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quintinh43 · 3 months

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Simple Truths Pt. 2 | Quinn Hughes

Summary: Part 2 of simple truths, aka the aftermath of Y/n's confession. [Find Part 1. Here]

Pairings: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Some angst, depictions of anxiety, smut (Very fade to black)

Notes: Part twoooooo!! I'm excited!! Hope yall enjoy. Love Soph.

Wc: 2.2k

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Everything sounded muted, like his head was under water. It feels like his feet are cemented to the floor. He can't move. His ears are ringing, with the sound of your voice.

I have loved you for six years. I haveloved you for six years. I have lovedyou for six years. I have loved you for sixyears. Ihavelovedyouforsixyears.

He wants to say I love you too, Y/n, with every fiber of my being. But for some reason, the space where you were standing is empty, your absence is mocking. Gone, gone gonegonego-

Every overwhelming feeling that he came to you with last night floods his system like a tidal wave. He failed you. Quinn's lungs are being sqeezed. There is not enough room for air in his chest. All he wants to do is collapse into the safety of your arms and have you breathe the air back into his lungs.

But you're gone. His safe haven has run away, and it's his fault. Quinn counts to three and breathes. He steels himself. Now is not the time for panicking. He needs to find you right fucking now.

In his brief catatonic state, he recalls the sound of the apartment door opening and closing. With that knowledge, he reaches for his phone and calls your contact. On the first ring, he hears your phone buzz beside your abandoned dinner.

"Fuck" he murmers, the panic swelling in his chest. It's cold, and dark, and you're outside all alone with no way for anyone to reach you.

Quinn slips on his shoes and jacket, as quickly as he can with shaking hands, and then he's running. Taking the stairs two at a time because he needs to be with you right now.

The cool air eases the tension in his lungs a bit, and he feels his senses coming back to him. He's sprinting. In the direction of the park where you like to run, and somehow in his bones, he knows that's where you'll be.

And then, it's raining. It starts as a drop here and there against his face as he runs. Within minutes, the light drizzle becomes a full-on downpour. It's as if the sly knows he's in pain. All Quinn can find himself thinking is that he doesn't remember if you took a jacket when you left.

He makes it to the park, clothes soaked complearly through and teeth chattering of their own accord. The thick downpour makes it hard to see more than a few feet infront of him. But as he walks through the park, he catches the outline of your silhouette standing in the sand and staring out at the ocean.

He's sprinting again. And then he's hovering in front of you, heartbreaking as he takes in your shaking form. Raindrops and tears mix on your cheeks, and your breath hitches from crying. He can't tell if you're shaking from the rain or the sobbing. Maybe it's both.

Before you can take off again, he grabs your wrist, pulling you into his chest, wrapping an arm around you to keep you there. His eyes search yours desperately, for something other than hurt.

"I love you too" he murmers, brushing the soft pad of his thumb across your cheek, wiping away tears and raindrops alike.

"You love me?" Your voice is small, so unsure, unwilling to latch onto the hope of his words lest you heard him wrong. He nods, "with every fiber of my soul Y/n, I love you so so much"

A sob racks your chest, and this time it's relief.

"Im gonna kiss you now" he says softly. Then he's pressing his lips against yours. Its not like the movies. There is no fireworks in your stomach. His lips are cold and wet from the rain, but somehow it's better than anything you could've imagined.

Kissing Quinn feels like coming home.

It's comfort after a long day at work. It's cooking dinner together in the evenings. It's cheering him on as he absolutely dominates a game. It's running together in the mornings, and it's sinking into eachothers arms at night.

"Y/n" his lips move against yours, not wanting to pull away just yet "you are my person. You're the person I want to come home to every night, the person In my corner, cheering me on. You make me better. And if it wasn't for you I wouldn't be who I am today."

He kisses the corner of your mouth before he continues "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't tell you I loved you sooner. I never wanted to make you feel that way" his voice is weighed down with vulnerability.

"It's ok, Quinn," you murmur, brushing his wet hair out of his face. You aren't sure if that's the right response, but it's all you have. Because truthfully, everything will be ok. Because now you have Quinn. "It's ok, everything is ok." You press a kiss to his cheek."You make everything ok."

He wants to more, but the words won't come. He takes your hand, placing it against his chest. "Can you feel the love I have for you?" He asks, quiet, desperate. His words are failing him, but he needs you to know.

And in that moment, with your hand on his chest, it's as if he's opened his heart and is pouring all his love into you. It floods your body with enough warmth to chase away the chill of the rain. You nod, hands caressing his cheeks, and you pull him into another kiss that conveys what words can not.

The two of you are so lost in each other, that when thunder booms, you jump. Teeth clanging against eachother. Quinn hisses, touching his bleeding lip.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," you mumble, cheeks burning with embarrassment as you gently swipe the blood away from his lip. We wrap's a hand around your wrist with a throaty chuckle, placing a kiss to your palm.

"Let's get home," he smiles. He doesn't ask 'my place or yours' because as long as you're together, you are home.

He unzips his jacket and holds it over your heads, pulling you into his side. The walk back to your apartment is silent, but it's comfortable. The flashes of lighting dance across Quinns face in the most alluring way.

"Why do you suppose it took so long for us to confess our love for each other?" You ask quietly. You don't expect him to have an actual answer, but you want to hear his thoughts.

Quinn shrugs. "Everything happens for a reason. Who knows why it took so long. Maybe it's so we could have a super romantic and epic story at our wedding about I chased you into the rain to confessed my undying love for you" he smiles, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You snort, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Yeah, the only thing that could make the story more epic and romatic is if one of us got hit by a car or something."

Quinns glare is so full of heat that it scares you a little."Y/n, don't even joke about that,"

"Sorry" you mutter sheepishly, tapping your fingers against his arm.

The walk back to your apartment continues to be uneventful thank God , unless you count the doorman glaring at the two of you for dripping all over the apartment lobby and elevator.

You pat your pockets, looking for your keys. Unfortunately, you didn’t think to bring in your distressed takeoff. "I don't have keys," you mutter, looking at Quinn with hope that he had his.

Thankfully, Quinn had left his keys in his jacket pocket from earlier. He unlocks the door, ushering you in front of him. Your stomach rumbles as you lay eyes on the beautiful dinner you and Quinn had made. "Let's shower and then eat," you say, dragging him towards the bathroom.

"Wait- i- togeather?" He whispers, a dusting of pink across his cheeks as you turn on the shower and start to pull your shirt over your head.

"Quintin, if you think I'm letting you out of arms reach for the rest of the night, you are very, very incorrect," you say, tossing your shirt in your laundry basket.

"Are you sure, baby? I don't wanna make you uncomfortable." he says softly, reaching for you. His hands dance over your shivering shoulders. Your skin is so so cold.

"Quinn," you throw your arms around his neck, dragging him down for a kiss, "You could never make me uncomfortable. Now get naked baby," you say, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

Quinn grins at you and kisses you one more time before stripping off his wet clothes and tossing them alongside yours in the laundry bin. His eyes rake over your body appreciatively as you grab his hand and drag him into the shower.

Even though this is new territory for you both, it feels natural. It's not awkward, nither of you feel self-conscious. You sigh as the warm water hits your shoulders, and your teeth finally stop chattering.

"Let me show you how much I love you," Quinn whispers against your shoulder.

Your stomach flutters at his offer, "as much as I would love that, our first time is not gonna be in the shower," you say, planting a small kiss on his collarbone. Quinn gives you a soft smile and nods. A promise glinting in his stormy eyes.

You beg Quinn to let you wash his hair. And it's the best thing he's experienced. Decidedly, he is never washing his own hair again. And when he takes the loofah from your hands and scrubs you down with such care, decidedly you are never scrubbing yourself down again.

You change both changes into sweats and hoodies, still cold from being in the rain for quite some time. "I'm starved, let's eat."

Quinn pops the steak in the oven to reheat it, while you toss the veggies in a frying pan. Once the food is ready, the two of you curl up on the couch, in favour of sitting at the table. True to your words you are not willing to let him more than an arms length distance away from you. And nither is he.

Once the two of you have finished eating, you load the plates into the dishwashe together and then go back to the couch. Quinn flops down and opens his arms towards you. You flop down ontop of him with a grin, laying your head on his chest. His hands dip under your (his) hoodie and trace patterns into your skin.

"Do you still want me to move in with you?" You ask, playing with the hair at the base of his neck.

"Of course baby, even more so now." He hums pressing a kiss to top of your head, "tomorrow is just morning practice so if its ok with you, I'll bribe some of the guys into helping me move your stuff?"

You scrunch your nose. "I don't wanna break my lease. It's done in June."

"I'll pay it off"

"Quinn, I can't let y-"

He pulls back to look at you, "No listen, before we got together I basically lived at your place half the time anyways. At this point we are both gonna be paying rent and living in one apartment. Let me just pay off your lease." There's a pleading look in his eyes. "Please" he whispers, tracing his knuckles over your cheek gently.

You sigh in defeat, his reasoning makes sense, but you'll still feel bad if pays off your lease. "I'll think about it."

"That's all I need, baby." he grins, pulling you in for a kiss. Ever since the two have gotten back to the apartment, you have pulled each other for kisses at every chance possible.

You turn over, straddling his lap, and lean down to kiss him. Your hands dip under his hoodie, warm against his abs. "Are we doing this now?" He asks breathlessly as you trail kisses down his jaw.

"If you want to" you murmur against his skin.

"Yes, yes I do want to" he groans out, as you grind your hips against his. His hands find their way under the waistband of your sweats, and he grips your hips almost bruisingly, controlling the movements of your hips.

"Bedroom," you murmer, attaching your lips to his once again as he stands up, cradling you in his arms and carries you to the bedroom. He tosses you on the bed, and in the time that you are apart from each other, you both hurriedly strip off your clothing, tossing it aside.

"You're so beautiful," he murmers, crawling between your legs. He trails kisses along your jaw, down your neck and to your chest, while his hand creeps up your thigh.

"Show me how much you love me," you whisper, locking your legs around his hips. Quinn nods fervently. He kneels between your the alter of your legs and worships the temple that is your body, like he is the greatest sinner who walked the earth.

You fall asleep tangled in eachothers arms, and in the morning, when Quinn tries to convice you to skip your run in favour of a different type of cardio, you agree heartily as you grind against him. Quinn laughs as you drag the sheets over your heads and kiss him like he is air, and you are drowning.

And now that Quinn is yours, your heart feels full. Your home feels stable, and your smile is unbreakable. The future doesn't look so scary with Quinn by your side.

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Taglist: @coldheartedmar @luviesjac

#qh43 #quinn hughes #nhl imagine #quinn hughes x reader #nhl x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #hughes brothers #hockey imagine #captain quinn #vancover canucks #GUYS THE CANUCKS WON!!#whoop whoop #loving you is as easy as abc 123

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br1ghtestlight · 9 months

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everybody has to listen to me ramble abt my ocs relationship NOW these guys right here ⬇️⬇️

How did they first meet?

they were locked in a bedroom together in a foreign country with a bunch of strangers. totally normal meetcute :)

What was their first impression of each other?

two was probably like that guy is pretty annoying. too much of an anxious pushover and too optimistic and positive given the circumstances >:(

sunshine thought two was a HUGE grumpy grouch (he was but i dont blame him) and he was like i can cheer him up we can be friends :D <33 really he just thought two looked upset and he needed to focus his anxiety and worry onto someone other than himself in this situation so he latched onto two. like an octopus

Did any of their friends or family want them to get together?

neither of them really has family or friends outside of their collective hivemind thing so not really?? within their little collective im sure a few people thought "yeah they'd probably be cute together and they have feelings for each other" but they don't usually get involved with each other's relationships or personal lives unless it majorly impacts the collective which it doesnt by the time they actually get together romantically. they've got enough going on in their own lives to be worried abt everybody else's personal relationship drama!!!!!

Who felt romantic feelings first?

sunshine :)

Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

not really?? two didnt even realize he HAD feelings until sunshine asked him to be his boyfriend and sunshine was never actively against being in a relationship with two. he was worried abt embarrassing himself or two not liking him in that way of course but he KNEW he liked two and he's never been great at hiding that kind of thing

What would their lives be like if they had never met?

worse lmao. two would probably end up dead after getting into a prison fight or whatever he didnt have anything to live for at that point. and sunshine would just be lonely and sad without meaningful connections in his life, always being a pushover and never challenging himself

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

before they met two would be like uh okay thats weird. does it have to be him??? and sunshine would be like i can fix him i can make him better :) (in the end two does most of the heavy lifting in their relationship)

AFTER they knew each other they'd both be like yeah i guess that does make sense. given the circumstances

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

sunshine asked two out and was like TOTALLY panicking not wanting two to think he was weird or embarrassing or being creepy he wanted everything to be perfect. and two was like sure whatever u dont need to Freak out abt this..... i already like you

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

never had an official first date!!!! maybe they hung out at the beach or something idk

What was their first kiss like?

after they agree to be a couple sunshine kisses two and two is like did u know. that was my first kiss >:D and sunshine is like OHH MY GOD IF I HAD KNOWN I WOULD HAVE TRIED A LITTLE HARDER LMAO

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

sunshine was two's first everything!!! he'd never been in a relationship or thought abt romance before (never came up in his life + he's probably demiromantic) so it was all new to him. two wasn't any of sunshine's firsts he's had a few boyfriends before

What’s their height difference? Age difference?

they're about the same height and uhh i dont have their birthdays on me right now but i think they're maybe 3-4 years apart (with sunshine being older)

What’s their relationship with each other’s families? Do they share a friend group?

neither of them has a relationship with their family (sunshine is fully no contact and two just doesn't Talk to his family very often for a few different reasons) but i think if two's sister was alive she would absolutely ADORE sunshine she always wanted two to have a supportive healthy relationship in his life. and yes they have the same friends lmao

Who takes the lead in social situations?

they're both quite introverted but usually sunshine!!! he feels more social pressure to be polite and introduce himself to people

Who gets jealous easier?

neither of them is particularly jealous bcuz they KNOW that their relationship is strong and exactly how they feel about each other in a very close and intimate way but i honestly think sunshine would be a little bit more jealous?? just bcuz two is less outwardly expressive towards him and sometimes his brain needs validation or he goes crazy and thinks everybody hates him

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear?

