting late, you could tell.

“I’m not mad, by the way.” You muse, prompting Bucky to lean forward, listening to you.

“What do you mean?” He takes your hand into his, ever so gently.

“You did that,” you squeeze his hand back, gazing into his soulful eyes, “because you love me.”

Did you know that some people could read microexpressions well? Bucky went through a whole lot of them before answering, “of course, I do.”

Contemplating whether you call him out on it or not, you hum, placing a gentle hand on his jaw, “it’s okay, you’ll learn how to love me.”

He has to. He has no other choice.

Bucky clears his throat, “have you seen my phone?” His tone was hopeful, upbeat, maybe he can reach out to someone, anyone, before you can do any more damage.

“Yeah, ‘s on the couch.”

He tried to move, he really did. Bucky’s fairly strong, he can bench an easy 140 on a good day. But even the beefiest motherfuckers have no match for Propofol.

“Don’t worry about your friends, they’re not worried about you, Buck.” The coolness of your tone sends Bucky into a panic—again. “D’you wanna check your messages though? There’s a lot of ‘em.”

Grabbing his phone, you asked Siri to read him his latest notifications.

Urgent: Notice of Immediate Termination

From Joaquin: Where are you, man?

From John W.: Do you have copies?

Urgent: Notice of Immediate Termination

Urgent: Gross Misconduct

From Joaquin: Bucky, what the fuck?

From Samuel Wilson: Pick up the phone, Barnes. You’re fired.

17 missed calls from an unknown number

From John W.: I knew you were a freak but holy shit, dude!

72 text messages from an unknown number

Bucky never really liked horror movies. It made him jumpy and anxious. Too paranoid, even. But now? Now he’s sure that people have never experienced sheer fright before.

His toes cramped inside his boots, his feet were cold, sweating. The little hairs on his legs stood up, goosebumps littering the entirety of his body. If he held his breath, he’s sure he could hear his heart hammering out of his chest. The blood rushes past his ears and onto the base of his skull—he’s gonna be sick.

“What,” he gulped back the saliva pooling in his mouth, “what did you do?”

You’re irritatingly calm, “well, I mean… We’re already together, what do you need those for, right?”

Putting a warm hand over his forehead, you cooed, “poor thing, you look sick.”

—

Bucky thinks it’s well past midnight when the anesthetic wore off.

His limbs were heavy, he had to lean on the wall every couple of steps to regain his balance. Helpless. He’s helpless and you both know it. As if it’s a bear trap, Bucky carefully took his phone from the coffee table.

Why would you leave it unattended?

The screen lights up as soon as he picked up, his lock screen littered with ‘fuck yous’, ‘sicko’, and his personal favorite, ‘motherfucker.’

Ignoring the glaring messages, he went straight for the emergency dialler and—you took out his SIM card, snapping it into two neat pieces, placing it beside the phone.

Bitch.

The golden surface of the card was scratched too, he can’t do anything, use it as a toothpick, maybe? His phone was just as good as a paperweight.

He looks out of the window, limping towards it. Even if he could climb over, it would take him forever to get onto the street. Your neighbors would probably think that he’s just on a bad trip.

“It’s bolted shut. Perks of living alone as a single female.” Your voice made him flinch back, like a kid whose hand was halfway down the cookie jar.

Bucky plays it off with a cough, he can’t be weak now, “no, babe, I was checking out a noise. You ready for bed?”

You smiled softly, taking his hand and draping his arm on your shoulders as you prop him against you, “almost, big guy. Gotta get you settled in bed first. Are you tired?”

Nodding, Bucky kisses your temple, “yeah.” He just needs to play with your sick little games until he regains his strength.

Where would he go? His reputation and his job are besmirched, his apartment is probably crawling with forensics too.

“You fell down and banged your head earlier. Nasty cut on your head too. I told you to not tire yourself much.”

You hit and drugged me but I digress, “Yes, darling. ‘M sorry.”

“You scared me, Buck. I thought you were dead.” Are these tears forming in your eyes?

“I’m not leaving you, not by any chance. I promise.”

He promises a fourth time.

—

Your bedroom was bigger than he thought. But of course, he only saw your desk and your bed through the webcam.

Save from the Ted Bundy-esque corkboard you have in front of your workspace, he feels weirdly at home. You tucked him in, reminding him to wake up every two hours for the painkillers.

“You’re not going to bed?” He muses from behind you, all cocooned in your blankets.

“Just need to take this phone call real quick, babe.” Your back was turned from him as you work on your company laptop. He noticed that the webcam is covered with white tape.

The sound of an incoming call filled the room before you quickly answer it, your voice turning hoarse and raspy as if you’ve been crying.

Hi, Mr. Wilson. I’m so sorry for the late call. Do I- do I need to come in tomorrow? I just... I don’t feel comfortable facing everyone—I used all my home hours this week and—

Miss L/N, I’m glad you reached out to me. Is it okay if I record this call for security purposes? It’s just for you, me, and the HR department.

You turned to Bucky, your face is stone-cold but your voice belonged to someone so utterly helpless.

No, you don’t have to call into work tomorrow… Or any other day.

A dainty gasp and a fucking sob comes out of your mouth, your eyes were telling a different story.

Am I fired?

God, no. Please, Miss L/N, don’t worry about that. We want you with us through this entire debacle. We want you to take some time off—paid. We’ll also grant you… a grievance package.

You could almost hear what he would say next.

As long as you don’t talk to any members of the press or any journalists until our friends in the PR department can clean this up.

A triumphant smile creeps on your bare features, putting a finger in front of your lips, you mimic a ‘shh’ gesture to Bucky.

You round up another mirthless sob as the CEO drones on about the bureaucracy of this whole thing.

He was really nice to me, you know? He took me out on dinners and lunches. He even brought me to his place and I– nothing happened but I can’t stop thinking about it.

I’m really sorry, Miss L/N. I thought he was…

A good guy? I really thought so too.

Please stay offline for a bit, just for the weekend, alright? Someone from the HR department will be in touch with you for the process. We don’t wanna be a hassle more than what Barnes is. On our behalf, please accept our deepest apologies.

Jesus, this guy had the PR department cook up an apology letter.

Thank you—thank you so much, Mr. Wilson. I’ll keep in touch.

You burst out in laughter a second after the call ended. Hearty laughter, the one where you can feel your belly tightening.

“Did you hear how good I was, baby? Oh my god, we had them fooled.”

We? Fuck your ‘we.’

You slide over the covers, propping up yourself with your elbow as you turn to face Bucky, “don’t worry, you don’t need them anymore. You have me, yeah? We have each other.”

—

Out of the most bizarre things that happened to him last week, finding dismembered fingers in the fridge was the least of his concerns.

“Honey!” Bucky calls out, holding the ziplock bag with a pair of tongs.

You bound down the stairs, your laptop in hand as you squint, “what am I looking at?”

Bucky hesitated, maybe he’s going insane too, “fingers. Dismembered fingers—are these yours?”

Setting down the laptop onto the table, you peck him on the cheek, smiling as if him holding a baggie with human remains is just your Sunday normal, “god, I hope not. I need my hands to do things.”

As soon as you look back at him, you dropped the facade: “those are Steve’s. Well, used to be.”

Bucky’s afraid to ask the question where’s the rest of him?

“You know the term pinky promise, right? Well, it has a dark origin.”

Just as fast as a bustling train, Bucky rakes his brain for all the times he promised you something. Hoping that he won’t end up with a stump for a hand.

One vividly bright memory is seared into his brain though, the days blurred together with sharp edges and mismatched colors: we love how we were taught to love.

So, who taught you how to love like this?

#bitchassbucky writes #dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x reader smut #dark!bucky x reader fluff #dark!bucky x reader angst #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader smut #dark!bucky barnes x reader angst #dark!bucky barnes x reader fluff

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nekokoaa · 4 years

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Wolves Among Us - Bakugo x Reader (XV)

Wolves Among Us – Bakugo x Reader

Series Warning: Fantasy AU, Fluff, NSFW

Chapter Warning: Slight nsfw

(Chapter XV/??) All chapters in AO3 and masterlist

Wow, a few more chapter left of season 1, huh? Can’t believe it XD Enjoy, loves!! I actually really enjoyed writing this chapter!

Taglist:

@freedom-for-bum@reallyfuckingangrylatina@risarisarisaa @ashherssss@mels-heart@xa-dia@shanty-lol@amkxh@chims-kookies@fantasticapple@thalia-luna-hawthorn@skzero-99@marvelobsessedteen@thenezuko@icythotsenpai

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XV: Deep in Heat

There was only one week left until the wedding and like all brides, you were growing anxious each day. The pack was bustling with energy despite them not liking who their future leader was marrying. The wedding ceremony was something they were all looking forward to because you have learned from Mina that the wolves loved to party regardless of the circumstances. Mina had been the one to tell you about the pack, allowing you to break out of your shell around them. She would always bring you along whenever she went to talk with some of her friends. They weren’t fond of you at first but with Mina’s encouragement, they began asking you random questions, mostly about human lifestyles. And of course, you were delighted to answer.

That night you had dinner with her family was a lovely one. It felt as if you two had been friends for a long time and had been reunited. She joked and laughed about silly things, was affectionate not only in words but physically as well. She was a wonderful mother and wife who cared deeply about her family and those around her, if just one person was feeling down, she would do everything in her power for that person to be right again. If that wasn’t an amazing person, you didn’t know what else would fit that description.

Katsuki had hung out with Eijirou and someone else named Hanta that night. He had black hair that stopped at his chin. He was tall, lanky and whenever he smiled, his teeth looked incredibly straight without any flaws. He seemed like a nice man. He treated you kindly and expressed his happiness for Katsuki for finding a woman like you to marry. Katsuki went back to normal after the moment you shared by the river. It was like he never had that moment of weakness and he also never brought it up again. You assumed it was still difficult for him to talk about it, so you left the topic alone for another day.

You looked in the tiny mirror that was attached to the cave wall and you dipped your finger in a jar before bringing it to your lips to paint them red. It completed your look from the blush on your cheeks to the kohl liner around your eyes.

“Oooo~ you’re looking sooooo beautiful,” Mina gushed, tail swaying as she suddenly appeared on your right. She was hunched over your shoulder peering into the mirror to gaze at your reflection. “Katsuki isn’t gonna let you walk in the morning!”

You flushed at her words and she laughed. You began to take her in, eyes roaming her figure. She was wearing the shortest skirt you’ve ever seen with a fitted cropped shirt that exposed her muscled stomach. The skirt at least flowed with her movement and wasn’t skin tight, but it accentuated her figure, giving her the illusion that she had larger hips. The color of it had clashed with her skin tone but in a good way, purple and turquoise in a camouflage like pattern drew the attention of her flushed skin. Large beads hung around her neck and jingled when she moved. She even has some around her hips and wrist.

Your clothes weren’t as revealing hers, but it was a burgundy dress that stopped slightly above your mid-thigh and hugged at your form. Your legs that were usually covered by your long skirt was now exposed. Your neck and collarbones were shown as the collar of your dress shaped around your breasts and plunged into a heart shape. Your neck was also decorated with the golden necklace Katsuki gave you and golden bangles jingled on your wrists to match it. You borrowed it all from Mina for tonight’s celebration and you couldn’t be more grateful to her.

