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no-droids · 4 years

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The Floor is Better

Part Eight of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.4K i am. appalled.

Warnings: SMUT, very vague attempts at sprinkling in hints of an overarching plot, language, the slightest bit of angst, TONS OF FUCKING FLUFF WOWWWW

A/N: This is by far the softest smut I’ve ever written. I will say that there is a hint at butt stuff tho (just a HINT—THERE IS NO ACTUAL BUTT STUFF IN THIS GUYS) so brace yourselves

***

Alright so this bed is, like. Atrociously uncomfortable.

It’s not even a bed. It’s a cot. Just a bare minimum place to sleep, shoved into the wall and taking up less space than the ship’s armory. Like a… like a really shitty gurney almost, except no padding. So not even a gurney then, just a fucking. Piece of metal. Just a piece of fucking metal to sleep on.

There’s surprisingly a bit of space to maneuver yourself when you’re pulled into the cubby completely like this, and yeah, it’s quiet and dark in here but man does your back hurt. Is his spine made of metal, too? Is that why he prefers this? The floor isn’t a feather mattress by any stretch of the imagination, but at least there aren’t any uneven support bars digging into your side.

You’re on Coruscant, and Mando’s been gone for over three weeks.

It. Fucking. Blows.

You’ve literally run out of ideas to occupy your time. You’re far enough above Coruscant’s dangerous underworld to not worry about any potential… mishaps, like what happened on Corellia, but the only issue with the ground being so far below you is that it’s not like you can just stroll down the road and buy yourself a deck of cards at the nearest merchant. The only shop within walking distance of this hub contains the bare essentials; things like food, medical equipment and bacta, spare electronics and parts—all of which you purchased without hesitation. Other than that, you need a ship to travel anywhere in this massive galactic capital, and while you just so happen to have a ship, what you don’t have, at least right now, is a Mando.

Fuck, but you did. Before he left, you had Mando all to yourself for at least a full hour. After he landed the Crest in a long-term terminal and turned his attention back to you, for some reason, he was insatiable. It didn’t really make much sense back then, but in hindsight, it’s like he knew good and well how long he was going to be gone this time, attempting to search for a quarry on a planet with a population that broke a trillion last year. It makes sense. With this many people, a biometric tracking fob would be almost useless, and sure, you realize he set the ship down in the long-term terminal for a reason, but long-term with Mando typically means a week or two. You suddenly realize that in a handful of days, he’ll have been gone a full month.

You suppose you probably could fly the ship somewhere else and send him a coded coordinate set of your new location, but for some strange reason, you can’t seem to reconcile going to all that trouble just because you’re bored out of your fucking mind. You don’t want him to have to travel another however many miles out of his way to get back to you just so you won’t have to twiddle your thumbs for weeks on end. You don’t want to run the risk of trying to make a quick trip there and back without alerting him of any change in location, either, especially on a planet this size. He could return to the hub at any time, and if he comes back to a different ship parked in this lot, you’ll probably never see him again.

Okay, no, that’s not true—he hunts people for a living, and you have his kid. You probably just wouldn’t see him for at least another month or so, and by then he’d be fucking livid.

So. You stay here. The baby offers a distraction, but only to a certain point. The ship is pristine right now, inside and out. Fucking pristine. Almost… almost compulsively so, you reluctantly admit. The console’s entire motherboard has brand new soldering and connections. You used ear swabs to clean and polish each individual button, key, and knob in the entire flight deck. You… may or may not have even labeled and color-coded the heat shrink wrap on every single cable in the Crest’s patchbay, all five-hundred and something of them. When you pried open the metal paneling that covered all the ship’s interior routing jacks, you remember gasping at the sight of a mechanic’s worst nightmare and wondering if the last person who touched it took even more than a few hours on its installation. What used to be a horrifying tangle of haphazard wiring is now a lovely set of rainbow snakes meticulously gathered and bound together with zipties, and you’re incredibly proud of it, though you still haven’t decided whether or not you should be.

There’s also a very particular reason you’re in this poor excuse for a bed. You still very clearly remember Mando’s unfiltered voice in the pitch darkness, telling you he wants to come back to find you in his bed. To find you in it, so he can fuck you though it.

Well. Three weeks ago, sleeping in here sounded like a good idea. You even have a pillow now, and a blanket you can lay out beneath you while you curl up under the one you brought from home. It’s thick and warm—probably a shock blanket, to be honest, since you did happen to find in the medical section—but it still doesn’t offer near enough padding to feel like you’re laying on an even surface right now. Mando could theoretically get on top of you in here and fuck you—there is enough room vertically. He might break one of your ribs on accident though, just judging from the way this one Maker-forsaken support bar seems to dig into your ribcage no matter which way you position yourself in here.

Stars, your back hurts. You should just lay on the fucking floor. If he hasn’t come back by now, what are the chances of it happening tonight? But then your mathematical hindbrain immediately reminds you that statistically, the chances are the highest they’ve ever been. The longer Mando’s gone, the more likely he is to come back every single day that passes.

It’s just as well, you figure, grabbing the tracks beneath the bed and slowly beginning to squeak yourself out of the wall. You try not to let your fingers get pinched between the railing and the slider, but that just means the quickest you’re able to inch out is in intervals the approximate length of your index finger. It’s dark in the hull—the baby is fast asleep in his crib in the cockpit, and the long-term terminal you’re parked in is quiet. It would be a perfect time to sleep, if you could. But here’s the thing—

It sucks that Mando’s gone for this long, absolutely. It sucks that you slept on this awful fucking bed for three whole weeks when you could’ve done this ages ago. But most of all, it sucks that you don’t have anything else to do. Because that means you can’t occupy yourself, and when you can’t occupy yourself, your mind starts to wander. And then you start to fixate on things you probably shouldn’t fixate on, for your own good.

Things like blood on your hands. The baby limp in your arms. A voice spitting, “pretty little bitch like you would sell for at least—”

Your eyes snap to the corner of the hull for the millionth time, the sight of where it happened, before you shake yourself out of it and hop down off the suspended cot.

“This’ll be good,” you whisper quietly in the darkness to yourself, pulling the blankets off and grabbing the pillow. It’s… it’s something you’ve started to do when you need to instantly snap yourself out of a dreaded line of thinking but you don’t have anything stimulating around you to help. Talk to yourself, talk about anything, just talk out loud and focus on the sound of your own voice. If you listen hard enough, it’ll drown out your thoughts. “The floor will be great. The floor kicks ass. I like the floor.”

You spread the fluffiest blanket down on the ground as far away from the offending corner as possible, and then close the much shittier metal bed into the hull wall before collapsing on your clearly superior one, never once ceasing your rambling nonsense about the floor.

Oh, this is nice. This is fantastic. Your back is still tight and achy from three awful weeks of sleeping on a “mattress” clearly made for someone with no concept of comfort, but being able to stretch out on a flat surface with a large shock blanket that feels like a fucking cloud under your body? Your eyes are already starting to droop.

“The floor is better,” you whisper, yawning and snuggling deeper into the pillow. The terminal is quiet. The kid will be asleep for a while. Mando won’t come back tonight. Mando won’t come back tonight. “The floor is better. The floor… the floor…”

***

You jerk awake to something kicking your leg, hard.

Gasping, you’re instantly pulling the blanket over your chest on reflex and bracing yourself for another impact, except then whatever kicked you is immediately toppling over your shins and stumbling to the floor with an unfamiliar grunt.

You and a man you don’t recognize blink at each other for a few seconds; him taking in the way you’re curled up on your makeshift bed, and you taking in the way he’s got his face squished against the metal ground, apparently not quick enough to use his arms to try and soften the abrupt tumble.

It’s like all your blood suddenly thickens and the adrenaline digs claws into your chest. Your first instinct is to fucking bolt, but then your eyes instantly flick to the cockpit, where you know the kid is still sleeping.

Only—you can’t move. You’re frozen in terror, quickly blinking your wide-eyed gaze back at the man on the ground. You know you could’ve only been staring at each other for a few seconds at most, but with the way your mind is hurtling right now, it’s long enough for you to have just the briefest flicker of confusion as to why he hasn’t appeared to have moved either.

Except then another set of footsteps slowly begin clanking up the ramp.

Your heart is fucking slamming up against your ribcage at about the rate of four beats per footstep, but as soon as you catch a flash of beskar stepping onto the ship, you‘re reaching up to clutch your chest with your palm like you just finished a long-distance sprint and trying to take deep, calming breaths.

It’s just a quarry. It’s just a quarry. His hands are cuffed behind his back. It’s a quarry.

The Mandalorian slowly comes to a stop right in front of your outstretched legs and the sharp angles of his chrome profile silently stare down at them, unmoving. You swallow thickly and try not to blush as his helmet tilts towards you and follows your knees up to your hips, along your heaving abdomen and chest, before eventually coming to a rest on your face.

He holds there for a second, taking you in. You bite down your lip and feel your heart thundering under your ribcage, blinking up at him as your cheeks flush in a boiling hot mixture of panic, embarrassment, and relief.

His metallic visor carefully follows the length of your body back down again, pausing once more at your feet.

And then he sighs heavily through the modulator, loud enough to echo through the silent hull, before slowly stepping over them.

“Well, well,” the quarry says, stealing your attention with a sick smile creeping across half his face as it’s smushed against the floor. “Who’s this, Mando? She’s just darling, isn’t she? Does Gideon know your crew has a lovely new addit—?”

The bounty abruptly cuts off with a strangled yelp when Mando bends down and grabs him by the collar, yanking him to his feet and then shoving him forward towards the carbonite chamber.

You collapse back down onto the floor with a relieved breath and try not to tremble with the adrenaline comedown. Maker, you woke up barely a minute ago but almost all of it was spent in fight or flight—or in your case, freeze—mode, and you’re already fucking exhausted again.

“I’ll tell him—” you can hear the quarry snarl just before Mando slams him into the metal frame. As much as you try to just tune the confrontation out for the moment and focus on slowing your heart rate, you still manage to catch bits and pieces. “See him again… be interested to know…”

You close your eyes and breathe deeply, counting to three during each inhale and exhale. Fuck, that scared you. You almost had a fucking heart attack, and it takes you a few seconds to get your body under control again. But then you realize you haven’t heard anything from Mando’s side of the hub for an extended moment, and the carbonizing gas hasn’t yet filled the room.

Your head turns and if you squint from this distance, you can make out a leather glove clamped tight around the quarry’s throat, the man’s face a red-purple by this point as he sags weakly against the chamber.

“Mando!” You bark quite suddenly, and beskar shoulders jerk straight at the sound as the bounty immediately takes in a giant, ragged breath from under a marginally loosened grip. Mando quickly releases his neck altogether and punches in a few buttons on the control panel to the right, and then freezing gas soon solidifies the gasping quarry into solid carbonite.

He stays with his back to you for a moment, letting the cloud disappear completely before he moves a single muscle. When he does eventually turn to look at you, he still doesn’t say anything.

He just stares. The lights in the hull glint off his helmet, and you tug the blankets up your chest a little further on instinct. Fuck, three weeks is a long time. You’re defaulting in a way, finding it impossible to not reevaluate him after a long absence. Before he left, you’d gotten a bit better at gauging his mood and countenance, been more relaxed and friendly around him, but now, after some time away from him, he’s still so… jarring. Unpredictable, even when standing still. Especially when standing still.

You’re just trying to play it by ear, trying to respond to him the way he responds to you. Only—it feels like he’s either not responding to you at all, or you’re just too rousing of a stimulus to show a response.

“You…” you breathe, and for some reason your heart rate is beginning to kick up again instead of decelerate. You should be calmer now that he’s here, but he still hasn’t said a word. “Y-You scared me.”

Mando stays rooted to the spot, just a motionless suit of armor, with the exception of his chest moving with breaths and his fists repeatedly clenching at his sides, and fuck.

Fuck, you’re wet.

You feel like prey right now. You’re starting to gradually build into another fight or flight mode every second he’s staring you down, refusing to speak, but you also feel a stirring deep down in your floor muscles. He’s so fucking tall from this angle, so broad and—

He steps a single foot forward. You flinch at the abrupt movement, practically soaking your underwear now. Mando takes another step forward, and you wet your lips and start to crawl back on the bed just a bit, staring at him with wide eyes.

Maker, the tension is making it hard to breathe. You’re silently begging him to come take care of you after such an agonizing three weeks apart, and Mando’s body language looks like he’s more wound up than you’ve ever seen him. He starts pacing directly to you, crossing the hull rapidly, and your heart thumps furiously with every step he takes.

But then he gets right to the edge of the blankets and suddenly stops short. He looks down at the neatly made bed at his feet, and then down at his body.

You try not to make an audible huff of disappointment when he abruptly collapses down onto his back with a clatter right there on the floor, just a few inches shy of the blanket, immediately bringing the backs of both hands up to press against the face of his helmet. It should look weird considering his knuckles are pushing hard against the visor, almost like he’s covering his eyes or has a headache but is rubbing the beskar instead of his forehead, but it doesn’t. It just makes you want to rip that armor off his body even more and remind him again of what his skin feels like.

“What are you doing?” You try not to make it sound like a breathless pout as you squirm impatiently under the blankets. “Come over here.”

“I’m dirty,” is the first thing that comes through the modulator, gravelly and distorted but his voice burning a fucking hole through you after not hearing it for almost a month. “I need to shower before I touch you.”

You don’t know why, but something about the way he says it makes you throb hard between your legs.

“Will you please just…” you bite your lip, stopping yourself short of saying take your clothes off and go with, “please, just—hurry. I’m…”

Maker, you don’t know how to say it, and Mando soon rolls his helmet to the side to look at you when you don’t finish your sentence. Desperate for it? Hurting? Feeling your clit pulse right now even though he hasn’t laid a finger on you yet?

“I missed you,” you eventually finish lamely, breathless as you fidget and bite your lip.

“Yeah?” He breathes, suddenly turning the rest of his body on his side to face you. “Tell me.”

“I… I want to show you,” you return quietly, scooting closer towards him. “But you’re being withholding.”

Mando doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, but the front of his visor burns into you, steadily increasing your need for him the longer he silently stares at you.

“Show me, then,” he says after a moment, and the sentence rolls through you with a shudder.

You swallow thickly, and slowly start to pull the blanket down. It’s unnerving that his helmet doesn’t move, even though you can literally feel his gaze lowering and searing hot along your newly revealed body. You’re not even naked, not in the slightest, but with the way his shoulders tighten and his spine tenses just slightly, you would think you were completely exposing yourself to him right now.

“Do you want…” Your fingers waver near your belly button, caught somewhere between wanting to pull the hem of your shirt up for him and wanting to pull the waistband of your pants down. “What do you want to see?”

A breath comes through the helmet; slow, but shaky.

“I have to shower,” he grunts sharply, suddenly, his fist clenching at his side. You don’t take offense to the stern tone. He’s clearly repeating the sentence as a reminder to himself, not to you.

“You can get me dirty,” you breathe regardless. “I don’t care.”

“I just spent three weeks on Coruscant’s surface,” Mando grits. “I can’t touch you, I’ll infect you with someth—What are you doing?”

You bite your lip at him as an answer, bypassing your prior conflict altogether by slithering your hand down the front of your pants.

“What are you doing?” He repeats through the modulator, just as your fingertips wedge underneath the hem of your panties.

You shiver at the sensation, your eyes losing focus just slightly as you trail down the front of your pussy. “I… I missed you.”

“Fuck,” Mando barks, and then he scrambles to stand up. “Stop. I’m taking a shower, just—just stop.”

You ignore him, turning on your back and widening your knees so he can still see the way your hand is still moving down between your legs, your finger just barely brushing the top of your slit. “But it feels good.” “Take your hand out of your fucking pants,” he orders tightly. “Right now.”

Your eyes flutter up at him as you do what he says, slowly bringing your hand out of your trousers. “Hurry,” you murmur, biting your lip and blinking innocently up at him. “Please.”

He doesn’t say a word, but his cape does make an audible sound with how quickly he whips around and shuts himself away in the tiny fresher.

***

You forget how long it takes to undo the beskar armor sometimes. In fact, throughout the entire duration of Mando’s shower, you’re able to quietly sneak up to the cockpit and navigate the ship out of the terminal, pull up the coordinates for the next quarry on the navcomp while rising to a high enough altitude above the galactic capital, make a jump into hyperspace, return to the hull, shut off the lights, and slither back under the covers before the fresher actually turns off.

Soon, Mando raps his knuckles against the door separating the two of you, and you’ve completely wiggled out of your clothes by that point, the blanket resting just below your naked waist. “Hey,” his unmodulated voice calls from behind the thick slab of metal. “Eyes closed for a second.”

“I’m not looking,” you agree, draping your elbow across the bridge of your nose and waiting patiently. He gives you a few seconds regardless before the door is sliding open. You expect it to quickly shift shut again, plunge the room back into pitch blackness like before, but he hesitates. It takes another moment for you to realize that he’s probably just staring at your naked chest while he stands there in the doorway, light spilling into the hull and illuminating you waiting for him with your eyes obediently shut.

“I thought I told you not to sleep on the floor anymore,” he murmurs after a quiet second, and you bite your lip and shuffle your shoulders impatiently against the floor, arching your chest out just slightly to entice him to come closer.

“Fuck that bed,” you breathe with your arm still pressed over your eyes, and your nipples feel tight in the cool air. “Your armory is bigger than that bed, Mando. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

“Yeah,” he returns, finally shutting the fresher light off and shifting the door shut behind him, beginning to make his way over to you. “Tells me that there are more guns than people on this ship, as well it should be.”

“Maker, you’re impos—”

You’re cut off by Mando dropping to his knees and slowly crawling over your body, and fuck he’s as naked as you are, he’s naked and his skin is warm and damp from the shower and his hair is still dripping as you slither your arms up his chest and comb your fingers through it.

You can’t see a damn thing but you’re instantly thanking your lucky stars for that fact when his head drops down and a hot tongue drags up the curve of your neck. Okay, this is better. This is always better. Even when you can’t see a damn thing, feeling the hollow of your jaw be caressed by a blazing wet furnace and tugging your fingers through his hair will always be better than when he keeps the helmet on. Maker, you almost forgot how fucking good his mouth is, how soft and warm it is, and you can’t bite down a whimper when his lips finally trail up your chin and seal against yours.

You moan when his tongue gently slides into your mouth, unable to stop yourself as your cunt fucking throbs between your legs with arousal, and Mando even lets out a short huff of air through his nose and a low noise quietly slips through his vocal cords as he tastes you. The barely audible sound is enough gasoline to your fire that you wrap your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his lower back before tugging, wanting his cock pressed against your cunt so you can rub yourself against it while he kisses you.

Only, something in the way Mando’s elbows immediately buckle and the hiss of air through his teeth before he unceremoniously collapses on top of you makes you instantly let him go.

“Hey,” you say, letting him bury his head into the crook of your neck and puff a short few breaths of hot air against your skin. “What’s wrong?”

“Fuck,” he grunts, sounding somewhere between discomfort and legitimate pain, moving to prop his arms up next to your head again but taking a moment before trying to push himself up. “Back. Back hurts. Too—” he winces when his shoulder moves a certain way, “—too old for this.”

“Here.” There’s just enough space between you and Mando to wiggle out from underneath him, quickly turning around and swinging a leg over his back as he abruptly drops to the floor with the extra weight. “Let me rub your back.”

“Shit—come on,” he groans against the blankets. “I haven’t touched you in three fucking—”

Your hands trail up his spine, slow and gentle, and Mando cuts himself off. He shudders under your palms as they carefully push and roll into the small of his back, and the muscles curving down under your touch gradually rise as he breathes in a lungful of air. “Let me rub your back,” you repeat softly, letting your voice lull just a bit in a lower register, and all the air immediately releases from under your hands.

“Okay,” he relents, but his spine still holds straight and tight with tension.