100% two at EVERY opportunity and sunshine always thinks its hilarious but tells him to stop anyway bcuz they'll get in trouble

Who said “I love you” first?

sunshine just bcuz two doesn't really think about those things?? sunshine is pretty loving and affectionate and two has been socially isolated for a lot of his life so he isnt used to saying those things

What are their primary love languages?

for sunshine i would say words of affirmation and uh maybe physical touch and gifts?? for two probably acts of service but i could be forgetting something. honestly i probably have this written down somewhere

Who uses cheesy pick-up lines?

sunshine ALWAYS does typical cheesy romance things like pick-up lines and buying two flowers for valentines day and two will always make fun of him for it even tho he secretly loves it

Who initiates kisses?

they both do equally i would imagine?? maybe two slightly more bcuz he's less likely to use his words to show affection

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

NOT THAT OFTEN TBH they're not against it or anything but they just arent the type of couple who need to constantly be kissing or flirting at every opportunity and they'd probably be private with their romance (or as private as they could hope to be with seven other people around)

Who’s more protective?

two is more protective just bcuz he KNOWS sunshine won't stand up for himself or say no to somebody so he feels like he has to remind him to do that or intervene vs sunshine who knows that two can take care of himself

Who’s better at comforting the other?

sunshine has always been better with emotions and comforting ppl he's very good at it

What are their favorite things to do together?

i feel like they'd really enjoy watching bad/cheesy movies from the 70s and 80s and making fun of how bad they are or like 2000s high school dramas that are just completely ridiculous. they bond over being a little bit bitchy together <3 and two is glad that sunshine feels safe to do that around him bcuz it is a Big step for him to express negativity

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

they don't use typical couples nicknames like babe/sweetheart/honey but two will occasionally call sunshine nicknames like sun/sunny/shiney/little miss sunshine etc and my very favorite is "the literal embodiment of the sun" which two always uses when he's being a little bit cheeky @ sunshine or teasing him

"oh yeah we've got THE LITERAL EMBODIMENT OF THE SUN over here telling us how we're supposed to do things 🙄 thanks mr perfect"

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

im sure i have a full playlist somewhere?? but monster from adventure time is very them

Who remembers the little things?

sunshine definitely does but i think two would remember things like how sunshine likes his coffee etc bcuz he wants to take care of his boyfriend, and he knows sunshine's never really had anyone who cared about those things before :/

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

verbal :) also much easier for them for a variety of reasons bcuz they can always talk, but they cant always be together

If they get married, who proposes?

sunshine would propose sorry two 😭😭 he loves sunshine so much but he doesn't even think about those things tbh he's very in-the-moment he doesn't consider relationship milestones in the same way. he's just happy to be with sunshine without even considering marriage

What’s the wedding like? Who attends?

they would probably have a small courthouse wedding and invite Obviously all their friends/the collective and their families if they so choose. i also think sunshine could convince two to invite some of his extended family and maybe his parents if they haven't died by that point. nobody from sunshine's family is invited

How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like?

i always imagined they'd eventually have one daughter!!! she would be a tube of sunscreen just like two's sister and she'd probably be pretty athletic AND optimistic really the biggest supporter of anybody who needs it :) very physically draining to parent i would assume bcuz she's always running around and playing sports

Who’s the stricter parent?

two would be stricter but i wouldn't call sunshine like a totally laid back fun loving parent or anything. two is just a bit more intimidating but their kid is never EVER scared of him he's just...... intense

Who worries the most?

sunshine will always ALWAYS be the biggest worrier but honestly they're both huge worry warts when it comes to ppl they care about. rainbow and jayden have to step in to stop them from becoming helicopter parents

Who kills the bugs in the house?

THEY DO NOT KILL BUGS IN THEIR HOUSE two will always offer but sunshine gets upset and says that they have to take the bugs outside in a little cup or container even if its a really annoying fly and mosquito. two respects sunshine's rules even when he isnt home he will spend hours trying to catch a spider instead of just killing it

Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

hmm i think sunshine would bcuz two feels like the type of guy who is up at Five In The Morning Not A Minute Later and sunshine convinces him to come back to bed and cuddle

Who’s the better cook?

two doesnt have a lot of experience cooking (bcuz prison) so sunshine is better at first but i think once two is given time to relearn old cultural recipes he'd be a really good cook too. sunshine is the type of guy to make pb&j sandwiches and Juice for dinner and two is out here preparing three course traditional togan meals with freshly prepared fish (u can guess whose cooking their daughter likes more)

#txt #object ocs #LOOOK AT THEM I LOVE THEM OKAY!!!!!#i would do this for blue/rainbow/jayden but that would take like an entire hour and im tired lmao

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twslug · 9 months

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gonna answer all the q's of that one post i rbed like two days ago or something, answers below break if u gaf (really not groundbreaking info)

answers start here:

that i don't have to do a lot of things (both academically and in my personal life) that i don't want to do but pressure myself to do anyway. a lot of things really and truly Do Not matter

isolating myself due to anxiety or aimless frustration that i don't have an outlet for,,, big fan of Being locked in a room for hours

fav self care is skin care/workout and good music, i'm listening to my girly pop playlist post-workout (current song is toxic by nico rosberg aka britney bitch, so just envision these mentally ill answers with fergie and britney and katy perry and rihanna in the background)

most vivid memory is definitely not a visual memory, i've got some memory loss so i don't remember much of anything about my life. HOWEVER i have an echoic memory, so i really latch onto peoples' voices. i looove f1 with all the different accents and languages (lowkey linguistics hpfx) so i can have drivers narrating my thoughts. charles's voice is super imprinted on my brain because he has a very unique (imo) speech cadence and choice of wording in english, same for max (both verstappen and fewtrell), lando, and other random celebrities or youtubers or irls or characters etc etc.

would like to recieve some emotional/social support, was kind of pushed to the side because my brother is more extroverted, better at school, had asthma and ocd and several food allergies, but i was left to my own devices because i was much quieter and in the background.

have always wanted to be able to take academics into my own hands, as per the last answer, i am very quiet irl and have a hard time asking for help so i spend a lot of schooling teaching myself, so i've mastered the ability to put my head down and succeed by myself but at what cost yknow, i cant even speak to professors or other students

apathy. chronic, neverending, borderline infectious apathy. im very stubborn so if my brain has become apathetic about something then you will never get me to care about it, even if i myself want to

rly gets to me when people are mean to people i like, for an f1 example, idk i like a lot of the drivers but seeing people be blatantly mean to them (criticism and affectionate jabs are Fine) really makes me feel upset and/or almost ill, i get rly anxious for some reason like i'm the one being insulted

no i don't cry. not really (back to the playlist, family ties by baby keem just came on TURN THIS SHIT UUUPPP) anyway i dont really cry, lots of apathy, forced to be the quiet kid etc etc

have done lots of improvement on my body image and having confidence in what i say/believe, esecially in a family setting, lots of my problems are from childhood and being overly quiet/shy, so i rly struggle(d) with speaking my mind but now Nobody has anything on me, my moms dad was a county sheriff and i openly rip on cops in front of her like fuccckkk off u made me like this

was very mentally ill at the time (was also during covid, so i was really mentally unwell), and they had their own problems, ended up having a rly toxic relationship. neither of us had redeeming qualities, said some things we shouldn't have, like mutual punching bags

wish i could connect to my new roommates for this upcoming college/university semester, again: very bad at talking to people, maybe it will be better when we all live together (copium)

POLITICS TIME: i get irrationally angry at people who know nothing about the US south, i live here and it pisses me off when most political "hot takes" about american southern conservatism are boiled down to classism and/or racism, drives me fucking insane

i only like affectionate teasing if i know you rly well or the jab isnt something im insecure about, but im a bit of a hypocrite because i playfully insult people all the time, good rule of thumb i follow is just never go for appearance, all makes u look like a dick

prefer to be numb, because even though its one of the worst things to ever happen to my Cranium, i have a really easy time letting things go and not being upset over things i should probably be upset about. its kind of peaceful when u come to terms with it

talent ive overlooked/lost is ,,,,,,, i actually dont know, i think ive honed the things im really good at, i was really good at being a stage manager in school theatre (was assistant director and stage manager for les mis in 10th grade, bitches love my organizational skills), maybe i pick that up again somewhere

call me seb vettel the way i really liked dark blue in the but switched to loving bright bright #ff0000 red, like the brightest u can get... good shit... Also british racing green forever and always

my stuffed animals :-) no harm in keeping them, i suppose

well this ones easy because i dont like talking about infodumping about the innerworkings of my Psyche but here we are, i feel a bit bothersome, hence this entire post being hidden under a page break ..

LAST ONE (current song playing is dancing in the moonlight by king harvest, for those of u following along athome), i believe people think im much kinder than i think i am. if that makes sense. i know the things ive said to other people, about other people, about myself, etc, and i just feel this kind of imposter syndrome whenever people say they think im rly kind or fun to be around because i know deep down i am miserable and evil and nasty... And dont even hit me w that "bad people dont care that theyre bad so u caring makes u not bad" no no no, thats the thing, i dont care . i am Evil... ebil,,,,,, Deomn evil

#SORRY FOR TALKING SO MUCH #twslug.txt #okay goodnight to everyone who read Any of this :-)#and to the rest of u... gn i guess.... wtvr #not f1

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dwn024 · 1 year

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same anon i totally understand how you feel my social anxiety and self esteem issues are the main reason my im alone like i can’t blame anybody but myself. for the first time like ever i actually initiated a conversation with someone and they ended up asking me to hang out but after that happened and we went out and i assumed had somewhat of a good time a demon in my brain convinced me that they thought i was cringe and creepy and weird and lame with absolutely no reason to actually think that other than them wanting to hang out with their other friends which. normal people do. but since i’m absolutely Not Normal something in my brain can’t comprehend anything other than everyone in the world hating me and not wanting me around. and 99% of the time whenever ppl try to talk to me and i even attempt to hold a conversation i can like physically feel them being turned off by the things i’m saying and it’s just a constant of idk what i’m doing and it really really feels like there’s no way that i won’t be alone for the rest of my life unless someone just decides to pick me up one day and take me home like some stray kitten in a wet cardboard box but. NONETHELESS we cannot give up life was not meant to be lived alone we’ll break through this. sorry for exploding your inbox

handshake handshake i actually thinking about it don't think i have Literally Ever In My Entire Life initiated interaction with anybody before ever thank you for the support i do need to be somebody's stray kitten in a wet cardboard box though that is literally the only way anything will ever work that is how my ex latched onto me which we all know how that went but most of that really is just my fault for being inherently distant as a person or whatever thank you though

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shurisneakers · 3 years

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if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!

a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry. also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj

warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence

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

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist

Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.

“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”

“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”

“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.

“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”

“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”

“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”

Ah, fuck.

“Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.

“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”

“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”

Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.

“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”

“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.

____

“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.

“What could I possibly get you?”

“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.

“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”

“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."

“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.

“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”

He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.

“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically. “Top tier comedian right there.”

“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”

“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.

“It’s none of your busi-”

“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”

His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.

“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.

“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.

“I’m literally asking you.”

“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.

“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.

“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.

“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”

He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”

“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”

“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”

“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”

“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.

“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”

“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”

“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.

“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.

“I want this to get over before this evening.”

“What time’s your date?”

“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.

“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up.

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.

“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.

Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.

“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”

“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”

He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.

“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”

He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.

“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.

His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.

It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.

The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.

He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.

He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.

He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.

“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ‘no’, gesturing for them to take it.

They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.

He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.

He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.

Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.

He was sure he picked it up.

He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.

This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.

“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”

“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.

See? Good luck.

He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.

He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.

He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.

He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.

He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.

He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.

“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”

He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.

He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.

He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.

He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.

His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.

Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.

The box.

He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.

Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.

He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.

Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.

He fucking trips again.

“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”

He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.

Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.

No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.

He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.

There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.

There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.

There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.

The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.

Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.

The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.

He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.

He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.

“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”

Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.

The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.

It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.

The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.

Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.

The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.

He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.

Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.

Motherfu-

He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.

“James?”

“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”

“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.

“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."

“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.

“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.

“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”

“You must be really dehydrated."

Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”

He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.

“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”

He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.

“I, uh,-”

“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.

“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.

His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.

However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.

He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.

“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.

“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”

He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.

“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”

“She mentioned that you like movies.” He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”

It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.

He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.

But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.

He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.

“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”

Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”

He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.

He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.

He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.

Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.

It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.

Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.

He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.

He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.

Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.

The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.

The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?

His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.

The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.

When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.

There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.

He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.

But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.

The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.

“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”

When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-

“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.

There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.

The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.

The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.

In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.

It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?

There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.

It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.

But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.

He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.

The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.

His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.

“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”

He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”

“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.

“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.

“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”

“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”

“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”

“Just fix it.”

“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”

Huh?

“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”

He’s confused.

“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”

“The shoelaces?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”

He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.

“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”

“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”

He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”

“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”

“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”

He nods briskly.

“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.

“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.

“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”

“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?

“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.

Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.

“Wait here a second.”

You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.

“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."

He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.

You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”

You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.

“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”

“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”

“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”

“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”

“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.

He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

There’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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loving-all-for-loki · 3 years

Text

You Belong Pt. 2

Loki x reader

Word count: 2098

Warnings: swearing, SMUT, unprotected sex (YOU KNOW BETTER)

A/N: I don’t know how many of you actually wanted a sequel, but one person did so I’m making it. I think some of you are realizing what kind of an author I am. I’ll pretty much do anything. This is my first time writing smut so please go easy on me 🥺 Go read part 1 if you haven’t already!

It’s been two days since you went on a date with Loki. He took you out to a nice dinner then a walk before taking you back to your apartment. It was a really nice night and had Loki come in with you, you think it would be even better, but alas he didn’t. He was a gentleman and left as soon as you got in. Sitting at your desk like usual, Loki walks in with a cup of coffee and sets it down by you with a smile.

“Good morning, darling.”

“Hi, Loki.”

Your coworkers gather in a corner and start whispering about you again, knowing they probably heard about your date with the god.

“I really enjoyed our date the other day and was wondering if you wanted to do it again sometime?”

“Yeah,, I uh… I would love that.”

Loki’s smile is so wide, it goes all across his face.

“Wonderful. I’m glad you enjoyed it. I wanted to apologize again about Rogers.”

“Loki, it isn’t your fault. He was right in a way-”

“No, remember what we talked about? You belong.”

“I’m not a hero. I’m just a receptionist.”

Loki rolls his eyes and sighs.

“You’re impossible. I have to go, but I’ll stop by later.”

He makes his way towards the elevator and to the Avenger’s floors. The whole team is sitting around the living are and laughing, having a good time. Loki walks up to them and grabs Steve by the collar and drags him down the hall. The team gets up to him but Loki quickly disappears.

“We need to talk about Y/N.” Loki says, throwing Steve on the floor of the training room.

“What about it? I already said what-”

“Exactly, you have said what you needed to and it’s stupid. If you ever yell or make her cry every again, I swear to the nine realms, I will end you.”

Steve stands there stunned as Loki disappears again, right in front of you. He scares you so bad that you fall out of your seat on the floor in which he helps you to get up from.

“Loki, what the-”

“So sorry, darling,” he laughs, “I talked to Steve and he won’t give you trouble, now for that second date.”

“It’s been five minutes how did you-”

“Doesn’t matter. Tonight at six? I’ll pick you up from your place this time?”