The wolves always held a celebration the week before a wedding. It was a tradition but, honestly, you just thought it was an excuse for them to have more parties. So, you were getting ready at Mina and Eijirou’s cave. You could already hear the music blasting, drums being beaten, tambourines jingling, flutes sounding and other instruments you couldn’t quite name. It sounded like it was right outside their cave, but it was really in the courtyard where the wolves had already gathered in the late evening.

“You guys are going to kill all the men who look at you,” Ochako said, grinning from the corner of the room. She was already done, wearing a pink dress that was fitted to her form at the top but blew out at the bottom. Lately, you haven’t been seeing Ochako around. She’s been sneaking out these past last couple of weeks, not telling anyone where she’s been going so you were happy to hang out with her tonight. You wanted to catch up.

“All of us! We’re gonna make them faint!” Mina started checking herself out in the mirror, twisting and twirling around as she posed. Her reflection was being blocked by your body, yet she still pretended she could see her entire body.

“Careful, Mina, wouldn’t want baby number four to happen,” Ochako laughed and Mina shrugged.

“Wouldn’t mind it!”

“So how long is the party going to last?” You began fixing your hair, trying to decide whether to leave it down or put it up.

“How long? Pfft! We’re partying until dawn, ____!” Mina shot a finger in the air. She was a little too excited for this.

“You sure you aren’t drunk already?” Ochako placed her hands on her hips.

“No! But I seriously need a drink. I’m ready to party! Eiji’s gonna take care of the kids tonight so Kiri and I are basically free! Do you know how much free time you get when you have kids? None! Zero!”

You decided to leave it down, brushing your hair for a bit before you fluffed it to add volume.

“And yet you want to have a fourth one?”

“I said I wouldn’t mind, wouldn’t mind!”

“Okay guys, I’m ready,” you stood up and Mina whistled when she looked you over, ogling you in a way that would’ve made you uncomfortable if she was an older man.

“You sure you wanna wait till the wedding night? Cause Katsuki gonna pounce on you when he sees you.”

You laughed, “It’s not up for discussion. We already decided to wait and we’re both okay with that.”

“Gooosh, I couldn’t wait. You’re strong, ____,” you didn’t know if that considered you were strong on the account of you never experienced the feeling of sex. Maybe it was easier for you because you were in the unknown about it. Mina went on with expressing how excited she was about this party. You were just as excited as the last time you’ve been at a party. It was in your village during a festival. You remember the smells of food and the sounds of music, people dancing and having fun. You went with Izuku and his mother and it was the most fun you ever had. You were hoping it would be the same this time. Yes, the pack was still against the marriage but because of Mina, you had some women who tolerated you and actually spoke with you. This party was an opportunity to get to know them even more.

You followed Mina and Ochako out of the cave, saying your goodbyes to Eiji, Minato, and Mie as you passed by them. The sound of beating drums grew extremely loud the closer you came to the courtyard. The sun had completely set and the deep blue carpet with twinkling lights unraveled above you. The moon hung off the middle with half of it shrouded in dark. It was a mild night, not too cold and not too warm, which could only mean that winter was nearing its end. The snow had nearly melted from the surface, revealing the mountain’s stone flooring that clacked whenever your heel met with it. There was a path being lit up by totems on each side that led into the courtyard and the closer you got, the more excited Mina became while Ochako seemed to be looking around for something.

And when you reached the courtyard, your eyes widened in awe. There were so many wolves around, chatting, dancing, eating. There were tables set up that were occupied by some of them. Men were the ones at the drums, taiko drums, to be specific, and they pounded at them with bachi sticks, releasing a powerful sound that echoed into the air. Flutes were also being played flamboyantly, the players dancing to their own beat as they entertained the crowd dancing along with them. You assumed in the middle in front of the instrument players was the dancing area because wolves of all ages and genders were jumping, stomping, some clapping their hands, shaking their hips, hands in the air like they just didn’t care. These wolves know how to have fun!

“Oh! The bride is here!” You heard a booming voice. The music had stopped at once and soon all eyes were on you.

You gulped, not liking the attention.

But in place of drums were the wolves clapping, some howling at your presence. Mina and Ochako also began to howl as a signal of your arrival. You felt… touched. Even if some wolves did ignore you and continued what they were doing, most had greeted you with either an applause or a howl. And then the music returned, and the wolves resumed with their partying. It wasn’t long until you spotted Katsuki. He was sitting at the table in the center of all the tables, just staring at you. Eijirou was the one waving towards you which had Mina bolting over. Hanta was also there and a few other faces you haven’t seen before. But Katsuki stayed staring like he was a statue. You frowned. Was he… not impressed?

Katsuki’s brain stopped working the moment he saw you. Fuck! Damn! Shit! And all the curse words he could thought of was the only thing his brain managed do. Was he not impressed? Oh, he most definitely was impressed. He knew you were a beautiful woman but seeing you in these clothes? Hot damn. It was making him sweat. He downed the drink in his hands, giving his head a quick shake to spell the burning feel away. He watched as you made your way to him and watched how your hips swayed. Fuck! You were a Goddess. He was already praying for Fenrir to calm his heart… and his loins.

“Hey Katsuki…” you looked shy, shoulders erect, when you greeted him. A whistle sounded from one of the men at the table.

“And this is the bride I’m hearing so much about! Now I know why Katsuki’s marrying you!” He stood up, reaching over the table to hold out his hand towards you, nearly knocking over some drinks but Hanta was quick to move them. “Denki! Pack leader of the Kaminari clan. We’re allies with your pack!”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, slapping his hand away before you could take ahold of it. Denki yelped, rubbing his hand as it grew red from the abuse.

“What the hell, man, can’t greet your wife?”

“Just sit the fuck down,” Katsuki growled. Eijirou and Hanta snickered. Mina then plopped herself on Eijirou’s lap and kissed him deeply to greet him. Katsuki wondered if you would do the same but you stood there, awkwardly like you weren’t comfortable in your own skin. He wasn’t expecting anything of the sorts, he knew you weren’t comfortable doing such things in front of people. Ochako just looked like she was looking for someone, but she was the least of his worries.

“Come sit,” he pulled you by the arm and into the space next to him. He was still holding onto your arm, looking you over faster than you could notice. Goddamn. Those thighs. “Dress suits you,” he really wanted to say you were fucking hot, but he’ll save it for later.

He watched you flush, relaxing slightly, eyes fluttering around to make sure no one was watching. “Thanks. You look good too.” Katsuki took pride in how you took him in, eyes lingering longer on his exposed chest. Since it was milder tonight, he decided to go without a shirt and wore his black cargo pants and white boots. He still wore fur but only around his shoulders as the rest of his cape was a red battered cloth. Several necklaces hung at his neck, like painted fangs of predators he had hunted turned into decorations for his neck. And part of his arms was covered by orange and black arm warmers, leaving his upper arm and hands exposed.

“Heh, thanks.” Katsuki smirked, wolf ears flickering, then he poured himself a drink. “Ever drank before?”

You shook your head. “First time.”

“I’m taking a lot of your firsts, huh?” Your blush spread as your eyes widened at his daring words. Thankfully he said it under his breath for only you to hear. He passed you a cup before you could say anything more. “Drink it fast.”

He watched you with his head against his knuckles. You stared down at the cup. There was only a small amount of alcohol in there compared to the size of the cup and you had glanced at Mina, watching her knock her head back to down the alcohol, shivering slightly before she laughed at something Hanta and Denki said. Ochako had already disappeared so she wasn’t present to watch you drink. You then watched Katsuki and he did the same thing this time without wincing after and after staring at the cup for god knows how long you drank it, attempting to knock your head back. But the alcohol still didn’t fall as fast and you tasted the bitter flavor on your tongue before it burned and went down your throat. You started coughing, spitting up some as your eyes began to water. Katsuki was quick. He already gave you a tissue and rubbed his hand on your back.

“That was… disgusting. How do you drink this stuff?” You spoke through your coughs and wiped your mouth clean of saliva. The bitter flavor still lingered on your tongue and you grabbed a piece of bread off the table and shoved it in your mouth to rid of the taste.

“You get used to it.” Katsuki was already on his third drink and he didn’t seem like he would be getting drunk any time soon.

Mina drank another shot before she asked you to dance.

“We’ll be here. Go have your fun!” Eijirou said before he gave Mina another sloppy kiss. You told Katsuki you would be back and gave his arm a squeeze. He waved at you, wishing he had kissed you instead.

Mina pulled you into the dance area. Just before she started dancing she asked you where Ochako went but you had no clue, so she shrugged and began to move her hips rhythm of the drums. She grabbed your hands, wanting you to join her in her dance. You weren’t much of a dancer, but the beat of the drums and the sound of the flute was doing something to you internally that you were already tapping your feet as soon as you had touched the dance floor. You decided to let go, moving your arms, feet, and hips to the beat.

“Yeah, ____! Shake that ass!” You could barely hear Mina over the drums but her large smile told you she was enjoying this. The wolves were dancing so close together that you were getting touched all around, but you didn’t seem bothered by it and neither did the wolves. They were too concerned with getting lost in the music, some of them too drunk to where all they could do was dance and not be bothered that you were next to them. They pushed against you, rubbed against you, as well as Mina’s body. You didn’t want to admit it but maybe that one drink loosened you up. You weren’t exactly drunk, but you were definitely feeling a little buzz within you and it was enough to make you forget your worries.

Katsuki watched you in the middle of the courtyard. Sometimes he would lose sight of you because the crowd was overwhelming at times but when you would appear again, he would watch you shake your body. Your hips, your waist, your everything. You moved like it was your last night alive, like Fenrir’s spirit had took ahold of you and made you wild. He liked this side of you. It was different from the tamed girl he came to know you as. He was happy to know that even humans had a wild side.

“Your wife, Kacchan, damn.”

A vein popped across his forehead when he heard Denki and he growled lowly. “If you don’t stop looking at my woman… and don’t fucking call me ‘Kacchan’”

“I know, I know, gosh, you’re forgetting I’m happily married,” Denki had a cocky grin on his face while he flashed his necklace. Katsuki didn’t know why. There was nothing to be cocky about. He was getting married next week.

“That don’t mean shit.”

“Yes, it does… besides…” he drank from his cup, gold eyes up and still well on your body. “Nothing wrong with lookin’”

Katsuki slammed his fist down on the table and it caused all the cups and plates to jump on impact. His snarl was nasty, lingering until he couldn’t hold his breath any longer. His crimson eyes as sharp as his baring fangs. “Unless you wanna fucking go home blind, then I suggest you get your eyes off of my woman!”

“Relax, child!” He slammed a second fist down when a hand slapped the side of his head. He turned to look behind him already prepared to claw up whoever dared to attack him. He wasn’t surprised to see his mother and it didn’t lessen the anger he was feeling. “Don’t go threatening our allies, especially for something so minuscule as looking at your woman.”

“Don’t fucking touch me! Shit! Why are you even here?!”

“Someone has to stay sober and watch over the celebration. You can never be too careful. As future leader, you should know these things but instead you’re sitting here yelling at our allies.”

“Then go watch over the celebration somewhere else! I’m trying to enjoy my night!”

Mitsuki’s face crinkled up. “You ungrateful child! You dare speak to your mother that way!?”