“Okay?” You repeat, dragging your palms back up until they’re roughly in the middle of his spine. “Tell me if I go too hard.”

Mando barely huffs with a chuckle beneath you. “Yeah, okay, I’ll tell you if—nghh—”

You dig your knuckles into the dip right beneath his shoulder blades and start kneading, and Mando makes a strangled noise and sags into the floor. Your smile is almost impossible to hide, but the pitch black hull does the job just fine as you press and roll your knuckles into the hills and valleys of his back. The noises he makes are a mixture of soft gasps and chokes, but it gives you the perfect opportunity to explore his body in ways you haven’t been able to before.

Your thumbs you dig in and follow the curve of his spine down, squeezing through the tightness in his lower back. The skin under your hands is soft and giving, even though you can feel massive knots hidden underneath. You take all the time in the galaxy with it, isolating each ache and pain and then grinding your knuckles into them steady and hard enough to make Mando groan brokenly under the pressure. You work at it for a while, trailing your fingers up to his neck and massaging the base of his skull, not being able to imagine how much those muscles have to hurt after holding up a heavy beskar helmet every single day. Your hands explore everything you can from this angle—you squeeze the tops of his shoulders, slide your palms down and squeeze his biceps, the muscles under his elbows, the ones wrapped around his forearms.

“This alright?” You ask after a while, and you barely get a hoarse grunt from him in response. His body is perfectly relaxed under yours, almost dead if he wasn’t still breathing, and you slowly walk your hands down the length of his back until you’re braced upright on him once more. “You gonna make it?”

Eventually, he drags his forearms up so he can prop them against the blankets and slowly roll over underneath you. You allow the lazy movement, lifting your hips up as he rotates, feeling his smooth skin shift under your palms until he finally comes to a rest on his back.

“My turn?” He asks through the darkness.

“Your turn for wh—?” You gasp as his grip instantly tightens, and then he’s abruptly switching your positions until he’s on top of you. Almost all of your breath is knocked out of you when Mando grabs you and flips you over until you’re on your tummy, and then whatever remains suddenly whooshes out when he straddles you and plops down on your lower back.

“My turn to give you a massage,” he says, and you let out a quiet, “fuck—” when his palms land on your shoulders.

“Wait—” You pant, “—Wait, hang on, I don’t need a—”

Thank the fucking Maker you turn your head quick enough to muffle a loud moan when his fingers begin rubbing hard circles into your deltoids. Stars, sleeping on hard metal for three weeks was truly a nightmare for your posture. The knots in your upper back burn under the steady push and press of his touch, and it’s like your muscles can’t decide if they want to relax under the manipulation or tense up against it.

“Maker,” he murmurs, his thumbs frame either side of your spine and slowly drag downwards, and your voice almost cracks as you hide another groan in the pillow. “Why does your back hurt? What did you do to yourself?” “I slept—” you gasp when his knuckles roll up the length of your sides. “Slept—on that piece of fucking scr-scrap metal—you call a—” his fingers press firmly against the valley below your shoulder blades, and then widen apart to start squeezing your arms, “—a bed for three weeks,” you manage to gasp, sparks of sensation shooting down to your fingertips as he rubs the muscles along the length of your biceps.

Soon, Mando’s hands come back down to rest on the small of your back, and he begins digging his thumbs into the base of your spine. “Why did you do it for so long if it hurt?”

“You said—” You cut off with a moan into the pillow as he slowly scoots back until he’s sitting on your thighs, his hands moving downwards and kneading the soft flesh of your ass, pressing deep into the sore muscles while you struggle to remember what you were going to say. “Said you wanted me to sleep in y—”

His thumbs start slowly moving inwards, his large hands butterflying out along both cheeks and squeezing. He spends a second just grabbing and pulling your pillowy flesh, shamelessly spreading you and manipulating it until you’re throbbing between your legs again. He’s being so brazen about it, too, gradually moving his thumbs closer and closer together until they’re digging into the crevice.

“Hey, uh,” you pant, starting to tense up a bit as his thumbs begin moving downwards. “Ma—h-hey, you’re getting really… close to m-my…”

His hands keep steadily moving down, and you’re starting to squirm just a bit at the unfamiliar sensation of someone’s fingers pressing and kneading the unexplored skin between your cheeks.

“Getting real close to your what?” He drawls out from above you, low in his throat, and your cunt pulses with need.

Fuck, you’re gasping raggedly into the pillow, wondering if the absence would truly make him this bold. You’re halfway caught between nervousness and being incredibly fucking turned on, and the way he pauses right above your asshole and just holds there makes your the muscles deep in your lower abdomen twist in anticipation and heat. Fuck, you’re soaking the blankets beneath you, you can tell. A thin sheen of sweat breaks out across your body and it’s all you can do to just lay there and wait for it with bated breath.

But then his weight is suddenly lifting from you and sliding down the length of your legs, settling at your feet. You barely have enough time to let out a deep sigh—half of it relief and the other half… disappointment, maybe?—before he grabs hold of one of them, the size of it only slightly bigger than his hand, and firmly presses both thumbs into your arch.

A groan of approval slips through your vocal cords and you go practically boneless underneath him, not realizing how tense you just were a second ago.

“Fuck, that’s s-so good,” you murmur into the pillow, grabbing the blankets at your sides and fisting them subconsciously as he clamps his large hand around your heel and squeezes.

After spending just as much time and attention on the other foot, you feel him grip both your ankles and start working circles up the length of your calves with his thumbs. His hands flex against the backs of your knees when they get there, and then your breathing kicks back up again when they gradually drag up your subtly clenching thighs.

But then they come to an immediate halt about halfway up, and you have to bite back a huff of distress when he just holds there. Fuck, why did he stop? Why did he stop?

“Sweet girl,” he eventually breathes out, sounding somewhere between chastising and shocked. Your eyes flutter in the darkness at the tone, the endearment after nearly a month without it, and you wiggle slightly on the bed with arousal. “Is this…?” Mando brushes his fingers along the inside of your thighs, and you can feel the way his cock pulses as he presses it tight against your leg. It’s not until he drags his hand down to your calves that you feel the slick heat coating the tips of his fingers, wiping it off on your relatively dry skin.

The pitch blackness makes it impossible to truly tell, but you’re sure your eyes roll back. Stars, you are so wet for him, you’re leaking it halfway down your thighs. It’s been too long since he’s touched you. You can feel your lower muscles bearing down and coiling tight, your entire pelvic area now cramped up with need.

When his hand carefully moves up and a finger just barely ghosts over the soft flesh of your lips, you can’t stop yourself.

“Touch me,” you hear yourself suddenly beg, goosebumps breaking out along your skin while he begins to slowly trace the outside of your slit, up and down, up and down. “Oh, fuck—please, Din, touch me, I—”

“Hush,” he tells you softly, and fuck, he’s on top of you and you physically can’t do anything to encourage him to hurry up. The only thing you can do is kick one leg out as wide as possible and just shudder helplessly against the floor, trying to give his hands more room to work.

You feel desperate, your blood pounding through your ears as he takes all the time in the universe exploring you. “Stars, don’t do this—I need you to—”

“Hush,” he murmurs once more, before moving both fingers to spread your lips apart ever so slightly, your slick heat seeping out to coat his fingers and the blanket below. “Relax for me.”

Maker, your lower muscles are tightening down and throbbing in equal parts, and you just can’t relax, you can’t relax when you’re this close to cumming all over his hand even though he’s barely touched you. You’ve been aching for it this whole time, but now there’s a bite to it, a slow burn that begins to engulf the lower half of you in simmering heat. “Din, please, I missed you so m—”

You choke when you feel the slightest brush of a fingertip next to your clit, before he’s firmly pushing down and tracing a torturously strong semi-circle around the top of it.

Your toes curl and your body locks up and you gasp his name into the pillow, flexing every single muscle in your body in response to his touch until you’re impossibly rock hard with tension under him.

“Poor thing,” Din whispers, slowly tracing an arch back around the other way, and your entire body trembles with it. Maker, you’re soaking his hand, slippery and hot and every nerve from the waist-down feels sharp and exquisite at the same time. He leans down to press his lips to your shoulder blade while starting to rub strong circles around your clit. “All alone for three weeks, nobody around to look after you. Make sure you’re seen to.”

You’re not sure which way is up right now, and not being able to see anything isn’t fucking helping either. You feel dizzy with sensation, shaky as his tongue slowly drags up your skin, and you actually feel water rush to your eyes in torment when he pulls his hand away.

You open your mouth to beg him not to stop, but then he’s already moving. Grabbing your hips and slowly lifting them until your knees have to shuffle up to compensate. He still keeps your head buried in the pillow, though, still keeps the upper half of your body firmly pressed against the floor. You pant into the fabric half covering your face and fist the blanket underneath you, biting your lip and clenching your thighs as two hands carefully settle along the backs of them.

Fuck, he keeps you there for so long. He drags out the anticipation until you’re downright hurting for it, waiting with your ass up in the air for him to do something—anything to help relieve your stress instead of continuing to build upon it.

“Fuck—” he whispers, “—missed you, too.”

When his hot, velvety tongue finally glides through your slit, something about it makes you moan brokenly into the pillow, spread your knees and arch your back even more in presentation. Fuck, there’s just something about the mindblowing eroticism of your positioning right now, how you’re bent in half and letting him lick through your folds however is easiest for him, something about it hits just right and makes your orgasm suddenly pull up tight and fast.

“Din—” you breathe frantically, your knees shuffling apart and your hips pushing back against his mouth. “Din, I’m gonna cum—”

His hands come up to clamp around your thighs and hold them steady. And then he lowers his chin to seal his mouth over your clit, slowly dragging his slick tongue over it, again and again and again, and fuck, you can’t do anything to stop it. Everything surges up, searing hot and wet as you go rigid and gasp his name, shuddering your way through the debilitating bliss as it arcs brilliantly up and down your spine.

By the time you’re finished, you’re slumped against the floor in exhaustion. He pulls away and sits up, and you try to push yourself up too, but a large palm firmly flattening along your spine stops you. The sound of him spitting and the subsequent slick glide of his hand around his cock makes you groan hoarsely against the pillow and relax back down again.

Din eases his way inside you and the thickness of him as he slowly breaks you open is fucking electrifying. Your sensitive channel hugs tight to every fucking inch of him, lighting your nerves up from the inside and sending skittering shocks down your thighs. You melt into the floor and take what he gives you until his hips touch your ass, sagging against the ground as he stands so tall and upright on his knees behind you.

When he slowly pulls back out, you can hear the wet sound it makes echo throughout the pitch black hull. Maker, he just starts up a slow, steady rhythm, his steel grip on your ass holding you steady as he pushes in and out of you. It’s blinding, making you writhe against the floor while he gives you his cock at a languid pace, dragging the pleasure out but snapping his hips against yours whenever he does reach the apex of his strong thrusts.

It’s as agonizing as it is blissful, and you moan softly into the pillow the entire way through it. Except—you’re too full of mindless pleasure, too stimulated to want to remain stationary for this long. You need to move, you need to show him how much you thought about him while he was gone.

“Din—” you whimper, breathless and needy, turning your head back slightly to unmuffle your words. “Turn over.”

“In a second,” he huffs, his cock continuing to steadily rock into you. You’re bent in half, taking it the only way he’ll give it to you and not even being able to push back into him. “No—l-later. After.”

You whine, frustrated, clawing and pulling at the blankets under your arms. “Please—”

“Fuck,” Din pants, “fuck, what do you need? You need it faster?” His speed kicks up the slightest bit, and stars, you have to bite the back of your hand to muffle the ragged noise you make in response. “This what you need? Tell me.”

There’s not a good way to phrase it. Mostly, you just… feel the need to participate in this more directly. You know from experience that he likes to finish when he’s on top, but after weeks apart, you… you need to be what makes him cum, not what he holds steady and uses to get himself there.

Your voice comes out frantically, pleading gasps for him to grant you this one thing. “Just turn over, please—pleasepleasepleaseplease—”

His thrusts falter, until they stop completely. He sounds like he’s having as much trouble breathing as you are, but his hard grip on you gradually loosens. “You—do you not—?”

You don’t let him finish. As soon as he lets you go, you’re pushing yourself up and turning around, grabbing his shoulders and all but wrestling him down to the cushioned blanket. Din grunts and lets you do it, dropping down onto his back and snaking his hands up your naked chest as you climb over him with weak, trembling limbs. Once you get his cock into position and sink down though—fuck, you grab his wrists and yank them up until his palms are cupping your tits, and Din hisses below you. Your hands are barely large enough to wrap around the backs of his, but you force him to squeeze them nonetheless, and then you begin to ride him in earnest.

He curses, bracing his feet against the floor and shifting his knees behind you, and then he starts pushing his hips up into yours in time with your downward rolls. Maker, he hits something deep inside you at the angle, something that makes you gasp every time your hips meet. Your palms drag down his wrists and forearms as he keeps groping your breasts, throwing your head back in ecstasy as another orgasm starts to stir somewhere low in your core.

“Stars, I—I think I m-might—” You barely have enough time to gasp it out before he’s releasing your breasts and anchoring his grip tight to your hips, beginning to angle and isolate in on that one spot that drives you fucking crazy. The strong thrusts pull you forward until your palms are braced on the floor next to his head, and you just moan and push back against it as he fucks deep into you.

“Fuck, I missed you,” Din says again, his disembodied voice sounding tighter and more desperate in the darkness, like it’s coming out against his will. “I—I missed you, t-too, sweet girl, I f-fucking—missed—”

You choke out a cry as another wave of euphoria all but fucking evicerates you. Your elbows buckle and you fall into his chest, but Din wraps both arms around your back and keeps fucking you through it, gritting breathless curses at the ceiling as your cunt spasms around his cock.

“Tho—ught about you—” he groans, husky and low next to your ear, “every… fuck, every fucking day—thought about y—”

His body tenses and his thrusts stutter to a halt, and then he grinds up into you, gasping your name into the pitch black hull. Your body is crushed into his chest when his hips jerk against yours, and you bite his shoulder in satisfaction, squeezing hard around his throbbing cock.

When Din finally settles back down to the floor again, both of you are spent. Neither one of you fucking move. You don’t say anything while you catch your breath against his chest, slumping down into him as his knees suddenly drop flat.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Fuck. I’m. I’m never taking a bounty on Coruscant again.”

You laugh lightly, swallowing and turning your head to settle in the crook of his neck. Your knees shuffle up slightly until you’re resting all your weight on top of him, his cock still engulfed in your hot center. As soon as you lift off him, you know you’re just going to dribble a mess all over these nice blankets, so you decide to put it off for as long as he allows it.

Din doesn’t seem to have a problem with it at all. In fact, his chest shifts just slightly beneath you when he reaches down to catch one of the blankets and pull the fabric over the both of you, collapsing back into the pillow with an exhausted sigh and doing absolutely nothing to encourage you to move whatsoever.

“Corellia was worse,” you tell him instinctually, and he grunts and brings his hands up to trail his fingers along your lower back.

“Corellia was over within a day,” he points out, and. Shit. You know he’s just being diplomatic about it, but something in the way he casually brushes it off suddenly makes you go quiet. He’s right, you probably weren’t on Corellia for more than a few hours total. Not that you necessarily expected him to, but he clearly doesn’t realize the events that took place there have haunted you for weeks.

When you don’t immediately say something in response, Din stops dragging his fingers up your spine. You can feel his chin lower slightly, his jaw brush against your forehead. “You oka—?”

“I killed someone on Corellia,” you whisper, and your words hang heavy in the still air immediately afterwards. “A man is dead because of me.”

He doesn’t speak. For a long time, Din doesn’t speak.

By the time his voice eventually does come through the darkness, you’d almost convinced yourself he wasn’t going to say anything at all.

“You’re right,” he tells you bluntly, brushing your hair back from your shoulder. And, for some reason, you’re not expecting it. If you were able to get a verbal reply out of him at all, you… you hoped he’d argue with you even just a little bit, if only to make you feel even the slightest bit better. “A man is dead, and you killed him.”

Though his voice is soft and you know he’s not being intentionally cruel, it’s like he reached through your ribcage and crushed your heart himself. Your shoulders tense at the feeling, wanting to instinctively curl yourself inwards and make yourself smaller in response to it. Only, Din’s broad chest prevents it. All you can do is hide your face as best you can in his neck and let the unfiltered truth weigh heavy on you in the silent hull.

“But you’re wrong about one thing,” he eventually says. “He’s not dead because of you. That implies you had a choice. You didn’t. He’s dead because of him. He gave you an ultimatum, and you did what you had to do. Don’t feel bad that you won.”

“I didn’t win anything,” you whisper against his throat, uncomfortable with the implication.

“He initiated a confrontation, and you finished it,” he asserts. “You did what you had to do, and you did great, so don’t—”

“Great?” You close your eyes and try not to sound as upset as you currently feel, because you know this is just him being polite. He does this for a living. He’s probably lost count of how many people he’s killed in his lifetime, so what’s one body to him? You shouldn’t have let the conversation lead here, especially after such a lovely moment. “I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it—”

“Listen to me,” Din suddenly says, curling the tips of his fingers against your shoulder blade. “There’s something you need to understand, and I’m not trying to hurt your feelings by telling you this. But the galaxy will never be as kind to you as you are to it. You’re tenderhearted, and that’s not a bad thing. Hang onto it, but recognize that it’s rare. It’s not something that you’ll come by often. You’ll never see as much of it in anyone else as I see in you.”

Maybe it’s because you know he’s not used to comforting people that the words actually manage to make you feel somewhat comforted. They’re blunt and honest, but they also allow an unobstructed glimpse into his feelings for you, specifically because of that.

“I just…” You bite your lip and snuggle your head deeper into the crook of his neck. “I just wish I could… somehow…”

His chest expands fully with air underneath you, and then you can literally feel yourself slowly sink down a few inches with how deeply he sighs. But… this isn’t the normal Mando sigh. He doesn’t sound frustrated with you, exasperated, or impatient. He sounds… empathetic. Understanding.

His hand comes up to cradle the back of your head and comb his fingers through your hair, tugging at some of the tangles at your nape. “What would you have done differently?”

You don’t answer him, because you immediately see what he’s getting at. You’ve told yourself these things a million times over in the weeks he’s been gone. Regardless, he goes on for you.

“Would you have chosen to land the ship in a different spot? Risked a different person following you onto it?” He asks, and though the overarching point to this line of questioning is already blatantly obvious, his voice is still kind. “Would you have taken that vibroblade to a different part of his body? Given him a slower death? What else would you have done, sweet girl?”

You stay silent, fluttering your eyes shut. His fingers lazily trail up and down the length of your spine, goosebumps breaking out on your skin once again.

“Even if there was something you could’ve done—even if his death had been your fault,” Din murmurs, “—listen, do you remember what you said to me? When I told you my name—before that, do you remember what you said? You said that some things just belong to people. That there are certain things that people just own, right? Fundamentally. And you can do whatever you want with them. You can choose whether or not to share them with others, you can hide them, or you can. Change them. Burn them away. Remember?”

You nod as much as you can with your head buried into his neck like this.

“Well, you’re right,” he continues, his voice softening. “Some things do belong to people. But some things… some things you can’t change. Some things you can’t hide, and you can’t just burn away forever. But that doesn’t make them any less yours, understand? You killed someone. It doesn’t matter what I tell you, or what you tell yourself. The end result won’t ever change. It can't change. You own that now, and you’ll carry his death with you. Just like I carry every single one of mine.”

He’s… he’s right. You don’t have to like it, but he’s right.

“I don’t like it when you quote me to me,” you eventually whisper, your lips brushing his throat.

“Too bad. I got another one for you,” Din rumbles, and you can feel his gentle smile against your hairline as he tilts his head and presses his lips to your temple. “The Way says no take-backs.”

You narrow your eyebrows into this perfect little corner of him, not liking how curt and unapologetic it sounds rolling off his tongue. “Did I say that?”