“I- uh yeah, I mean I guess.”

“Perfect.”

And once again, time passes so quick you don’t even notice until the knocking on the door wakes you up. You check the clock and notice the time, realizing it’s Loki, and cursing yourself under your breath. Loki knocks on your door again and the sound starts to give you anxiety. You gather yourself and answer the door to see Loki in a full black suit and slicked hair. He hides a boquet of flowers behind himself as he takes you in… dressed in sweats. “I fell asleep. I’m so sorry.”

Loki laughs and steps inside the apartment.

“It’s okay, darling. We can stay in if you want.”

“Are you sure because based on your appearance, it looks like you had something planned.”

“Darling, any time spent with you makes me happy. Do not fret. I did get these for you on the way here.”

He hands you the bouquet of white lilies.

“I love them, thank you.”

“They reminded me of you. Cute, small, pretty.”

You can feel the heat in your cheeks and you’re aware that he can probably see your blush.

“What do you want to eat? I can cook something.”

“No please don’t. Let me order something at least, to make up for the dinner.” He gives you a kind smile before the two of you relax on the couch together and order food. You settle on watching some movies together as you down a whole lot of Chinese food.

“This is amazing,” Loki chuckles, “This is still from Midgard?”

“Yes, it is,” you laugh, “It’s from China, it’s a different country.”

“Like New York?”

“No, no. New York is a state inside of America, which is a country.”

“I understand. Well, they make great food.”

“You and a million midgardians agree.”

He smiles and sets his food down, putting his arm around your waist on the couch. You snuggle into him, leaning your head into the crook of his neck. It’s hard to focus on the movie when Loki is so close to you and smells so good. You can feel your hands getting sweaty and your body getting hot. Loki’s eyes don’t even leave the T.V, oblivious to how he’s affecting you.

“Are you okay?” He looks down at you to see you squirming a little, trying to get more comfortable.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say out of breath.

He gives you a side eye with furrowed eyebrows, not believing you, but returning his attention to the TV. You can feel your heart racing and pounding inside of you, not allowing you to relax. Loki’s fingers play with the hem of your sweatpants which doesn’t help the butterflied in your stomach. You didn’t feel like this last night when you had dinner, thinking that the table being between you two helped with keeping the feeling at bay. With him this close to you now, you can’t calm down.

“Seriously, darling. You look flushed.”

Loki has adjusted himself to look at you a little better. There’s concern on his face.

“I’m just a bit warm.”

“Oh? We can turn the AC up for you.”

“No, it’s fine, really.”

You’re too nervous to say anything about your butterflies. Loki keeps staring at you which makes you even more uncomfortable. As you turn to look at him again, you see a small smirk on his face.

“Yes?” You ask.

“I don’t know why, but seeing you this flustered is cute.”

Loki lifts your chin and locks lips with you. His lips are so soft and tender as he kisses you. You’re stunned at first but you slowly lean into the kiss, setting your hand on his chest as he places his on your jaw, holding your head close to him. It must be five minutes before you stop, taking a moment to take a breath. You two look in each other's eyes before Loki grabs your waist and pulls you into his lap.

His hands wander as you begin to make out again. You run your hands through his hair and he holds you tight, moving your waist to rub against his crotch. His grip on your ass sends shivers down your spine, making you squirm on Loki more. Loki pulls back to moan before picking you up.

Loki lays you down on the couch and hovers over you, still kissing you deeply. He keeps one hand by your head as his other wanders your body. Your body leans into his hand as he squeezes your breast. His touch is magnetic, you don’t want it to leave you. Then he wanders lower, his touch barely laying on your clit. You whine, wanting him to touch you but he looks at you with a devilish smirk.

“Use your words, baby girl. What do you want?”

“T-touch me, Loki.”

“Good enough for now, but so you know, it’s my King now.”

“Yes, my King.”

Loki rubs your clit through your pants and watches as your face curls. He looks at you in pride, loving the way he can make you melt. Kissing the side of your neck, he leaves hickeys all the way down before putting his hand down your pants, covering your bare folds. You whimper, making Loki chuckle.

“My sweet girl. So needy. Loki starts to take off his suit, removing his hand from you and making you whine. You try to take off your shirt as he does but have trouble, so Loki assists you. He admires your body as he removes the piece of fabric, his mouth watering every second.

“Such a beautiful creature.”

Loki latches his mouth on your nipple, lightly biting and sucking as he works on your pants. You let out a moan as he bites you, the feeling being unremarkable. Then a sudden tingle sparks on your mound. It’s warm and soft on you, massaging your clit slowly. You look at Loki to see him smirking, realizing it’s his magic.

He lets go off your breast and yanks your sweatpants down to your ankles, leaving his head shadowing over your folds. He licks a stripe over you, making you drop your head back in pleasure, moaning as he keeps going. You grab his raven locks as he clings onto your clit sucking and nibbling. He smiles against you at the sound of you moaning his name over and over again.

Loki adds a finger into you without stopping his magic. You get overwhelmed and start sweating from the pressure building inside of you. He goes faster without giving you any kind of break, urging you into an orgasm. The feeling in your stomach tightens until you hit your limit, letting go and cuming on his mouth.

“Such a dirty girl,” he coos, moving back over you, “You act all shy, but really you’re just a little whore.”

“Im.. your whore, my King.”

“Mhmm, I like the sound of that.”

Loki dips his head to kiss you again, nipping on your bottom lip, as he takes off his pants. You admire his body as he leans up. He’s so nicely toned, his abs on full display. The veins in his arms are popping out as he grips your hips, pulling you into him more. Your eyes wander down to his hands taking his large cock out of his underwear. His large member springs out, impressing you with the size. Loki chuckles at your face filled with worry.

“Don’t worry, darling. It won’t hurt.”

He leans down to kiss you again, holding your body to his as he guides his member into you. Going slowly, you feel yourself stretch around him as he moves. You gasp at the pressure filling you deeply. You sink your nails into his bare back, encouraging him to go faster.

Loki speeds up with thrusting into you. Every inch of him is heaven. Even the way he breathes and grunts into your ear sounds like angels singing. He whispers dirty comments are he thrusts hard, building more pressure inside of you.

“Come on, my dirty girl. You take my cock so well.”

You feel yourself get more wet with each word, dripping as he slides in and out of you. The coil in your stomach begins to be too much.

“You’re so close, baby. I want you to cum all over my godly cock.”

His words send you over the edge as you let go around him. You scratch down his back, leaving marks and small trails down his skin. He groans at the feeling, going faster. There’s no relief as you let go because you feel the tightness in your stomach return immediately. Loki doesn’t slow down but in fact flips you over and grabs your wrists, pining them together.

He slides in to you and pulls your wrists back. Loki pounds into you relentlessly, one hand holding you together and one pulling your waist back every time he slams back into you. You scream at the pressure and pain as he thrusts mercilessly and slaps your ass. Loki smiles at the sound and feels you losing your control over him, loving every sound out of your mouth.

“One more, little girl. Give me one more.”

You feel Loki’s thrusts becoming more sloppy, signaling his closeness. He becomes ruthless, exchanging his speed for roughness, going hard and slow. He reaches around your waist and rubs your clit, forcing you to drop on your stomach, your head smashed into the couch cushions. It becomes unbearable as you cum around him for the third time, your body covered in sweat and you out of breath. At the feeling of you clenching around him, Loki lets go and cums inside you, thrusting one last hard time. His grip on your waist leaves bruises.

Pulling out, Loki leans back to catch his breath, admiring you lying in a mess on the couch in front of him. You’re panting heavily with your eyes clenched shut. He smiles at his work. You turn around onto your back, looking up at the flushed god. He leans down to kiss you gently, smiling against your lips.

“I’m glad you slept in,” he chuckles.

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki x reader smut #loki smut #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki fan fiction #loki fluff #marvel x reader #marvel x reader smut #lovingallforloki

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kieraelieson · 3 years

Text

Logic Still Needs Comfort

A fic for @im-a-creepy-cookie as a part of @sanderssidesgiftxchange! I did your touch-starved Logan prompt!

Warnings: detailed sensory issues, joking mention of death

Logan disliked being touched.

It had been known for years. They all knew it. Surprise hugs or claps on the shoulder startled him unpleasantly and even made him upset sometimes. Touching his hand to get his attention made him jump and frown. He himself had compared the experience to having a bug or an animal suddenly landing on him.

And so Roman and Patton learned not to touch him aside from the occasional celebratory high-five. Which was fine. Everyone was fine, and happy.

And then came Virgil. And accepting anxiety as a valuable part of Thomas. Which changed things.

••^*^••

“Hey, um… L?”

Logan turned to see Virgil fidgeting but staring at him with an intent look. “Yes?”

“So, um, well you know I told you how Remus is practically a leech, and there wasn’t any getting away from it, but I’m not saying Patton isn’t great! But just Roman is… Roman, and just, but Patton really is great but I kinda don’t want to get turned into a teddy bear, and you’re all calm, and I’m, well, I’m sort of missing the calm and….” Virgil looked down and huffed out an annoyed sigh. “Oh, this is gonna come out awkward any way I say it. Can I sit next to you? I just wanna play on my phone and maybe stick my legs over your lap or something.”

Logan cocked his head to the side just slightly. “You wish to stick your legs over my lap while sitting next to me? That seems like it would involve terrible posture.”

Virgil gave a little breath of a laugh. “Any way I sit involves bad posture.”

“Actually, occasionally when you sit you replicate what is sometimes called the ‘primal squat’ which is reported to be excellent for your posture.”

Virgil gave him a lopsided grin. “Ok, you got me there. Maybe. But anyway, would you mind? It’s totally fine if you don’t want to, I’ll head back to my room.”

Logan considered it carefully. It was true that he did not enjoy touch. But this seemed as if it would be relatively calm, and would not require much, if any, reciprocation on his part. “I do not ‘mind’,” he said, utilizing Virgil’s turn of phrase.

He was currently standing, reading a book he had taken from the bookshelf he was standing in front of, and had not yet decided whether to stay with this book or choose another. He quickly pulled out the other two he’d been considering, and tucked all three books under his arm before seating himself on a couch.

It was a pleasant place, the memory library. Calm and quiet, with almost a heaviness to the air that Logan found enjoyable in a way. It was also rather dim, however, at least in this area, where the memories were older, and Logan found it necessary to summon a side table with a lamp on it so that he would have suitable light for reading.

He’d momentarily forgotten about Virgil until the couch cushion dipped beside him. Virgil pulled off his shoes and glanced at Logan.

“You really don’t mind? I mean, I know it’s kind of invasive to your space. You don’t have to say yes.”

Logan nodded. “I am not opposed.”

Virgil very tentatively put one foot up on Logan’s lap, leaning back against the arm of the couch. Logan felt again that sudden unpleasant ‘something touching me’ feeling, but it passed surprisingly quickly, and by the time Virgil had fully settled himself, laying on his back with his knees up over Logan’s lap and his feet on the other side of Logan, the feeling was gone entirely.

Logan propped his book against Virgil’s knees and began to read.

He was a little surprised, when Patton called for dinner, to find that they had been there for close to two hours, and that the unpleasant feeling had never returned. Instead he was feeling warm, and comfortable, more than he had in quite a while. He attributed this to the couch. And perhaps the warmth was a slight raising of Thomas’s core temperature, due to stress at having Anxiety so close to the old memories. Perhaps they ought to have sat down somewhere a little further away.

Regardless, he was about to comment, as they got up, at how pleasant the experience had been. Except that as soon as they both stood up, he found he was suddenly and extremely unpleasantly cold. This alarmed him, and he left without discussing anything with Virgil, concerned that the warmth and sudden cold was a sign of sickness, perhaps only his own but perhaps a symptom that Thomas was sick as well.

He went straight to the miniature control center he’d set up in one corner of his room, pulling up all of Thomas’s vital signs as well as a recording of where he’d gone that day. But everything was normal.

The cold seemed to be fading somewhat, though it was leaving a concerning ache behind. And it seemed to be concentrated on his thighs and forearms, of all places.

Logan looked through his list of sicknesses, sensible and nonsensical, that he had somehow contracted over his life, and found nothing similar. Still, this must be a sickness of some kind. Most likely a nonsensical one, as he hadn’t noted similar symptoms before. Perhaps he would discover some absurd idiom Thomas had latched onto that was causing him to experience physical repercussions. Something similar to ‘brain freeze’ perhaps.

A soft knock at his door caught Logan’s attention.

“Yes?”

“Logan?” Patton’s voice asked. “Are you alright? Virgil told me what happened. He didn’t realize how much you don’t like being touched, and I think he’d like to apologize, but he’s really worried that you’re upset with him.”

“What—“ Logan had left rather abruptly, and without expressing to Virgil that he’d enjoyed their encounter. It was very possible, with Virgil’s anxiety, that he had misinterpreted Logan’s abrupt departure. “Ah. I see.” He waved a hand to open his door. “I am not in the least upset at Virgil. There seems to be a misunderstanding.”

“Oh, good.” Patton said, concern all over his face. “But you should probably tell Virgil that, and there’s some dinner saved for you yet.”

Logan nodded, the ache in his forearms and thighs rather distracting. “Thank you, Patton.” And then it hit him. If it really were an odd turn of phrase Thomas had attached to, Patton would certainly know it. “Have you happened to notice any interesting phrases recently?”

Patton frowned in confusion, indicating that Logan had changed the subject too rapidly for Patton to keep up. But then he grinned a little. “So today, I saw a baguette in a cage at the zoo!”

And then it was Logan’s turn to be confused for a moment, before he realized. “Ah, I didn’t mean a joke-“

“It was bread in captivity!” Patton smiled brightly, nearly laughing at his own joke.

“Yes, thank you, Patton,” Logan said, allowing the tiniest bit of an amused smile to show.

Even that slight encouragement made Patton beam. “Well, I told Roman that I would watch Disney with him tonight, so I’ll have to go, but don’t forget to talk with Virgil before you eat, and don’t forget to eat either!”

“I won’t forget,” Logan promised, a softer smile showing.

But as soon as Patton left he clapped a hand over his mouth. Why was he so… easily swayed? He prided himself on keeping a straight face, and yet now he’d smiled at Patton’s pun! What was wrong with him?

And now, with Patton leaving the room, it was as if the heat had been sapped. He was again very uncomfortable, aching and cold and he didn’t understand why. Was he perhaps experiencing some strange and extreme form of separation anxiety? It had set in both times as another side had left, though in different ways. But he didn’t feel anxious.

It was all incredibly strange.

But it seemed that Virgil was under a rather upsetting misconception. It could wait. He would speak with Virgil first and then look into this strange sickness further.

Logan crossed the hallway to knock on Virgil’s door.

The door opened almost immediately, Virgil looking as though he’d been waiting on someone to knock, and that Logan had not been the one he’d been expecting, based on the wide eyes and generally startled appearance.