“Shit, if you don’t like it then go somewhere!” Katsuki downed another cup. “Fuck, I gotta go use the bathroom.” He then got up and brushed past his growling mother, heading straight for the bathrooms. There was a cave designated for it somewhere around the courtyard. He relieved himself and as he was making his way back, he stumbled upon something that made him confused as hell.

You and Mina danced until you couldn’t dance no more. You needed a break and something to eat. So, Mina suggested to hang out with her friends. You’ve met them before. Momo and Tsuyu, but a new woman that you’ve never seen before was sitting with them at a table not too far from Katsuki’s. You couldn’t help but glance at his table while you passed by but saw that he wasn’t there. You were soon distracted by the warm faces of Mina’s friends to wonder why Katsuki wasn’t at his table. They were weary of you when you first met them but within time, they warmed up to you with Mina’s help.

“Momo! Tsu! Kyoka!” Mina gave all of them hugs and you greeted them with a wave. Kyoka looked scary from afar. She wore all black, had dark purple hair and gave off this don’t-talk-to-me vibe but the moment you greeted, she looked warm, smiling softly along with Momo and Tsuyu. It wasn’t long until you found out she was the wife of Denki, second leader of the Kaminari pack. Which surprised you at first because of how energetic he was but as you got to know Kyoka, you realized out how great they matched each other.

Together as a group, you moved to the food table, grabbing a plate and looking to see what to take. Your mouth was already salivating from the aroma and you began filling your plate with different proteins like chicken, rabbit, deer, and a bowl of rice. Lastly, you grabbed utensils which had a large pile of them left. Most wolves do without them and eat with their hands.

Mina already had her plate full of food in one hand and a large bottle of alcohol in the other. She was really trying to get drunk tonight.

Back at the table, you ate together, and they talked about random things that had happened to them in their daily lives. Mina talked about her children and how fast they were growing each day. Tsuyu talked about her interest in frogs. Apparently, she had a slight obsession with them, love to go out and study them. Momo was discussing about her recent find in tea leaves during her walks in the forest and Kyoka talked about a new song she was writing and couldn’t wait to sing. And you talked about your interest in pack which led to the girls asking about your first meeting with Katsuki.

You explained, feeling a little giddy. You haven’t told anyone about how you two met and just talking about it was making you relive some memories. You explained everything from when Katsuki chased you and then spared you and healed your wounds to you bringing him some food to help him to when you two got attacked by the hunters and chose to protect Katsuki ultimately getting you exiled from your village.

“That’s so romantic…! You guys belong together!” Mina started to slur, and her cheeks were pinker than normal. She might be already drunk.

“It’s truly a wonderful story, though I can’t help but wonder why Katsuki decided to heal you instead of… well, he was hunting you, yes?” Momo held her chin in thought.

“It does seem odd,” Tsuyu looked up with a finger to her chin, probably thinking the same thing.

“It’s love at first sight, I tell ya!! Love at first sight!!” Mina yowled, making a heart shape with her hands.

“I asked him why he did when we met the second time, but he never gave a straight answer,” Mina passed you a cup and you stared at it, contemplating if you should drink it.

“Yeah, typical Katsuki, never giving straight answers, just yelling,” Kyoka downed her drink. She looked a bit flushed as well. You assumed she was drunk, thankfully not the rowdy type like Mina.

“____! Drink! Drink!” Mina urged you when she noticed that you were taking too long to drink from your cup. You glanced down at it. Should you try it again, or should you ban yourself from tasting something so disgusting ever again? You looked back at Mina and she was making an upward motion with her hand before she began to pout, wolf ears falling down and tail drooping. She was so dramatic even when she was drunk. You downed your drink as fast as you could, shivering after at the taste and burn. It wasn’t as bad as the first time, that’s for sure.

Mina instantly refilled your cup and you waited for the burn to settle before downing that one.

Katsuki kind of didn’t know what he saw as he just saw a glimpse of it, but it looked like Ochako was hooking up with some guy in a shadowy corner of the courtyard, away from the party. He didn’t take her to be the type and he doesn’t remember whether she drank or not. Well, he didn’t care for long. He stumbled out of nowhere, there was nothing around him to make him to do so except for his past actions. Was he already drunk? Fuck, maybe he had one too many drinks. He wasn’t planning on being totally wasted tonight because he didn’t want to wake up feeling sluggish.

By the time Katsuki came back, his mother had already vanished, and he felt relieved.

“Katsukiiiii, welcome back…!” Hanta was already drunk and he was still drinking. He had an arm around Denki’s shoulders who also was bright red in the face. They were swaying together, big idiot smiles on their faces and hands full of their cups. They started singing and Katsuki could’ve sworn his hangover came early.

“Dude, they’re gone,” Eijirou laughed, no doubt feeling the buzz from his drinks because he began bobbing his head to their voices like it was actual good music coming from them. Katsuki sighed heavily at them and emptied his cup, cheeks hot from the alcohol rushing in his veins. The world began to spin in front of him and he closed his eyes to stop it. His eyebrows furrowed as if he were in pain, but it was because there were too many sounds happening at once. He didn’t know what to focus on. The voices all around him? The drums? Or the flutes? Or the pathetic singing of Hanta and Denki?

He opened his eyes. Everything looked fuzzy. He saw double of everything including the cup in his hands that Denki just refilled. He didn’t hesitate to drink it, humming at the warmness and mistaking it for the burn that simmered down his throat and chest. He felt something heavy fall on his lap and its weight pressed against his chest as something touched his shoulders. Denki, Hanta, and Eijirou all looked at him like he had two heads.

It took Katsuki a moment to realized that ‘something’ was you. You had plopped on his lap the same way Mina did to Eijirou and your arms were resting on his shoulders while your fingers lightly twirled in his hair. You were staring at him dead in his face with a distinct flush blossomed on your cheeks. Damn, were you drunk?

“Hey Katsuki…” you purred, pressing a wet kiss that had too much tongue on the corner of his mouth. Yup, you were drunk. Otherwise you wouldn’t be doing this in front of his friends, you probably wouldn’t even being doing this if you two were alone.

“Hey baby, what’sh… going on with you…?” Katsuki’s words were slurred and you cut him off with a heavy kiss to his lips, smacking your smiling lips against his. It was sloppy, loud, and tasted of bitter alcohol.

“Nothin’… I just missed you…” You breathed, and his hand moved to stroke your exposed thigh. Your dress has been riding up since you sat in his lap.

“Ya… same,” a sharp inhale of breath sounded from the both of you before your lips collided, tongues already in each other’s mouth, swallowing each other’s breath and saliva. A heavy moan left him, finally achieving what he wanted to do the moment he saw you. Katsuki squeezed a part of your thigh before he had his hand slip up your dress, daring to tread on areas he hadn’t felt before. And all in front of his friends.

“Hey, get a room!” Eijirou frowned, not wanting to see his best friend doing things that should be in the privacy of his cave.

“Nah, lemme enjoy the show…!” Denki waved him off, pushing him even. His grin grew wider and wider the longer his eyes roamed. Katsuki noticed and he immediately grew frustrated, breaking the kiss with a loud wet smack and growling in Denki’s direction.

“What the fuck did I say?!” You nearly fell off his lap when he suddenly sat forward but he wrapped an arm around your waist in both to save you and to flaunt his possession.

But all Denki did was laugh, not a hint of fear in his eyes when Katsuki bared his fangs.

You suddenly got off of him, pulling your dress down before you grabbed his hand and tugged his arm. “Come on...” you stared down at him, blush deepening to the point where it couldn’t just be the alcohol. Katsuki stared, almost dumbfoundedly. He then stood up immediately, the fight with Denki forgotten as he followed you away from the party. The tail behind him shaking excitedly.

Katsuki growled playfully when he thrown you against the wall, arms pinned to it as his lips instantly slobbered around your neck, alternating to your right side then left side with such haste you shivered and quaked under his hold. You gasped and felt the weakness in your knees, melting against the wall and his body as his arm around your waist held you up. One of your hands were dug into his side, desperately clinging on to anything you could feel. Katsuki kissed you to quench his hunger but it never was fulfilled. The more he felt your lips, the more he wanted it, drinking your moans, groaning and growling, grinding against your body as if to fuse with it.

His hands circled your hips, loving the feel of your smooth skin under his fingertips. He slid his right hand around your hip to your thigh, eventually placed it under your knee and lifted your leg to hold it around his hip. You continued kissing him regardless of his bold act, a hand buried in his hair while the other moved from his side to caress his muscled stomach, each individual ab a rocky hill to his clenched terrain. You continued moving north and palmed his pecs, his nipple rubbing against your hand no doubt erect cause of the pleasure brewing in him. He responded with his own knead of your breasts, engulfing one of them in his hands and giving it a firm squeeze.

He grunted softly and pulled away from your lips with a wet suck. His crimson gaze as fiery as the sun, beaming heavy with lust as they scanned your face. He loved all of your expressions, but this had got to be his all-time favorite one. You looked absolutely needy. Your skin was heavily flushed from the alcohol and the relentless assault he had on your lips. Your lips were apart, and your eyes looked hazy with the certainty that you were undeniably, incontestably, indisputably horny.

And if you would let him, he would be more than willing to help you to quell the ache between your legs.

You were convinced. Alcohol was the devil. It talked for you, thought for you, moved for you without making you realize any repercussions of your actions. It eliminated all amounts of your super ego and purely motivated your id. So of course, when Katsuki lifted your dress and pulled your underwear to the side, you pulled him closer, looking down when his fingers tread lightly on the lips of your vagina, and although you couldn’t see well because you were in a dark corner, somewhere against the mountainside near the caves, you surely felt it. You also felt that this was something you shouldn’t be doing. It went against all of your morals, having a man touch you before he even claims you, but you were too intoxicated to care, too obsessed with exploring this desire. You revisited that moment of when Katsuki first touched you when he licked your wound. That shiver you felt. The very thing that made you all too curious.

“Nn…” you bit your lip, feeling his fingers go between your folds and soon becoming slick with secretion when he neared your entrance.

“Already this fucking wet for me…” he said huskily, a smirk on his own face with reddened cheeks. But he did nothing except tease you with his words, mumbling about what he was going to do to you and how you were going to take it. It felt like he was rambling to himself, sounding nonsensical as his fingers moved slightly north in search for something. And when he found it, it had your legs trembling, the one being held up by his hand squeezed against him like you wanted to close them, toes curling in your shoes. You gritted your teeth and watched as Katsuki rubbed his fingers on your clit in a motion that was not too gentle.

He saw you watching, and he uttered out, “see this?” You looked up into his eyes. “I’mma fuck you this rough. Right here. Right now.”

“Nnngh… Ahn…” and when you dug your nails into his arm, it made him quicken his pace. Your eyes rolled, and you bit your bottom lip and started to move your hips to his rhythm, like it was his own beat of his drum. A low growl sounded, and he pressed his lips to your neck, groaning heavy with a salty after taste on his tongue.

“You’ll like that…?” He stopped to whisper, lips moving hot against your ear. You couldn’t even answer, just a string of incoherent, jumbled words that were slurred out in between gasps and moans was all you could muster out and Katsuki took that as a yes.

“Lookin’ so sexy in that goddamn dress. Fuck…”

He continued holding up your leg but with his other hand he began fumbling with the zipper of his pants. His bulge, outrageous in shape, that you thought most of it was an illusion caused by the shadows. He was so clumsy with his hand that it took him ages to zip down his pants and reveal his fuzzy blonde pubes.