“Yep,” he huffs at the ceiling. “Half-asleep, yet observant enough to be annoying.”

Your mouth twists, trying to appear visibly offended in the pitch blackness for some reason but fighting back a smile. “Would you rather I be oblivious and adorable?”

“No,” he says immediately, and then you blink a few times in the darkness at the sincerity in his tone. “You’re smart. Well—you’re an idiot sometimes, but you’re smart. That’s good. That’s your best weapon. Use it.”

“Use it?” You ask, your voice quiet but curious. “For what?”

He takes a second before responding, his fingers continuing to trace gentle, subconscious shapes along the curve of your spine. “What planet are we going to next?”

The abrupt change in subject is stark and immediately noticeable, but you wrack your memory for the coordinates you brought up earlier when he was in the fresher nonetheless. “Naboo.”

“I was thinking,” Din says, shifting just the slightest bit under you. You groan when you realize his cock is still inside you, soft but still gorgeously thick enough to not slip out. “Might… might be a good idea to show you some things. Give you a few self-defense tips before I head out again. Naboo is one of the safest planets in the galaxy. We can… take a few days.”

“Yeah?” You breathe, a spark of excitement bringing an immediate smile to your face.

“Yeah,” he repeats softly, the scruff on his jaw rubbing against your temple as he nods. “Been awhile.”

“Okay,” you bite your lip on a grin and try not to let him hear the happiness in your voice. Fuck, a few days. A few days he’s delaying his job to spend with you. Maybe you’ll be able to sleep on an actual mattress at some point. You truly can’t fucking wait.

You two stay like that for quite a long time, just resting and breathing with each other in the pitch black hull.

“We just wouldn’t have gone to Corellia, how about that?” You find yourself saying after a moment of comfortable silence. When Din doesn’t speak, you elaborate. “You asked me what I would’ve done differently. We just wouldn’t have gone to Corellia. Avoided the whole fucking sector altogether, like I plan on doing for the rest of my life.”

And then your whole body abruptly jerks up and down exactly once with his genuinely amused huff of laughter from underneath you.

Your expression immediately narrows. This is the third time you’ve ever made him laugh in all the months you’ve known him, and somehow all three of them have been at your own expense. “What’s funny?”

“Absolutely. You could’ve—” he clears his throat, “—convinced me. Not to hunt down a bounty.”

He doesn’t make a sound beyond that, and had you not been laying on top of his chest as it subtly vibrated with stifled chuckles, you wouldn’t have known at all that he found that to be so funny.

“I could’ve… wooed you,” you try after a second, and nope. You feel like you’re on top of a silent, quaking faultline now, and you do your best to keep a frown on your face as you rock back and forth on top of him. His cock almost slips out of you in the commotion. Almost.

“Get some sleep, you sweet talker,” he eventually sighs when he calms his breathing, kissing your forehead and settling back down into the blankets. “The kid will be up in a few hours, probably less.”

“He’s your son,” you grumble, still sulking somewhat at his blatant disregard of your seduction talents. “Takes after you. For all I know he looks just like you, too.”

“Sleep,” Din tells you, bringing a hand up to cup the back of your head and push it deeper into the crook of his neck. “That’s enough talking.”

You stomp down the playful urge to bite him and settle into him instead, closing your eyes and breathing him in. Fuck. A few days on Naboo. You’ve only heard nice things about the beautiful planet. You wonder if it has an ocean. Could a planet be called beautiful if it doesn’t have at least one? You’ve seen rivers and lakes on planets Din has taken you to, but there was always land on the other side. You’ve never seen an actual ocean before, you’ve only heard about them. Water, as far as the eye can see. There has to be an ocean on Naboo, right?

“Hey Din, are there any—”

“Stop.”

It’s alright, you’ll ask later.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #fanfic #reader insert #no-droids #rough day #smut

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tennessoui · 2 years

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I love your face!anakin au! I’ve always been curious about if/how obi-wan started to like Anakin back… I felt a little sad for fairy(?) Anakin here even tho he’s kinda crazy lol. Does he get upset over obi-wan’s constant rejection and decide to leave? If obi-wan does return his feelings is Anakin skeptical? Does he make friends with other Jedi? I would love it if you gave us more!

Oh I haven’t thought of fae anakin in so long !!! All these questions have great angst potential but tbh what I wanted most when writing was just something stupidly light-hearted 🥺

So I’d say no, Anakin never even thinks of leaving (also he can’t because marrying Obi-Wan was the only reason he was able to leave his planet/realm in the first place). It helps that they do start sleeping together very quickly, and I wouldn’t say Obi-Wan is mean to him—just polite and distant, but respectful. He doesn’t sleep with anyone else once Anakin comes into his life because Anakin absolutely warns him not to. I imagine he even warms up to casual PDA given enough sad eyes from Anakin.

Mostly, Anakin prods and sad-eyes and hopeful-smiles his way into Obi-Wan’s heart. I imagine there’s a point too where Anakin realizes Obi-Wan does love him, even though it’s going to take Obi-Wan forever to admit it. This realization also helps transform him from a cat knocking things off counters for attention and into an absolutely cuddle monster and clingy limpet because he knows Obi-Wan LOVES him. He was RIGHT. He’s EASY to love

#asks #as far as getting friendly with other Jedi #he must eventually but I feel like it’s more canon anakin too?#where he has friends for sure but also a bit alone #he makes friendly menaces with a lot of Jedi #they are worried if he isn’t around but it’s hard to tell if they’re more worried he’s been injured or that he’s planning something #fae anakin au #but no anon it absolutely makes sense to put angst in it and maybe anakin does deserve to yell at obi-wan for marrying him and hating him #but fae anakin is a lil too crazy to do that for fae reasons #he’s also just a hopeless romantic dialed up to 20

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momowho34 · 3 years

Text

Okay but like a reverse Naruto au. Sasuke stays in the village as the good guy main character and Naruto gets picked up by orochimaru and later the akatsuki. Like just. I think we deserve some feral naruto. As a treat.

Just THINK of the possibilities here!!!! There are so many!!!!!! Ahhhh!!!!!

In the dark timeline Naruto’s allowed to say fuck but sasukes not

If he ends up in the akatsuki at the same time as Itachi, Naruto SWEARS that he has no allegiance to Konoha or anyone living there, but itachi is starting to get very confused as to why this kitsune child always looks like he wants to kill him.

Orochimaru’s death would have been so much more satisfying, because instead of handling it with grace like Sasuke, u know naruto would just kick in the door and be like “time to fucking die snake man!!!!! I’m finished with you!!!!” And that would be so amusing.

The akatsuki getting super annoyed with the way naruto is and then slowly realizing “holy fucking shit this kid is super powerful, maybe this was a bad idea????”

Naruto being allowed to just go fucking apeshit about all of the injustices he faced instead of being all moral and shit

Similarly, sasuke refusing the revenge route in favor of never becoming like his brother, deciding to end the cycle of violence itachi tried to push on him

Sasuke being like “ha, to bad orochimaru, I won’t join you, I’m better then that!” And orochimaru looking slightly to the left and being like “mkay what about your angry boyfriend?” And Sasuke replying with “ha, naruto would Never- naruto? Naruto what are you doing? Are u fucking kidding me naruto???? Naruto, what the fuck-“

Jiraiya choosing sasuke and absolutely refusing to admit that the kid has really grown on him for the past three years during the timeskip and the two of them like pretending to hate eachother even though they’re super close

Literally any of the akatsuki members interacting with feral naruto

Kakashi getting torn up because he kind of had a bond with naruto, blaming himself for not realizing sooner and stopping him.

This situation puts sasuke the edgelord in the position of having to give cheesy power of friendship speeches that he totally believes, he’s just really bad at it

Instead of team Taka rallying around Sasuke because they all mutually love him, they all rally around naruto because they all mutually hate him (honestly tho suigetsu thinks he’s kinda hot)

Deidara and Naruto having screaming competitions and arguing about the most bullshit things prompting Sasori to try and fucking kill them

Naruto being alarmed at how Team Taka cares about him because he’s been abandoned his whole life and the one (1) time he experienced Kindness was three years ago with Team 7 and he can’t process it

The ANGST potential

“Naruto you can’t go with Orochimaru, he’s just using you!” “Im a jinchuriki, Sasuke. I should be used to that by now, shouldn’t I?”

When sasuke disappears in the normal show, naruto helps Sakura cope by joking and stuff, but sasukes never been good at that, so the two of them just have a lot of long mournful silences when Naruto runs away.

Evil Naruto angst juxtaposed with good sasuke fluff

When Sai gets on the team, Sakura has to deal with two edgy losers and Sai keeps pissing Sasuke off by accidentally insulting his abilities that he’s super self conscious about

Naruto seeing Sai and being like “oh. so you replaced me, huh? that’s fine. that’s great. I don’t care. I’m not jealous. not at all >:(“

Somebody please fucking write this and tag me it HURTS I need this in my life

#feral naruto rights #sasuke awkwardly trying to be comforting #shitpost #naruto #naruto shitposting #naruto shitpost omg #fanfiction prompts #dark au #reverse au #I need this pls #somebody #orochimaru #naruto uzamaki #sasuke #sasuke uchiha

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sometimes-i-write-4-you · 4 years

Note

Hey! I was wondering if you could do promt #3 for Hyde x reader? (Love your story telling btw)

I (fake) love you - Steven Hyde x reader

a\n: this somehow ended up as a fake dating au but i’m not mad

trigger warnings: cursing, weed mentioning, Hyde and reader are pretending to “do it” as Kelso would say, i’d say it has some angst and fluff but nithing too extreme.

I was always good at reading people. Normally, I could talk to someone for 5 minutes and know everything there is to know about them, for example, the first time I met Michael Kelso, I knew immediately he’s dependable, loyal and likes to be pushed around. Most people thinks it’s his lack of smarts that makes it easy to manipulate him, but the truth is he just seeks attention, he grew up in such a big family, and as just another sandwich kid, he never got that much attention. He’s more than just a good-looking, brainless goofball.

Eric Forman? Smart kid, heart of gold. His father crashed his self esteem and his belief he has no worth sunk so deep into his brain he’s not even trying to prove it wrong. He’s not just a nerdy smart-ass, too bad he’s scared of his potential.

Donna Pinciotti is the girl who will go far. She’ll make history, i can tell you that. She is passionate, and she will not hesitate to fight over what she sees right, yet will admit if she did you wrong. She grew up in a loving family overall, but she doesn't want to end up like her dad: rich, lazy and stuck in a small town. She’s a big city kind of girl.

Fez is sweet, desperate and eats candy to cope with his loneliness. He’s not afraid of his feminine side, and cares about his looks in a different way then Kelso. He might be weird, and have a tendency to say the most inappropriate things, but he never looks to hurt someone or make them uncomfortable, he just wants to feel loved.

Jackie Burkhart was a bit harder to crack, and her first impression on me was semi-wrong. I could tell she’s more than a spoiled brat, I just didn’t know if it’s in a good way - like, she might be smart and kind, with a broken point of view in the world but she’s willing to look at it from a different point of view. On the other hand, she could be a mean, spoiled brat who’s going to succeed big time by manipulating the hell out of everything around her. Turns out it’s a little bit of both - she’s kind, and she learns the world is not all glitter and unicorns, but she manipulates to get things her way. At least she doesn't make a fuss when she doesn't get what she wanted. Well, not as much.

With all that, there was still one mystery in the little group I found myself a part of: Steven Hyde.I could not tell you a thing about him. I knew the basics - his name, the fact his parents are not there, and that he likes weed, beer and Zeppelin. He hid every sign of emotions behind sarcasm, and had walls taller than anyone i’ve ever met.

I started hanging out with them when I moved here. Kelso made a move on me the second he saw me, and he still tries to this day, but it’s obvious our relationship is strictly platonic and it’s not going to change, even though he thinks it’s better. One time I jokingly agreed and he said, and I quote, “ew, no, you’re like a sister to me”, but he keeps on making sexual advances on me for the sake of the joke.

I quickly befriended the rest of the guys (and girls), and even though i learned to love all of them, there was someone i really loved. Not Kelso, he’s practically my brother, it was Hyde i was so into, but i can’t tell you why. Maybe it was his sense of humor, maybe it was his kind heart or maybe it was the challenge.

“Hey, (y\n), penny for your thoughts?” Donna said, breaking the silence. The TV was on, but it was clear my head is somewhere else. “She’s thinking ‘bout Hyde” Kelso was quick to tease. “Shut up” I growled at him, and suddenly everyone’s focus was on me. Hyde wasn’t there, Kelso might have zero tact, but he would never throw me under the bus, cause he knows i will get into the bus and run over him. It was me and him on the couch, and Donna and Eric across from each other on the chairs as a way to avoid them making out instead of hanging out with their friends. “(y\n), do you want to tell us something?” Eric asks. “I- no, it’s stupid. Kelso is stupid, remember the time he ate a blueberry on a field trip and it ended up being the poisneus one we were warned about when we arrived?” i said, hoping it will drive the attention to tease him and not me. “Oh, that was funny, but not as funny as the time he revealed you have a crush on Hyde” Donna said, “but good try”. I sighed. “Look, it’s not like i’m in love with him or something, he’s just a mystery I want to solve. A mystery with a kind smile and great sense of humor. Look, it’s nothing, Kelso is just obsessed with the idea his best friends will date” i said. “oh, Tell them what you told me, come on! It was hilarious” Kelso said, ignoring the last part of my confession, and when I refused he decided to share my words he did it himself. “God, Kelso, his voice is so hot, i can listen to him for hours even if it’s just the stupid car that runs on water non-sense” He said, immitating a high-pitched voice that didn’t really sound like mine. “That is not what i said” i tried to redeem myself, but Eric and Donna were too busy laughing to hear me. “I just said he’s voice is calming” I kept trying.

“Who’s voice?” Hude asked as he jumped over the couch and took the open spot next to me. “Y-” Kelso started, but i hit his chest, “-our mama” he changed the ending of the word, “BURN!”. “I was talking about the weather guy” I made up, but did I lie? “You’re so weird, man” Hyde sighed, stretching and leaving his hand on the couch. “Well, kelso, we have this thing, you coming?” Donna said, “with Jackie, the double date i can’t believe i agreed to”. Kelso looked confused, “it’s tomorrow”. “No, it’s today” Eric insisted, winking at him and nudging his head at me and hyde. “What? Jackie is going to kill me-” “we won’t tell her you forgot” Donna plays along. I saw right through the act, but kelso really thought he forgot.

He left the basement along with Eric and donna.It wasn’t the first time me and Hyde we’re alone, but usually it was Kelso ditching me and Hyde when the three of us hung out to try and get a girl to sleep with. I’m telling you, one day he’ll get someone pregnant.

“What’s with them?” Hyde sighed and got up to get a popsicle. “Who fucking knows?” i replied, trying to think of a way to change the subject. “You saw how Eric pointed at us? Like what, are they trying to get us alone?” Hyde continued, handing me a popsicle as he sat down. “I- yeah” i admitted, “Kelso has this crazy idea, he wants us to date cause we’re both his best friends or something” i explained, leaving out the part i was on board with the idea, and the fact that it was originally mine. “Oh, we should totally prank them!” Hyde said, “like, let’s pretend to date and be the most annoying couple ever”. I looked at him confused. “Like, we can use cutest couple names, ditch them to be alone or just make out in their face constantly” his smile got wider and wider, and I can't say no to that smile. “Sure, yeah, could be fun”.

The next day, I walked in the basement wearing your favourite outfit, ready to annoy the heck out of my friend. The moment you entered the room, Hyde got up and pulled you onto a hug. “Hey, lover boy” I said, kissing him on the lips. We had to practice doing that without laughing. We kissed like, 10 times yesterday when we planned the prank, his reply kept breaking us and we had to do it again. “Hi, apple pai” he said, kissing me one more time. Everyone looked at each other, exchaging “what the fuck?”s with their eyes. Hyde placed his hand on my waist and walked me to the couch, “Steven!” I laughed when he picked me up in bridal style and sat down, resting me in his lap. “God, babe, you look so hot today” Hyde said, sliding his hand down my side, settling on a not too sexual but not that friendly spot on my thigh. It was all planned, and fake, but the blush on my cheeks was as real as it gets. “Well, lover, I wanted to dress up for you” I said, fidgeting with the collar of his shirt. “Uh, guys, what’s going on?” Jackie was the first to speak. “Oh, well, yesterday Kelso, Eric and Donna, pulled a little trick to get me and Hyde together, and it worked” I smiled. “Yeah, guys, thank you so much for helping me get with the most beautiful girl in the world” Hyde agreed, looking at me through his rosy sunglasses. I took them from him. “Hey!” he said, but before he got them back I put them on. I slide them down my nose and look up to him. “That was hot, so i’ll let it slide this time” he said, taking the glasses off of my face. The script we wrote was absolutely perfect.

The days have passed, and soon they turned into weeks, and our little show kept going. I’ll admit, kissing Hyde and ditching the gang to hang out with him (we pretended to leave for a different reason, tho), the fake double dates… it was fun. The longer we pretended to date, the more our couple-y behavior stuck with us, like, one time we met up for a pretend-date and he kissed me when he saw me. I kissed him back, it just felt natural. We got a good laugh out of it, but it happened more than once. I knew I had to ask him to stop this, because my feelings kept growing but he had none, plus I know he kept fooling around cause i’ve seen girls flirting with him, and they always left together.

We were in his room now, pulling another trick. “Oh, lover, yes” i called, trying to sound as breathless as i can. “Oh, buttercup, you're soooo hot” Hyde called, and jumped on his bed, making it creek. I had to really hold my laugh as I joined him.

“Oh, babe, you’re so good” I called, adding some moans in between words. “Nice” he whispered. We heard the door knob being messed with. Hyde was quick to push me down on the bed. He took off his shirt, hinting me to do the same as we got under the sheets. He got on top of me and pushed his lips against mine just as Michael opened the door.

“Dude!’ Steven called and pulled the covers over us as he fell on his back next to me. “Dude, we can hear you, that’s so gross. You two are-” Michael started. “Well, you can just take your hangout somewhere else, Kelso” i said, throwing the first thing I could grab in his face. It was my shirt. “Yeah, we are kind of in the middle, man” Hyde said. The moment Kelso left, Hyde and I started laughing like crazy.

“That was..” i said as he got up. “Yeah, i’m so good” he said, mimicking my breathless voice. “K, give me my shirt back” i said, trying not to look at his bare chest, and not luckily, he was already putting on his shirt. He went up to the door. “Kelso took it” Hyde said, grining. “Well, shit” I sighed, but he had a solution. “Take this” he said, and tossed me a Led Zeppelin shirt. “Thank you, lover boy” I said, staying under the covers. He looked at me, waiting. “Well, turn around, creep” i said, laughing. “As your boyfriend-” he started, but gave up when his eyes met mine, “fine”. He turned around, allowing me to put on his shirt. “You can look now” I said, fixing the shirt. “How do i look?” I asked. “So hot, buttercup” he replied, smirking and wrapping his hands around my waist and kissing me, forgetting that we are not actually dating. “Hyde, we need to break up” the words slip out of my mouth.

“what ? why?” he asked, “i mean, this is the best prank i ever pulled, and the most enjoyable” he said, his lips stretch into his familiar smirk. “Because-” i tried, but couldn’t come up with a good reason other than the truth. “I mean, you have to admit it’s fun” he said, his hands still around my waist. “Well, yeah, but not for the reason you think” i say, and the confused look in his eyes hurts me. “I- Hyde, this is.. Look, I know you’re sleeping around and that’s gonna blow our cover ``I finally find an answer, “you don’t want your friends to think you’re a cheater”. He looked even more confused. “(y\n), i haven’t touched any other girl since we started... this” he replies, pointing at me and at him. “But i saw you-” I insisted. “I couldn’t, every single time” he admits. Taking the sunglasses resting on his cabinet and putting them on. “Why would you do that? You really expect me to think a horny teenager gave up making out, possibly more, with really hot girls because of what? He’s fake dating a random girl?” I laugh sadly. “No, god, (y\n), you are not some random girl” he says, resting his hands on my arms. “Why-” “because i love you!”.