“L, I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have asked if I’d known, I wouldn’t have wanted to make you uncomfortable—“

“Virgil, I assure you, I was perfectly comfortable. I would have expressed discomfort if I needed to.”

Virgil blinked, and the deep black of his eyeshadow faded somewhat. “You aren’t mad?”

“Not at all. I enjoyed the calm company you provided. I left abruptly upon discovering symptoms that indicate possible sickness.”

“Oh.” Virgil was silent a moment, gaze flickering away from Logan as he processed. “Wait, sick? Who’s sick?”

“I may be, though it is odd, and perhaps not a sickness at all.”

“Well, what is it? What’s going on? Are you ok? Is it contagious?”

“I do not know. I am experiencing a strange cold, and aching.”

Virgil’s eyebrows creased in concern. “That doesn’t sound good.”

Logan nodded seriously. “That is why I left, trying to discover what it could be.”

Virgil nodded in an encouraging, ‘go on’ kind of way.

“I haven’t found anything yet, but Patton informed me of the misunderstanding between us and reminded me to eat dinner. I intend to do more research afterwards.”

Virgil nodded. “I could rubber duck for you, if you want. Maybe I could help a bit.”

Logan stared, trying to remember what the phrase was meant to convey before revealing his confusion. He was certain he had it on a flash card somewhere, but he’d left them in his room.

Virgil rather obviously quashed an amused smile. “You tell me what happened, and then we see if we can figure it out together. Repeating the details can help you connect them better sometimes.”

“Ah. Yes. That does seem useful. Thank you.”

Virgil gave him a lopsided grin, pulling up his hood and closing his door behind himself. “So when did you first notice the symptoms?”

Logan explained his symptoms and research to Virgil as they went downstairs and sat down at the table.

“And I still have very little of an idea of why,” Logan admitted. “I believe it possible that it’s another of those idioms that we sometimes experience physically.”

Virgil nodded very slowly. “I actually… might have an idea. I have an experiment I’d like to try, but if I explain it fully it’ll bias you and it probably won’t work.”

“Go ahead,” Logan said, opening the Tupperware container of spaghetti. “What is your experiment?”

Virgil reached one hand across the table. “While you’re eating, give me one hand.”

Logan considered, reaching out to hold Virgil’s hand. “Does this have something to do with checking pulse? You would be able to do that more easily with my wrist than my hand.”

Virgil shook his head. “Just eat, and when you’re done we’ll see how it goes.”

Logan frowned slightly. “Do you believe this has something to do with how recently I’ve eaten? Or that it could be influenced by the focus needed to do something with only one hand?”

Virgil chuckled. “I’ll explain once you’ve eaten.”

Logan was far too curious to wait patiently, and ate quickly, pushing away a not-quite empty container. “What is it?”

“Are you feeling warm again?”

Logan took a moment to assess, and realized that yes. He was feeling warmer. The ache as well was completely gone. “I am. Is it the food?”

Virgil offered a rather sad smile. “Alright, now let go of my hand and tell me what you feel then.”

Logan let go, and almost immediately the cold rushed back. He frowned. “But why? Why do I suddenly seem to have my physical temperature tied to the proximity of you and the other sides?”

His hand ached, and he held Virgil’s again, relieved, but utterly confused when the unpleasant feelings faded.

“I’ve had something like this,” Virgil said. “But not quite the same as yours, based on what Patton was saying. I think you’re probably touch starved.”

Logan considered this silently.

“But I don’t like being touched.”

Virgil gave his hand a slight squeeze. “You don’t seem to mind this.”

Logan nodded, very slowly. “You’re right. I… I don’t mind this at all.”

“I think we should talk to the others,” Virgil suggested.

Logan nodded slowly. “I suppose so.”

••^*^••

“You’re what?!” Patton practically wailed, throwing himself at Logan in a hug.

Immediately Logan felt like he wanted to crawl out his skin. This was miserable. In no way what he wanted. It didn’t feel right at all. It was like a whole hive of insects were buzzing just below his skin.

He pushed Patton off of him, more roughly than he would have intended. “Get off!”

Patton stopped immediately, staring in confusion and hurt.

Logan couldn’t handle it. He was freezing, and his skin was crawling, and his mind seemed filled with static. It was terrible. He just couldn’t.

He barely understood the words directed at him from the other sides as he sank out.

He locked his door and shuddered, hands repeatedly making and releasing fists. He shuddered again, trying to dislodge the crawling feeling. It didn’t leave.

He’d been right, he didn’t like touch. Not at all.

He got into the shower, running the water hot and scrubbing the disgusting feeling away. It helped warm him up as well, which felt way better. He bundled into his bed, pulling the weighted blanket that had been a gift from Virgil over himself.

A while later, finally calm and comfortable, he conjured a note to stick on the door.

I am not upset, but please leave me alone.

••^*^••

Logan spent the next several days figuratively buried in research. He investigated touch starvation as well as touch aversion, and a host of other possible clues to his situation.

He also gradually became more uncomfortable, holed up in his room.

He came to the conclusion that he did, in fact, have a kind of touch starvation, awakened to a roaring hunger by that pleasant afternoon sitting with Virgil.

But he also certainly had an aversion to being touched in certain ways. And he suspected, looking into it more, that surprise was a large factor, as well as the amount of him that was being touched, and perhaps the way in which he was touched.

He was basing this largely on his own reactions to Virgil’s method of touching, as compared to Patton’s or Roman’s, since he highly doubted that it was something inherent in them that he was averse to.

Finally his findings were all put together into one detailed, though as of yet hypothetical, presentation. Armed with this, and a determination not to touch anyone until he’d presented his findings, he opened the door to his room.

As he’d suspected, there was something attached to his door that made a noise as it was opened, and he was soon nearly mobbed with the other sides. They didn’t touch, or come too near, or say anything, but all came very quickly to stare at him, worry in every gaze.

He raised his folder. “I have a presentation. Please gather in the living room.”

It didn’t take long. Not at all.

Logan opened the folder and set it on top of the tv, so that the images could be seen.

“I believe Virgil was correct in suggesting that I have a degree of touch starvation.” He flipped through a few pages, supporting this statement with both facts and personal experiences.

He paused. This was the part that was likely to hurt feelings. Even he knew it, and he wasn’t usually adept at understanding feelings. But it was necessary.

“However, in satisfying this hunger, I will need to be ‘picky’. I have boundaries outlined in this section, and I need to keep them rigidly. This will mean that I will not be open to surprise touch, and likely not to hugs either. I would like to have support from each of you, support in accordance with what I’m capable of handling.”

“Absolutely, Logan,” Patton said. “I’d really like to be able to help you in the right way.”

Both Roman and Virgil nodded very solemnly and enthusiastically.

Logan smiled, more moved by this expression of support than he’d expected to be. “Thank you, Patton. And thank you two as well. I will be very much in need of your assistance.”

He cleared his throat, more in an attempt to gather himself together than any really obstruction. “I’ve laid out a number of methods of touch that I believe would be helpful to me, and arranged them by likelihood of success, and also divided by which I believe each of you would be more inclined to enjoy yourselves.”

••^*^••

Logan was seated on his bed, organizing and updating his flashcards, when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

“Hey,” Roman said, peeking in rather shyly. “Um, can we try one of those things now? I brought something to do.”

Logan considered, a slight curl of worry in his stomach. “Yes. I believe now would be a good time.”

Roman fully entered the room. “So I can sit behind you, and do my thing, and I won’t bother you while you do yours.”

Logan smiled slightly. “That sounds pleasant.”

Roman grinned, a bit of pride evident in his expression. He sat behind Logan on the bed, facing away from him, and leaned back slightly, so that they were each leaning against the other.

For about thirty seconds, Logan was uncomfortable, but gradually, warmth spread out through his body, and his mind was able to return its focus to his flashcards, and soon he found he was quite comfortable.

“Hey, specs, what do you call a little tiny shovel? Like the ones for kids. Or I guess not for kids, or not all the time.”

“That would be called a trowel, though perhaps a more recognizable, less correct term would be a spade.”

“Thanks!”

Logan could hear the smile in Roman’s voice, and smiled himself. This was genuinely pleasant.

Even after he had finished with his flashcards, Logan didn’t move. He just soaked in the wonderful warmth, answering whatever questions Roman had, and occasionally listening as Roman gushed about a particular sentence or paragraph he was especially proud of writing.

••^*^••

Logan walked beside Patton, enjoying the false nature of the imagination. He was familiar with much of the flora and fauna, even a decent portion of those entirely invented within Thomas’s mind. And Patton seemed to enjoy Logan’s rambling as much as Logan enjoyed the rambling.

A hand bumped gently against his, and Logan hesitated a moment, before linking his pinky finger with Patton’s.

Patton’s smile grew even brighter. “And you were saying the seeds of that tree are special? What kind of special are they?”

Logan smiled proudly, launching into an explanation. Patton swung their hands back and forth gently as they walked, and Logan felt something within him fill up. He felt pleasantly full, as if there was a cup inside him that had been long empty, and was now trickling over the rim, full enough to even spill.

••^*^••

Logan and Virgil laid out on the roof, looking up at the night sky. They were side by side, with Logan’s left leg tangled up with Virgil’s right.

It was calm. And warm. And peaceful.

In a reverse of the usual pattern, Virgil was the one telling the myth, this time of people who had lifted up the sky.

Logan felt himself drifting off, more comfortable than he could remember being in a very long time. He was figuratively floating on soft, warm clouds. Drifting into a summer night. He was safe, and content. Comfortable.

••^*^••

“Patton,” Logan said slowly.

“Hmm?”

“I would like to attempt a hug.”

Patton turned all his attention to Logan. “You sure?”

Logan nodded. “Yes. Just— slowly. And gently.”

Patton nodded solemnly, reaching his arms out.

Logan slowly leaned into the embrace, and Patton gently wrapped his arms around him.

And it wasn’t bad.

Logan hugged Patton, squeezing lightly before letting go. “Thank you.”

Patton’s eyes were all shimmery, and his smile wobbled. “You’re welcome, Logan!”

••^*^••

The door burst open dramatically and Roman ran in, flopping over the arm of the couch and letting out an even more dramatic groan. Then he peeked his eyes open, and moved to just as dramatically flop onto Logan’s lap.

“I fought dragons.” He announced, his voice a whisper as if he were inches away from death.

Logan, for once, was hit with a burst of mischievousness, and patted Roman’s face in an intentionally awkward way. “I will be sure to mention it at your funeral. I’m sure you’ve written an extensive ballad, and I’ll force Virgil to sing it in your honor.”

Roman had a sudden grin before resuming his ‘dying of exhaustion and probably wounds’ act. “Make sure you do,” he croaked out. “And have Patton put flowers in my casket.”

“Of course.”

Roman went limp, closing his eyes and sticking his tongue out.

“Patton!” Logan called. “We’re going to have to put on a funeral.”

“A what?!”

••^*^••

Logan leaned against Virgil’s side, his empty cup of coffee set beside him, as the second movie began to wrap up.

“If they start another movie, you can lay in my lap and go to sleep,” Virgil offered quietly.

Logan, who despite the coffee was beginning to nod, hummed an affirmative.

He was woken up a good deal later by a lack of sound, and found that they’d just finished what might have been the third, but could’ve been the fourth or fifth movie of the night. He was laying on a pillow in Virgil’s lap, and his legs were up in Roman’s lap. And judging by Patton’s smile, pictures had been taken.

“We’re finishing up now,” Patton whispered. “And setting up to sleep out here. Do you want to stay in here or go to your own room?”

Logan yawned. “It will be far better for my posture to go to my own room… but if you were to turn on a sound machine… I would not be opposed to remaining here.”

Soon, something between white noise and rain lulled him back to sleep.

••^*^••

They all found a marked improvement, both in Logan’s mood and even in Thomas’s clarity of mind, as they continued experimenting with touch.

It was discovered that Roman, while not starved, was also touch-hungry, and was practically a giant dog in that he would accept any and all kinds of petting.

And as Logan regulated, he found he was even more ready to give touch than to receive it. Roman flopping onto him after ‘terrible and glorious battles’ became a regular occurrence, often ending with Roman falling asleep, Logan gently scritching at his scalp.

Walks with Patton became something they both greatly enjoyed and looked forward to. Sometimes they could only link pinkies, sometimes holding hands, sometimes even walking arm in arm.

And Virgil was always ready to do something of his own near Logan, a limb draped over him or pressed up against him.

Logan found himself repeatedly thinking back to that one afternoon in the memory library, incredibly grateful that Virgil had asked, and that he had said yes. He could see so much in his life that was better now.

And he was really, truly happy.

#sanders sides #my own work #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #platonic analogical #gift fic

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theyscreamjade · 3 years

Note

Denki, Kirishma, bakugo x reader who has PTSD and BPD, and when extremely overwhelmed starts crying and frantically shaking her head. *I hope you dont mind this. I wish people would do more Mental health ones. Thank you if you do reply*

PTSD & BPD

I don’t mind writing this. As I said, I can write some dark shit when I feel like it. I hope you like honey and they should, I agree with you. I’d honestly love to touch on touchy subjects such as this because it needs to be talked about more because it relates to so many people who thinks that they’re the only ones who dealt with things like this.

Disclaimer: Traumatic Events, Sexual assault, and lastly cursing. If this triggers you, please skip. Read at your own risk.

———————————————————————————————————————

Denki Kaminari

* Your fingers tapped against your thighs while anxiously wishing to go back to the apartment quickly.

* The mere speaking about water just made you crazy. Your hands shook a bit while Denki drove you two towards the beach to hang out with the old gang on such a hot day.

* The image of your hands fighting to get back to the surface to take in a deep gasp of air.

* It happened so suddenly. You were just sitting on your floaters while relaxing underneath the hot sun.

* That’s when you slipped right through the rather large holes and began to sink to the bottom.

* You were underneath the deep blue ocean, reaching out for someone to see you. You began to kick and you discovered that your foot was caught within the ocean's rocks.

* Your vision became blurry as fear rushed through your veins. A small five-year-old, fighting to survive. The last image you can see that’ll haunt you is your guardian’s cry for your name when your vision blacked out.

* Denki’s hand touching your thigh made you jump as he looked at you worried while you two stopped at a stoplight.

* “Sunshine? You okay?” He’d ask before shook his worries away. “I’m fine! I’m okay!” You lied before the light turned green. The moment your feet touched the beach's sandy surface, you stared at it as the foamy waves crashed.

* You could feel your hands shaking but you hid it as well as you could, acting as normally as possible.

* That was until Denki picked you up and made a bolt to the water. Your fear made your hair raise as your hands gripped his wrists tightly. “No, No, No, NO! NO! NO!” You screamed, closing your eyes as tears streamed down your cheeks. You latched onto his body tightly, shaking like a cold animal as your thoughts continued to flash that last image in your head.