“F-F-Future leader…!” The both of you froze, hearing a woman’s yell before she gasped. Katsuki didn’t even turn around, his next words came out in a roar.

“Whaaaat?!”

“I-I’m sorry to interrupt but-but… there’re a few drunk men causing a scene and they might fight,” you could see the woman behind Katsuki’s head. She stayed a good distance away but anyone in their right mind would’ve known what was happening between you two by one glance. The blush on her face was a good indicator that she knew exactly what.

“Then get the old hag—I’m busy!!”

“We can’t find her. We assumed she retired for the night,” Katsuki resumed pressing kisses on your neck and jaw, fingers on your clit moving yet again, earning a purr of his name from you. The woman gulped, not knowing whether to walk away or to try again. She was feeling ballsy tonight.

“F-Future leader…?”

“Just give me a damn minute!!” A delayed gasp left you when Katsuki’s hand left and suddenly slammed his fist on the wall next to your head. He then fumbled with the zipper of his pants, his fuzzy pubes disappearing behind the waistband. “I’ll be back for that sweet ass. Just wait for me in our cave…” he husked with a smirk so wide and handsome that your clit throbbed without a single touch. But what was more criminally was when he brought his fingers that was coated with your wetness into his mouth, licking and sucking on it, gaze held strong against your own as he commented how delicious you were. You nearly died.

He then turned around a little too fast to where he almost lost his balance, but he regained it just as quickly before murmuring to the woman:

“Now show me the way so I can knock those idiots out.”

As the Katsuki and the woman left, you saw that she glanced back at you with eyes of slight envy and adoration. You soon straightened your underwear and pulled your dress down, licking your swollen lips. You remained on the wall, in a daze as the world around you felt like it was underwater. The sound of drums and people voices were merely a muffle to your ears. The sight before you spun when you pushed yourself off the wall and swayed with every step made.

You didn’t even recognize your surroundings and wobbled into the first cave you saw. Going down the narrow curve of the hallway that was only dimly lit by the wall lanterns, you felt a stirring in your stomach with a dull ache. Your inner cheeks became lathered with saliva building up and a gag that heaved your body forward was suppressed by your hands that slapped over your mouth. Ugh. You wanted to vomit. But you swallowed back whatever nearly came up and held onto the wall before moving. The first cloth makeshift door you felt out was immediately enter by you with no warning, no notice, just an idea that you thought it was your cave you were entering in.

So of course, when you stumbled upon the sight of a nude Ochako bouncing on the lap of your childhood friend, Izuku, the alcohol in your system was enough to have you shrieking.

Ochako hurled herself off of him with a scream and Izuku yelped as his dick flung out of her. He quickly gathered the sheep wool covers, first covering Ochako and then himself with his own clothes. Just what the hell were you seeing?

They both stared at you with wide, glossy eyes in what made seconds of silence feel like hours. And when they couldn’t handle the pressure of being stared at, they both stammered out, frantically.

“I-It was my idea!”

“I invited Izuku!”

You didn’t stay for them to explain further. You ran out, stunned at what you saw but was too drunk to comprehend it, you just knew you walked into something you shouldn’t have.

You followed the walls out of the cave and the urge to gag returned, feeling the saliva building again and you suddenly hunch over, and vomit surged from within you and splattered on the floor. Ugh, it’s brown with chunks. You wiped your mouth with a grimace.

“Hey, you okay?” You then felt a hand on your back. “Is this your first time drinking? And that bonehead son of mine left you alone?”

It was Mitsuki, bending slightly and peering into your face as she began to rub your back. She looked concerned, but you saw her knitted eyebrows and frowns as ripples like you were staring at her reflection in the water and then you threw up again.

“Come on, let’s get you to your cave,” Mitsuki wrapped her arm around your body to hold you up when you were done and slowly guided you in the right direction.

Katsuki was practically growling as he settled those rowdy wolves who were trying to fight each other. He didn’t even know what the issue was about. Once that woman pointed him to the right direction, Katsuki punched them square in the face and they fell to the ground, holding their cheeks. He yelled at them until they ran with their tails between their legs.

He was furious. He was seconds away from being buried between your thighs and out of all times, the pack needed his help. What kind of bullshit was that?

He bared his teeth to the starry skies, snarls stuttering through gritted teeth. Whatever. At least he could look forward to you waiting in his cave, legs sprawled and hopefully as needy as he left you. He waddled in his steps, swaying on his wobbly legs. He was moving as fast as he could, but it felt like he was traveling through the forest to get there.

When he finally entered the cave, thrusting through the hanging cloth with so much gusto that it nearly tore off, it wasn’t a surprise to find you in bed but what he wasn’t expecting was for you to be sleeping, deeply, snoring lightly with your arms and legs sprawled out and it definitely wasn’t in the way he initially thought of it.

“Fuck… are you serious?” It felt like he missed the moment of a lifetime. You actually changed your mind and wanted to have sex. Although you were drunk and probably weren’t in the right state of mind to answer, Katsuki, being in that same boat, also just wanted to purely act on his desires. Looking so hot in that dress had awakened something in him and he knew that this final week before the wedding was going to be a cruel one.

He sighed softly, shrugged his cape from his shoulders and kicked off his boots. He pulled his pants until he was down to his underwear and joined you in bed. He slipped his arms around you and couldn’t resist kissing your neck lightly when you snuggled close to him. You mumbled something, but it wasn’t a sign that you were going to wake up. He growled lowly. He would just have to be patient. One week left. Just one week.

At dawn, a skull-splitting headache was there to greet you and it made you sensitive to everything around you, the candle lights, your slight movements, even Katsuki’s voice that sounded low, not really knowing what he said but knew it was full of concern for you.

The memories of last night came to you in bits and pieces. The first one being you discovering Izuku and Ochako’s relationship and the very last one being Katsuki fondling you against the wall. If you weren’t too busy dealing with this throbbing pain, you probably would’ve thrown yourself out of Katsuki’s arms and ran out the room in embarrassment.

After promising yourself to subdue these emotions until the wedding night, you nearly failed and allowed Katsuki to do such naughty things to you. You buried your face in your hands and he took that as you trying to get closer to him and slid his hand under your knee, pulling your leg until it hooked around his waist. You hope this wasn’t going to become a habit for him. Sure, you were pretty bold last night but you didn’t know if your heart could take feeling so exposed to him.

“I guess it’s true. Humans get these so called ‘hangovers’ after drinking,” Katsuki was softly stroking the back of your head.

“Ughhhh…. I’m never drinking again…” you whined, and he laughed, hand moving south to tread along your back.

#bnha #bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki fanfiction #wau bnha

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partyinthemysterymachine · 4 years

Text

On Purpose

Harry wiped his hands on the dish towel. He leaned back on the kitchen counter and took his time rubbing his fingers dry, pushing the damp terrycloth fabric into the webbing, and rotating it over his knuckles. There was a man seated at the table that he wanted to watch fiddle with his smartphone. It’s been three years since they got home, took off their jackets, and packed them away into a box that went directly into the furthest corner of the closet. Those three years have been a hell of a bumpy hayride for the Mason family of two and the Sunderland of one. Honestly, Harry wouldn’t trade it for anything.

His hands were clean and dry. He tossed the bunched up towel back and forth, and inclined his head. “You good over there, babe?”

The wrinkle of his nostril answered that question. Harry smiled wide and warm. “What’s got you in a tizzy now?”

“I think I deleted my email,” James mumbled, distracted. “I dunno what I did.”

“You deleted your email,” the aging patriarch repeated, dumping the terrycloth on the granite top island. “From your phone or from forever?”

“Phone first, forever second,” he replied, the frown wrinkling his brow deepening. Harry strolled over and bent over the back of the chair, laying his arms around James’s neck. He tucked his dark head against the side of the one of blond and snuggled into his lover’s pale, and perpetually cold skin. James’s head was forced to tip to the side by the enthusiasm of his partner’s lion-like nuzzle, yet he had no intent to fight it. From there, Harry observed his frustrated swiping and fumbling.

He pressed a little kiss to James’s cheek and extended his arm, pointing at the phone. “Hold up, stop stop,” Harry spoke against him. “Go into setti— no, babe, go back. .. go back.. okay. Scroll down to ‘Mail.’” James felt the little frown pressed into his face. It caused his own to bear a soft smile. “Uh.. scroll back up. .. scroll down? Uh.. okay, what the hell did you do with— hang on.”

James patiently did as he was told while Harry patted his legs, then maneuvered his phone out of his pocket. All the while, he chose to tuck his face into James’s neck. Then he sighed and nuzzled up on his partner’s cheek again, wrapping his arms around him to hold the device out for both of them to see. “Okay. Let’s see here.”

He wasn’t so sure if he’d get over the strange initial discomfort he got when Harry unlocked his phone to a picture of Heather trapping James in a bear hug. She got caught mid-laugh, and he noticeably embarrassed, though his shy smile and the affectionate way he looked up over the camera at the person behind it always settled that discomfort pretty quickly. James liked that memory a lot, though getting to have it as a visual memory meant even more. He wondered, as he often did, if Harry knew what he’d captured.

It’s the little things that mean the most.

The picture was only there for a second, the settings menu being all there was to see now. Harry lifted his chin a little off his shoulder, moving the phone a little further down. “Maybe I should have my reading glasses for this.”

“Then go get them.”

“No. I don’t wanna move.”

“Put your accessibility settings at AARP member.”

Harry incredulously inclined his head, staring at his boyfriend’s profile. “Excuse me?” he inquired a younger man whose deadpan wasn’t holding up like it used to. James tried to withhold his smile, but it was no use; the only thing he could hold back was his laugh. A partial grin crept onto Harry’s face. “That voice sounds like James, but what I’m really hearing is Heather.”

It was war to keep the smile from becoming a full blown grin, but there’d be no sure victory from trying to keep it out of his words. “You might want to call an audiologist, then. Or tell your psych. You saying that worries me a little, Harry.”

James flinched and uttered an ‘ow!’ from the righteous flick at his ear. “Stop hanging out with Heather. She’s a bad influence on you.”

He leaned slightly to the side to look at handsome tyrant-in-training at his shoulder. “Why? She just says what we’re all thinking.”

“You’re a brat,” Harry told him matter-of-factly. “And she’s a brat. And he’s a brat - we’re all brats, hey!” he chanted under his breath at his ear, making James shake his head and return his attention to their little project. There were many reasons why he and Heather liked to complain about Harry, and this ranked in the top twenty of the endless list. “Okay, so,” the middle aged annoyance continued, “you should have ‘mail’ here under ‘passwords and accounts,’ and that kind of shit just doesn’t up and disappear, so.. what’d you do with it?”

“I don’t know, Harry,” James replied. “I thought it’d be a fun prank to see what I could delete from this phone and forgot to consider that I might not be able to get it back.”

“Look at you, Mister Technology Wiz,” Harry mocked. “I knew you were smarter than you let on.”

“I like to keep you guessing. It gives me a sense of superiority.”

“Wow, no shit?” He smiled at the soft chuckle from the former conduit and pecked another kiss on his cheek. “Okay. Restart your phone. If it’s still fucked up we can take it in to the Apple store and get it checked out. If you somehow unintentionally jailbreaked your phone, I’m gonna fucking die laughing.”