I don’t know who was more surprised at his words - him or me. We stayed quiet. “Are you- are you gonna say anything?” he broke the silence. “How about i’ll do something instead?” i said, taking a step closer to him. As I moved closer, I placed my hands around his neck. “What are yo-” he tried to ask, but I pulled myself up and connected our lips. Even though we kissed before, this time it was different. His lips moved against mine in a mix of relife, passion and love. He tasted like mint, orange flavoured popsicle and weed. “I forgot to mention, I love you too” I said, breaking the kiss. “Whatever man” he said, re-connecting our lips.

#steven hyde #steven hyde x reader #steven hyde imagines #steven hyde imagine #that 70s show #that 70s show x reader #that 70s show imagines

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satsuki2406 · 3 years

Text

OPEN SKY Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

“…And never, ever forget that, your dreams are the wings that’ll help you fly.”

(L/N)(Y/N) has always been forced to live according to others’ expectations. As a member of the powerful and influential (L/N) Family, she has had to live with the heavy weight of seeing others write her destiny with no choice but just obey. But when (Y/N) finally decides to risk it all to take the only opportunity to regain the control of her own life, everything ends up going horribly wrong. Surrendered and disappointed, she receives one last chance to prove to herself and to U.A, along with some unexpected help that this was not a crazy and meaningless waste of time.

Maybe this plan could work after all…

PAIRING: (Bakugou Katsuki x Reader)

GENRE/WARNINGS: Romance, Fluff, Angst, Mentions of sex (nothing explicit tho), dark themes, My poor attempt of comedy, family dysfunctionality, toxic relationships, Strong language (Courtesy of King Lord Explosion Murder 💥), Manga Spoilers.

STATUS: On going

Masterlist \(￣︶￣*\))

6- Have We Got a Deal?

✒A/N:

I rewrote this chapter like three times, and hopefully, now it turned out better. I read my progress again a couple of weeks ago and it was simply, not right. I hated it so much that I decided to delete it and work again on it. The essence is the same of what I planned for this chapter and although it is a bit longer now, I took the chance to get into more detail about certain things and express better about others. The conversation between Reader-chan and Kaguya may have become a bit deeper than it used to be, but I really liked the outcome and gave me more ideas for the future plot. That's all for now.

Hope you enjoy it! q(≧▽≦q)

So, my dear sweet cousin, do you accept or not?

“W-Wait a minute! You can’t be serious, do you- do you understand the implications of what you’re saying?!” You said incredulously.

“Of course I do, why do you think we are here?” Kaguya said while she took another canape and bit it. She chewed slowly while you watched her attentively, the dread in your stomach growing by increments, exasperated for her to continue. She finally swallowed and took a sip of wine.

“So? Would you care to explain what on earth is actually happening, because you don’t expect me to believe that the cause of such an unprecedented change is because of some internet gossip” You said in a demanding tone.

“Of course it’s not, but if you are patient enough I’ll explain it to you with pleasure, so you better watch your tone with me, brat.” She hissed.

You puffed out your cheeks but nodded in cue for her to continue.

“Approximately three days ago grandmother convened a last-minute meeting in her abode to discuss this problem. At first, I thought she was overreacting about this whole ordeal, after all big corporates and companies are attacked and critized all the time, but after a long, long discussion, we all agreed that the situation should not be taken lightly and it needed to be addressed as soon as possible.”

“That bad it is?” You asked slightly concerned.

“Unfortunately,” Kaguya answered. “Walls covered in graffiti in Kyoto, people protesting and messing with the employees at the ER main entrance in Hosu, broken windows in Deika and thousands and thousands of emails and nasty messages in all our social media accounts. We had to hire the services of a whole publicity agency so they could deal with the problem, hardly. It has been difficult to contain, but it paid off because it hasn’t been leaked into any important newscast. Internet, the origin of the problem, has been another story, unfortunately, in these cases, it can be very difficult and unforgiving to work with; once something enters, is nearly impossible to pull it out and if you succeed there’s always a risk it would pop up anywhere when you least expect it.” Kaguya said while she rubbed her temples.

“Internet is a huge source of news and information for thousands of people nowadays, even millions, fake or not, and also the main responsible that this situation slipped out of control faster.”

You contemplated your next words as you soaked in all the information you just were provided with, so you could express your ideas and queries as clear as possible. “Okay…but why is everybody so angry about our current family situation? I get it’s messed up, but why go as far as vandalize privite property and nag about it on social media?” You asked slightly hesitant.

“As an institution, we had always presented and preserved ourselves as a family, working to, and for the Japanese families generation after generation, no matter where we went, we always went together, always radiating the image of a happy, healthy, and unified family. Throughout the time several members of our family had made multiple presentations in public inspiring kindness and charisma, earning the trust and love of the people, which is impressive considering the heavily hero centered world we live in. Now that there are strong rumors putting all of these apparent facts into question, some people feel mocked, disappointed, and cheated… besides other things.” Kaguya mumbled.

“Sorry I could not listen the last part Kaguya.” You said puzzled.

“Don’t worry, I was just talking to myself, the important thing is that the problem is been solved, millions will be invested but is necessary. We have already started a huge ad campaign, a lot of important heroes will be involved so we can reassure and remind people why we have been their number one choice during over a century, that we still the same and will always remain the same, that we do not change, we improve.”

“I see, but you haven’t explained what does this have to do with me going to U.A-”

“As I told you she decided to make exceptions, due to the unusual situation we are going through right now we need unusual solutions as well and as part of our ad campaign and for the sake of our image she decided that two fortunate souls would have the chance to pursue a carrier of their choice, you know to placate the masses.”

“ Of course, a different series of factors would be taken into account when examining the option chosen and its potential benefits for the interests of the company, if these results are not satisfactory, the other alternatives will be analyzed to find a more suitable one and the aforementioned process will be repeated. Once we find satisfactory results, grandmother will proceed to revise everything once more and give her approval or deny it.”

“So, what you’re telling me is that we are doing the same thing but with more options? And they are going to evaluate if we can actually perform well in these new career options?” You asked unimpressed at your grandmas’ unwillingness to let the leash lose a bit even in a situation like this.

“Exactly right, it’s a change but there are still rules nonetheless.” Kaguya affirmed as she refilled her cup again. “Don’t get me wrong, she is really mad, just the thought of sacrifice two pawns in one single move is driving her crazy”

“Which selection system will be used in this case?” You asked.

“Nominations. As you already know there are two potential candidates, besides you of course.”

“Two? But there’s other three-”

“Aya has already been selected by grandmother herself, he’ll be enrolled into U.A next year via recommendation, everything is ready and processed the only thing left is to break the news on him.”

You grimaced, anxious, and preoccupied to see your already thin chances narrow even more. Your cousin, Aya was a famous vlogger and influencer with a strongly settled fanbase in and out of Japan. His videos generally focus on his daily life, trips to cool and exotic destinations, and the typical ‘eat this’, ‘do that’ challenges that always went around the internet.

He also participated in different campaigns to raise funds for different charitable causes and was a fervent advocator of animal rights and the environment, even donating millions from his own pocket. He always did his best to involve the name of the (L/N) Group, allowing them to organize, participate and sponsor some of these events helping bust their image as a caritative, conscious, and woke organization.

The bastard overflew with kindness and charisma and knew how to surround himself with the right people to manage his channel properly, although no relatable for the regular mid-class YouTube user, you had to admit that his videos were fun, entertaining, interesting, and sometimes, informative, that was the reason they were always flooded with millions of views, comments, likes and overall the crushing success he was experiencing every time he uploaded a new one.

He’s rich, famous, handsome, and had an appealing personality, add hero to that list and you’ll get the recipe to success. It wouldn't surprise you at all if he reached the top 10 of the HBC in a year just out of sheer popularity. His quirk is also fitted for a hero, he’ll need some serious training, but nothing that money and elite PT could not manage.

“How am I supposed to compete with that?” You whispered with your head down watching how your knuckles turned whiter as your hands crinkled your uniform skirt.

“Don’t trouble yourself with what you’re not supposed to, Aya is not competition, not anymore, instead try to focus on the actual competition, and may I add that you got a really big chance with my brother out of the picture. Kaguya smirked at you confidently.

“You think so?” You asked doubtfully.

“Believe me (Y/N), my sister is really smart and competent, but has the charm and social skills of a cardboard box, and Himeko, well… we could resume all her virtues, abilities and skills to shopping, makeup, gossip, selfies, social media, being pretty and an absolute headache. Grandmother got big plans for her after she graduates though, so I’ll take her out of the picture as well.”

“Big plans?” You said arching your eyebrow.

“Let’s say that, right now, we have a great, juicy, and very convenient deal that is in negociation right now and she is a vital piece to close it successfully. Don’t worry, your curiosity will be satiated soon enough.”

“What worries me is that I think I got a grasp of what you’re talking about.”

“Aw. Come on, businesses are businesses (Y/N), C’est la vie.” She said as she shrugged uninterested.

“Yeah, because is not you.” You grumbled.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, why don’t you continue.”

“You are right, where we were? Oh, right.”

‘Was she really just dismissing the topic like that?!’

“Tell me (Y/N), do you think that I would have brought you here and propose this plan to you if I didn’t have an ace up my sleeve? Please. There are some important and positive points that can grant us success if we exploit them properly, but we must play our cards wisely, unfortunately, that’ll have to wait until we are completely alone.” Confused your arched your eyebrow, until your ears were met with the sound of the wheels of a certain golden cart rapidly approaching.

“Hello again ladies, let me take this off,” Hiro said while he took the almost empty canape plate along the rest of the dishes. “Is there anything else you would like? Would you like another beverage (L/N)-sama?” Hiro said looking at your semi voided glass.

“Y-Yes please”

“Alright!” With the swift and skill of years of experience, Hiro served your plates, removed the shiny silver food covers, refilled both water cups and Kaguya’s wine cup as well in less than a minute. “Please enjoy, if there’s anything else you would like I’ll be happy to assist you! I’ll be back in a minute with your drink miss.”

You spent the next couple of minutes in total silence waiting for your drink in order to continue your conversation privately and interruption-free. Just as said, Hiro returned instants later with the promised drink and finally left you two to converse calmly.

“Well, now that the coast is clear, let me fill you up with what you have to know and do in order to obtain a favorable outcome for both of us.” Kaguya began as she sliced a bite of quail breast.

“So, this is my plan…”

Now with your dinner night already finished, you were now heading to your house. This ride was as quiet as the one to the restaurant, but without the suffocating weight of uncertainty. Your head was filled now with the echoes of your conversation with Kaguya, debating, analyzing, considering, comprehending every single word of it.

“You seem troubled, you are doubtful, aren’t you?” Said Kaguya interrupting your thoughts.

“I’m more scared than anything if this doesn’t work-”

“It will, you already know what to do, just focus on that. I’ll keep in contact with you anyway, in case of emergencies or any last-minute matter.” She then proceeded to rummage in her purse and took out a brand-new phone, it was one of those not so high-quality flip phones that you can get for a really low price, probably a disposable one.

“I already put my phone number in it, so we can communicate without issue. This phone is a really basic one, so it has no internet access but you have unlimited calls and texts. Just make sure to keep it hidden from your mother or that blabbermouth maid of yours.”

“Yes, I’ll find a place.”

“Perfect, remember, the announce dinner will be this Saturday, surely your mom would tell you, everybody will be there, they must at least.”

Another twenty minutes passed before you were at the main door of your lavish home. Silently, you excited the car after Soichiro opened the door for you and you headed to the front door.

“We’ll keep in contact, until then, (Y/N).” Kaguya said softly, once she finished Soichiro shut the door, bowed his head, and wished you a good evening. He straightened up his posture and proceeded to hop in the car again. Quietly you observed the car get farther and farther until it disappeared. You stayed there in silence, while the nightly wind swayed your hair delicately. The sound of the door opening distracted you, then, you turned around to be met with the gentle smile of Nobu-san.

“Okaerinasai, (Y/N)-sama, how was your dinner with Kaguya-sama?”

“Pretty…unexpected.” You looked everywhere, making sure that nobody else was listening to your conversation. “I’ll fill you out on the details later” You whispered and Nobu-san nodded knowingly. “I see, your bath is ready (Y/N)-sama. Please take your time and relax, it’s been a long night after all,” He got slightly closer to you and cupped his hand around his mouth, and whispered. “I’m pretty sure you’ll make good use of this time to ponder any thought that is troubling your mind.” He distanced from you, crossed his arms behind his back, and gave you a gentle closed-eye smile. “Would you like a cup of tea after your bath?”

You smiled at him fondly.

“(F/T/F), please.”

You’ve been lying if you said that you could actually sleep the night before. Your head could not stop to reproduce in a loop your conversation with Kaguya the night before, like a broken record you couldn’t escape from. Before you noticed, the outrageous melody of your alarm resounded in the spaciousness of your room. You groaned in protest, unwillingly getting up to start your day.

Dressed and ready, you took your bag and went downstairs to have breakfast. Before you could finish hopping down the stairs you caught a glimpse of your mother sitting at the head chair, like always with your father by her side, she was holding her morning coffee while she read some emails on her laptop.

As always she looked stunning in her soft pink and golden outfit, she crossed her legs, put down her cup and started typing in her laptop.

You straighten your posture the best you could and approached the table with delicate steps. “Good morning mother, good morning dad”

“Good morning dear, how did you sleep?” Said your mother without taking her eyes off the screen in a somewhat flat tone as her fingers tapped nimbly over the keyboard. “Pretty well, and yourself?” You said while you took a seat at the innecesarily expansive dinning table.

“Not so well sadly, there’s been some… issues I had to take care of.” She hissed a bit irritated as she rubbed her temples.

“I-I see, hopefully, you’ll have a better day today, mother.”

“I doubt it, unluckily, but thank you for your words, darling. Now hurry up or you’ll be late.”

“Yes, mother.”

“You should have some fresh fruit honey; the mangos are delicious!” Said the cheerful voice of your father. You smiled fondly at him while he reciprocated with a smile of his own. “I’ll do then, thank you for your suggestion dad.” You answered while one of the maids served you a portion of fresh mixed fruit in a bowl and Nobu-san poured tea in your cup.

“(Y/N)” Spoke your mom.

“Yes, mother?”

“Your grandmother had organized a family dinner this Saturday that we must assist, of course, I expect nothing less of you than be on your best behavior, also is imperative that you choose your outfit today so I can determine if it’s appropriate for the occasion. If you need to go shopping just tell Sasaki, I activated your debit card again just this time.” She said authoritatively.

“Yes mother, I’ll do it today after class.” You said as you topped your fruit with some honey, yougurt and granola.

“Splendid, now if you excuse me, I have to go now, Haru, hurry up or we’ll be late”

“Yes, cara mia” Your father beamed. Your mother then rose from her chair took her handbag and draped her coat over her shoulders. Your father then finished his coffee as soon as he could and went behind her. “Have a good day princess!” Exclaimed you dad. “Thank you, you too!” You answered while you saw them get escorted by an army of bodyguards.

Soon enough the door was closed and you were left alone. “(Y/N)-sama I advise you to hurry as well, school starts in thirty minutes” Said the familiar voice of Nobu-san. “What!? Oh, I’m going to be late! Ok, I got this! I’ll brush my teeth and I’ll be ready-please ask Sasaki-san to start the car! I will be there in a minute!” You stuttered while climbing up stairs.

“Sure thing, Ojou-sama,” He said with an amused smile.

“Thank you again for joining me for shopping Momo”

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all, I’ll also take the chance to buy some new accessories as well,” Beamed your ravenette friend. It was the end of the school day and you had asked Momo to help you choose new accessories to complement a dress you already had.

“But to be honest I never imagine that your mom would lose her grip on you so soon even if it’s temporary, what surprised me more was what Kaguya-san told you yesterday,” She whispered trying to no let your conversation be known by Sasaki-san although the automated partition window was up as a precautionary measure. “Are you sure you can trust her?” She said concerned.

“I still don’t know, suddenly everything became so complicated, I mean her plan is good and has a high probability to work, and right now I don’t have a better option, I don’t even have any options, to begin with!” You groaned, confused.

“What’s still bugging me is why is she helping you in the first place? I can’t help but find it suspicious no matter how much I think about it. Did you ask her something about it?”

“I did, but she went into this mysterious and enigmatic mode and just said something like ‘You’ll know soon enough’ It would be easier to pinch a glass than get something out of her.” You said with a tone of frustration.

“I guess that the only thing we can do now is to wait and see,” Sighed Momo while she shrugged her shoulders. “By the way, what are we going to do first?” She said more animatedly.

“Let’s start with the shoes and then maybe a new jewelry set, a new clutch as well would be good. What you think?”

“I think is a splendid idea!” Momo exclaimed.

🏷Taglist:

@bakasbitch18

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btsmosphere · 3 years

Text

The Web | PJM

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

~summary: Nearly dying was just the beginning. While struggling to deal with the direction life has thrown you, you find yourself at the heart of a web of conspiracy. Maybe it will bring you back to Jimin - if you both make it out alive. Jimin x reader ~word count: 4.8k ~mafia au, established relationship, angst, eventual fluff?(in future parts) Rating: pg15 Warnings: violence, breaking and entering, guns, death, injury, lots of running ~a/n: part 3 let’s get itttt! I had great fun writing this part :) I do have to be honest here tho, motivation has been a little low this week, and the interaction on this story is kind of getting to me. Please please don’t be a silent reader if you enjoy the story, comment and reblog! To everyone who has been sharing and commenting, thank you so much!! I appreciate it all x

this post is a repost for tags!! i would appreciate if you interact with this part 3

Squashed up against the cold metal of the van door, your other shoulder jostled with Sorrell's. There were a small group of you inside, seated on the floor of the vehicle, which was none too comfy as it bumped over holes in the road, making you all sway as one.

Besides the rumbling engine, however, you were silent. You doubted any of them knew each other at all; you were perhaps the only one with a connection here.

Earlier on, Sorrell had led you to the main warehouse floor where the others would join you. Like you, they seemed to emerge from the woodwork, slipping through doors they were clearly well practised in sneaking through.

You weren't honouring your wish to stay alive as well as you had hoped when you made the resolution.

As you leaned against the wall, hood as low over your face as it could be, you had begun to wish you had kept going last night, and left this all behind. It was a lucky thing you hadn't been a known operative of bangtan, or you may well be dead already.

Though it was a relief to be handed the dark cloth of a balaclava, it still made you pause before putting it on. Staring at the material, gaping facelessly back at you, you recalled how many times you had run from people clad in these, how many had fired at you. How many you had shot in return.

But there was no turning back.

You were yet to receive instructions, but no one seemed too anxious about this so you forced yourself to play along, slouching against the rear of the van. All you could do was wait for the inevitable calming of the engine, the slowing of the wheels...

When it finally came, you followed Sorrell's lead as she stood up, being sure to stay in the middle of the pack as you congregated on a dark path. One you instantly recognised.

So far, it seemed your hunch was correct.

This alley was barely a street away from bangtan's headquarters, somewhere you never thought you would be seeing again.

Stuffing your hands in your pockets, away from the cold, you looked around as the front door of the van slammed shut, splitting the quiet of the night. The only sound that could be heard was the faint bumbling of traffic, over which you could easily hear the darkwater leader stomping towards you.

A pile of fabric was dropped at your feet. Curiously, it clanged as it hit the floor.

"Take these bags," he ordered, "you are burglars, okay? Each of you should have a loaded pistol, in case something goes wrong, but just go in and stick to the areas we tell you. Take stuff if you really want, but don't leave your place. Understand?"