* You were so terrified, you never realized Denki was taking you back to the car and sat with you in the backseat. He wouldn’t ask anything but rub your back, trying to calm you down.

* Your body was bundled in his towel while he held onto you tightly, your face in his sandy chest, he didn’t care that he could have a sandy backseat.

* When you confide to him of the drowning you almost experience when you were younger, he’d then ask if you wanted to leave. You should’ve told him and he would’ve never brought you out here.

* Denki is the type to do anything to make sure you’re okay. After seeing you, nearly have a panic attack and go apeshit because of the water, he’ll make sure to keep you away.

* When you two have a mission by the water or you’re on a boat, he’ll keep you as distracted as possible. He’ll hold your hand, take selfies with you, distract you with his phone, or anything. I mean the possibilities are endless with him.

* But one thing is for sure, he’ll never want to see you make that face ever again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Katsuki Bakugo

* Your PTSD is a tad bit traumatic for most but is very common. You had a fear of thunderstorms and dark clouds.

* There’s a good reason though. You once lived in a tropical area where it was prone to receive storms such as hurricanes, terrible tornadoes, and thunderstorms. The numbers were endless.

* You were ten when you were in your room when the glass shattered from your window as the wind blew harshly into you. You saw your mother snatch you and pulled you into towards her and rushed you into the hallway.

* Thunder boomed, the house you called home shook, your dog whined loudly in your lap. You begged your mother to make it stop while she cried.

* Your father was nowhere to be found since he was working that night. No warning was sent to warn you all of the storm. Nothing at all.

* You could feel the water rush to your crossed legs as the roof was snatched up. You screamed as the runaway train sound the tornado created blew past you guys.

* Tears streamed down while you held onto your mother tightly. The aftermath was godawful.

* Let’s say...you found your father that morning...hanging from a tree.

* You sat in your apartment alone, trying to relax while you pace behind the couch. You just wanted to relax. The extremely dark clouds gave you the immediate anxiety you didn’t want to have. You tried to move your focus to something else but nothing worked.

* You heard the click of a lock as your boyfriend walked in and looked at you confused. “Why in the hell are you pacing?” He questioned. “Dumbass!”

* “IM NOT IN THE MOOD, BAKUGO!” You snapped in anger before stopping. “I-I-I’m sorry..” you apologized quickly as a sudden lightning strike made you jump.

* When the large boom of thunder followed, your hands gripped your hair to your scalp. “No, No, No, No, No, No, No” you repeated, your heart racing as your mind imagined you back at your home. You were shaking and crying before Bakugo rushed to you and hugged you tightly. His hands would free your hair as he held you in his arms.

* You wouldn’t have to tell him because he knows the feeling all too well. You think even as an adult, Bakugo’s over that attack from that slime monster?

* It fucking haunts him and he has PTSD from it just as well from the All Might thing too. I see Bakugo as the type to either find a solution to help you.

* Since thunder makes you panic, he’ll buy soundproof headphones you only wear when there’s a storm. They make the sound of thunder disappear especially when you play music.

* He’ll either make you wear sunglasses that’ll block the flash or just buy blackout curtains to block the flashing.

* He honestly wishes that he could fight the storm and tell it to chill the fuck out, but he can’t.

* Just know he’s not giving up until you’re comfortable again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eijiro Kirishima

* My dear, you’ve lived a fucked up life. To put it in nicer words, Your father was a bastard who should be burned at the stake because he’s done fucked up shit to you that no man should ever.

* Yep, I’m going down this road because I want to see more of traumatic shit like this.

* All because of what your father did, it left you terrified of men. You’re gorgeous and your body developed early when you were younger.

* It didn’t give the man the right to do what he did and to get away with it as well. You spoke up about it, of course, just..did a few years too late.

* The officers told you because you waited so late, they couldn’t prove the things your father did to you.

* So you hid this memory in your mind, never to be resurfaced again. You refused ever bring it up ever again. Never again.

* Well...you and Kirishima started dating and it changed a few things. He’s a touchy guy because he would’ve never expected to catch the attention of a babe like you.

* It was a mere movie but who would’ve thought it’ll make you flip the way you did. You and he were watching a movie at his apartment. You were walking back with a bowl of popcorn and turned off the lights.

* “There you are!” Kirishima said happily before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his lap. The bowl collapsed from your hands before you pried yourself and stood up quickly, looking down at him shocked.

* This would worry him and he stands up as you stepped backward, shaking as your breathing increased. “Baby? You okay?” He’d ask you while holding his hand to you as you slapped his hand away. “N-N-No! Please! No! No!” You cried, accidentally falling over the low coffee table.

* You immediately curl into a ball and sob, holding your body together as he stared in hurt and confusion.

* He wouldn’t touch you because he’s afraid that he’s hurt you or something, but he’s going to check and make sure you didn’t get hurt when you tumbled backward.

* When you finally tell him what your father did. He apologizes quickly and begs for your forgiveness, he would’ve never done it if you told him. The last thing he’d ever want to do is to be reminded of that bastard like your father.

* In all honesty, If Kirishima sees your sperm donor, He may fuck him up or get someone to because he deserves to have the same thing happened to him in prison like how he violated you.

* Just know Kiri’s gonna love you and help you in every way he can. He’ll never want to see you curled ever again. And whenever you’re comfortable, he’s going to love you in over a thousand ways.

#my hero academia #bnha fanfiction #my hero academy fanfiction #my hero academia fanfiction #i hope you like this #my hero academia scenarios #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #bnha eijiro kirishima #bnha eijirou #bnha angst #bakugo angst #eijirou kirishima headcanons #denki kaminari x reader #denki headcanons #denki angst #kirishima angst

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wickedscribbles · 3 years

Text

Come What May, Chapter Four

Masterlist

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Original Female Character (Second Person Perspective)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: brief description of panic attack -- there is a warning in the body of the chapter as well! Don’t worry.

Tags: main character has social anxiety, teaching a class with Obi-Wan, sexual tension, lightsaber fights, Obi-Wan continues with the cute pet names, some teacher/student fantasizing, Obi-Wan is still a massive tease, fucking in a supply closet

Word Count: 6.9 K

It's infuriating to know that Obi-Wan is back in the Temple, but that he's too busy to see you. Between Council meetings that drag for hours, more private gatherings with members of the Senate to discuss what the next move in the war should be, and allowing the poor man time to rest, Obi-Wan has been home for more than a week. You've barely caught more than a glimpse of him. Still, it's nice to have him present in your mind.

You know he's still in the Temple every day you wake up to a glowing good morning, love, his happiness to be near you radiating like sunshine even if you haven't had the time to see one another. It’s not safe to talk back and forth, but sometimes if one of you is particularly bored, you’ll trade a few sentences.

Master Yoda is on a roll today. Send help. Starting to think backwards I am.

Pity you I do.

Very funny, petal.

Then he’d be gone again, fading out before anyone got suspicious. The sudden absence hurts, but not as much as having him gone from the Temple entirely. At least here, you can feel him. You know he's safe.

In contrast to Obi-Wan's breakneck schedule, you've had almost nothing to do. It's full-on spring on Coruscant now, the warmth driving cold and flu season away. You have no colicky little ones in the creche to fuss over, no sick Padawans. The most you might see are some old Masters who need their aching bones tended to, or a quick training accident that needs mended. You haven't shipped out to a war-stricken planet in a while, either. It's strange to have downtime. Strange and frustrating, knowing Obi-Wan is nearby but still not close enough. Having a spare moment between all the illness and injuries is a good thing, and you're grateful. If only you weren't so restless.

-----

It’s rare -- almost impossible -- that you get to take the entire day off, but that’s exactly what you’ve been told to do. The medbay sits empty except for a couple of droids, instructed to deep clean while there are no patients. Even Master Allie appears to be taking it easy; her Force is calm as she bids you goodbye. She insists that if anyone turns up in need of healing, she and Barriss Offee would be on call to take care of it. You bow to her and leave, excited about what possibilities this could open up.

The first thing you do is check for Obi-Wan. Of course, he’s preoccupied. You duck out after feeling the level of concentration he’s exerting at something-or-other; it’s mixed with frustration and you don’t want to distract him. Like you, he’s getting more and more impatient with how busy the Council has kept him. You try not to let yourself be disappointed; it would be too lucky for both of you to be free at the same time, on the same day. All you can do is hope that you can find the time to be together before he has to leave again.

With your schedule more open than ever, you head to your favorite courtyard. The least you can do is soak up some Coruscanti sunshine. But only a quarter of an hour passes before you’re interrupted by the sound of footsteps on cobblestones, headed fast in your direction. Around the corner, scattering the kiros birds, comes a youngling you recognize. It's Gil Graven, a spitfire of a youngling you see in the medbay far more than others his age. He drives his minders crazy with his recklessness, but he’s a sweetheart. Even if you swear you have him admitted once a month for sprains and cuts.

Even now he trips and topples, would have earned the Halls of Healing their first visitor of the day, if you hadn't righted him with a quick pull of the Force.

"Easy, Gil. Where's the fire?" You smile, watching the kid tug his too-large tunic back onto his shoulder.

"Fire? There's no fire, miss. I was looking for you!"

His eyes go round with confusion, cheeks red from running. You forgot how literal younglings could be.

"I meant -- wait, looking for me? What's wrong? Who's hurt?"

Kriff. You should've known taking a day off would backfire. Something had happened in the fifteen minutes you’d had your butt parked in the grass. You get to your feet, gripping the pouch of emergency bacta on your belt.

"Oh! It's not a healer thing." Gil bounces in place, thinking. "But you're needed in the training halls! And they told me to find you quick!"

"Gil, calm down for a minute, okay?" The training halls? Why on Ryloth were you wanted there? "Who told you?"

He shrugs, unhelpful. “I dunno. I’ve never met ‘im before. But he told me to go get the Knight from the Healing Halls ‘cause no one’s been admitted today, and you’d be able to help him.”

You’re still not sure if this is a healer problem, or a matter of simple confusion. Gil’s got a touch of what healers like to call bouncy brain. Sweet as he is, he talks at lightspeed and can’t seem to concentrate if he isn’t moving. There’s a real possibility that he’s got something mixed up here. Still, it’s not as if you’re doing anything else. The Force must have decided that you need to keep busy.

You decide to see what he’s going on about. “Okay, Gil. Lead the way.”

-----

Lingering outside one of the larger training rooms is Master Ki-Adi-Mundi, who smiles when he spots Gil leading you over by the hand.

“There you are!” He crouches down to greet your youngling escort, clapping him on the shoulder. “Thank you, Gil, I am so glad you found our friend. You may go now.”

Gil bows to him, his Force blooming under the praise. “Yes, Master.” You both watch as he takes off the way he came, speeding back up to a run.

“No running!” You scold after him. He barely slows before he’s out of sight.

Master Ki-Adi-Mundi chuckles. “That one reminds me of our own Anakin Skywalker.”

You nod, seeing the resemblance. Anakin is five years your junior, but he was still notorious when you were Padawans. Always turning up where he shouldn’t have been, Obi-Wan always three steps behind. Nothing’s changed, Obi-Wan often tells you.

“Master,” you say, hearing the low buzz of voices coming from the room you’re standing in front of. “Gil said you needed me? Is someone injured?”

“Hm? Oh! Oh stars, no.” Master Ki-Adi shakes his head, looking sheepish. “But I was rather hoping you’d be able to help me with a little problem I’ve run into.”

“Of course.” Okay, now I'm suspicious.

Ki-Adi tugs the end of his beard. “My squadron is being called out to fight on very short notice, I’m afraid. I was meant to teach today’s lesson, and was lucky enough to find a substitute for myself on short notice. But my instruction partner is leaving as well, and I haven’t yet found them a suitable replacement.”

“O-oh,” you hear yourself squeak.

Karabast. He wants you to teach? Your stomach drops somewhere near your ankles. This is so far from what you were expecting when Gil led you here. You can’t do this. You can’t.

Ki-Adi must feel your panic, because he continues quickly. “Don’t fret, my dear! My substitute is a very capable instructor. Follow his lead, and everything will be fine.” He claps a hand on your shoulder, turning away.

“Thank you again -- and now I really must be off.” And with that, he’s gone, walking at a brisk pace down the corridor.

CW starts here!

You’re so anxious that you feel like you’re about to be sick. You’ve done many things on behalf of the Council, often without knowing what they even were, but this? You can’t do this. There’s too many people. You lean against the doorframe, struggling for breath.

What’s the matter? Obi-Wan’s concern comes rushing in, and you’re grateful you have him to latch onto, to focus on.

Someone's asked a favor of me -- and I don’t think I can do it. You’re gripping your saber hilt too tight, the metal biting into your hand.

Please try to calm down. Find somewhere to sit and meditate, collect yourself --

Your anxiety is affecting him, making his own thoughts race even if he doesn’t know the cause. This sometimes happens. You’ve jolted awake in the middle of the night more than once with nightmares that weren’t your own, or had thoughts that didn’t make sense ‘til you realized they weren’t yours.

I can’t.

Why not?

You don’t reply. You have to go in there. Master Ki-Adi said that he was already late. Remembering your breathing, you focus on a count of four in through your nose, then hold the breath for a count of seven. When you exhale, you count to eight. After repeating the exercise several times, you can think straight. It’s not the more in-depth meditation Obi-Wan would have preferred, but it helps. All you can do is hope that the instructor carries much of the class, as Master Ki-Adi said he would.

When it feels like you’ve released much of your fear and uncertainty to the Force, you open the door and step in.

CW ends here!

Immediately, twenty pairs of curious Padawan eyes move to follow you, and you cringe. They all sit cross-legged on the padded floor. Three of the walls are lined with mirrors, the better for students to see fighting forms and sparring matches from every angle. On a side wall, a flimsi depicting each form of saber combat stretches the length of the room, cut off only by the supply closet where training accessories are stored. You’ve been in this room and its adjacent siblings dozens of times. But all that isn’t as important to you as the instructor, who’s turned to see why the room’s gone quiet.

It’s Obi-Wan.

Standing bare-foot on one of room-length training mats, in the middle of handing out sparring sticks to the class, he freezes when you lock eyes.

Oh, he says, equal parts shock and happiness.

Yeah.

I say this with the greatest respect, darling -- why did Master Ki-Adi send you?

Because the Healing Halls are completely empty. Also to torture me. You grimace, joining him at the front of the room. He nods to you in greeting, as if you aren’t having a mental conversation.

“Knight Courtee. Glad to see you could join us.”

“I apologize, Master. It was short notice for me, as well.” You bow to him.

Is this what you were so worked up about? They’re only Padawans. They don’t bite -- much.