James held the appropriate buttons and watched the screen blacken. “Okay. Still want the cookie jar, or did you change your mind?”

“Nah, still married to the cookie jar idea,” he confirmed. “Just put it on somewhere on the counter to horrify guests when they come over.”

The phone lit up and James punched in his passcode. “We’ll keep it unsealed and put some cookies in for you to munch on in the afterlife.”

“Oh, James,” Harry sighed dramatically, smiling down at the picture he’d chosen as his wallpaper. It was a simple snapshot of Harry’s work desk. The yellow lamp light illuminated his spread of books, papers, and his open, but dark laptop, and cast dark yet peaceful shadows where they were meant to be. He’d known about that picture for a while. James has had it since he learned how to set a custom wallpaper on the same day he got the phone. Every time Harry saw it since, he nearly burst with the strain of resisting the urge to drown his boyfriend in kisses. “It’s like you know me.”

It’s the little things that mean the most.

“Not willingly.”

“Preaching to the choir. Okay, let’s see what you’ve got now.”

James leaned his head on Harry’s for the rest of their futile tinkering. Eventually he checked out of the the whole business and nudged his forehead to Harry’s warmth. He smiled ever so softly at the gentle caress on his neck from Harry’s heavy hand, and the kiss planted on his brow that followed. His eyes slid closed when it became evident that Harry had decided to work with one hand and left the other where it’d landed, lazily brushing sweet touches over his throat and behind his ear.

There was no solution to the email problem, and they’d both lost interest in it awhile ago. Now Harry folded his left arm across James’s chest, holding the sleeping phone to his shoulder as he combed his fingers up through blond hair that no longer smelled of lake water. He nestled his nose into the plainly styled cut and closed his eyes. James, in general, was a plain young man; always had been, always will be.

He loved that about him.

The dull thunk of the smartphone being set on the table didn’t affect him. In fact, he smiled so blissfully when James’s cool hands loosely found a place clasping his arm and hand that nearly all the lines of age on his face deeply creased. James felt it in his hair how happy that smile was. He loved to see it. He loved to feel it. It made his heart do Olympic gold medalist acrobatics, as it did now knowing it was there at all.

But lately within the last year, while his heart still leapt with joy to see that genuinely adoring smile on a daily basis (truly, he couldn’t recall a day where he didn’t see Harry beam like that at some point), he’d realized how many more lines there were. February had passed a few months ago. Harry’d turned fifty-three this year. And no, it wasn’t that he thought fifty-three was anywhere near being a senior. James had trouble explaining it to himself. All he knew is that his heart had begun to hurt while it celebrated seeing that look on Harry’s face.

The hurt was different than the way it hurt because he was loved, and because James loved him, too.

He idly stroked his thumb back and forth on Harry’s hand. The pressure against his head meant another kiss. James reached up and took Harry by the back of the neck, pulling him down as he tilted his head to get a proper kiss out of him for once.

You can’t say that to me, Harry! James had angrily spat at him at the time. I don’t want to hear it! Okay?! Just don’t— even start to even fucking think it—

Why? implored the distraught, heartbroken man. Why can’t I say I love you? I’ve said it before, James, and if you really want me to I won’t say it again, but I’m just— I’m trying to— I just want to understand why—

Because I can’t fucking hear it. I can’t fucking hear it from you. It drives me fucking insane.

But.. why?

His shivering, barely beating heart had sunk like an anchor from the pure agony that dripped from that simple word. Why? Why, he’d dare to ask? Why? James had hated that question from Harry Mason since day one. Today, that goddamn question made him burn so red hot that he wished that Red Pyramid Thing would come along and skewer him right through.

Because I don’t want to fucking hear it, Harry!

James had suddenly lost all that fury in a single breath. In one swift blow, he’d murdered a tired man who he’d caught smiling at him countless times already; who liked to take his hand and kiss his fingers; who liked to talk to him even though he had no obligation to respond; who fought with him, for him, and had almost given his far more precious life for his safety; a man that held him just because he wanted to.

I just.. I can’t take how sincere you are when you say it, he’d tried to explain, as weak and deflated as Harry looked. It’s like you really mean it, and—

I do really mean it. I love you. I don’t think I can even apologize for it.

But you shouldn’t, Harry, James had protested. You really, really shouldn’t. I can’t have it. I can’t deal with it.

Why shouldn’t I? the grief-stricken author had asked. Is it because of what you are? Is it because of what you did? Because of how depressed and hopeless you are, how sometimes you’re barely functional and a drag and kind of a shitty person and you hate yourself so goddamn fucking much that you can’t imagine why anyone would even care enough about you to pick a piece of lint off your shoulder? Is that why?

The had words hit home, and from Harry, wounded and shamed him to the point that he’d pathetically hung his head and stared at the floor.

“Sorry we couldn’t figure out the case of the missing mail,” Harry slurred on James’s parted lips. “Maybe we can ask Heather to figure it out later.”

A smile and a light breath from the other man was caught between another slow kiss. “You find a new way to disappoint me every day.”

“I have to get creative.” Harry’s palm pressed firmly into the back of his lover’s head to briefly strengthen their kiss. “Because I know you like it.” His nose was often described as a beak for the way it curved, and James thought it handsome, especially when it touched his own sloped one in what was known as an Eskimo kiss. “And what sort of bullshit would that be to disappoint you for me being unable to find a new way to disappoint you?”

That’s just too fucking bad, James. I’d say sorry to disappoint you, but I’m really not fucking sorry at all.

“Mm. But wouldn’t that have been a new way to disappointment me?”

“Oh, shit.”

What do you think this is? Tell me honestly, really, I’m very interested to know what you think. Because I’m going to tell you my side of things, so listen up, okay? This is not going the first or last time I’m gonna tell you this, either. I’ll say it every goddamn hour and every fucking day for the rest of my life even if you ever start to believe me. I’ll say it until the sun goes down for the last time and even then I’ll figure out a way to keep saying it to you.

Are you listening?

“Mmhmm.”

I love you. I am choosing to love you, because loving you is something I want to experience no matter the outcome. That’s it. Full stop. I know what you are. I know what you’ve done. I know who you are, even just a little bit, and I swear to fucking god, James, I love you. I’m not brushing off all the bad shit you’ve done or what kind of monster you think you are. You’ve done some pretty terrible stuff. I’m not forgetting that.

But even knowing that, even despite that, I have seen it for myself that you want to hear me say it. I hear it when you say my name. I feel it when you do something as little and thoughtless like grabbing my sleeve, Harry’s voice then broke and thickened, trembled with the beginning sobs of a desperate, begging heart. James covered his eyes behind his hand and had tried to clench his jaw to beat back an intense, once-foreign feeling that wouldn’t allow itself to be repressed any longer.

Harry loudly hummed and encased James in a strong bear hug about his shoulders as best he could from behind him. James’s exaggerated groan that sounded a lot more irritable than he actually was, which was not at all, got somewhat stifled against the author’s hairy, meaty forearm. His older boyfriend then transformed his hum’s pitch to match his groan, and together they raised their voices, swiftly building a challenging crescendo, a duel of lung capacity and stamina.

You never have to say it aloud, James. I know. You tell me all the time. You tell me all the time and yet you still think you don’t deserve to feel that way or have anyone give a rat’s ass about you. I love you because you’re you. I’m aware of everything you are and did and all that crap, and I love you.

Do you fucking understand me, James Sunderland?

James won the battle.

Harry forfeited with grace and maturity. Of course, that meant that when James decided he’d like to get up, the Mason patriarch used his bulky weight and strength to try to keep him in the chair and make it as difficult as possible for James to escape.

“Get— ugh, Harry! Get off me. Come on, don’t be a sore loser.” That groan he emitted at Harry’s decision to tighten his arms was a mite more sincerely annoyed than the last time. “God, come on. Why are you such a pain in the fucking ass—“

“Do unto others as you would have done unto you.”

Disgust distorted his face as the fact sank in that such a well-respected piece of ancient wisdom got turned into a crude double entendre. “Oh, aw, what the fuck— that’s gross, Harry. And blasphemous. And before you say it, yeah yeah, pot calling kettle black, whatever, don’t wanna hear it, I know, now let me up, old man.”

“Mm, mean, but not yet,” Harry both scolded and vetoed with a kiss to his ear. James sighed and sank his bodyweight onto the chair, still holding his boyfriend’s arm in both hands. He dropped his head the slightest bit back onto Harry’s soft shoulder.

He was wearing that cable knit sweater he’d gotten him last Christmas. It was a handsome, rusty orange, like if autumn were a color. Heather had laughed and called it a ‘dad sweater.’ Even though Harry agreed with her, and James sheepishly acknowledged the accuracy though he hadn’t intentionally chosen it with that in mind, he had actually blushed when Harry pulled off the navy blue he wore and donned himself in knitted fall.

Do you fucking understand me?

Harry wore that sweater often.

James smiled.

He didn’t reply.

“Hey. Harry.”

Listen to me again, James:

“Mm?” he mumbled on his pretty, pale neck.

I am choosing to love you. Because loving you is something I want to experience no matter the outcome. You need to internalize that. Someday, I want you to believe it.

“I love you.”

I want you to believe that you are so goddamn worthy and deserving of my love. I’m going to love you, or die trying.

James closed his eyes to soak in the emotional, radiant smile against his skin, and tightly squeezed Harry’s forearm to try to replicate the fiercely adoring way he wrapped him up in his embrace, even though the couldn’t at the moment hold him like he wanted to.

Everything I do, James - protecting you, caring for you, loving you, I do it all, and I do it fucking all--

“On purpose?”

His eyes opened, his head turned, and lake greens met deep, earthy browns. James loved the color of Harry’s eyes; perhaps even more than Harry claimed to love the color of his, too.

It’s the little things that mean the most.

“On purpose.”

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piratewithvigor · 4 years

Text

Love Break My Heart: Chapter 1

Summary: A half-life relationship is disintegrating at the seams. Neither of them is good for the other, but after 14 years together, they don’t know how to be with each other anymore.

Word Count: 2109

A/N: This is a prize story written for @slashscowboyboots and I expect it to be about 4 chapters or so with maybe more if the chapters turn out to be much longer than this one.

I don’t know how long I’ve been standing in front of the mirror. My eyes have gone foggy from the bright lights bouncing off of every shiny surface in the bathroom and from trying to see a coherent reflection in the shattered glass. I keep meaning to go out and replace it, but every time it leaves my line of sight, I forget about it and the rage Axl was in when he punched it. All the pieces are there; just broken. It serves its purpose, just not well. It’s doing well enough that I’m able to spot the gray hairs.

In the time I’ve stood there (God knows how long it was), I found twelve. Plucked them each out and dropped them into the sink. I’m not even thirty yet… Nowhere near old enough to be going gray from age.

I turn the faucet just enough that a dribble of cool water begins to flow. The stream washes away the hairs and somewhere deep in my soul, I feel like I’m telling a lie. I know exactly why I’m going gray and it wouldn’t be all that much of a guess for anyone close to me either. Not a single one of us would say it out loud. I can almost taste bile at the thought of it. The wave of nausea urges me to cup my hands under the stream of water and toss it into my face. For a moment, I feel some brief sense of relief, but the moment is fleeting.

I dab away the water with a nearby towel and the broken mirror confronts me with proof I can’t just wash away: what used to only be crinkles are now lines of age etched deep in my face.