The barest mumble of agreement went up as the bags were collected from the ground.

With a frown, you opened yours. Rummaging inside, you easily found the gun, which you stashed at your waist. However, something else was in there too.

Fishing out the piece of paper, you saw the others do the same. Smoothing out the creases, you studied it.

You had seen these plans before.

Not that you needed to, given you knew the building inside out, but these specific plans. They had been lying on Kwangsu's desk before he tried to kill you. Finally getting to see them up close, you brought them right up to your nose, eyes flicking over every detail of bangtan he had mapped out. Where the vents were, the entrances and exits, even secret ones. He had all the codes, all the hiding places.

Instead of a warm gratification, you felt numb. You would have thought some sort of sense of accomplishment might have eased your worry, after learning you were right all along.

But no.

Because all this meant was Jimin and your friends were sharing their home with a traitor.

"Got it?" the man barked, startling you. Looking around at the vague nods, you hurriedly replicated them and followed the pack as they began to move.

Surreptitiously glancing at the paper in your hand, you turned your attention at last to the actual directions. Your group was set to travel through the main hall and take the middle floor of the building. The designated stations marked on the map formed a border of sorts, a line cutting through the place. The line ran between all of bangtan and the boardroom. And in the boardroom…

Lay le déluge.

Of course, that was not included in the map, but you knew full well where it was.

At a nudge from Sorrell, you upped your pace, having fallen a couple of steps behind the group. Having been alerted to where the cameras were, they made a beeline around the view of one such eager eye, blocked in part by a car that was parked there anyway.

Next, pressing against the cold brick of the perimeter wall, you crept closer to the gate which would lead you down, underneath the main building to its lower bunker. This was essentially used as a garage, but now it was to be your passage in.

Slipping through the gate with easy use of the code, you stopped just inside the entrance.

Though huddled together, no warmth permeated you. Your eyes constantly darted around the space, despite being in near total darkness. And you weren’t the only one. The only thing visible was the small red light of a camera, blocking your path.

A collective breath was released as the light died, leader waving you on.

Passing under the device, you looked up at it with a frown. Kwangsu must be inside, turning them off.

Gritting your teeth, you turned your eyes to the path ahead.

Winding your way up and through passages you had only seen a handful of times, the first few began to break away. Kwangsu had been busy. He knew exactly which paths were rarely used. The downside of having such a well-defended maze of a base: it had deadly potential when used against you.

Finally, Sorrell slipped through a doorway, leaving you completely alone.

Having memorised your intended position, you didn’t need your map to get there. As your feet fell on the carpeted halls, you got the sense you were in a museum. Memories from the past hung on the walls, untouched in revered silence.

At last, the correct door revealed itself and you moved towards it, quickly concealed in shadow.

Willing your eyes to adjust, you tapped your foot slowly. You couldn’t just wait here while Kwangsu was on the move, getting exactly what he wanted.

With no way of telling what the others were doing, you prayed none of them would leave their places. They were supposed to be staging a burglary, messing up their areas, almost certainly as a cover for the real treasure to be taken.

Sucking your lower lip into your mouth, you trod silently across to the other exit of the room. This way lead to the surveillance room.

Your every nerve was on edge as you crept further away from your post, fully aware Kwangsu had been working the cameras not long ago. You didn’t want to run across him.

From somewhere behind you, a muffled crash startled you into stillness.

It could have come from any one of the people in this building.

Not having any time to stop and calm down, you bit your tongue determinedly and pushed on. When the camera room was in sight, you flattened your body against the wall as you encroached.

It was dark inside, like the rest of the house, the light wavering from the computer screens lining the walls.

Holding your breath, you slid right up to the door, as close as you dared, and listened.

Silence.

Hand finding its way to the weight of your gun against your body, you looked around the corner.

And stared in horror.

Recoiling, you pressed the back of your hand hard against your mouth, making every effort not to gag. Even in the low light, you could see the blood oozing from the neck of the person slumped in the operating seat.

But you had to go in.

Averting your eyes, you stepped inside. You didn’t want to know who it was. It couldn’t be one of the boys, but it was likely to be someone you knew.

You were going to make sure Kwangsu paid.

Despite your hatred, you had to admit he was smart. Being the one room without cameras inside, filled with screens instead, this was the perfect place to get away with murder.

Forcing breaths out evenly, your eyes scanned over every screen in turn, noting the ones that stared back, blank, having been disactivated.

The sheer quantity of footage laid out in front of you was overwhelming, but you forced yourself to take the screens in one by one, dark room after empty space, until you finally found motion.

In one of the hallways this side of your border, Kwangsu was practically jogging towards the boardroom. But he wasn’t there yet. Constantly glancing over his shoulder, his hands fiddled with his shirt cuffs as he paced it out of shot of the first camera.

You crossed the room quickly to the next screen he emerged on, trying to assess his route.

The cocky bastard was right out in the open! No secret passages, no hidden corridors – he was hot-footing it up the main staircase.

It was the most direct route after all, and he did have cover.

You had to get to him.

But as you shot one last glare at the screen, preparing to give chase, a flicker caught your eye on the screen beside it. One of the bedroom doors had opened.

Bangtan knew.

You turned and ran.

Following in Kwangsu’s steps, you found the halls empty, silent bar your panting breaths as you rushed through them. The closer you got to the boardroom, the more danger there was of running into him.

At last, your nerve gave out and you broke away, taking another passage that led around the side.

Slowing your pace as you reached the final door, behind which lay the boardroom, you trod carefully, pushing it open softly. Your face was hot underneath the fabric covering it, but you kept your eyes trained on the growing crack of light as the door opened.

Cool metal rested under your fingertips as you readied your gun.

Your muscles were poised to move any second, but you forced them to wait. Once the door finally left enough space to look into the room beyond, you found precisely what you were looking for. If only you had been gifted a camera as well as a gun.

Kwangsu had his back to you, currently lifting the majestic painting from its place at the head of the room.

Your gun raised, finding its target with practised ease. You took a breath.

Time you never should have wasted.

The unmistakeable sound of a gunshot rang out, but it hadn’t come from you. Reacting in an instant, you jumped back behind the cover of the door, only hoping Kwangsu had turned slower.

Somewhere in the depths of the house, the sound of something smashing was soon overtaken by another shot, then another. A burst ricocheted through the building before quiet reigned again.

But only for a moment.

Over the pounding of your heart, the sound of a door.

“Hey!” a shout went up as the main door to the roomed slammed shut again.

Pushing the door as much as you dared, you watched as a man, face covered in dark fabric like you, marched down the centre of the room. It was so alien to see a darkwater in the middle of such a space, a black abyss within the normally warm room.

But where long windows usually shed golden light, now there was only shadow as the man reached Kwangsu.

“They’re onto us,” he muttered roughly, “just give me that and get back there.”

The painting changed hands.

“Hold on, wait,” Kwangsu stopped him as he made to move.

Eyes widening, you froze in place. Had he seen you?

“I’m meant to look like I’ve been fighting you off,” he said instead.

Hurriedly placing the large artwork against the desk, the other man readied his fist. He may have – literally – asked for it, but seeing the punch land on Kwangsu’s face gave you some sort of grim satisfaction.

But now the painting was on the move again, bangtan’s future possibly leaving along with it as the man melted away through a doorway at that end of the room.

Gunshots shattered the night again, scattered and irregular, before fading again.

It was enough to prompt Kwangsu into motion though, and you pulled back once again as he made his way back across the room.

Back falling against the wall, your breaths filled the darkness. Le déluge was going in one direction, and the traitor in the other. One headed out, one back in.

You pushed away, new destination locked in your mind.

As you ran through the halls towards the sound of gunfire, your own stayed firm in your hand.

He had to be here somewhere – as rooms flew past, you looked into each doorway, each time met with emptiness.

Even the shouts and gunshots that grew louder did not deter you. The blood racing through your veins was boiling. Kwangsu was not going to get away from you.

Tearing through a room, knowing it to be a shortcut to the thick of the fight, you spilled out the other side and instantly staggered back at the sight of a body slumped on the floor. Blood was leaking into the carpet, the figure completely motionless.

Your breaths scrambled in your throat, overtaking themselves as you tore your eyes away. You couldn’t even see their face, as it was covered just like yours.

Suddenly, bullet spray littered the corridor to your left, and you were off again, nearly tumbling over as your feet stumbled to get away. Flinging yourself around the next corner, you sprinted past a smashed up desk in the hallway, small shards of glass probably sticking into your shoes as you veered around a fallen artwork.

Chucking a glance over your shoulder as you raced around the next bend, you were oblivious to the startled man in front of you.

When you looked forwards again, your limbs froze in place for a terrifying split-second before you were backpedalling, skidding back around the corner.

Taehyung.

Tae, your friend, who was now chasing after you, bullets flying in the air.

There was no way you could outrun Taehyung. Or any of bangtan, but he was the one you had to worry about right now. At least it wasn’t Jungkook, but that wasn’t much consolation as your feet pounded on the floor, body moving as fast as you could push it.

In a desperate attempt to escape, you dashed through rooms, taking every turn you could, but Taehyung knew this place as well as you, footsteps not getting any further away. In fact, he was gaining on you.

Your burning legs were powerless to carry you any faster.

Flinging yourself into yet another room, you dived to the floor, sliding under a desk beside the door. Keeping your gasping breaths silent was nearly impossible, but you couldn’t keep going. Tae’s heavy steps were about to reach you-

“Taehyung!”

You gulped at the sound of Jimin’s voice.

“We need to get to the boardroom.”

Hobi.

As Taehyung abandoned his hunt, rushing away with the others, you slumped back against the wall. Air left you in bursts as you tried to recover.

Knowing that by now you might well too late, you climbed to your feet, bracing your arm against the wall for support. You had let Kwangsu slip through your fingers. He had definitely had enough time to rejoin the others and tell them his twisted version of events.

You wouldn’t be able to take them all on.

Chewing your lip, you cast your eyes longingly at the hallway to your left, where Taehyung and the others had left for the boardroom.

But you couldn’t risk it.

Jogging away, you let your feet carry you down a staircase, closer to the exit. As you reached the bottom, a figure walked from a doorway, cutting into your path.

“Sorrell?”

“We need to go,” she said, leaving no room for argument as she grabbed your arm.

Allowing her to lead you, the two of you hurried further down towards the bunker level where you had entered. Even as you moved in shadow, you could see her clutching onto her upper arm.

“Are you hurt?” you questioned.

“Doesn’t matter,” she brushed off, voice tense.

Frowning, you hurried after her as she upped her pace. At last you emerged through the gate, thankful it hadn’t yet been secured.

It didn’t take long to reach the sanctuary of the backstreets, but Sorrell didn’t let up her speed, leaving you trailing as you wove your path away from bangtan’s base. Her grip on her arm equally stayed steadfast.

“Seriously, are you okay?” you called.

She looked back, irritated.

“I can help,” you insisted, “please, let me. Did they shoot you?”

“Yes,” she muttered. It sounded like her teeth were gritted.

“When we get back to the van, I’ll clean it, okay?” you decided, “we can find something for a bandage-“

“The van isn’t here.”

“…what?”

“They don’t pick us up after jobs,” Sorrell said without looking at you. She had a way of speaking that made it sound like you had missed something incredibly obvious.

“They- they’ve left us?”

“Yes,” she was exasperated now. “Let’s just get back.”

“Maybe we should stop? You’re hurt.”

Silence answered you. Her eyes were fixed on the floor jaw locked and lips pursed.

A frown creased your own face.

“Sorrell-“

“I’m fine.”

If you weren’t mistaken, her voice wobbled, but she seemed determined. Sighing, you dropped the matter, resigning yourself to the journey back to the warehouse. Though you kept an eye on her, she stayed at least an arm’s length from you as you walked in silence.

But you were tired too, and didn’t have the energy to fill the space.

The walk was long. By the time you reached the warehouse, you slipped through deserted corridors to the room you had previously slept in. Of course, you were well aware the building was not as dark and deserted as it appeared, since the gang had come away with their intended treasure.

Somewhere beyond the few hallways you saw on your way up, the gang would be hard at work. A nest of hornets, their nectar secured in the centre.

Despite the exhaustion setting into your body, you ended up lying awake on the hard floor. Knowing the fruits of Kwangsu’s labour, the stolen painting, was just floors away, refused to leave your mind.

But you weren’t in any position to make a move now.

It was impossible to prevent your mind replaying earlier events. You had been so close, if only you pulled the trigger sooner, if only you had caught him somehow…

Rolling over, you suppressed a groan for Sorrell’s sake. It was too late now, but you didn’t know what you could do next. Sorrell had been good to you, but the thought of staying with darkwater made you uneasy. Morals aside, they treated people like you so badly you would never be able to build yourself up to anything if you stayed.

However, a small but insistent voice wouldn’t quit reminding you that perhaps you ought to leave bangtan to fight their own battles now. Now they had left you behind.

It was with the constant storm of thought swirling in your mind that you finally found rest, albeit sporadic. Every now and then, you would wake again, same old battered roof staring down at you until you were pulled under once again.

Another such time, your eyes cracked open, internally cursing your inability to sleep-

And then you froze.

This was definitely not like the other times you had woken up.

Someone was muttering something.

“She left her post- that’s how bangtan broke through…”

Through bleary eyes, you came face-to-face with several pairs of boots. Quickly alerted, your gaze travelled upwards.

Standing in front of you, fronted by Sorrell, were three darkwater members. Well, you could only assume that was who they were, as you had no more time to think on it before they were lunging for you.

Springing to your feet, you scrambled away. As your hand automatically found your bag, your eyes travelled to Sorrell, filled with panic.

One glance at her expressionless face was all you got before you were running.

You had done too much running lately.

The thought was only fleeting, just like the floorboards beneath you as you sprinted away from your pursuers, further into the building. Up, up, following the path Sorrell had taken you the night before, the only route you knew – but it could only take you so far.

Flying through the doorway to the room you had slept in before, you turned your head wildly. There was only one way out, and then you were dashing through it and into the unknown territory beyond.

Down stairs this time, and through corridors that gradually looked more modern, like they were actually lived in.

The smattering of noise behind you let you know you still had company. But that soon doubled as a couple of guards strolled from a doorway just up ahead. Skidding to a halt, you launched yourself in the opposite direction, only just making it to another doorway before the group chasing you emerged too.

Before long, you had reached the perimeter of the building again, windows whizzing past as you pushed down the hall.

The next corner you arrived at would only take you further into the building again. You didn’t want to attract any more attention than you already had.

Call it stupid, but your mind was running by itself. Sparing a moment to throw your bag across the floor, contents spilling out as if you had dropped it on the run, you turned to the window instead.

And jumped.

Below, there was a structure built against the main body of the warehouse. It served to shorten your fall, but you still felt the impact as you landed, bruises certainly collecting beneath your skin.

The wooden rood was even less sturdy than that on the warehouse, sagging alarmingly under you. Not daring to stand back up, you scooted yourself as far as you could to the edge and dropped down the remaining few feet.

Though you hoped that would have shaken them off, you could never be sure who was still watching, and so you resumed running, panting now as you forced your feet once more to a blur beneath you.

True darkness gathered around you as you moved further from the highway streetlights.

Still, you did not stop.

A small track ran along the back of the property, a patch of trees beyond it. On the other side of that, you finally allowed yourself to ease up the pace, heading around the fences of the industrial area you found yourself in.

Yanking your hood up, you made your way past factories and warehouses – ones that were actually in use. They probably had cameras.

You almost had yourself convinced that you slowed to a walk to look less suspicious.

Almost.

Really, you were tired.

Physically, your muscles felt the strain of your recklessness, the constant running away from danger. But perhaps that tendence was helping preoccupy you from the real blow.

No destination fixed in your mind, you let your feet wander. It wasn’t until you saw the artificial light from a kebab van on the corner that you knew where you were going.

As you walked below the launderette sign, you trapped your lip between your teeth. Things might have been so much simpler if you had just let that kind woman call Jimin…

Now, things were too complicated. You may well be on Kwangsu’s radar now, a notion that made you shudder.

Perhaps you should have got in touch while you had the chance, before everything spiralled out of control. Of course, there was the slight fact holding you back that Jimin apparently wanted you dead.

But now you saw that was surely another of Kwangsu’s lies.

Yes, you had argued. You had disagreed, but that wasn’t like Jimin. And, yes, he was a mafia operative, well used to killing, but you had shared years together. It made no sense for him to turn his back on you so suddenly.

There was no way, back when you met, that he could have been fake. He would have shown some emotion, anything. You wanted desperately to believe he would have fought for you, just as you would for him in a heartbeat.

Before Kwangsu got involved, you had something real, and as much as he might have trusted Kwangsu (despite your warnings), he wouldn’t put what you had aside for the sake of a friend.

Nearing the bridge, you stared up at the imposing structure. It wasn’t too far above the water, and you remembered having time straighten out, brace for impact-

With a heavy sigh, you let yourself rest at last in the shadow underneath.

At first, your mind had been riddled with Kwangsu’s words, terrified as you were forced to defend yourself and focus on surviving. You hadn’t thought to question the integrity of his words, which you now highly suspected were false.

Though you were wary of him before, this was so much bigger than you had imagined. You had no idea when you went to his study that night that he was a member, a seemingly important one at that, of darkwater. They were probably the only people he had been honest to.

Resting the weight of your head on your hands, you prayed you were right. If you wanted to save Jimin, you had to believe yourself. You had to believe in him.

The remnants of a café. Tables overturned, chairs on their sides, glass shattered.

There are bodies. Bodies clad in black, balaclavas over their faces. You don’t even have to check their arms – it must be the doing of darkwater.

You wished you had checked their arms. Just like the bodies inside their base right now, they would be blank. They were just crash dummies, disposable and faceless.

“Thanks, Kwangsu. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t spotted them on your way here.”

“No problem, no problem at all. I’m just glad nothing happened to you, these guys are scary.”

Jimin laughs.

Folded arms, stubborn across your chest

“I’m just saying, why don’t you send me? You trained me yourself.”

“Kwangsu has enough experience. Back in high school, he was with me at my first ever drug deal. He started at the same time.”

Jimin’s grin, so assured.

“He’s just a petty thief-“

“So no-one knows he’s connected to us. He won’t be recognised. This is in a busy area, Y/N, and I won’t have you getting hurt.”

Your sigh; Jimin’s arms around you.

“Y/N, why won’t you lay off? He’s proved himself enough times.”

“Hey, I don’t want to get in the way of you guys-“

“No, Yoongi’s right,” Jimin defends.

You gape at him.

Kwangsu meets your eyes as you leave the room.

A distant bang shakes you, cutting through your spinning head. Tensing, you turn towards the source of the noise, though it came from well within the city on the other side of the bridge.

The noise isn’t alone. Someone is probably fighting.

As the whirlwind in your head clears, a frown grows on your face. Given the direction the gunshots are coming from, you can only presume the fight is in red clan territory. Maybe they are fighting bangtan.

For a moment, you are reminded of Jimin. You know just how he stands in battle, having fought beside him, hidden breathless around corners with adrenaline pulsing through your veins.

If your body wasn’t quite so defeated, you might have gone closer. Jimin fighting alone wasn’t a thought you could stomach. Right now, there wasn’t too much of the world you could stomach.

And so you let your eyes slide closed, falling asleep to the sound of gunfire.

Thank you for reading! Again, please let me know if you liked it! Don’t be a silent reader💜

Message or comment to be added to the taglist!!

Taglist: @aianloveseven @preciouschimine @kb-bangtanenthusiast @jungkooksbroski @namyoongles @pars-ley @softforpj @chubsjmin @ireallylikefoodandyoutube @veronawrites @supertweetycherry @lynnfanficreblogs

Find my main masterlist here

#thebtswritersclub #btscreatorscorner #purplearmynet #bts mafia au #park jimin x reader #park jimin imagine #park jimin scenario #bts mafia #park jimin mafia #park jimin mafia au #jimin imagine #violence tw #mafia au bts #park jimin fanfiction #jimin mafia au #jimin scenario #park jimin angst

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northernscruffycat · 3 years

Note

ALL THE HADES OCS

OH HERE WE GOOOO~ (gonna put most of this under a cut, because it'll get long) Momus: Sexuality HC: Gay. He thinks he's bi at this point in the RP, but he is gay.