Once the group realizes that you’re the other instructor that Obi-Wan’s been waiting for, the chatter resumes. They stop ogling you. From the looks of the group, they’re all in the late teens, and bubbling over with energy. Right in the middle of Padawan and Knight, but with all the arrogance to think they’re already the latter. Away from their Masters in a group like this, they tend to get far rowdier than they would otherwise. Each has a lightsaber strapped to their belt.

“Run me through the lesson?” you say, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Quiet!” Obi-Wan demands over his shoulder, and you jump. The loudest cluster of Padawans instantly falls silent behind you.

Sorry, he thinks at you. I’m starting to see why Ki-Adi jumped on the first ship leaving the system.

“Amina, lose the gum. Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Yes, now. Navo, do I have to move you to the other side of the room? Don’t think I won’t.”

Mumbles of yes, Master, break out before he turns back to you, satisfied. You don’t smile but know he feels your amusement.

“We’ll be running through some more advanced katas,” Obi-Wan says. “Then we’ll break them into pairs and focus on the saber technique of each pair. At the end of the lesson, you and I will give a demonstration on a chosen form. Perhaps more than one, if the class requests it.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad,” you admit, thinking back to your own group Padawan lessons. You’d dreaded the paired sparring sessions, having your own form broken down and scrutinized. In the end, though, it had improved your skills. Being able to do the same for this group would be an honor. This is a big piece of being a Jedi, after all; skills passed down from Master to Knight to Padawan.

“It isn’t. Just don’t let them smell your fear,” he grins. “Let’s get started.”

As noisy as the group is, you can tell they’re genuinely excited to be in a session led by Master Kenobi. And Obi-Wan really knows how to lead the room. While you stand stiffly off to the side, nodding whenever he finishes saying something and hoping you don’t look like an idiot, he uses the space. He explains the lesson to them as he explained it to you, then asks if anyone has any questions.

The girl who’d been caught with gum earlier, Amina, raises her hand. Her other hand is busy twirling her long Padawan braid, like she can’t help but fidget with it. “Um, Master Kenobi, why are we using sparring sticks? We’ve had lightsabers for a while now.”

A murmur of agreement washes through the crowd, and Obi-Wan smirks.

“Good question, Padawan. Everyone, close your eyes and reach through the Force. Do you feel how tumultuous the energy in this room is? How excitable? If any one of you lit your saber in this room, I fear someone would lose a limb. And that’s something that Knight Courtee can’t fix for you. So we play it safe.”

Another hand punctuates the air, from the very front of the crowd. This Padawan seems younger than the rest, with hair that sticks up everywhere and eyes focused only on Obi-Wan. He starts speaking before he can be called on.

“All due respect, Master,” he says, in a way that makes you think that he’s used to sharing unorthodox opinions. The corner of Obi-Wan’s mouth quirks up as he fights a smile, and you feel him think of Anakin.

“Why are we here? We’re fighting a war. Many of us have already seen combat alongside our Masters.” He lowers his eyes to the mat, afraid he’s gone too far. When his fellow Padawans start nodding and whispering, he tugs on the end of his nerf-tail, as if unsure of what to do.

Obi-Wan takes a moment to consider this question, hand going to his beard as it often does when he’s thinking.

“I appreciate your honesty, Caleb. And you’re correct. It might seem...redundant to spend your time here when even now fellow Jedi are fighting real battles.”

He pauses, thinking of how to continue. The Padawans are hanging onto his every word, the room silent. “But that’s why it’s so important to refine your technique when we can spare the time, in a secure environment. It will make you stronger when you face a real opponent. It might even save your life. Does that make sense?”

Wow, you think to yourself. He’d handled that beautifully. Even though Caleb had spoken out of turn, Obi-Wan hadn’t belittled him or made the teen feel bad about what was an honest and important question. He’d taken the time to consider the Padawan’s feelings, and had given him an equally honest answer, not something to pacify him. It takes you back to your own Padawan training, when Obi-Wan had been your instructor.

“Yes, Master,” Caleb ducks his head, looking relieved. “thank you.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes search the room. “Anything else?”

After a pause, another hand goes up, toward the back.

“Millu?” You love that he knows everyone by name. Some Padawans turn around to reveal a burly Mon Calamari boy.

“Yeah.” His bright yellow eyes dart over to you. “Uh, speaking of Knight Courtee. Why are you teaching us? I thought you were just, like, a healer.” There’s no real malice in his tone, more like an off-handed curiosity, but Obi-wan stiffens.

Luckily you think of something to say before he can open his mouth. It wouldn’t look good for him to get upset defending you.

“That’s an excellent question, Millu, thank you.” You shoot him a smile, and you swear his scales darken with a blush.

“Being a Jedi with healing abilities does not mean that you get to neglect other aspects of your training. On the contrary, your connection with the Force must be powerful at all times. Healing will swamp you physically and emotionally, so you must keep both body and mind strong to withstand it.”

Your smile widens. “Of course, if you’re asking if you can best me in a fight, we’ll see how you match up during paired spars. Sound good?”

Laughter breaks out, and Millu blushes even darker before muttering, “Sure,” and looking away. Even if it seemed like he was questioning your ability to teach them (as you yourself are), you’re grateful the interaction’s lightened the mood.

Nicely done, says Obi-Wan.

“Very good,” he says aloud, clapping his hands together. “Now if we’re done heckling Knight Courtee, let’s begin with some stretches, please.”

------

Obi-Wan was right, you think, walking around the room. This...isn’t bad at all. You walk from pair to pair, taking in the angle of their weapon, how they hold their bodies, making minor corrections and leaving comments as you go. They look up when you come by, eager to see what you’re going to say to them. It’s much easier to interact with the Padawans on this smaller scale, and you find yourself joking with them, smiling. After a while, they even start asking for you, looking to see if you can demonstrate a move or if they’re holding the training stick the correct way. They aren’t scary at all -- just excitable kids who want to learn.

I’m sorry, Obi-Wan was what?

Looking up, you see Obi-Wan grinning across the room, demonstrating his own correction. In the middle of all this excitable teen Force energy, it’s easy for you to have a conversation and go unnoticed.

You were right. I like this.

And you’re good at it; they adore you. You’re going to make a wonderful Master. He shows you a brief image of a happy Padawan trailing behind you, eager to follow wherever you lead. It’s the best feeling, love.

Unexpected emotion rises in your chest at his pure sincerity. He knows how insecure you are about the fact that you’ll soon have your own Padawan to look after, but he doesn’t have a single doubt that you can do it. For the first time, you let yourself think of the situation in a hopeful light. It was a path you never pictured for yourself, but one that you know you have to follow. Obi-Wan makes it look so easy. Anakin, and even Anakin’s Padawan Ahsoka, look at him like he hung the stars. Of course, so do you.

“Last twenty minutes!” Obi-Wan calls over the noise of sparring sticks clacking together. “Take a seat, class.”

The Padawans rush to do as they’re told, everyone clamoring for the best spot to view your spar with Master Kenobi. They go completely silent, waiting for you to join him. A hush even falls over the Force energy in the room, like they’re all holding their breath.

Obi-Wan sinks into a bow when you’re opposite him, one hand on his saber. When you glance down in confusion, he sends a wave of amusement.

I said I didn’t trust the Padawans, darling. Not you.

Not sure if that’s wise. You bow in return, unclipping your saber also. He ignites his blade, the blue glow casting light over all the reflections of the mirrors. Taking a deep breath, trusting the familiar feeling of your own weapon, you ignite your lightsaber. The bright green light shimmers over your hands, crackling with your energy.

You’re surprised at how nervous you are. It’s one thing to watch him from across the room, to be taught by him as a Padawan yourself, but to spar with Obi-Wan as an equal? He’s going to wipe the floor with you.

“What form does Knight Courtee use?” You hear somebody whisper.

“Form five -- she told me.”

“Oooh, really? That’ll be fun to see against Master Kenobi.”

“Shhh!”

Obi-Wan waits until the group is quiet again to ask if you’re ready to start. Your saber hums hot in your hand, a little less controlled than you’d like it.

“Ready as I can be, Master.”

“Then let’s begin.”

No sooner are the words out of his mouth than he’s in your space, much closer than you want him with a lightsaber in hand. You strike out instinctively and he expected that, anticipated it. He was baiting you. Your blade bounces off of his far more harshly than you like, the zyoom echoing through the room. You take a step back, try to calculate an opening. He mirrors you, waiting to react. It takes you longer than it should to realize that he’s shielded the bond up tight, not giving anything away. The only thing you can hear is your heartbeat and the crackling of the sabers, each one fueled by its master’s adrenaline.

He keeps his blade held at eye level, and you lunge in for a mid-range attack. Obi-Wan blocks but you keep it coming, getting back into the groove of Djem So after spending so long out of combat. It feels good to have the saber be a part of you, to have it grow lighter as it remembers your touch.

Strike, block, strike, block. You’re working at a breakneck rhythm trying to get through his defenses, but Obi-Wan won’t give an inch. Sweat pours down your temple but still you press, using the Force to try and search for a weak point but finding none. He’s too kriffing fast.

There’s a reason they call him Master of this form. It’s infuriating, the almost lazy way he flicks your lightsaber aside every time, using your energy against you. There’s not a hair out of place on him. Every time you lower your blade, wondering what to do, he simply resets, content to wait again. You can tell from the look in his eyes that he knows you’re getting tired.

The Padawans are anything but quiet now -- some shouting Get her, Master Kenobi! while others insist that you can hold your own. Your eyes flick over to them once. Some lean forward towards the fight as far as they dare, a few are even on their feet in support.

When Obi-Wan finally tips his saber in retaliation, you barely manage to block, caught off guard at the change from defense to offense. He strikes again, again, again -- each blow more brutal than the last, each one so close to your skin that you can feel his blue saber’s sizzling heat. He’s driving you back against the wall. Despite your best effort, you’re losing ground where you’d previously held it. When you feel your back slam against the wall he was driving you toward, you gasp and fumble a block -- your last move. The blade of Obi-Wan’s saber hovers near your throat, a win.

“And that’s your head,” he says easily. You lower your saber and extinguish the blade, holding your hands up in a show of defeat.

The room erupts.

“Master Kenobi, that was so wizard --”

“Knight Courtee was letting him have it! Did you see --?”

“I wish I could have recorded that for the holo!”

“Settle down,” Obi-Wan says, but he’s smiling. “I’m glad that you all have found this lesson so illuminating.” He bows to you, signalling the end of the match, and you follow suit.

“You’re dismissed,” he says to the room. The declaration is met with mixed reactions; half are glad to be free, half don’t want the lesson to be over yet.

“No need to hang around and help tidy this time. You were such a good group that Knight Courtee and I are glad to take care of it.” It’s traditional for students to stick around after the lesson is done and help roll up the training mats, collect the sparring sticks, and clean the room in any other way that needs it.

That statement really gets them out the door, though several of them whine about him being far cooler than their regular teacher and why can't he teach them all the time?

Once everyone’s filed out, Obi-Wan locks the door behind them. He turns to you with a long sigh, relieved that the loudness of all those teenagers in one place has dispersed.

“Well,” you say. “That’s not how I expected my morning to go.”

“I’m glad,” Obi-Wan replies. “I was beginning to think that I wouldn’t see you at all in my time home, yet here we are.”

“Like the Force willed it.”

He beams at that, drawing you tight against him. “C’mere. My bright little instructor.”

You grumble, cheek pressed against his chest. “You flayed me within an inch of my life, Obi-Wan.”

All he does in response to your grumpiness is chuckle, placing warm kisses everywhere he can reach on your face. “Yes. I did.”

“It was embarrassing.”

“I couldn’t exactly go easy on you, could I?”

No, he couldn’t. Everyone knows the extent of Obi-Wan’s skill, and while you aren't untalented with a saber, winning or even overcoming him would be unlikely. You’d fought honestly, and so had he. Anything else would have invoked suspicion.

He takes your silence for the correct answer, then gently pries your cheek from his body.

“Would it help if you got kisses as a consolation prize?” He’s looking at you so fondly, like you’re his favorite thing in the galaxy. You nod, already leaning on your tiptoes to reach.

Obi-Wan hums against your lips, sinking against you like he’s been waiting for this -- because you both have. The kisses stay close-mouthed, but he’s pressing them onto you fast, his hands roaming you urgently. Your bond tells you that he wants to take his time with you, would have each moment stretch out for as long as possible, if he could. He wants to savor you. But arousal is winning out.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, pulling back to brush his nose against yours. “Do you know how much restraint it took not to pin you against the wall and have you, at the end of our fight? To resist sending all the little Padawans away right then?”

You gasp, feeling heat stirring deep in your stomach. The honey-sweetness of his tone contrasts with his words, but he’s just getting started.

“There was such fire in your eyes when we sparred, kitten." Kitten. Yet another pet name to add to your already large collection. This one makes you blush, and you don't miss Obi-Wan's pleased grin. "I had to shut you out so that you wouldn’t get distracted by my, er, distraction.”

His distraction presses up against your leg now, thick and hot. Obi-Wan tugs the end of your braid hard, tilting your head back to expose your neck. You whimper against him, all but letting him hold you up at this point. He loves it -- going to work at once nipping and kissing everywhere he can get to. His breath is heavy on your skin as he ruts against your thigh, trying and failing to bite back his own ecstatic moans.

“We’re alone now,” you choke out, hardly aware enough to string the sentence together. “s-so you can -- do whatever you want with me.”

This makes him pause. “Is that so?” Obi-Wan’s tone is still so light, like you’re having a conversation about what they’re serving in the refectory today, not how badly you want him to fuck you.

“Yes,” you say, embarrassed at how desperate you sound, how easily you melt for him. You can see yourself over his shoulder in the mirrors, and you blush, burying your face.

He laughs a little at your reaction. “What if I want to take you into that supply closet and bend you over?” His hand roams down your body, landing on your crotch. Two fingers rub a strong circle through the material, and you lean into it. “What if I want to take you from behind, make up for all the time we haven’t been together?”

“I’d ask why -- aren’t we already there,” you huff, blinking up at him.

That’s all the answer he needs. In one motion, he grabs you round the middle and hauls you over his shoulder like a sack of meilooruns. Your breath whooshes out, surprise and a lack of air keeping you from forming a sentence as he marches you to the closet as promised. The ground bounces and sways in your vision as you’re jostled -- it’s a strange sensation, being carried. Thankfully, it only lasts a few seconds.

Obi-Wan opens the door and closes it just as quickly once you’re both inside, making you aware of how small, how dark, the space is. You find yourself deposited on the storage bin that the mats are kept in, your legs dangling high in the air. He leans in to kiss you, nothing but hot breath and hungry hands, and you fist your own in the front of his tunic. It spurs him on, and soon his tongue is pressing into your open mouth, exploring every corner.