I must have gasped when I saw them; something caused Axl to turn over in bed. He’d always been a light sleeper, for as long as I’d known him. Likely a survival instinct his mind had created for him. If he was already tossing and turning, getting back into bed would almost definitely wake him up. The last thing I wanted on a day I’d already slept as poorly as I did would be a crabby Axl. Or a bitchy one. Or an angry one. He could be moments away from waking up naturally, but if someone woke him up before he was good and ready, said poor fucker would need eyes on the back of their head for the rest of the day if they wanted to make it through alive.

I shut off the light in the bathroom and paused in the doorway for a moment to consider my options. On the one hand, I could try to get another hour or two of sleep before I’d have to get ready to head out to the studio with Axl and risk waking him up as I got back into bed, or I could just stay up and try to get any kind of work done. Judging by Axl’s second groan and turn in the sheets, it’d be more prudent to take the second option. He may or may not be pissed at me already.

I don’t remember much about what triggered the fight between us last night. My brain had been foggy during most of it and I was riding a mild hangover when I woke up. It’s possible that might have been the beginning of the argument. Axl was no saint when it came to booze either, but he was the best about it and took it upon himself to chastise the rest of the band about their habits.

My suspicions seem to be correct, judging by the apparent tornado that had swept through the living room at the bottom of the stairs. On second thought, ‘tornado’ didn’t do the wreck justice; it was carnage. Almost as bad as the shithole the whole band was sharing when we were first starting out. The only difference was that I know the room had been clean and proper the morning before. A real ‘Better Homes And Gardens’ situation. It looks more like a crime scene as I walk through it for damage assessment.

Nothing seems to be damaged beyond repair at first glance, just moved or thrown. The only furniture still where I remember it was the couch, which had purposely been the heaviest one available for exactly fights like the one we must have had. Can’t throw something if you can’t lift it.

Bits and pieces of the fight started coming back to me as I step over the strewn chairs, magazines and various other shit that populated the room. I remember the remote for the TV being whipped at the back of my head and a side table being poised for an equal action, but I’d be damned if I could remember why. The only thing that makes me stop is the shattered bottle of Jack by the front door. Bottles had been thrown at each other before. Back in the day, they’d been thrown at almost anything. Perfect for subduing destructive tendencies. The difference between the wrecks I recognized and the one at the door was the lack of any splatter. There’d always be a splatter from the bit of liquid left in the bottle, but there was no sign on the door. Just a little mark in the white paint where the black ink of the label had hit. No splatter meant that Axl hadn’t taken it from me to throw. That impact was my doing.

The pang of regret hits harder than I expect it to. I don’t remember feeling angry at Axl. Or the reason why I would want to hurt him. Axl’s rage burns fast and hot, but once he’s calm, it all goes away. I’m used to the tantrums. I’m not used to coming out of a blur and finding that I wanted to hit him with a heavy bottle that could have either knocked him out or given him need of stitches. And at the front door? He wouldn’t be there unless he was planning to leave. Make-up sex isn’t going to garner me the forgiveness I need for whatever transpired the night before.

I start by cleaning up the glass and fixing up the room as quietly as possible. Unfortunately, it means leaving all the furniture I can’t pick up to move. How Axl can in his rages, I have no idea. Instead of looking like a crack den, I leave the room looking more like the middle of a redecoration project. The second step on my quest of forgiveness is breakfast. Neither of us are too big on it, or really food in general, but coffee and toast are still a staple of the day.

Luckily, the kitchen seems to have been completely disconnected from the chaos. A little messy from a slipshod dinner cleanup, but nothing more heinous than any nuclear family would be facing after meatloaf night. The early morning hour keeps me from wanting to scrub and dry dishes, but I can at least leave them to soak while I prep the coffee.

The old machine looks like it’s on its last legs, but I doubt we’d get rid of it even when it finally decides to stop. It was the one luxury we all chipped in on when we started renting the band house. We mostly stole anything more expensive than a Big Mac but security at the appliance store were on us like hawks if we dared to step into the store. We could have probably survived without food and most of our vices, but taking coffee away from a house full of drunks was just asking for murder. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was still kicking after the horrendous overuse we put it through. A memory of when the five of us weren’t too fucked up to work together.

I exhale softly when the thought passes through. Stevie may have been a pain in our collective asses, but he was our pain in the ass. Part of the guys. And he threw it all away over a vice. If one of the five of us could leave, then who was next?

The little light on the coffee maker begins to blink. There used to be a shrill beep that went with it, but the speaker was promptly removed when five angry drunks with five angry hangovers unanimously decided that there was no place in the house for that kind of bullshit.

I’m pouring the first cup when quiet shuffling from behind me results in two arms around my waist.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” I murmur, setting the pot back down. I can feel Axl shake his head between my shoulderblades.

“I was up anyway. Thanks for making the coffee and cleaning up.” His voice is still thick with sleep, making it deep enough that I can hardly hear him.

“Want something to eat? I was feeling toast.” He considers for a few moments and I’m almost worried he fell asleep against me. He eventually nods, still holding onto me gently.

“Butter, unless you wanna open that jam from your mom.” I turn around in his grasp and place a kiss to the top of his head. He’s feeling the same way I am- remorseful for an event neither of us remember clearly, but knowing that reparations must be made. It’s why he’s being so physically affectionate.

“Anything for you, Fireball.” He takes my cue to sit down at our little table in the middle of the kitchen. It’s big enough for the two of us and maybe one more if we squished elbows, not really more than a card table, but perfect for two introverts who like proximity.

When he sits down, I take my opportunity for looking him over for damages. His hair is mussed, but likely from post-sex instead of a bottle hitting it, so I’m not too worried. His collarbone is spotted with little bruises, but the placement and shape lead me to believe they’re nothing more than love bites. No scrapes or cuts along his arms. He doesn’t look like he’s facing anything worse than insomnia. I can’t blame him; the new album is set to be released within the next couple of months, and his vision for it is huge. Two full albums, released on the same day, and we’ve only got one album’s worth of songs written for them. It’s brilliant, but I’m as worried as he is about completion.

The toast pops up and is smeared with my mom’s spiced peach jam. She sends us a few jars each summer as a care package that I used to protest about, but learned to accept. Childhood comfort foods are something that only last for so long.

I set Axl’s plate in front of him with his coffee. We both like it strong, but he somehow takes it black without anything added. As far as he knows, mine is the same. He’s still looking a little tired and distracted, but not unhappy.

“Penny for your thoughts?” I ask, nibbling on a corner of toast.

“Just the albums. It’s the third album curse,” he explains, only now noticing his breakfast.

“Explain?”

“Any band’s third album is always the worst. They use up all the songs they’ve written on the first two and by the third, they have nothing to say. Zeppelin 3? Dressed To Kill? We’re having the same problem, but we’re doing two at once.”

I can feel the floor shaking between us. He’s bouncing his knee like he always does when he has nervous energy. I lean across the table and take his free hand in mine. It’s softer; no calluses common to a guitarist.

“You’re forgetting Toys In The Attic, London Calling, Electric Ladyland… The last two also being double albums. Dunno about you, but those guys turned out okay.” Axl manages a small smile. It’s hard to believe that the same face that can look so sweet and charming is the same one who tried to throw a table at me less than ten hours ago. “Ours are gonna kick so much ass.” As fast as the smile came, it descended into a scowl.

“It would if I wasn’t the only one pulling his fucking weight.” I sighed quietly, only letting the air escape through my nose. An out-loud sigh would only bring on another fight. This wasn’t Axl’s fault, or even my fault. He simply stressed out about details more than the rest of us and was definitely more vocal about it. It wasn’t anyone’s fault...

#Writing #Love Break My Heart #GNR #Classic Rock #Axl Rose #Izzy Stradlin #mentions of the rest of the band but they aren't going to be major characters #unless I veer off my plot completely #Izal #Fanfiction #also I adore Kiss and Zeppelin so don't @ me for roasting them a little

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stardustacefics · 4 years

Text

The Guide To Loving A Fuddy-Duddy Pt. 3

3: He Is One Tense Boi

Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi were walking back to the Cloud Recesses after a seemingly endless night-hunt. The day had already been tiring, but after this, they were both left completely exhausted.

While walking along the long, winding paths, the two of them were silent, unwilling to muster up any more energy than necessary. Once they arrived back at the Jingshi, Wei WuXian let out a sigh of relief. “Finally,” he breathed.

Lan WangJi felt the same way, although not expressing it outright. While he didn’t say anything, his eyes looked tired and glazed over.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei WuXian called over. “It’s been a long day. Share a jar of Emperor’s Smile with me?” he asked, holding up the jar and shaking it towards him.

Lan WangJi looked at him with a stern expression. “Drinking is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses”.

“That’s not the real reason, is it,” Wei WuXian gave him a smirk. “It’s because you know that you will get hopelessly drunk after one sip!”

Ignoring him by default, Lan WangJi busied himself with polishing Bichen. Wei WuXian left his jar of Emperor’s Smile behind and got up from the table. He walked over and plopped himself down next to him. Lan WangJi didn’t even blink, so Wei WuXian nudged him in the side a few times to get his attention. “Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan,” he pestered, prodding him in the side with his elbow. Still receiving no response, Wei WuXian pouted, moving to hug him around the waist from behind.

“Lan Zhan,” he said quietly and insecurely, “Are you upset with me?”

Lan WangJi eyes widened in revelation as he heard him say that. He turned to the side and looked at him apologetically. “No,” he said earnestly. “Just a long day”.

“I just thought it might help us to relax. You don’t have to drink if you don’t want to”.

A soft smile appeared on Lan WangJi’s face. He got up and grabbed the jar of Emperor’s Smile. After handing it to Wei WuXian, he said, “Have as much as you want”.

“Lan Zhan,” he said kindly, putting the jar down and placing his hands on Lan WangJi’s shoulders. Wei WuXian’s expression became serious as he touched him. “You are really tense,” he said, squeezing Lan WangJi’s shoulders lightly. Wei WuXian’s face brightened suddenly. “Lan Zhan. I have an idea”. He took Lan WangJi’s hand and dragged him over to the bed. “Lay down on your stomach”.

Lan WangJi looked at him cautiously, his jaw tightened.

Wei WuXian snickered softly, recognizing the misunderstanding. “I meant for a massage”.

A soundless “oh” came from Lan WangJi’s lips, his eyes widening. After a moment, he said, “You do not have to”.

“I know,” Wei WuXian said with a soft grin, “But I’d like to. Is that… okay?”

Lan WangJi looked down at the ground, seeming to be ashamed to ask this of him. He would never admit that he actually wanted this even though he really did. He loved being taken care of by Wei WuXian, but this seemed like a bit much to ask of him. He didn’t want to take advantage of him.

Wei WuXian nodded towards the bed, grinning, and Lan WangJi hesitantly got onto the bed and laid down.

Wei WuXian lovingly smiled as he sat down beside him and started to massage his shoulders. A quiet whimper escaped Lan WangJi’s lips within seconds.

“Sorry,” Wei WuXian said worriedly. “Did that hurt?”

“It is perfect,” Lan WangJi muttered into the mattress. Wei WuXian noticed that his ears were tinged pink, making him smile. Lan WangJi had been a reserved person for as long as they’d known each other. Losing his composure always seemed to be embarrassing for him.