Favorite ship(s): Momus/Heracles, obvs, but I also like Momus/Morpheus and the awful Momus/Theseus stuff as well

Brotp: Momus, Hypnos & Icarus

Notp: Uhhh... Momus/Asterius?

Happy HC: Momus thrives in the modern era and has basically been waiting his whole existence to live in this time period so he can drive everyone mad by becoming a memelord. I also love describing his awful outfits too much.

Angsty HC: Nyx never acknowledges him and this hurts him more than he admits.

Random HC: If he existed in the actual game, he'd be a character who screws over the player late into a run (probably only spawning from Elysium onwards). He takes any perks you've gotten from gods and makes it so instead of doing plus the base damage, it does minus the base damage (although obvs caps before ur doing no damage at all). Because I'd want players to reeeally hate him. Like "I was doing so well, but then I ran into Momus and he ruined it!" Seems fitting for the God of Mockery.

General opinion: I am highkey obsessed with Momus in a way that I've never been this invested in one of my own OCs before. How dare he do this to me. OKAY, EVERYONE ELSE UNDER THE CUT:

Heracles: Sexuality HC: Bi, also a furry

Favorite ship(s): Momus/Heracles again, though I love how soft he is for Morpheus in the recent RPs

Brotp: I feel like him and Icarus could be this once they know each other better

Notp: I mean, there's a lotta ppl who deserve better than this guy

Happy HC: Like, you've already set him on this path of awesome character development to the point that I actually want good things for him for the first time. I hope that the clown parade have an excellent world tour together and that he can start to trust himself again.

Angsty HC: His canon is angsty enough

Random HC: He has a preference for twinks, whether he wants to admit it or not.

General opinion: I can't believe you've made me stan Heracles now. He's shot up my fave characters roster. The banter that him and Momus has is top tier, but then the genuinely emotional moments between them hit just as hard. You can actually see how much they've been through together and how, now they've got their feelings out in the open, they genuinely love each other and want this to work. UGHHH I LOVE THEM Pasithea: Sexuality HC: I mean, she's your OC, but I assume she's bi

Favorite ship(s): Pasithea/Oizys

Brotp: Pasithea & Zagreus

Notp: None really? Even after everything, I don't really dislike Pasithea/Momus, although it's best they both realised that wouldn't have worked out

Happy HC: She becomes queen and everyone respect her like they should!

Angsty HC: Her whole situation with Thanatos and that she didn't get the closure she deserved.

Random HC: She do be liking them goths tho

General opinion: I love Pasi! I think she's just as much the main character as Momus is at this stage and I'm glad that her whole arc showed her giving the middle finger to everyone who oppressed her and coming out on top. Morpheus: Sexuality HC: I honestly don't know :0

Favorite ship(s): Momus/all of his simps (Icarus, Momus & Heracles)

Brotp: They only had that one short scene, but I like Morpheus & Pluteus

Notp: None yet

Happy HC: He gets to travel the world and everyone simps him like he deserves

Angsty HC: There has been enough angst in this man's life. The time for angst is over.

Random HC: He is an unsuitable replacement for owning a thesaurus and should not be used in such a way.

General opinion: Another top favourite! I love the directions you've gone in with him, the whole "he's a doll come to life so Pasithea and Hypnos could cheat the Fates and not have kids" angle is brilliant and he's definitely a character who I'm always keen to see what will happen to him next. Icarus: Sexuality HC: bisexual and sweaty

Favorite ship(s): Icarus/Morpheus and Icarus/Momus so far

Brotp: Icarus, Momus & Hypnos, also potentially Icarus & Heracles

Notp: Icarus/Zagreus LMAOOO

Happy HC: He might not be an inventor, but he eventually finds his true calling in being a technician and becomes incredibly successful with his skills for improving upon inventions that have already been made.

Angsty HC: He's fuckin icarus. everyone knows that story lol

Random HC: His whole existence is one big joke that Momus will never stop laughing at.

General opinion: He's still finding his feet as a character, but I have high hopes for Icarus and think we'll get a lot of mileage out of him. Oizys: Sexuality HC: Obstinately gay

Favorite ship(s): Oizys/Pasithea

Brotp: I mean, she had a good friendship with Pluteus before the timeskip, so hopefully she still does

Notp: Oizys/Pluteus as a romo ship

Happy HC: God I hope she can be happy someday.

Angsty HC: She's not as co-dependent as she claims to be and played up needing Momus's help when they were growing up so that he wouldn't leave her.

Random HC: Oizys gets a slight kick out of the concepts she's goddess of, but doesn't realise when they overwhelm her.

General opinion: It's complicated, but I want to hope she figures it all out. Pluteus: Sexuality HC: Ace/Aro

Favorite ship(s): Maybe they'll figure it out with Aphrodite again one day

Brotp: Pluteus & Oizys, also Pluteus & Pasithea is funny

Notp: Pluteus & depression

Happy HC: Pluteus is happy to be a terrible actor who believes that they're a great actor.

Angsty HC: I feel like there's a sense of not being fulfilled inside Pluteus, but they don't want to address it.

Random HC: Pluteus will always refer to Pasithea as their mother, whether she likes it or not. Sorry Pasi.

General opinion: I like Pluteus as the occasional support character and they're excellent for comic relief, but they're one character who I don't think needs to be part of a bigger story. ...Okay, so there's also Daedalus, Nemesis, Eris and a few others, but I think that I've covered most of the ones who've had a lot of focus for now? Let me know if I missed anyone :0

#thank you so much!!#*Talking #*OCs #*Hades OCs #*My OCs

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neo-shitty · 3 years

Note

toffee!

ah yeah, i think quarentine has given people some opportunity to actually just sit with the person they are, rather than be rushing around for the person they want to become. its good you got smth good out of isolation! ah thats great! hope you had fun and ur partner in crime speeds back home so you can get out more hehe.

ah yeah ty, good suggestions.

hmm good point, i was sort of putting it separate to the whole not-sexualising thing, but yeah. mmm yeah i totally agree, some of the enhypen fics/imagines *shudder* and even reading innie stuff is just a bit *icky* cos everyone still thinks of him as our agi ppang. yeah def would be good but sadly this just seems to be the world we live in. :(

ah yes the holy masterlist (not sarc) i have actually read in the rain and gladius maximus before, but ill go look for in class! oooh thats good! character development lol. hmmmm yes champagne problems was the angst to end all angst, that shit hurt. it was actually one of the first of your fics i read and i recall almost crying over the whole thing, it was so heartbreaking, i can see how it almost made you want to drop angst. good that youve allowed yourself some lee-way tho :)

hehe thats so cool. okay here we go, ill try not to be mortally offended (/hj)

cheese - yes same, i liked it but that was all there was, it wasnt a super standout track. it was rlly underwhelming for me but some of the hook is super catchy so there is Redemption (tm) in store for cheese maybe

thunderous - mmm, yeah at first i totally agreed, i think they suffer from too much good music syndrome, that all their other tracks are such fucking bops its hard to stay at that level of perfection. the choreo was beautiful tho and tbh, the track has grown on me since ive been watching all the vids abt it. its my brothers favourite track

domino - YES GODAMMIT IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE TITLE TRACK. the raps, the vocals, the vibes, the fucking domino sound in the back? i would have streamed that shit on repeat. but tbh, as good as it is, it doesnt have that sort of grandness/oomph that skz seems to like in their title tracks so i can see why they chose thunderous (tho domino would have been so good) *sigh*

ssick - yeah same, not my fave track by a long mile, the crowd cheering was a ?strange? choice and the chorus was a bit bare/empty, plus like i mentioned earlier, it was kinda funny to me for some reason but ill still play it if im playing thru the whole album

the view - ahh one of those not like other girls (/j) i honestly think its just a good party song, just a bop to play in the background when nobodys rlly paying much attention. its pretty generic pop music but catchy

sorry, i love you - hehe yeah i thought it was going to be sadder as well, but i rlly loved the fact that they all just got to sing, which almost never happens, i dont think ive heard felix sing for a long time, so i enjoyed it. wasnt rlly a standout track but i just casually like it. looking forward to the fic haha

silent cry - this song i swear, some bits are rlly good and then others are just? why?? it does sound like a dance song tho idk. definitely not one of my faves either

secret secret - YES its so good! its such a chill song and i love their vocals in it. the combination of lo-fi/fake strings backup stuff and their heavenly vocals just makes it *chefs kiss* im listening to it rn and just... its so beautiful. it gives me pumped up another day vibes ya know? like my pace is edgy get cool, this one is energetic another day i feel like. overall i love it

STAR LOST - ah thats so cool! i didnt know that! on first listen this song had a similar vibe to secret secret but then the beat came in and ahh its such a good song. i can totally imagine them putting this song to a concert footage vid, this song is so sweet.

red lights - LMAO YES ITS SO AWKWARD WHY DOES IT GO ON FOR SO LONG ah thats good! yeah good point, its quite intense hehe. but that is my fave trope and this is lowkey my favourite track on the album so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ just the combination of hyunjins and chans voices, the backing music, the lyrics ahh red lights my beloved

surfin’ - yes lmao its always a shock, i feel like they should have put gone away in between them, but its such a fun cute song, i cant get rlly mad. yeah, as an aussie i think im contractually obligated to like beaches lol. sand im not such a fan of, but my familys rlly into fishing and my brother loves bodyboarding so we stay at a beach house at least twice a year and we live like 5 mins from 3 different beaches (hehe all aussie cities are on the coast lol) so thats cool. do you like beaches?

gone away - ah gone away my beloved, i love this song sm, its just so pure and showcases their vocals and lyrics so well. yes the pitch change is very out of the blue, i feel liek they went directly from seungmins soft vocals to hans powerful ones which was an interesting choice, but hey, im not complaining

wolfgang - YES IKR ah im so happy he got to be included in that era and song. yeah its such a full on song i cant rlly listen to it if im in a quiet mood but its very motivating :)

hehe mood, i hope they do! ahhh no rest, but at least you wont have to pull a blink and wait a year for any word from the group lol. im not rlly into nct but im excited for them! ah hopefully youll be able to sneak some rest into that chaotic schedule, with enhypen (idk if u stan but yeah) squeezed into it haha

<3 w.a. 🐺

i wheezed at partner in crime, it reminded me of smth. i have a lee know fic in the drafts that i wrote 'in honor' of him (and his departure-ish). i'll tag you when i finish it, if you want. it's a rather hilarious one.

oh my god. based on my experience on the collabs i've joined before, writing explicit shit for '01 & '02 is not accepted (nct's maknaes) but with enha's hyung line '01 & '02 somehow it's okay? i do a double take every time i see fics like those i mean, technically, it's legal but still what the fuck. maybe it's just not for me at the moment. not at us venting our frustration about this. it's just something that's so accepted here that i am (in all honesty) slightly uncomfortable about. but oh well. that's kpop writerblr for you.

man i could've linked all the fics in the ask instead so you wouldn't have to go looking for them! i think i saw you like in class the other day (the fic i renamed into sharp-tongued, god it took me a while to remember the new title). describing champagne problems as an angst to end all angst is one way to put what i was feeling back in december. it just hurt to write and admit?? if that ever happened to me i would prolly cry :d

okay back to the album talk! i love how you answered with more thoughts. i love exchanges like these! i am a victim of the cheese hook and it's now one of my favorite tracks in the album. PLS, TOO MUCH GOOD MUSIC SYNDROME. that's on our self-producing kings 😌💅 also, your brother has taste! as i am typing this, domino's currently playing in my head and i realized that too, that it doesn't have that 'vibe' of a skz title track. honestly, this could be a title track of another group. ssick is starting to grown on me because i found the beats cool kdjsk not the not like other girls 😭 the view is the generic pop that i don't like but i get why a lot of people enjoy it. sorry i love you scratches a certain itch that i find myself singing the first few lines every time i remember it. i too would want to hear felix sing more!

> a mini junction on the album talk bc i got side tracked. on that topic, i want skz to switch positions at some point like i know those allrounders are capable of doing so. specifically, i want to hear seungmin rap!!!! (yk in the recent weekly idol he talked faster than changbin in a challenge and changbin is like the fastest rapper in kpop that's active atm if im not mistaken. my dandy boy has some potential and i want it UNLEASHED.)

back to album talk. silent cry is basically sad music to twerk to. secret secret is definitely one of my favorite tracks :( i loved how you compared the tracks HAJSAH i burst out laughing bc yk what, you're right! i want to make a star lost edit of skz but i simply do not have the time i want to cry. i love the song so much. ok, my dreaded track, red lights. idt i have played the track since we last talked. my friend sent me the lyrics tho and i'm itching to write a twisted au out of it. idk if you're comfortable with yandere but somewhere along those themes. the obsessive type of love that's sweet at first but turns rotten. IMAGINE IF THEY PUT GONE AWAY BETWEEN ASHJA it's like going from 50 shades to the notebook.

i was about to ask if you lived near the coast and you literally mentions it here god im so stupid. yes i LOOOOOOOOOVE beaches so much. living in an archipelago is fun :( i live in a part of the country that's more island than city so every time i want some vitamin sea it's accessible. i heard the waves in australia are great :( anYWHOOO gone away :(( every time it plays im compelled to skip it because it makes me sAD AND NOWADAYS I DONT HAVE THE TIME TO BE SAD. contrary to you, i dislike my quiet moods because i tend to overthink a lot.

i have this little analogy about how there are stays that enjoy songs the generic pop + mellow songs and then there are other stays that enjoy the noisy tracks. in my mind, it's like a perfect balance that makes me feel like all the tracks are loved in the end. just by different people.

PULL A BLINK. bro i fucking hate yg entertainment. they have the biggest kpop girl group LOCKED in their basement when they could be (and i mean this in the most business-like way not morally) milking money of the quad. they're yg's biggest hope at not being bankrupt atm so it's a damn fucking mystery to me as to how they aren't doing anything. (jk i just realized lisa solo album soon, but i still need a ot4 cb hELLO)

i stopped looking forward to the teasers. rest > kpop boys. i don't want to sound like a cult member but have you tried checking out nct? are they just not your thing? (i get it tho, that's one hard group to get into). and yes i do stan enhypen!

wow i love how long these asks are! they're like online penpals. but i also want to ask about you! how have you been lately? are you feeling okay both mentally and physically? how's the weather there? do you have anything that you want to talk about? maybe an interesting book you read? feel free to bring up anything you want to share! i'm getting conscious about talking about myself HAJHSJ

and yet another long answer B) i am sooo sorry T___T should these ask exchanges feel draining to you, feel free to stop sending them in AAAA

#toff.asks #wild anon 🐺

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wiener-soldiers · 4 years

Text

the imperfect bubble - steve rogers

summary: y/n looks at bucky barnes like he’s the sun and the stars; bucky looks at y/n y/l/n like nothing more than his best friend. steve looks at peggy carter like she’s a divine angel; peggy looks at steve rogers like he’s nothing more than the remnants of a college romance. y/n looks at steve rogers like he’s a mirror; steve looks at y/n y/l/n like she’s the only person left that he can confide in.

words: 10.2k (you read that right)

warning: angst, unrequited love, the slowest slow burn you can possibly fathom, okay maybe not a slow burn but more like an oh shit that happened, minimal editing

a/n: im?? back?? i really enjoyed writing this one tho

masterlist | add yourself to the taglist! | faq

Leave your grievances at the door.

It was no longer an unspoken rule; when Steve and Bucky stepped into Y/N’s shared apartment with her college—and by association, their—friend’s Natasha and Wanda for movie night, they found the saying printed on the doormat inside their apartment.

It was a tradition that Steve, Bucky, and Y/N started their freshmen year of college. Steve and Bucky were best friends since childhood and have been through thick and thin together. So it was no surprise that despite the two attending different colleges, they still made it a habit to spend every waking moment together.

The two left their beloved Brooklyn to attend schools in Manhattan—Steve at Columbia pursuing his history degree and Bucky at NYU pursuing his engineering one. It was Steve’s turn to make the trip downtown and hang out with Bucky, but to his surprise, upon arriving at his dorm, he met eyes with a slightly wine-drunk girl hanging upside down Bucky’s bed while he tried to throw popcorn in his mouth.

It was quite the first impression, but Steve learned her name was Y/N, she went to NYU for journalism, and that she’d be sticking around a lot.

That night, instead of going out, Steve joined them in Bucky’s dorm, watching shitty Netflix reality shows, getting drunk on cheap wine, and their weekly tradition lived on ever since.

The doormat saying was one Y/N jokingly said to Bucky in their sophomore year of college. Y/N had moved into a new apartment in the East Village with Natasha and Wanda, two girls she bonded with over mutual hate for a certain TA. Despite Steve and Bucky’s place being decently big after deciding to move into a place together, the girl’s place was decidedly better decorated and more suited for movie nights.

Bucky had come in complaining about how a girl in his class flirted with him just to steal his notes and eventually best him during their midterms. Granted, it was a thrilling tale, but Y/N has jokingly told him to, “Leave you grievances at the door, Buck. This is movie night; we are going to chill and get drunk.”

The unspoken movie night rule stuck ever since.

So, when Steve and Bucky (now juniors) kicked their shoes off upon entering the girl’s apartment, the let out an audible laugh, alerting them that the muscle of the group was here.

“You like it?” Y/N calls out from the kitchen, followed by several ‘pops.’ The smell of buttery popcorn wafted through the air as the two followed the scent into the living room. Natasha was already occupying her seat on the couch. Wanda sat on the floor, in between her legs so to let Natasha braid her hair, as she scrolled through her Netflix queue for movies to watch.

“Looks great, doll,” Bucky smiled at her, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Steve notices a red blush crawl up her neck and smirks, sending the girl a wink. Y/N’s blush extends even further.

“Where’d you get it?” Bucky asks, sauntering into the living room and hopping over the back of the couch to land beside Nat.

Wanda giggles, “I custom ordered it on Etsy. I thought it would be funny.”

“You’re not wrong,” Natasha replies before the three of them fall into easy conversation about their weeks.

Steve stays behind the kitchen, observing Y/N as she observes Bucky. He smiles amusedly at her before saying, “I take it he still doesn’t know.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “He didn’t know last week. He didn’t know last year. He didn’t know since we were seventeen. You think I’m gonna tell him now?”

Steve shrugs, routinely helping Y/N gather the snacks and drinks for their movie night, “I think you’d be cute together, s’all.”

“Yeah? Tell that to the man himself,” Y/N says sarcastically.

“You could always tell him,” he counters, “Guys find it hot when girls make the first move.”

“Whatever you say, pal.”

---

As it turns out, Steve was right. And as much as Y/N hates to admit it, Steve was right about most things.

A few months after some mutual pining, Peggy Carter, the hot British international student that’s studying political science at Columbia grew more balls than Bucky and Steve ever could and asked the latter out on a date.

Y/N liked Peggy. She had gorgeous brown hair that was somehow always perfectly curled, warm eyes, but always wore seductively red lipstick. She looked like a drug, and if she wasn’t dating Steve, Y/N was convinced that she would ask the woman out herself.

Steve had stumbled into the girl’s apartment after their first date. Peggy had taken him dancing in a place in the East Village that played swing music and turned a blind eye when college students with sketchy looking fake IDs ordered cocktails. It’s not like they could do much harm anyway, most college kids who went there hopeless romantics who want nothing more than to dance with their dates with a little liquid courage.

As opposed to hopping on the subway slightly tipsy and potentially falling asleep before he reached in Midtown, Steve stumbled into his friend’s apartment, tipsy and high on the drug that took form in Peggy Carter.