You moan into him, your fingers going beyond clothes to scratch against his chest. Obi-Wan picks you up again and you lift your legs around his waist, rubbing tight against his cock. He bears your entire weight like it’s nothing, continuing to kiss you as if your legs are planted on the ground. Stars, the strength, the eagerness of him, is overwhelming. His arms are pillars, holding you steady, crossed firm around your back.

"I thought you said," you gasp out, shivering when his tongue flicks out to catch your earlobe, "something about -- bending me over --"

“So eager today,” he says, his voice a tantalizing purr.

“Can you blame me?” you blurt.

"And what does that mean, dearest?"

He already knows what you mean. It’s everywhere in your mind. You can’t hide how you feel when you’ve been this close to him for so long, forbidden to touch him, to even think about it until you’ve reached your breaking point.

Obi-Wan, hands behind his back, patiently watching the Padawans demonstrate their forms. Nodding and sometimes stepping in to correct, placing his hand casually on an arm or leg to shift the balance of their weight. Then the Padawan he’s correcting becomes you, and his touch is no longer innocent. The group is melting away, and his mouth is trailing down your neck, whispering things that have little to do with the kata you’re struggling through.

“Oh,” he chuckles. “I see.”

You bump your head into his shoulder, too embarrassed to answer. As if to reassure you, Obi-Wan sends you an image back.

Both of you in the same training room, but you stand among your fellow Padawans, now all Knights, shuffling anxiously from foot to foot. You don't look that much different from the way you do now, but for the traditional Padawan's hairstyle.

Though you're seeing things from his perspective, the mirrors give him away; Obi-Wan looks younger, too. There are no lines around his eyes here, he holds himself more loosely. Like there isn't a galaxy-wide war. And he's less certain as he flits from student to student, new at this.

"You were always a pleasure to speak to, you know," Obi-Wan tells you, low voice right in your ear. He knows that he's teasing you, knows exactly the effect it's having on your body. You squirm in his tight grip, unable to go anywhere to get away from the softness of his voice.

"Polite and passionate. Made your Master very proud. But…" he trails off, and you shiver, anticipating his next words.

"So anxious whenever you saw me, weren't you?" He muses, fingers flexing on the curve of your ass. "And now I finally understand why."

"Obi-Wan…" you protest, unsure of what you're going to say next but just knowing that you need the teasing to stop. Both mental and physical -- he's hard against your abdomen, almost painful with how tight you're wedged against him.

"Down, love," he says. With effort, you extract your legs from around his waist and plant your feet on the floor, with his hands to guide you. "Turn around."

For a moment, you get excited, thinking that he's done teasing you. Obi-Wan makes quick work of your belt, dropping it to the floor seconds before your pants and underwear. You step out of them, breathing heavily, feeling his chest against your back. There's a clink, and you realize that he's dropped his belt as well, one hand bracing on your shoulder as he fumbles out of his own bottoms.

There's nothing between you now. Obi-Wan's bare dick rubs against your tailbone, leaving a warm dribble of pre-come.

"Now bend forward for me, darling -- that's it --"

You lean on the storage bin, heart thumping a tattoo in your throat. Obi-Wan lines himself up behind you, breath ragged, and sinks inside you in one long push.

"Obi-Wan, oh," you cry out, not expecting how full you'd feel from this angle.

"I know, sweetheart, I know," he says, taking a moment to adjust to the sensation. His mind is a high buzz of pleasure, looking forward to taking you apart in this new, delicious way.

Then he moves. So, so deep and slow. You let out a broken whine, toes curling. He pauses, holds his breath. Then thrusts again, just as unhurried as the first time, and your fingers scrabble for purchase on the smooth material of the bin in front of you.

“Hmm,” Obi-Wan sighs. “Do you know, this reminds me of something.”

You groan, not out of pleasure, but because he’s stopped. How? Where and how did he find the restraint to torment you like this? You’re not sure which part of today’s interaction set him off, but you sorely wish that he’d get down to business and fuck you.

“What does it remind you of?” you ask tightly, figuring that playing along will get you where you want to be faster. As if rewarding you, Obi-Wan’s hands come around to find your breasts, teasing your nipples with the barest of touches. Gods if he doesn’t go faster --

He can hear your mind loud and clear, but says nothing, only sending a feeling of amusement back before answering your question.

"Watching you go through katas in this very room. Or, well, the room outside." Obi-Wan presses into your back, finally starting to push into you in a slow but satiating rhythm.

"Mmm," you manage, pressing your lips together hard to avoid reaching an inappropriate volume.

“Do you remember the criticism I had for you, little Padawan? You were so tense. Why was that?” All the while he’s languidly thrusting into you from behind. As if he expects you to form a coherent response.

“I l-liked you,” you stammer out, bracing yourself on the edge of the storage bin.

"Oh? Well, I liked you too. You were a wonderful student."

"That's not what I --" Thank the Maker that it's pitch black in this closet, because your face is burning.

"But for some reason," he continues, enjoying himself, "you always needed correction in solo practice. The other Masters told me, several times, that that was not an issue in their own lessons."

You can only whimper as he bears into you deeper. He knows exactly what he's doing to you. When you place a hand on your stomach, just above your belly button, you can feel him inside you.

"Tell me, sweetheart. Did you need my hands on your body, as desperately as you do now?"

"Yes, Master," you all but sob. "I need, I n-need --"

"Need me to fuck you?" Obi-Wan supplies, voice going rough and breathy. "Need me to wreck you, the way your mind is screaming for it?"

You slam the palm of your hand on the top of the bin, and it makes a hollow thud, sending pain shooting up your arm.

"Obi-Wan, yes! Please, please fuck me, I need it!" You're aware that your words border on incoherence, but not enough to care.

And he doesn't either.

Just as you've reached your limit, so does Obi-Wan. One of his hands grabs your wrist and pins it, hard, while the other squeezes your hip.

"Are you ready?" He pants in your ear, pausing only to nip at your shoulder blade. Already he's fucking you deeper, so good so thick inside you, that you're writhing under his every touch.

"Wanted to do this -- for s-so long --" Obi-Wan gasps out and so do you, the heat of orgasm reaching a crescendo in your thighs as you feel him come apart in your mind.

"Want to come so deep inside you, darling, oh please, please --"

You know that he's barely hanging on, waiting for your permission.

"Gods, Master, yes --" Like you could deny him this, when you want it so desperately too.

His forehead drops to your shoulder as he rams into you, shoving you against the bin. It takes everything you have not to scream his name when you come, gripping his arm -- the only part of him you can reach from this angle.

Obi-Wan isn't far behind, moaning loud behind you as your orgasm makes your pussy clamp down even tighter on him.

"Yes, yes, oh my Gods --"

The bond flares up sudden and white-hot between you, carrying the sensation of Obi-Wan's pleasure just as it had that night on Odryn.

"Kriff," you say weakly, clutching his arm like it's the only thing connecting you to the planet.

Sweetheart, I'm there, I'm right there

I know, and I'm -- me too --

Again?

Yes

Oh fuck, fuck -- I'm coming, stars, I'm coming, oh --

You come a second time when Obi-Wan starts to spurt inside you, tears spilling from the intensity of it all. With him this tight against your body, you swear you can feel every hot spurt of come shoot up inside you. Obi-Wan's teeth are caught in the material of your tunic, muffling his shout. It feels like you stand there, taking his come for minutes, as he shudders against you.

When it's over you whimper, leaning against his chest on aftershock-weak legs. Slowly, as if his head is one step behind, Obi-Wan puts his arms around you.

"Stars above, Obi-Wan," you mutter, every coherent thought fucked out of your head. Your brain feels like static, but your body's floating. Pulling out and turning you gently to face him again, Obi-Wan plants a line of soft kisses from your forehead to your mouth. His release runs heavy down your thighs, but there's not much you can do about it here.

"Not tense now, are you?" he says, tracing slow, wet circles over your sensitive clit.

You laugh. "You're unbelievable."

"No, I'm committed to a scene," Obi-Wan corrects, as if this was all an elaborate game.

You consider saying something along the lines of, I'm going to commit my boot to your rear end if you don't quit it, but think better of it.

Instead you re-dress, wincing at the mess you'll have to tolerate down your crotch and legs until you can get to the nearest fresher. This is the downfall of spontaneous sex. No easy cleanup.

"Next time, would you like to come with me?" Obi-Wan's asking. You snort, buckling your belt back into place.

"Pretty sure I just did. You didn't notice?"

He pauses, then opens the closet door, letting in a blinding slice of light. Though he's dressed, Obi-Wan looks disheveled and wide-eyed still in a way that you always adore.

"That's...no. That's not what I'm talking about, love," he says, a hint of amusement in his tone.

"I mean, the next time I have to leave. Come with me. I think we've both come to realize that being apart is painful. And that being together isn't just a physical concept anymore."

His voice has dropped to a near-whisper, but you're hanging on to every word. Though you'd never admit it aloud, this is exactly what you want. To follow him instead of lying awake every night, worrying he won't come back from the last distant system he's shipped away to. You want to be beside him, no matter how rough things are.

You are a Jedi, not a housewife. And frankly, being kept in the Temple while he's away risking his neck, the bond blocked for days or weeks at a time, is torture.

Obi-Wan listens to all this, your outpouring of emotion through the bond you never meant to forge with him. He shows his understanding, his respect, his compassion for you, in return.

"Okay. Okay," he says, more to himself than you. "I'll speak to the Council. Knowing them, it may take some time to get an answer, but --"

You cut him off with a kiss. It doesn't matter. As long as you're together.

#come what may ao3 #wickedscribbles #obi wan smut #ziva courtee #obi wan x you #obi-wan series #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x oc #obi-wan x oc

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squidlyskeet · 3 years

Text

Joy Ride -.002

Pairing: StreetRacer!Bakugou x Fem!reader

Genre: TokyoDrift!au, Noquirks!au

Status: Ongoing

TW: violence, blood, firearms, eventual nsfw, 18+, mentions of anxiety and OCD disorders, grand theft auto, gang activity.

Summary:

It started with a simple question, “what do you say Y/n? You coming?”

After the sudden death of her mother, Y/n is sent to live with her estranged aunt halfway across the world in Tokyo, Japan. Weary of what this new adventure might hold for her, she decides to let loose the first night she was there, but how was Y/n supposed to know it would lead to a car chase? A car chase in the the passenger seat of a very angry, very hot, street racer’s super car?

A/n: yall im still so frickin bad at summaries😭😭😭 word. ✌🏻-squidlyskeet.

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I have no idea what I was expecting when we finally made it to where we were headed for the ‘meet’. Whatever it was though, It absolutely was not this. When we finally made it to the huge parking garage about an hour out of Tokyo it was difficult for Mirio to move his whole squad through the crowd. He pointed out that every side of the huge square space was where the designated side riders were parked. Naturally we pulled up and backed into the space next to the east wall. Mirio’s car parked in the middle and the rest of the squad parked on either side of him.

Right now I was standing next to Noel, while she patiently waited for Mirio’s attention. He was greeting his friends, or squad, as he called them while we were pulling in. Maybe coming here wasn’t such a good idea after all.

There were so many people of every kind, predominantly Japanese but others as well. Men and women parked in the middle of the garage lined up with their hoods open and showing off their engines. Young girls maybe even the same age as me, wearing tiny little outfits and throwing themselves on drivers. Music low and thumping pumped into the open night air.

I did notice that not all sides were here yet, but the ones that were were just as impressive as Mirio’s squad. In fact the only squad that hasn’t shown yet was the west side, as no cars lined the walls on the other side of the building.

My mood was tense, the light atmosphere of having fun leaving me almost instantly when I got out of the car. I could Noel was picking up on it too.

“Come on, lemme introduce you to the squad.” She grabbed my arm again, dragging a circle of people standing in front of their cars.

“Hey guys! This is Y/n, she’s my niece and she just moved here from the US. She doesn’t know Japanese, so try to be easy on her okay?” Her mischievous smile playing at a self introduction as she turned to me.

“Uh- Hi,” I waved awkwardly, “I’m Y/n.”

I didn’t know what to say, and I was mentally beating myself up for being so weird. Especially now that I was getting a good look at everyone and realized that Mirio wasn’t the only walking god.

These people were obnoxiously gorgeous.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here, Hmm?” A deep raspy voice cut my focus to a tall lanky man with bright red hair and the bluest eyes I've ever seen. “You seem to be a little lost princess, I could show you around if you’d like.”

I instantly recoiled at the blatant insinuation, heat spreading across my neck. Another voice interjected before I had a chance to reply.

“Dabi for fucks sake, leave the kid alone. Hi Y/n,” This man was short, comically short compared to the six something beanpole standing next to him. “I’m Keigo Takami, and this asshat is Touya Todoroki, Dabi for short.” He ran his hands through his wavy blonde hair, before bowing low and rising with a wink in my direction.

The heat in my neck spread to my face, and I avoided eye contact. The wall seemed extremely interesting.

“Don’t listen to either of them Y/n, this is a tactic they use to pick up women.” A woman with powder blue hair stood off the side checking her nails with a fist on her hip. “Nejire.” Was all she said in any way of introduction.

Her nonchalant attitude put me off even further, but I was quickly distracted when I felt another presence slink up beside me.

“They don’t know how to interact correctly. Sorry about that. Amajiki. It’s nice to meet you.” He pushed his hand forward in a jerky movement, offering a handshake, eyes directed at the wall.

I placed his face as the man who was riding most of the way with us and I could feel the excitement bubble back up when I remembered how skilled he was at driving. I felt my anxious shell break before I could get it under wraps.

“Oh my god, Amajiki, you were so cool out there. I couldn’t believe how well you handled your car. When we were drifting onto the highway you were so close. I’ve never done anything like that before, and you just made it look so easy-” I didn’t notice until then how red his face was getting, and instantly felt bad. He dropped his unshook hand and backed up a few paces before turning to face the wall.

What..?

“T-t-thanks Y-y/n,” He said.

“Hey now, don’t get worked up over something like that Jiki, she thinks you're good!” Mirio yelled over to the nervous boy facing the wall. He walked over to me and wrapped an arm around my shoulder, Noel’s hand latched in his other.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you nervous Amaj-”

“Please, I j-just need a m-m-minute.” He stuttered before I could finish my apology.

Mirio giggled, and the sound shocked me, to watch a full grown titan giggle was wild. At least he wasn’t in a bad mood anymore.

“Anyways, Y/n we’ll make this quick cause I want a drink. That crusty weirdo over there is Tenko Shimura, Shiggy for short, and his little sister Toga. Over there is Kamui, he’s a good friend even if he has the emotional maturity of a wet sock. Over there,” Mirio pointed toward the north wall, “Is the North Side Riders. A guy named Monoma leads them and honestly, they really aren’t much of a threat. On and off the pavement.

Down there, is the South Side Riders. Ten out of ten do not recommend. Just like avoid the south wall at all costs please. In case we lose you. And oh yeah, over ther- Hmm? Where are those westies? I think out of all them you’d get along with them the best. Bakug-” He started saying a name but stopped when he leaned backwards to look at the entrance of the parking deck.