He leaned down and pressed a light kiss to the tip of Lan WangJi’s ear. “It’s okay to make noise, Lan Zhan,” he reassured, kissing him again. “No judgement from me”. Once he heard a muffled “Mn”, he continued.

Small, blissful sighs slipped out of Lan WangJi’s lips every once in a while. His body became putty in Wei WuXian’s hands, slowly feeling more and more relaxed. Wei WuXian’s hands worked their way across Lan WangJi’s back, slowly traveling to his upper arms. Once they got to his wrists, Wei WuXian gently nosed his neck.

“Lan Zhan,” he whispered, placing his hand on the small of Lan WangJi’s back. “Can you sit up?”

As Lan WangJi turned over, weak with gratitude and pleasure, Wei WuXian guided him up to a seated position. They both sat cross-legged, facing each other. He took Lan WangJi’s right hand into both of his own and kissed it tenderly. He massaged his hand gently, rubbing small circles onto it with his thumb. He did the same on his left hand, kissing it softly. The entire time, Lan WangJi gazed at him adoringly.

When Wei WuXian was finished, he gently rotated Lan WangJi’s body so that his feet were dangling off of the edge of the bed. He kneeled down on the floor in front of Lan WangJi to massage his legs. As he slowly moved downward, inch by inch, he pressed delicate kisses on the places that he massaged. Once he got to Lan WangJi’s feet, he kissed his ankle.

“Wei Ying,” he gasped, his eyes wide in shock.

Wei WuXian looked up and smiled softly at him, his eyes sparkling. “You walked a long distance today. Your feet must hurt”.

Lan WangJi’s lips parted, trying to find the right words. His heart was pounding in his chest. “…You… you do not have to”.

Wei WuXian pressed a kiss to the top of his foot and began to rub them. Lan WangJi watched him in disbelief, his eyes wide and shimmering.

After a few moments, Lan WangJi shakily whispered, “I do not deserve you”.

His eyes were glistening as Wei WuXian looked up at him, and then pressed a few more light kisses to his ankle. “You deserve so much more,” Wei WuXian whispered back.

When he had finished massaging his feet, he sat down next to Lan WangJi and stroked his hair a few times. “How are you feeling?” he asked quietly.

Lan WangJi gazed into his eyes unabashedly. “Thank you,” he whispered, grateful and heartfelt.

“Of course,” Wei WuXian replied warmly.

Placing his hand on the back of Wei WuXian’s neck, Lan WangJi pulled him in for a kiss, affectionate and deliberate. When they parted, Lan WangJi looked into his eyes and earnestly repeated, “Thank you”.

Wei Wuxian pressed one more quick peck onto Lan WangJi’s lips before breaking into a huge smile, giggling softly. “I love you, you fuddy-duddy”, he said adoringly.

Lan WangJi laid down on his side and pulled Wei WuXian down with him. He placed one hand on the back of Wei WuXian’s neck and the other on his shoulder blades, pulling him into his chest. “I love you too,” he whispered. After pressing a kiss to the top of Wei WuXian’s head, Lan WangJi asked, “Do you want one? A massage?”

Wei WuXian looked up at him and shook his head, still smiling. “Just you this time. I wanna sleep,” he said, eyelids drooping.

“Mn, yes,” Lan WangJi said blissfully, closing his eyes while aimlessly petting Wei WuXian’s hair.

Wei WuXian nestled into his chest and closed his eyes as well, contentment warming him from within.

#the untamed #cql #lan wangji #lan zhan #wei wuxian #wei ying #wangxian #fanfic #mdzs

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hispeculiartreasure · 5 years

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All We’ve Got is Time - Chapter Eleven | B.B.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

AU: If They’d Survived/Post-War/Window Washer!Bucky Barnes

Rating: All Ages

Word count: 3,681

Chapter 11/24

Warnings: Just me being a baseball nerd.

AN: Thank you for your continued patience as I work on this story! Serving on a jury really threw my writing schedule for a loop. And then all the doubts and fear crept into my mind, but sweet friends helped battle it, per usual. The next chapter should be out by next week, it’s one that’s been in the works for a while and should be a fairly quick write for me.

Let me know what you think! Love you all, sharing this with you has been a delight.

A few notes from a huge baseball nerd right here - the game I wrote about is June 21, 1946, which was actually a Friday night. But they lost the Saturday game in real life and that wouldn’t have been near as fun to write about and I couldn’t see Flannery letting Sixth Floor off of work early for a baseball game. So grant me that one small creative liberty. I even used the box score from that game to help guide the chapter -- Pee Wee Reese is indeed in the Hall of Fame and ball parks all over the country broke attendance records in 1946. If anyone cares, the Dodgers and Cardinals ended up tied that season, so they had an extra series of games to determine who won the Pennant that year; sadly, the Dodgers lost. And the 1941 game that Bucky recounts? Same game as the one Steve hears on the radio when he wakes up in modern day New York in CA:TFA.

Chapter Ten

‘All We’ve Got is Time’ Masterlist

“You’ve honestly never been to a pro ball game before?” Bucky eyes you as he hands over two tickets to the Ebbet’s Field worker who waves you through the turnstiles.

Brooklyn Dodgers fans swarm around the two of you, the number of people surprising. The late June heat is near-stifling and you find yourself grateful for your sundress and hat; sweat had already broken out on Bucky’s brow as he adjusts his suit jacket. At least he had a hat to try to ward off some of the sun. A ballpark wasn’t your first choice of location for a Saturday date but Bucky had been so excited to introduce you to the team and sport he loved, you couldn’t refuse.

“Nope, never. My hometown is pretty small and Dad wasn’t interested.”

Bucky’s hand finds its way into yours before he grins at you. “Well, then. Guess it’s my job to make sure you get The Dodgers Experience. Let’s get you a hot dog.”

The smell of sausage wafts toward you from the concession stand. Each step forward is announced by the distinct crunch of peanut shells beneath your feet. While waiting in line, you turn and catch sight of the field for the first time. Chalk lines indicating foul territory are fresh; you note the players warming up on the field make an extra effort to avoid stepping on the white. The vibrant expanse of green grass spreads much further than you had expected. You couldn’t imagine how anyone managed to hit a small ball far enough to launch out of a park of this size, though you know it was not unusual.

Bucky turns to you in line and states matter-of-factly, “There are three important things you need to know today: we love the Dodgers, hate the Yankees, and are in a bitter rivalry with St. Louis - who we are playing today.”

You hum and muse, “I bet the games against the Yankees are intense since fans are all here in New York.”

“Oh, we don’t play them during the regular season. We’re in different leagues.” Bucky then steps up to the stand, ordering you hot dogs and a bag of peanuts.

Narrowing your eyes, you squint at him dramatically. “That doesn’t make any sense, why do we hate them if we never play them?”

He thanks the attendant and hands over your food, leading the way toward your seats. “It’s the principle of the thing, they take up New York fan real estate. You’re not wrong, though, the World Series games we’ve played against them have been pretty ugly. Plus, they’re from the Bronx. What could be worse?”

Following as he begins to descend giant concrete steps down toward the field you ask, “Isn’t there a third New York baseball team?”

His chuckle floats back up to you. “The Giants are in last place, they’re not a problem.”

“Okay, why are we in a rivalry with St. Louis?”

“Been neck-and-neck all season,” he says as he motions you down the narrow row to your seats close to third base. “People are already saying it’s gonna be either us or them in the World Series.”

“Isn’t it a few months early for that?” you follow his gesture before plopping onto the small chair that was marked the same as your ticket. The wooden seats were painted royal blue to match the team’s jersey colors, offering a bright pop in the stadium. Sitting down made you realize how crowded the seats were; thank goodness the idea of being close to Bucky wasn’t an unpleasant one.

“It’s all about the long game. Four months will fly by and every game counts.” He settles into his seat beside you before digging into his ballpark meal. “Alright, how much do you know about the game?”

You narrow your eyes at your boyfriend. “I’m not dumb, Bucky. I played street ball as a kid. You try to hit the ball with the bat, run the bases, make it to home plate to score points.”

“Runs,” he mumbles around a mouthful. You tilt your head in confusion before you bite into your hot dog as well. “They aren’t points in baseball. You score runs.”

“Ugh,” you roll your eyes. “You’re that kind of fan.”

“A dedicated one? Yes, yes I am.” He offers a smug smile as he chews which only prompts you to slap his shoulder in good nature.

“More like an obnoxious one.”

He takes great offense to that and blurts out, “Baseball has been part of my life for as long as I can remember! Whether it was with my family or just Dad, this field has always been a happy place. It’s one of the few places Dad and I got along.”

You let the weight of that admission settle before you get a laugh out of Bucky when you moan over how great the hot dog tastes, soon after he affectionately slaps at your hand when you reach for the bag of peanuts in his lap.

“That’s who you wanna keep your eye on today,” he points to a player standing between second and third base. The stout man scoops up a ball tossed from the first baseman, easily throwing it back in a laser-straight line. “Pee Wee Reese. Best shortstop in baseball right now.”

“Pee Wee? Please tell me that’s a nickname.”

Bucky nods before continuing, “He’s gonna be in the Hall of Fame one day, I guarantee it. He missed three seasons serving in the Navy. As soon as he stepped on the field again, we all knew we had a shot at the Pennant. A lot of the players served in the war, but things are finally getting back to normal.”

“Sure seems like it.” Again, the dull roar of the crowd milling around the stadium registers with you. You turn in your seat, mentally counting the large number of people just in your section. “There are so many people here, a ton more than I thought there would be.”

“I read something last week that said they’re on track to double their attendance from last year.” His gaze settles across the field, though he’s definitely not paying attention to the activity. “I guess watching baseball doesn’t really feel like a guilty pleasure anymore. People can really enjoy the game again rather than always thinking about the worst thing that could happen.”

Before you can respond, the crowd shuffles to their feet for the national anthem and the reading of the rosters before the teams take the field, Dodgers in their gray and blue home uniforms on the field, the Cardinals in brilliant red and white jerseys at bat. The game begins amid the encouragement of the crowd.

Minutes into the game the Cardinals already scored two runs, to which the Dodgers responded with their own two runs during their share of the inning. The spectators were raucous, booing St. Louis’ success and losing their minds in excitement for their home team. It was easy to get caught up in the fervor of taking every play, every out seriously.

You tried not to be obvious about it, but you couldn’t stop watching Bucky. In an environment that by all means should be chaotic, triggering, and at the very least, bothersome, he couldn’t be more at home. His posture is nonchalant even in the cramped space; an arm tucked across the back of your seat, legs spread comfortably. You couldn’t remember a time in your short relationship when he’d been this chatty.

That’s when it strikes you that Bucky is completely in his element. This crowd, these noises, this environment - they weren’t sudden or jarring to him like they were to you. It was familiar. Homey, even. So far he’d only shared fond memories of the place; but even he could admit that it wasn’t the fanciest park in the world. Your heart swells at the easiness of his tone, the confidence in his speech. He looked truly like himself; like a much-younger, carefree Bucky. You loved it.

As if he can feel your eyes on him, Bucky leans into you further before clearing his throat. “Did I ever tell you about the game Steve and I saw in ‘41?”