“Hiya,” Steve said with a dopey, crooked smile. Y/N, Wanda, and Nat looked between themselves and Steve with widened eyes.

There were red lipstick stains all over his face.

Natasha smirks at him, “Looks like you had a good time with the missus.”

Steve points at Y/N, his eyes slightly lidded from drowsiness, “I told you it was hot when girls make the first move.”

Y/N lets out a snort. “It’s hot when Peggy Carter does anything, Stevie.”

His enormous grin widens. “Well, you got that fucking right.”

The three girls collective gag at the picture of Steve defiling the girl as Steve rolls his eyes at them, plopping down on the grey IKEA couch the girls were occupying. The couch was a moving in present from him and Bucky and despite how cheap it looked, they refused to allow the girls to get rid of it. If they were being honest, the girls didn’t have the heart to do so anyway.

“Do you mind if I crash here tonight?” Steve mumbles into Y/N’s lap.

“I’m staying at my brother’s tonight anyway,” Wanda says as she reaches over and runs a hand amusedly through Steve’s hair, “You can take my bed if you want, Steve.”

“No, s’okay. I’m comfy here,” he says, voice muffled by Y/N’s thighs.

“You’re a big fucking baby, you know that?” Y/N jokingly says, slapping Steve’s back. He screeches an ‘ow’ but doesn’t move an inch.

Nat smiles at them. Before she met Y/N and Steve, she would’ve been convinced they were dating. But, her heart is just as full knowing the incredibly wholesome and healthy friendship the two share. She reaches down to stroke Steve’s head before saying, “Y/N, I’m gonna go ahead and use the bathroom first—you seem occupied. Goodnight Steve.”

“Nighty night, Nat,” he murmurs. With Wanda, then Natasha stroking his head, sleep comes a lot faster than he intends.

“Steve?” Y/N asks him. It was her turn to slowly stroke his head.

“Mmhmm?”

“Did you let Bucky know you were staying over?” she asks, Mom-mode activating.

She feels her thighs rumble with Steve’s laughter. “He’ll live,” he tells her.

“He’s your best friend, hon. You gotta keep him updating on this kinda stuff.”

“But you’re my best friend too,” he sighs sleepily and Y/N’s heart swells with pride.

The corner of her mouth quirks into a smile, “Really?”

“Yeah, ‘course you duffus. ‘Sides, he probably thinks ‘m getting laid or somethin’.”

“You’re gross.”

“Eh, you love me.”

She did indeed. She let him fall asleep like that with a slight smile on his face, thinking about how well his date went. Y/N slowly slide out from underneath Steve, placing a blanket on top of him. She placed a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol on the coffee table for him when he woke, along with a sticky note saying:

Gonna be up early tomorrow, lover boy. Take whatever leftovers you want from the fridge. Also, invite Peggy to movie night :)

---

Per Y/N’s request, Steve did ask Peggy to come to movie night with him. To which, she excitedly agreed.

And against Steve’s assumptions, Y/N seemed more excited to have her over than he was.

Steve and Peggy entered the apartment hand in hand, with Steve carrying a takeout bag and Peggy nursing a bottle of white wine. Bucky trailed in behind them, carrying a pack of beers.

“They have a cute place,” Peggy comments, slipping her shoes off and following Steve into the living room.

“Don’t tell it to their face, though. One compliment and they’ll fall in love with you and you’ll never be allowed out of their sight again,” Bucky jokes from behind them, wandering into the kitchen to set the beer down.

Despite their five-person gathering being a six-person one that night, Peggy fit right in. Over cheesy horror movies, glasses of wine and swigs of beer, and copious amounts of takeout, the bombshell of a Brit felt very at home with Steve’s friends. To her surprise, none of them were jealous of her—Steve was incredibly attractive and the perfect guy, so she was sure it was impossible for him to have female friends without them throwing themselves at him.

She was wrong.

She really got a full understanding of their friendship—especially Steve’s friendship with Y/N—when she wandered down the hall to find more blankets. She heard two voices quietly discussing in someone’s room. She would’ve walked away because she didn’t want to eavesdrop until she heard her name.

“Peggy seems to be really enjoying herself.” She recognizes the voice to be Y/N’s.

“God, I hope so. Thanks again for inviting her.” Steve’s voice this time.

“You were the one who invited her, jackass,” she hears Y/N say sarcastically.

She hears Steve groan, “Don’t even start with that. What I meant was…thanks for giving her a chance.”

Softer this time, she hears Y/N say, “Steve, you’re my best friend. I didn’t like your other girlfriends because they seemed like shitty people. Peggy is…Peggy is good for you. Like, really good.”

“Okay now…” he laughs.

“No, I’m serious. If you didn’t ask her out, I was really fucking close to taking her for myself,” she finished before she hears a yelp followed by a soft thud and mattress springs squeaking. She can’t help herself and takes a peek inside the room to find Steve tickling Y/N on the bed. Peggy smiles to herself at the closeness of the friendship.

She’s about to walk away when she suddenly feels the feeling in the room shift.

“Steve, I think I’m gonna ask out Bucky.”

She hears an excited gasp, “Fucking finally! I’ve been saying you guys would be great together for years!”

She hears Y/N shush him, “He’s in the other room Steve, shut up!”

Peggy hears Steve laugh, “Sorry, sorry. Why now, though?”

“Dunno. I guess I just like seeing you happy with Peggy. And I don’t know, it makes me think that I deserve that happiness too,” Y/N says softly and Peggy’s heart melts.

“I’m proud of you, Y/N,” she hears Steve say. Despite not knowing Y/N that long, she’s proud of her too.

“Thanks, Steve.”

---

Y/N doesn’t get a chance to ask Bucky out.

As Y/N, Nat, and Wanda were preparing brownies for movie night when they got a text on their group chat:

Bucky: Can’t make it to movie night

Nat: got a hot date or smth?

Bucky: ;)

“Y/N…” Natasha calls out.

“Mhmm?” the girl calls out. “Gimme a second, I gotta take the brownies before they burn.”

Natasha sighs and walks into the kitchen to find Y/N gingerly setting the pan of brownies onto the counter. Wordlessly, Nat shows Y/N her phone with the group chat open.

The smile immediately falls from Y/N’s face.

“Y/N…” the red-head starts before getting vehemently cut off.

“I should be happy for him, right? My best friend just scored a date—”

“Y/N—”

“I was happy when Steve started going out with Peggy, why can’t I be happy Bucky found someone too—”

“Y/N!” Natasha says, more firmly this time.

“Why did you show me this, Nat?” she hisses, whipping her head and staring accusingly at her.

Natasha narrows her eyes at her, “You fucking know why. This was on the group chat, but I wanted to be there if you needed me when you saw it.”

Y/N’s eyes soften, “Nat, I’m sorry—”

Natasha cuts her off and immediately envelops her in a hug. “Don’t be,” she whispers, patting her head comfortingly, “You’re too good for Bucky, anyways.”

Y/N scoffs into her shoulder, “That’s my best friend, asshole. And Steve always said we’d be good together.”

“Steve has no fucking clue what he’s talking about.”

Y/N laughs a little harder, forcing the tears she was trying to keep in slowly stream down her face. Natasha immediately notices, and wipes them away with her thumbs, “Don’t cry, sweetheart. And don’t think about Bucky. ‘Sides, it’s movie night and—”

“—I need to leave my grievances at the door, yeah I know,” she finishes with a sad smile on her face. Y/N shakes her head, “That saying is kicking me in the ass, isn’t it?”

Ten minutes later, Wanda emerges from the bathroom, screeching in frustration from Bucky’s texts in the group chat. Y/N tries her best to tell Wanda that she’s over it, but Wanda is strangely good at reading people (it doesn’t help that she’s also a psychology major). The girls usually love Wanda’s weird sixth sense, but Y/N couldn’t help but find it quite inconvenient at this very moment.

Half an hour after that, Steve arrives at the girls’ apartment, this time without Peggy. The first thing he does is wrap Y/N in a bear hug, despite her protests at everyone making a big deal out of it. Steve doesn’t care, only hugs her tighter.

The four of them huddle around the TV, watching whatever movie was next on their queue and catching up on life. They tried really hard to ignore the awkward tension and the lack of the Bucky-ness the group had. It was movie night, after all. The perfect bubble that was their movie night felt a little different than it normally had.

---

Bucky misses movie nights for the next few weeks.

With the end of junior year approaching, the group of friends rarely had time to socialize outside their study groups except for their weekly tradition. With Bucky gone doing whatever Bucky was doing, Y/N didn’t see him for weeks on end. The only interaction they had was the occasional meme being sent to the group chat or like on Instagram.

She missed him. But deep down inside of her, she wasn’t that all surprised.

What did surprise her was Bucky’s sudden appearance at their last movie night before the end of junior year.

They were halfway through their first movie—Wanda was teaching Peggy how to braid a flower crown, Steve had agreed to let Natasha paint his nails a red and blue ombre while he played a game of Connect Four with Y/N, all while a random movie played on the screen—when they heard the front door unlock.

“Sorry I’m late!” called a voice. It was distinctly Bucky’s, but the female giggle that followed was not.

Bucky and an unnamed blonde materialize in the living room and everyone looks at the pair in shock. Y/N could feel a few of her friend’s stares be redirected to her, but she can’t seem to overt her eyes from the blonde.

Her hair seemed like it was literally golden as it flows down her light-green sundress. She was wrapped around Bucky’s arm—the arm with his tattoo sleeve on it, the arm that she loved tracing the patterns of the tattoo with during movie night.

Peggy breaks the ice first, “Hi, Bucky.”

“Oh, you have an accent!” the blonde squeals and Y/N can feel her eyes roll. Wanda scoffs beside her.

“Bucky, can I talk to you for a sec?” Y/N asks, more like demands, as she stands up abruptly and walks briskly past Bucky towards the hall, away from the view of the living room.

Once they were out of earshot from their friends, she hisses, “What are you doing here?”

Bucky laughs almost mockingly, “What do you mean, ‘what am I doing here?, It’s movie night, isn’t it?”

Y/N sighs tiredly, “Bucky, we haven’t seen you for weeks. Then, you show up with some blonde girl that we’ve never met?”

“I’ve been busy. What, am I not allowed to be busy anymore? The world doesn’t revolve around movie night,” Bucky snarls at her.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, that’s not what I meant and you fucking know it,” she growls back. “You’ve been radio silent for weeks—you pretty much ghosted all of us. Hell, if it wasn’t for Steve living with you, we would’ve thought you were fucking dead! But we gave you space because we aren’t helicopter-friends. But then, you show up after ignoring us for weeks with some chick I’ve never seen before at my fucking house on fucking movie night?! Can you see why I’m a little pissed off right now?”

“The British chick is here! Why the hell can she be here but not Dolores?” Bucky bites back, his voice rising.

“Because Peggy was invited to my house and Dolores fucking wasn’t!” Y/N says aggressively, her voice nearing a shout.

“This isn’t your tradition, Y/N. You want to control everything about this friend group and trust me, sweetheart, we’re all getting sick of it.”

“Oh, you can’t fucking do that.”

“Do what?”

“Talk like you’re still a fucking part of this friend group.”

“What, you’re gonna kick me out of your clique because I’ve been busy? Because I have a life?”

“No, because you’ve been a shitty fucking friend!” Y/N shouts, chest heaving, and face red.

Bucky’s eyes widen in shock. Sure, they’ve had points in their friendship where they haven’t communicated in a few days, but never this long. And Y/N had most certainly never been this angry with him before.

That seemed to knock some sense back into him. “Y/N—”

“Get the fuck out, Bucky.”

“Wha—”

“I said get out,” she says, eerily quiet.

So, he did. Bucky stormed out of the hallway and grabbed Dolores before marching out of the apartment. When Y/N sat back down with the rest of their friends, she could feel their stares burning into her face, but all she did was reach for the remote and continue playing the movie.

---

After Y/N’s argument with Bucky, he stops showing up game nights. They even make a new group chat without Bucky in it (because apparently, kicking him out of the apartment was fine but kicking him out of the group chat was too mean). Despite not really knowing what exactly was said, everyone understood what happened that night. To be frank, they were all waiting for someone to snap. A confrontation with him was long overdue.

The friend group is different without Bucky’s presence. Not better, not worse, just different.

It was clear that there would be awkward tension among the friends immediately after the argument. Wanda and Nat immediately sided with Y/N and clearly wanted nothing to do with Bucky. Steve was a trickier subject. Wanda, Nat, and Y/N all understood that they couldn’t force Steve not to be friends with him, so they all accepted him as their neutral party.

After a few months, their different was starting to feel normal.

But Y/N still missed Bucky. Despite her years of pining, Bucky was still her best friend. He was still the guy who walked her to her morning lectures after his run and got her wine drunk after a guy rejected her. Y/N missed that version of Bucky—she just wasn’t sure if he existed anymore.

Based on periodic updates that Steve gives her, Bucky is still with Dolores. “He’s happy,” Steve tells her. “Different, but happy.”

After a few months of living without Bucky in her life, she starts to blame herself. Had she been overreacting? Most probably. Did she really need to kick him out of her apartment? No.

“Was what you did justified though? Definitely,” Steve would always remind her. Some days she believes him, some days she doesn’t.

Still, her life begins to reach some semblance of normal. Movie nights are still once a week, but they’ve changed from a place where they have pseudo-therapy sessions lead by Wanda while a cheesy movie plays in the background.

It was about halfway into their senior year when Steve drops something on them during one of their movie night conversations.

“I might move to London,” Steve says out of the blue.

“What?” Y/N turns to him in shock.

Steve stares blankly at his lap, fidgeting with the nearly empty glass of red wine. “Peggy wants to move back to London after we graduate,” he says softly. “She wants me to go with her.”

It was Wanda’s turn to ask, “Well, why doesn’t she stay here with you?”

“Her family’s in London.”

“And your family is here, Steve,” Y/N replies softly, “We’re here.”

Steve sighs and runs a hand over his face before releasing a frustrated cry, “I don’t know what to do, guys.”

Natasha looks at him sympathetically before grasping his hand tightly, “Have you talked to Bucky about this?”

“Not yet…he’s got a lot on his plate right now,” Steve starts, warily looking at the girls sitting around him.

“What do you mean?” Natasha presses.

“Bucky proposed to Dolores a few days ago…” Steve sighs.

“Well…” Y/N starts, trying to find the right words, “Congrats to them.”

“Yeah,” Steve replies lamely before downing the remainder of his red wine. “I love Peggy, I really do,” Steve starts, “but I don’t know if London is right for me.”

Y/N raises an eyebrow at him, “What do you mean?”

Steve sighs again, “I don’t know how to explain it but…lately it feels like our relationship isn’t real anymore⁠—like she’s using me as a prop. It feels like she’s dragging me along because she feels like she has to. I really do love her but going to London with her just doesn’t feel right.”

“And what does feel right, Steve?” Wanda asks him gently.

Steve answer in a heartbeat, “New York. With you guys.”

Y/N offers him her kindest eyes. She murmurs softly, “Steve, I think you have your answer then.”

---

Steve stayed in New York.

He was a little heartbroken by Peggy’s reaction though; she simply acknowledged him and went straight back to packing, not even bothering to fight for their relationship. Maybe there wasn’t a whole lot to fight for after all.

Bucky also married Dolores.

After their graduation, Bucky and Dolores eloped. They didn’t want the pressure of an actual wedding, so they got on a flight to Vegas and got hitched in their graduation gowns. The reassured everyone (especially their parents) that they would have a real wedding for everyone else afterwards.

Y/N, Wanda, and Natasha finally got their own places. Wanda was moving in with her brother, Pietro, into an apartment in Morningside Heights. They were both starting their master’s at Columbia (Wanda in psychology and Pietro in exercise physiology), so they wanted to live closer together. Natasha was finally moving in with her boyfriend, Bruce. They were a very private couple, so they weren’t at all surprised when they told them that they were moving into their own place in Park Slope, close to Bruce’s research job and Nat’s marketing firm.

Y/N was really close to downsizing to a studio when Steve rolled his eyes and told her, “Don’t be an idiot, I’ll move in with you. That place is too nice to give up. Besides, Bucky and Dolores are looking for a place to move into.”

So, what was once Y/N, Wanda, and Nat’s apartment was now Y/N and Steve’s.

Not much changed about the apartment: Y/N kept her old room and Steve moved into Wanda’s. Natasha’s room had the most natural light, so they turned it into an office. Steve, Y/N learned, was the ideal roommate—his stuff was never messy, he helped run errands, and he was a delight to be around.

If it was possible for the two best friends to get any closer, they did.

Y/N fell into an easy routine with Steve, almost like it was second nature. After both taking the summer off, Steve started his law degree at Columbia and Y/N started her job as a Staff Writer at the New York Times.

They woke up at around seven and Steve got started on breakfast while Y/N used the bathroom first. As soon as she got out, breakfast would be waiting for her, so she got started on making coffee for her and Steve. Steve didn’t usually take long in the bathroom, so they ate breakfast together, enjoying each other’s company before their day started. After they both got dressed, they both walked to the subway and rode the L train before they had to split ways: Steve Uptown to Columbia and Y/N to the New York Times building. Steve usually got out of classes first, so he usually ran some errands for the place or studied in a café in the Village somewhere so to let Y/N get home before he did. She loved making dinner, so Steve usually came home to her blasting music and cooking.

The funniest part about their arrangement is that it was barely an arrangement: they didn’t really agree on splitting up their day this way. It just sort of…happened. It was natural but it felt right to the both of them and that’s all they could ever ask for.

The arbitrary lines of being roommates slowly began disappearing as well.

Four months into living together, Y/N and Steve started sharing a bed.

It wasn’t romantic, but more like a necessity. Steve had walked by Y/N’s room when he heard slight whimpering. He immediately swung open the door and found her lying on her bed, clutching her stomach in pain with tears streaming down her face.

Steve immediately lost his composure, “Y/N? Are you okay?!”

“It fucking hurts Steve,” she mumbles, “Why does bleeding out of your vagina fucking hurt so much?”

Steve’s eyes immediately soften and he lets out a low hum, “Y/N, I thought you were dying.”

“I am dying. This heat pad isn’t doing shit!”

Steve laughs and makes his way to the bed, lifting the covers and sliding beside her. Y/N immediately shifts so that Steve can be more comfortable. He wraps his arms around her, making sure to put his palm flat on her stomach. In the mess of tangled limbs, they fall asleep like that and take the most relaxing nap of their lives.

Steve shares a bed Y/N that night. And the night after that. And the night after that.

Soon, Steve barely slept in his old room anymore. It got to a point where it didn’t even make sense for him to have his own room: Y/N’s room was bigger, closer to the bathroom, had a comfier bed, and Y/N was in it.

The two spend a weekend clearing out Steve’s new room and moving all his stuff into Y/N’s. They turn they put the grey IKEA pullout couch inside along with an array of painting supplies and camera equipment, effectively turning it into a home studio. They like the apartment better this way.

A few months later, the two get a dog together. The mini Australian Shepard has a gorgeous coat, different coloured eyes, and a scar that stretches across his face, a reminder as to why they rescued him in the first place. The renamed him Mando (because his face reminded them of the Mandalorian helmet) and he was like their child. He was full of energy, so Steve loved brining him along for runs in the park. But he was also quiet, reserved, and sensitive so Y/N adored cuddling with him on the couch.

It was their own little family. Steve, Y/N, and Mando.

Movie nights were still a weekly occurrence, but it wasn’t always at their place anymore. Almost six months after Steve moved in with Y/N, they hosted movie night at their place again.

It wasn’t as if Wanda and Natasha hadn’t seen Y/N and Steve since then, but it was the first time they really felt the changes in their old place.