The noise in the giant concrete balcony quieted to a low murmur. Music was shut off, and surprisingly people were getting out of the way. Trying to squeeze next to the walls as far as they could get. Well every wall with the exception of the west wall.

Mirios squad all migrated to the spaces in between their cars, but Mirio looked as if he refused to budge from the spot leaning against his front bumper with Noel still tucked into his side.

I looked back at his squad and then back to where my aunt stood with her boyfriend. I wanted a front row seat to whatever was about to happen too and, with as much confidence as I could muster, I walked up and stood next to Noel. I looked around nervously, trying to figure out what was going on.

“Tch. Westies. Always on some dramatic entrance bullshit.” The beanpole muttered from beside what I presumed was his car. A black hatchback, with blue flame decals.

The silence on the roof of the parking garage was deafening now, and a ripple of anticipation rolled through the crowd.

Just when I thought I couldn’t wait any longer, sounds I was quickly becoming familiar with sounded off in the distance. Motors, wide open and bouncing of rev limiters causing a chatter of turbo whistles. Screeching tires, and the low thump of a deep bass blaring out of a subwoofer system.

I could make out that they’ve made it to the garage and started their accent up the spiral entrance, the sounds mixing together and sending a thrill through my body as the anticipation of seeing the display.

The sound of the music was becoming more clear and as it got closer, I was shocked to find out that again it was english, and that I knew it. Was that..?

Here comes the Boom? By Nelly?

Whatever system they were using was loud enough to compete with a concert, cause it drowned out the sounds of the cars drifting to the top of the building. I tried to guess when one of the cars would pop up over the small bump at the top but I was wrong with every timing.

I looked at Noel in confusion, but she was paying attention to the entrance intently too.

The music cut off, until-

BOOM.

The first car practically launched itself over the bump. It hit the ground front bumper first, creating a light show of sparks. When the tail end hit the ground, the driver didn’t waste any time, they hit the Ebrake and swung the rear bumper sideways before stomping on it and accelerating again. I noticed the cars color, a deep burnt orange. It was sleek, made for speed and the driver -as far as I could tell- knew exactly how to handle it. The windows in the car were down but I couldn’t get a good look at the driver while they were gliding their car through the makeshift aisles of cars.

BOOM.

The second car launched itself over the bump, this car smaller and red but just as nice. They took the first cars movements, synchronizing perfectly, and mimicking the maneuvers with accuracy. More cars came out of the bump and played follow the leader but my eyes were glued to the orange car in the front.

When the car finally rounded the corner Closest to our designated wall, they revved the engine and shot forward, gaining speed and everyone’s attention. Somehow, I feel like they did that on purpose.

Halfway through they changed tactics again, stomping on the brakes and threw the car into a full one eighty, never stopping. They accelerated backwards with their driver side window facing us speakers blaring.

For me, it was like time stopped all together as the driver finally came into view.

A spiked mess of pale blonde hair came into focus first, and broad shoulders holding up a thick muscled neck. The next glimpse I got was of his face. A chill shot through me, when I made eye contact and noticed he was staring directly back at me.

Ruby red eyes narrowed in obvious disdain, and a sneer twisting his face, he never broke the hold. It felt like he was burning holes into my head with his clearly disapproving expression. And while it was only a few seconds, it felt like I was standing there, under the scrutiny of his glare for a lifetime.

When he was finally too far away to keep the eye contact, I dropped my line of vision to the concrete under my feet. How could someone just outright glare at another person they didn’t even know? Did he hate me? No that’s probably not right. He doesn’t even know me, for all he knows I’m just another inconsequential girl here.

I argued with myself in my head, debating on whether I should just give up on this night entirely and call a taxi or wait and see if tonight gets any better. It was so fun on the way here, the laughing and the drifting lifting my mood to a height it hadn’t been at for months. I was peeved to find out that all it took to deflate my mood was one insignificant glare from a boy I didn’t know. All I wanted to do was retreat back to the safety of Mirios car, where I had fun and could breathe easily.

“Y/n you okay?” Noel broke me from the spell I was under, and placed a hand on my arm. “Hey, don’t let Bakugou bother you. He is like that with everyone.” She said as she smiled at me.

“Bakugou?” Finally lifting my gaze from the ground to let her know I appreciated her attempt at comfort.

“That’s his name, the guy in the orange car. He’s the squad leader of the Westies and he by far is the biggest dick I’ve ever met.” She answered, gently rubbing circles on my arm.

“Did something happen Y/n? I swear I’ll go drag his bulky ass out of that car right now.” Mirio popped his head into our comfort bubble and smiled. I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, so I just shook my head and kept my answer vague.

“Nothing that constitutes a fight, hah thanks though Mirio.” I replied, hoping to evade him getting into ‘one of his moods’ as Noel described it.

“Good good. Well if we are done standing around, I’m gonna go get a drink before the races start,” He pulled his phone from his pocket to check the time, and turned his attention to Noel. “Ten minutes to go baby, make sure you’re strapped in and ready to beat these amateurs, we’re in the first round.” He leaned down to give her a kiss, and turned to go find something to drink, looking at the cars on display on the way.

I turned to look back at Noel, that soft look on her face again as her eyes followed his retreating figure.

“You really love him don’t you?” The words fell out of my mouth before I could stop them, and I felt my cheeks flush at my directness.

“I do, I want to spend the rest of my life with him,” She sighed happily before shaking her head and clearing her throat. “Anyways though, not all of the East boys are going to be racing the first round, so try to stay with them, okay? I think only Keigo and Dabi will be sitting it out. Make sure you tell me if they give you any trouble.”

“Wait, you're going to race with Mirio?” I asked, shocked.

Isn’t that dangerous?

“Well of course honey, I’m his navigator duh? Look,” She turned around to point at the passenger seat inside his car.

My eyebrows lifted in surprise to see that there on the bucket seat headrest, in fancy swirled English letters, was Noel’s name.

“What’s a navigator?” I was curious now, and I wanted to get the question out before my brain told me to shut up and that nobody cared.

Her eyes lit up when she heard my question, her hands clapped together and she grabbed me by the arm once again dragging me further into the mess of cars and people. I tried to relax my limbs, but I could only feel them tense. She was pulling me further away from our wall and further away from the comfort of Mirios car. I knew that, rationally, I had no right to feel like Mirio’s car was a comfort. I couldn’t help myself from latching onto things that brought me out of my anxious shell. It was a habit I knew was bad for me, because everything leaves eventually, but I’d still like to squeeze as much of the feeling out of anything I could.

It made me wonder if it was Mirios car specifically or if it was any car that could be handled like his. The last thing I needed was for Noel to get mad at me, thinking I was trying to make a move on her man, when in reality it was just his car. Or more accurately, the escape it could provide me.

Noel stopped me in front of a car that looked a little out of place around all these over the top machines surrounding it. I actually recognized this make and model as it was from the US. A Ford Taurus. A two thousand and one if I’m right. It was tan and had a few dents, but still looked drivable.

The trunk was open and inside it lay a few piles of different things. One pile were maps, all folded the same way with handwriting on them. The next item was a scanner of some sort, I put two and two together to realize this probably wasn’t the most legal of events, and if Japan was anything like the US then those were most likely police scanners. The third item, were stacks of boxes, all of them had an image of a plastic gun on them.

I watched as Noel took one of each.

“What the hell? A gun?” It seemed the shock value was a never ending escalation for me tonight.

“Let me start by explaining that a Navigator is exactly what it sounds like. I ride shotgun for Mirio while he races. I have the map to tell him where to go, and potentially make last second changes to our route. The police scanner is for knowing where they are before we are on top of them, and the gun. Well the gun for when you cross the finish line,” She held up the box, as if that would make it clearer as to why she needed it. “You put your driver's color in it, and the Navigator shoots it off when they cross the finish line. We won’t be able to see anything, but the spectators will be keeping track from on top of the parking deck. That’s how they tell who won.”

“That sounds like a really important job. Do you do it often?” I felt like I was finally starting to get a read on this. This was street racing.

We lingered around the Navigator car, talking quietly. I occasionally glanced at the people coming and going from the trunk, noticing mostly women but some men.

“Normally a Navigators job is really important. When they actually do their job. A lot of these girls have romanticized it to the point of competing to see who gets the coveted passenger seat of one of the better drivers. Most don’t even grab the stuff they need. They just flail around, and take credit.” She rolled her eyes, scoffing. “I don’t think some of these brats realize, the reason some of the drivers win as much as they do is because they have good Navigators.”

“I’m sure you’re great at it, I’ll be watching for you guys when it’s time to-“ My voice cut off and I jumped when I heard a loud gong.

“Ladies and scumbags, five minutes to first line up!” A voice blasted through a set of speakers, and the crowd began dispersing.

“Oh shit, that’s my cue. Gotta go get strapped in. Don’t take drinks from anyone, and don’t wander too close to the south wall. Be safe, and cheer for us!” Her voice drifted as she ran back to Mirios bright yellow car.

I felt my body tense again at being by myself, I tried to make my body move but working up the courage to walk anywhere and have people notice me kept my feet planted in place. I knew that the thought was stupid and redundant because standing here by myself while the cars needed to get out down the ramp would bring way more attention to me than anything else.

Alright deep breaths, one, two, thre-

“Hey, are you okay?” A sweet feminine voice said from behind me.

“U-uh sorry, I don’t understand Japanese.” I shot back without turning around.

A genuine laugh sounded off from behind me, and without forcing myself I felt my muscles relax at the gesture.

Before I could think too much about it, I held my breath and turned around.

“Hello, I’m Ochako Uraraka. And you look like maybe you need a bottle of water.” The tiny girl waved at me with a friendly smile.

Oh my god she’s adorable.

She couldn’t be any more than five feet tall and her angular brunette bob complimented her round baby face. Her outfit is similar to mine, with a cropped t-shirt and high rise shorts.

“Sorry, about just standing here like an idiot. I’m a little l-lost.” I decided feigning like I didn’t know where to go was better than admitting I was frozen in anxiety.

“That’s okay, who are you here with? I can help you try to find them. I know almost everyone here, and I’m sure my boyfriend wouldn’t mind me helping, we don’t race until the second round anyways.”

I debated on telling her. What if she was like some kind of bait to be kidnapped. I quickly decided against it, she seemed too sweet. Besides, she's already offered me a bottle of water, and to help me look for Mirios' squad. I knew in which general direction they were and could probably find them myself but I didn’t want to be alone.

“I’m with the East boys.” I said, hoping she’d keep the conversation going.

“Oh Mirios squad?” Her voice rose an octave with her revelation. “Oh my gosh, I’ve never seen you with them before. Are you new? Who did you come with? Please don’t tell me it was that toaster oven Touya…”

She rambled on while I tried to hold in a laugh at her quip. Toaster oven Touya? Looks like beanpole has a new name.

“No I’m with Noel and Mirio, I’m her niece.Y/n L/n. I just moved to Japan.” I replied, hoping that would cover her rapid fire questions about where I’m from.

“You’re a part of the squad? Do you want to meet mine? Sometimes we team up on jobs from the south side and it might be helpful to know we finally have another girl,” She leaned into me and whispered like someone would overhear us. “We are outnumbered by like, a lot.” She was laughing as she leaned back and turned to grab things out of the Navigator car.

I noted her comment about jobs from the south side, and filed that away too. Man, Noel list of questions is adding up quickly.

So she’s a navigator too, probably a half decent one since she was actually using the equipment provided.

When she finished she motioned for me to follow her, and like the lost puppy I was, I did exactly that. I realized we were headed in the opposite direction of my designated wall, and felt my stomach clench. Isn’t this the way that angry guy parked? I really hope she’s just making a detour and she isn’t a part of the west side.

When she didn’t stop walking though, that fantasy went directly out the window. My last option was to hope he wasn’t here or was distracted by something.

“Hey guys! This is y/n, I found her over by the Nav beater. The East side Riders have a new member, can you believe that?” She jumped into her explanation, catching the attention of a group of people leaning against their cars.

“A new member?” Said a red head with hair spiked to the gods looking up from his phone. They looked sharp, but upon further inspection not nearly as sharp as the man's teeth. He was leaning on the hood of a red and black car, and his non threatening position put me at ease a little.

He was built like a brick shithouse. Towering over everyone else in the group, and If it weren’t for his gentle voice, I’d probably be running for the hills.

“That’s Ejiirou Kirishima. Complete himbo and about as smart as a bag of hammers, but he has a heart of gold.” The man waved from his place, perched atop his car, and a heartwarming smile on his face.

“Call me Kiri.” Was all he said before he returned to his screen.

“Sweetheart why are you speaking English, you know I don’t catch on to it that easy.” A deep Japanese voice called out from under a green hatchback.

“Because Deku, y/n doesn’t speak Japanese.” Ochako said from beside me.

“What?” A tuft of fluffy green hair popped up from behind the car, standing probably a foot and a half taller than it. I jumped backwards at the height even though he was on the other side of the car.

“Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m Izuku Midoryia, but you can just call me Deku.” He said before looking at Ochako, his face squished up, and looking for approval.

She nodded at him with a sweet smile on her face.

“That’s my boyfriend, don’t take him too seriously. He just doesn’t know what’s going on most of the time.” She leaned over to tell me the second part, and then pointed behind two cars parked obnoxiously close to one another.

A laugh burst out of my mouth as my eyes followed what she was pointing at. Behind the cars, laid two lawn chairs. One huge umbrella hanging over top of them and two men sitting in each one. Both looked like they were sucking down a yellow slushie.

“That’s Denki and Shinsou. They are best friends and are doing their pre race routine of getting mildly shitfaced. Denki is a Shinsous Navigator and they claim it helps them get in the game. Uhg. You’d think they’d learn but they never do.” She paused to go to the passenger door of Deku’s hunter green hatchback and pull something out from the dash.

As she leaned down, through the windshield, I could see another example of a stitching in the headrest. But this one was in Japanese. I assumed it had something to do with Ochako but didn’t want to press and look stupid for asking questions.

When she walked to stand back next to me she handed me a water bottle and I thanked her with a small voice.

“Shoto, Jirou, and Sero are getting ready to race the first round,and they have Mina with them so they aren’t here right now or else I’d introduce them as well, and I’m not really sure where Bakug-.”

“Oi. What the hell is this.” A deep gravelly voice gritted out from behind us.

For some reason I felt like-

Oh shit.

___________________________________________________

-.002 💥MASTERLIST💥 -.003

A/n: Keep in minds, this is U N E D I T E D. Word✌🏻 -squidlyskeet

#my hero academia #mha #this took a lot longer than i thought it would #uhgggg #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bnha bakugou #bakugou x y/n #someone love me #i love him #bnha fluff #bnha au #tokyo drift #bnha angst #mha smut

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