At the shaking of your head, he continues. “Five years ago, we were here for a game against Philadelphia. The crowd was restless because the Phillies had just tied up the game. Pete Reiser, our left-fielder,” Bucky points out the outfielder closest to your seats, who was poised on his toes, ready to head in whichever direction the ball headed. “He was up to bat. Now, the Phillies’ pitcher had hit Reiser with a pitch just the month before, almost caused a fight on the field. Anyway, our bases are loaded, and all we’ve got is this 22 year old who is barely out of his rookie season.”

A spark ignites in Bucky’s eyes as he mimics a swing, “Next pitch, Pete puts everything into his swing - sends the ball sailing right over the outfields’ heads. All the runners that were on base scored. Reiser wasn’t the fastest of the bunch but I’m telling you, he was flying like a bat out of hell. His coach on third base waved for him to keep running for home. The outfielder finally gets the ball into the infield, the infield throws the ball home. . . Pete hit the ground for a slide - and he scored.”

Bucky’s animated antics had you smiling, completely enraptured with his story. “An in-the-park grand slam, the first one I had ever seen - hell, the first one almost anyone had ever seen; it hardly ever happens. You should’ve heard it in here, it was at least 10 times louder than it is right now. I thought we were going to bring the stadium down with how loud we were screaming.” A grin takes up his entire countenance before he lets out a laugh. “I remember Steve got into a really bad coughing fit right after, he almost turned blue. He couldn’t breathe for shit, but he sure was noisy.”

You both dissolve into giggles, mostly due to you imagining poor Steve hacking up a lung while Bucky watches on with a laugh. Surely there couldn’t be a much clearer picture of their friendship.

Moments after the Dodgers score yet again, Bucky shouts out to a man walking up and down the stadium stairs, yelling something about food. “Can I get two boxes of Cracker Jacks?” Coins are flipped and boxes are tossed, and before you know it you’re both ripping into your respective packages. “What toy did you get?” he asks as he scrounges to the bottom of his carton.

You pull out a small plastic figurine, brilliantly blue. “How appropriate, a baseball player swinging a bat. What’d you get?”

Bucky finally manages to get his hands on the prize. “A. . . bright orange cowboy? Come on, I wanted a Dodger player too!” Not being able to stop your bark of laughter at his childish whine, you pluck the toy from his fingers and replace it with your own.

“There, you happy?”

“Well now you’re stuck with the dumb cowboy,” he quips, winking gratefully as he pockets the prize before grabbing a handful of the treat. “I owe you one.”

“I think I’ll survive, thanks.” You dig into your own snack, the caramel crunch delightful after your salty meal. “How’re your courses coming along?”

“Tough, but good. Really getting to the meat of it now. Feel like I spend almost all my time studying.”

“I’m proud of you, Bucky.”

He turns from the game, wrinkles around his eyes softening ever-so-slightly. “Thanks, doll.”

“Back at your apartment Steve mentioned you were still washing windows. That true?”

“Mhmm,” he hums noncommittally.

“Why? Is your monthly stipend not enough?”

He only shrugs and says, “It’s familiar.” Focusing on the game again, he joins the crowd in yelling at an umpire who made an apparently questionable call.

And there was that wall of his. A wall you wanted to push against with all your strength, asking every question that ran through your mind. But he clearly didn’t want to talk about it. And it wasn’t your place to force them down either. So you pop another handful of crackerjacks into your mouth and crunch away.

Three outs are reached and all of a sudden the entire audience stands to their feet as the announcer proclaims it’s time for the “Seventh Inning Stretch”.

“Wait,” you say as Bucky stands to his feet. He stares down at you, seeming confused as to why you’re still sitting. “People actually do a seventh inning stretch?”

“Well. . . yeah.”

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s my first game!”

He tries - and fails - to smother a laugh. “Yes, the seventh inning stretch is real. We’ve been sitting for,” he checks his watch, “almost two hours now in a cramped space. Plus we sing songs, it’s fun.”

Your nose wrinkles in suspicion. “That sounds made up.”

“I promise!” another laugh escapes him. “Come on, stretch with me.”

Looking around to make sure Bucky wasn’t trying to publicly humiliate you, you do indeed find almost everyone standing and shuffling around in some fashion. You mirror Bucky as he stretches his arms to the sky while standing on his tiptoes, followed by rolling his shoulders and shifting his weight from foot to foot. As you open your mouth to confront him about his blatant lie of singing, rousing organ music blares over the speakers attached to the balconies.

You almost jump out of your skin, grabbing onto Bucky’s arm tightly. He only offers a smirk as he joins in with an obnoxious amount of gusto to ‘Take Me Out to the Ball Game”.

Except he saw it fitting to add on his own commentary.

“Take me out to the ball game -- you’re welcome, I already did. Take me out with the crowd. Buy me some peanuts and crackerjacks - again, you’re welcome. I don’t care if I never get back - you will get back, don’t worry. Let me root, root, root for the -” and then the entire stadium screams, “DODGERS! If we don’t win it’s a shame - we will.

For it’s ONE! TWO! THREE! strikes you’re out at the oooold baaaaall gaaaame!”

Again, the crowd is cheering and you feel a bit like 30,000 people were playing a joke on you. Was this actually a tradition? Bucky insisted it was.

The next inning is fairly quiet; the majority of the gameplay sticking to home plate in the ongoing duel between pitcher and batter. You settle back into your seat, mind wandering for a moment before you realize that Bucky had fallen silent in the past few minutes. Turning to ask a question, it dies on your lips as you take in his state. His thumb is rubbing against the tips of his other fingers constantly, his foot tapping a steady beat beneath him. You’re fairly certain if he keeps biting his lip like that he’s going to draw blood.

Everything in you wants to ask what’s wrong, what had changed, what you can do to help.

But maybe that’s not what he needs right now.

Instead, you place your hand over his fidgety one, squeezing his fingers tightly. His head swings to you. Releasing his lip from between his teeth he takes a deep breath before making a terrifying statement.

“I, uh. . . wanted to ask you something.”

The bustle of the crowd fades away. The yelling, the taunting, the outraged fans, all fall on deaf ears. In this moment, your focus zeroes in on him - eyes latching onto his icy blue ones, the knit of his brow causing your stomach to flip.

“Okay. Ask away.”

I’ve gotten really good at faking being calm.

“I know this is a lot to ask, but you’ve become very important to me.” He pauses, further prolonging your terror. “Would you wanna meet my family soon?” His thumb is rubbing across the top of your hand, squeezing ever so slightly.

A smile that is equal parts relieved and thrilled makes its way to your face. “You want me to meet your family?”

He casts his eyes down, still playing with your fingers. “If that’s somethin’ you want. I know everyone at once could be overwhelming, maybe instead we could have dinner with just Becca first?”

“Bucky.” Finally looking at you again, you do everything in your power to show him just how sincere you really are. “I would love to come.”

He gives you a disbelieving smile in return, cocking his head as he asks, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod, feeling heat in your cheeks that had nothing to do with the sweltering temperature.

“Okay,” he sighs, lifting his hat with his other hand to run fingers through his hair. “We do dinner together every Sunday night. Dad’ll be out of town on business until Wednesday so it’ll just be us and the girls. That okay?”

“It’s more than okay. I’m really, really excited to meet everyone.”

Neither of you realize that you’d been lost gazing at each other adoringly until the crowd erupts, everyone leaping to their feet as Pee Wee Reese hits the ball, allowing his teammate on third base to score a run. But all Bucky does is bring the hand holding his up to his mouth and places a gentle kiss to your knuckles, eyes locked on yours. His action knocks loose the feelings and memories from your first date all those months ago when he’d done the exact same thing.

The game ends in a Dodgers victory, prompting a whooping cheer and applause from the crowd. As you shuffle out of the park along with the rest of the patrons - like content cattle, Bucky jokes - an ominous boom floats down from the heavens.

“Sounds like it may rain. Let’s stop by my apartment to grab an umbrella before we get you home.”

You’d long since learned that Bucky walking you home after spending time together was a non-negotiable. No matter your arguments the night always ended with Bucky kissing you goodnight on your doorstep and whistling a tune down the street. Could you easily hop on the subway by yourself and be home at a much more efficient time? Yes. Were you upset about the additional time spent with your window washer? Mmm, you really couldn’t say no.

The pair of you climb up the steps to his apartment, his keys jingling in his hand when you hear raised voices coming from behind his front door. Bucky’s eyebrows pull together, looking utterly confused as worry bubbles in your chest.

Framing the door you both lean in, now able to clearly make out Steve’s low and Peggy’s clipped tones.

“Uh-oh,” Bucky mutters. You tilt your head in question. “Something big has been brewing at work. I’m guessing this has something to do with it.”

Initially you’d laughed when Bucky had admitted that Peggy and Steve worked for a lesser-known, semi-covert government agency - SRS? SRR? Something like that. The same people who had been responsible for making Steve into Captain America, is what you’d gleaned from his vague explanation. Connie had actually been right about it and you owed her an apology drink.

You couldn’t help but be grateful that Bucky hadn’t chosen that line of work; you didn’t think you could handle him dealing with the bizarre and unexplainable happenings throughout the world and not worry about his well being every second of every day.

Bucky shifts to turn the doorknob when your hand flies to his, your head shaking vehemently.

“The umbrella is just inside the door, they’ll have no idea I was even here,” he assures. Reluctantly you remove your hand, allowing Bucky to crack the door open. Muffled voices turn into clear words as Peggy and Steve disagree - rather loudly.

“By all means, fly out on a mission tonight if that’s what you really want.” Steve’s sarcasm cuts deep - and you aren’t even on the receiving end.

“God, can you get it through your thick skull that I’m doing what I have to do? That I’ve been given orders?” You could hear the barely-checked rage seething from Peggy as Bucky slides through the narrow opening he’d allowed himself.

Steve scoffs, “Orders? You really wanna tell me - you demanded they let you in on this!”

“Even if I did, what gives you the right to tell me I shouldn’t go? Because they told you ‘no’? Because you don’t think I’m capable of doing this?”

“You know me better than that. Of course I know you’re capable.”

“Then what could it possibly be?”

“When we were overseas, I always had you as backup. You always had me. And I don’t trust any of those fucking idiots to have your back over there.”

“I don’t need to be saved, Steven!”

“That’s not what I’m-”

Bucky appears in the doorway again with the umbrella in tow, though he’s more focused on the ongoing bickering than closing the door.

You’d missed a few lines back and forth by the time Bucky is back at your side, both of you pressing against the door to hear.

Peggy’s voice comes through slightly softer. “You need to trust me when I tell you that in the moment they will do what needs to be done.”

“Can you be sure of that? You know that I respect you, that I know you are worth 10 other agents. But do they?”

Bucky pulls the door closed, breathing deeply. “Well. That’s gonna be fun to hear about when I get home.”

You raise a brow when Bucky offers his arm to help you down the staircase. “You really think he’ll be in the sharing mood?”

“Trust me,” he gives an ungraceful snort, “He’ll probably keep me up all night with his dumb puppy-dog eyes and moping.”

“Steve, moping?” you ask with a giggle.

As you emerge back onto the busy New York street, Bucky unfurls the umbrella against the soft pitter-patter of rain. He gives you a sidelong glance before muttering, “You have no idea.”

Chapter Twelve

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes x you #marvel fanfiction #beka writes #All We've Got is Time #Chapter Eleven

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btsunniemoonie · 5 years

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Headcanon: Jungkook as your boyfriend

Imagine having sweet Jungkookie as your boyfriend

... What would that possibly ensue?