“You redecorated,” Nat commented with a smile. She noticed there were more pictures up: some of their entire friend group, some of just Y/N and Steve. There was also a hanging shelf above the TV (something that Y/N had always talked about installing but never did) that housed some pottery and other knick-knacks Y/N and Steve have collected over the years.

Wanda notices the dog crate and bed in the corner of the living room, along with a basket of toys for the dog. She asks, “Where’s Mando?”

“Steve took him when he went to get the takeout. He likes to cuddle if that’s what you’re asking, Wanda,” Y/N answers amusedly.

“Whathcu do with our old rooms?” Nat hums as she takes a seat on their new couch. She wondered where the grey IKEA one went; it was unlikely that Y/N had the heart to throw it away.

Y/N sits down beside her holding three wine glasses and a bottle of red wine. She pops the cork and pours them all a drink before saying, “We turned your old room into an office and Wanda’s into an art studio slash guest bedroom. That’s where the grey pullout went.” Y/N finished her sentence absentmindedly, almost like she didn’t realize the implication she made.

Wanda and Nat smirk at each other.

Nat takes a sip of her wine before nonchalantly saying, “You know, I always knew you and Steve would end up together.”

Y/N chokes on her wine, “I’m sorry…what?”

Wanda chuckles at her, “You live together, you share a bed, you got a dog.”

Y/N hums nervously, “We’re not dating.”

“Seems like you’re already married if you ask me,” Wanda counters with a smirk.

Before Y/N could get any more embarrassed, the front door opened and Mando came bolting inside, followed by Steve who laughed as the dog jumped on the couch and licked its occupants.

“Oh, Mando you’re so cute,” Wanda gushed before she immediately became occupied and played with Mando.

Natasha looked on with a knowing smirk as Y/N watched Steve approach, both wearing matching smiles, and Steve presses a kiss on her forehead.

“I got Lo Mein if that’s okay. I tried to make it to the pizza place, but I guess Mando likes the smell of Chinese,” Steve says quietly to her before setting the takeout on the coffee table beside the glasses of wine.

She smiles at him, “That’s okay, thanks for grabbing it anyways.”

“I figured you wanted time with the girls to catch up,” Steve shrugs before hopping over the back of the couch to sit next to you.

As the movie started and everyone started eating their serving of food and wine, Y/N assumed the natural position of leaning against Steve’s chest with his arm thrown around the back of the couch. The smell of his cologne is so synonymous with safety to Y/N, so she naturally leans closer to him.

Halfway through the first movie, Y/N catches Nat staring at her and Steve with a smirk. Nat sends a wink her way which sends Y/N’s face in a red flush.

She averts her eyes and looks back at the movie. We are not dating, Y/N thinks to herself, this is just natural.

---

It was about a year after Y/N and Steve started living together when they both got invitations to Bucky and Dolores' wedding.

Their group chat was blowing up with questions like ‘should we even go to the wedding?’ and ‘won’t it be awkward for everyone involved?’

Steve already knew that he was going. Despite everything, Bucky was still like his brother. They still saw each other almost weekly and although he wasn’t Dolores’ biggest fan just through negative association, he was happy that Bucky was immensely happy.

Y/N, on the other hand, needed more convincing.

“Jesus, I wish he never invited me to his goddamn wedding,” Y/N complained, her head buried in Steve’s shoulder as they sat on the couch, “Is this his version of a punishment? The anxiety of choosing whether or not I should come to his wedding?”

Steve rubbed her shoulder comfortingly, “Y/N, he did use to be your best friend.”

“Before I told him to get out of my life and that I never wanted to see him again,” she states bluntly. “God, I was so fucking stupid.”

“Hey,” Steve says firmly, “The both of you were acting pretty stupid, we’ve established that. But you’ve grown up. Bucky did invite you, which means he wants you to come.”

Y/N stays silent as Steve continues, “I know you miss him, Y/N. And clearly, he misses you too. Maybe this is your first step at mending your friendship.”

“If there’s anything left of it,” Y/N says pathetically.

“You won’t know if you don’t go to the wedding.”

So, she ends up going to the wedding.

The actual ceremony went by in a blur. Dolores was wearing a beautiful gown with gorgeous floral lace and Bucky in a wonderfully fitted velvet suit. Y/N thought the first time she would see Bucky in years would be filled with melancholy, but Y/N just felt better that Steve (from beside the groom) was sending her reassuring smiles the entire ceremony.

The couple was technically already married, so they didn’t have a licensed officiant. Instead, they had an array of friends, including Steve, the best man, say different parts of the pre-made script. It was fun, lighthearted, and had Bucky written all over it—something that Y/N missed about him the most.

At the reception, she took advantage of the open bar. She spent her time socializing with Natasha, Wanda, and Sam, a mutual friend who became an Air Force officer straight out of college. The night was still young, so Steve spent most of his time with the wedding party, occasionally sending Y/N texts like:

Steve: Miss you!

Steve: How many drinks have you had so far?

Steve: You made sure to lock Mando’s crate, right?

Steve: Did I tell you that you looked rlly pretty tonight?

Steve: I can’t wait until everyone gets drunk so I can hang out w you :)

“Texting at my wedding? I thought you loved parties, Y/N,” a recognizable voice says amusedly.

Y/N’s head snaps up and she’s met with a face that she hasn’t seen in years.

“Bucky—”

Bucky cuts her off, “Before you say anything, I’m sorry. You were right, I was being a really shitty friend and I didn’t have the right to ignore you, yell at you, or just bring random people into your home like I owned the place. I just…really missed you. You’re my best friend and my life hasn’t really been the same without you.”

Y/N is rendered speechless. Her mind blanks as she stares into Bucky’s watery eyes, begging for forgiveness. She says nothing and instead wraps her arms around Bucky, pulling him close. The man immediately wraps his arms around her like they’ve never left.

After the wedding, Bucky starts to show up to movie night again.

It takes a whole lot of coaxing to let Natasha and Wanda allow Bucky back into their lives, but eventually, they come around. It wasn’t like college though, but it was nice, nonetheless. One night, Bucky revealed that movie nights are when he feels the most like himself again. The rest of them smile wordlessly at him, but confusion does seep into the back of their minds.

A year since the wedding, the group finally fully accepts Bucky back into their lives as if he never left. He catches up with Natasha during impromptu lunches, takes Wanda to dinner if she’s ever in Midtown, watches the Yankees play with Steve to take his mind off of law school, and drops lunch off to Y/N at the New York Times building if he’s in the area.

Bucky truly misses his friends, but somewhere deep in his heart, he misses Y/N a little bit more.

The rest of them also notice how little Bucky talks about Dolores when they’re together.

They found it strange at first; normally, husbands loved talking about their wives. But Bucky never brought her to their outings, to movie night (despite everyone insisting that they’d be happy to have her over), and rarely brought her up in conversation unless asked.

Y/N found it especially strange. In a mature attempt to move on from her college crush on Bucky, she tried to make amends with Dolores. Turns out, the blonde was an adorable girl from Brooklyn that absolutely adores Bucky. She’s sensitive but hilarious and Y/N loves spending time with her.

She also noticed how much Dolores talked about Bucky. It was clear how much she adored him, so it was almost unfathomable to her how Bucky didn’t talk about the wonderful woman nearly as much as she talked about him.

“Don’t you find it a little weird?” Y/N asked him as he was brushing his teeth. Steve was concentrated on her face despite toothpaste foaming around his mouth. Y/N sat on the bathroom counter, feet swinging as she absentmindedly played with an elastic.

Steve spit in the sink before speaking, “I mean, you know Buck. He’s a pretty private guy.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t shut up about crazy stories he’s had with you and Bucky loves you. I just find it a little funky that he doesn’t act the same with Dolores,” Y/N explained.

Steve sighs and gargles the rest of the toothpaste out of his mouth. “I guess I never thought about it that way… They have only been married for a little over two years though. Maybe they’re still figuring out the ropes of their marriage?”

Y/N shrugs with a sigh, hopping off the counter and stripping off her shirt and pants. Steve tries his hardest not to stare but he can’t help but stare at the curve of her body as she reaches to slip on one of his hoodies she likes to wear for bed.

Steve isn’t really sure where his relationship with Y/N stands, to be honest. It’s funny to him—they act like an actual married couple, minus the romance. Acting domesticated with her just feels so natural to Steve, but he’s scared putting a label on anything will change the dynamic, so he stays silent and cherishes the domestic moments he has with her.

“You’re right, I’m probably overthinking it,” Y/N mumbles before slipping past him, “I’m headed off to bed. Don’t take too long.”

Y/N doesn’t notice Steve’s hard blush as he scrambles to put on some pyjamas to join her in bed.

---

“I’m nervous.”

“Jesus, Steve. You’ll be fine! You’re the top of your class at fucking Columbia, so there’s no way you failed the bar,” Y/N cheers on excitedly from behind him. She rubs his shoulders as he stares at his inbox, too afraid to click on the email titled ‘New York State Bar Exam Results.’

Steve’s foot taps incessantly, “I’m still too scared to look.”

Y/N reaches over his shoulder and kisses his cheek. “Fine,” she says, “I’ll look for you.” She clicks on the email and scrolls down, searching for Steve’s exam number.

After a few seconds, Y/N hesitantly asks, “Steve?”

“Mhmm?” he replies, his head in his hands.

“What’s your exam number again?”

“S-24601,” he replies quickly.

Y/N squeals and hugs him from the back, pressing kisses all over his neck. “You fucking passed, Steve!” she squeals.

“I did?!”

“Of course you did, dummy!”

Steve laughs in excitement and disbelief, grabbing Y/N by the waist and spinning her off the ground. Mando barks excitedly, jumping up happily against Steve’s thighs.

“You did it!” Y/N smiles down at him, her cheeks hurting from all her laughing.

The two celebrate by hosting movie night at their place with extra food, desserts, and ridiculous amounts of alcohol. Wanda brings Vis, the high school chemistry teacher she’s been seeing, Nat brings Bruce, and Bucky finally comes around and brings Dolores along for the celebration. Even Sam, who happened to be off duty, was able to come to the celebration.

Despite it technically being movie night, most of the night was spent trading funny stories about Steve, emptying bottles and bottles of wine and beer, and finally letting loose for the first time in a long time.

Around ten in the evening, the board games came out and the group of twenty-somethings started playing games with a drinking twist. Y/N had been attached to Steve by the hip all night (largely because he always seemed to have his arms around her), but she couldn’t complain. The several glasses of wine she had did make it easier for her to ignore Wanda and Natasha’s smirks.

It also made it easier for her to be ignorant of how awkward Dolores felt at the gathering. Y/N sincerely like the girl, but she was unaware of her discomfort until around one in the morning. Most people had left, and it was just Steve, Y/N, and Bucky cleaning up.

“Y/N, I’m gonna take a quick shower,” Steve calls out to Y/N as she washes the dishes with Bucky picking up trash in the living room. “Goodnight Bucky!” Steve calls out before disappearing.

“Goodnight, Steve,” Bucky shouts back before walking into the kitchen. He leans against the counter and watches Y/N as she does the dishes. Y/N notices his presence, then notices the lack of someone else’s presence.

“Hey Buck, where’d Dolores run off to?” Y/N hums, drying the last of the dishes.

Bucky shrugs, “Took an Uber and went home early.”

Y/N turns around to face him, “Shit, Buck. You didn’t have to stay—”

“Nah, I wanted to. She’s probably fine,” he answers nonchalantly.

“Probably?”

Bucky doesn’t respond.

Y/N takes a deep breath and fiddles with the dishtowel in her hands before saying, “Bucky, why is this the first time in three years of marriage that Dolores has come to a friend get together?”

Bucky’s jaw unhinges a little, “What do you mean?”

Y/N sighs and sets the dish towel down. She takes a deep breath before saying, “We’ve asked you to invite her to come over for years, but you always make excuses for her. You don’t nearly talk about her as much as she does about you, and I know that for a fact because I’ve hung out with Dolores on multiple occasions. Bucky…is everything alright between you and Dolores?”

Bucky stares intently at her for a few seconds before his resolve crumbles. His eyes lose its intensity and are replaced with tiredness as he drags his hand across his face. “Dot and I…” Bucky starts, “are going through a bit of a…rough patch.”

“Bucky—”

“I made a mistake marrying her,” he says bluntly.

“What?” Y/N says in shock. Every time she’s spent time with Dolores, she had been nothing but lovely. She’s perfect for Bucky—she doesn’t understand where he’s coming from.

“I love Dolores but I…”

“But…?”

Bucky doesn’t say anything. Instead, he crosses the kitchen floor in two long strides and grabs Y/N by the face, kissing her fiercely.

Y/N freezes and her eyes widen in shock. What the fuck was happening? was the only thing her brain could possibly register at the point.

Bucky pulls away but the grip on her face doesn’t fade, “But I’m in love with you, Y/N. And I know for a fact that you love me too.”

He leans in for another kiss, but Y/N pushes him away. “Bucky stop!” she says, harsher than she intends, but she doesn’t regret it.

Bucky stares at her, dumbfounded, but she continues, “That was a long, long time ago. And Jesus, Bucky you’re married!”

He shakes his head, “I don’t need to be forever—”

“—And you’re drunk!” she explains in exasperation.

“But I know some part of you still loves me. And God, I love you too. All those years without you and it finally got through to my thick skull,” Bucky argues.

“But what about Dolores?” she whispers.

“Fuck Dolores,” he says. Bucky reaches for her again, but Y/N steps away.

“Bucky, I can’t,” Y/N cries. “Maybe there’s some part of me that loves you, that may always love you. But there’s a bigger part of me that loves what I have right now. Bucky, I’ve never felt so safe before. So happy, so cared for, so loved. I know it’s selfish, but I can’t give away the happiness and security that I deserve to explore what my life would be like with you because I love—”

Y/N stops abruptly, her voice catching in her throat.

“Because you love who, Y/N?” Bucky asks. She notices how his eyes have become glassy and how his shoulders had slumped slightly.

Because I love Steve, Y/N thinks. But she doesn’t find the courage to say it. Bucky can see it in her eyes, though.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Bucky doesn’t have to say his name who she’s talking about.

Y/N is silent, her heart thumping so loud her she’s afraid Bucky can hear it.

Her silence is enough for him, “Ah.”

Bucky waits a few more seconds before saying, “When did you know?”

Y/N gulps and lets out a shaky breath. When did she know? She racks her brain but can’t think of a specific time. Part of her thinks that she always knew. She was so natural around Steve. So safe and carefree. Steve was there when that perfect bubble of her friendship with Bucky popped, and he even stayed with her after. He was the one that helped her mend her heart and, in the process, built himself a spot inside without even realizing it. Her imperfect bubble, her lens of the world, may have been broken, but Steve was inside, and Y/N knew that it’s all the really mattered.

I love Steve, she confessed to herself. She felt like she was Cher in Clueless, with the fountain of her emotions erupting inside her. Bucky could clearly see it on her face as he smiled sadly.

“Did I ever have a chance?” he whispers.

“Yeah... A long time ago,” Y/N answers softly, not trusting her voice.

“Will I ever get the chance again?”

Y/N shakes her head softly, “Don’t wait for me, Bucky.”

Bucky smiles sadly at her, a tear escaping his eye. She reaches for him, but Bucky shakes his head, “See you around, Y/N.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

Y/N feels like she’s on autopilot. Adrenaline is still coursing through her system; coupled with alcohol and a whole lot of courage, her feet bring her to the bathroom before even realizing. She doesn’t realize that she’s turning the doorknob or stripping completely. She barely registers her stepping into the steamy shower before and she definitely doesn’t fully register her tapping Steve on the shoulder, reaching up, and kissing him fiercely.

He pulls away first, “Y/N?”

She kisses him in response. This time, he responds but pulls away a few seconds later, “Why are you doing this? Are you drunk?”

“Yeah, it’s not why I’m doing this though,” she says, voice raspy.

“Why then?”

“Because I love you.”

“Oh,” was Steve’s response before kissing her again. The two sloppily make out like teenagers discovering sex for the first time before Steve pulls away again.

“I also love you, you know,” he says lazily against her lips. He feels her smile.

“That’s good,” she replies before kissing him once more.

The night lasts a lot longer than both of them intend. But it wasn’t like they were complaining.

---

Life had a strange way of playing out sometimes.

It seemed as if Y/N and Steve blinked and the rest of their lives fell straight into their laps.

When they meet new people, they always ask them how long they've been together or when they started dating.

“A lifetime ago,” Steve would always say, his eyes lighting up and his face flushing slightly.

After the night that Steve learned he passed the bar, Y/N and Steve’s relationship didn’t change all that much, mostly because they acted like they were married in the first place. They already help hands in public, gave each other kisses on the cheek when their friends were around, and they acted more domesticated than a lot of actual married couples only months after they officially started dating.

In fact, most of their friends didn’t even realize they had started dating until almost six months later, Y/N made an off-hand comment about how Steve was secretly really kinky in bed.

The really didn’t have an engagement either.

After two years of dating, five years of living together, and nine years of knowing each other, Steve just decided to get straight to the point.

“You wanna get married, Y/N?” Steve asked her. He had just come back from his job as a corporate lawyer. He honestly hated it but needed the experience and the money to pay off his student loans. His grand plan after he was no longer drowning in debt was to become an Assistant District Attorney.

Y/N stopped cutting the vegetables and turned toward Steve who was leaning against the fridge, suit jacket slung across one shoulder and top button his dress shirt undone. She raises a brow at him, “Pardon me?”

“You wanna get married?” he repeats nonchalantly.

“Now? I’m making dinner.”

“Whenever you want, doll.”

She sets the knife down and slowly walks towards him. “This isn’t you proposing, is it?” she cackles.

Steve shakes his head and laughs, meeting her halfway. “No, I thought of this while I was riding the subway back home. I don’t even have a ring, honey,” he explains. “If I’m honest, it feels like we’ve been married for the past five years, so I kinda forgot that we aren’t.”

Y/N purses her lips in concentration before saying, “That’s fair.”

Steve stares at her for a few more seconds, “So…?”

“Do you want to get married?” she asks him this time, stepping forward and grasping his hands.

“I mean…yeah,” Steve says with a grin, “Telling people you’re my wife is a lot cooler than telling people you’re my girlfriend. Besides, if I ever commit a crime, you have the right not to testify against me because of marital privilege—”

He’s cut off with howling laughter and Y/N burying her face into his chest as he wraps his arms around her. Steve’s tired, really tired, but coming home to her was what he reminded himself he was working for.

“Should we do the whole proposal thing, too?” Y/N asks him after her laughter dies down.

“I don’t mind proposing if it’s something you want to do,” he tells her, pressing his lips to her head.

“Meh. I don’t really care,” she says cheekily before pressing her lips to his.

After their wedding—just like Y/N and Steve predicted—their lives didn’t change all too much. The only noticeable changes were that they were being addressed as Y/L/N-Rogers in the mail, but their lives were pretty much the same.

Their friends found it fascinating: when they had gotten married, they felt that their relationship dynamic had changed a little. But then again, they supposed Steve and Y/N had been acting like they’ve been married since the ripe age of twenty. It’s almost like they skipped a few steps in their relationship and went from friends to acting like they’ve been married for forty years.

The biggest change in their relationship came three years after their wedding when their twins, Avery and Jameson Y/L/N-Rogers were born into the world.

Steve and Y/N were natural parents and they loved their kids. When the twins were three, they took them on their first road trip to the Adirondacks. They spent the weekend at a lakefront cabin, swimming, canoeing, and hiking. When asked years later, the twins would always explain that this was their first memory. At four, the twins started school, and to say Y/N and Steve were worried would be a huge lie. They knew Avery and Jameson would protect each other no matter what. At age seven, a boy on the playground called Avery an ‘ugly liar’, and Jameson threw sand in his face. Steve gave Jameson a scolding about how it was bad to throw sand at people and instead saying that if he was going to throw something, throw a punch instead.

Y/N had to step in and tell him not to do that unless it was a last resort.

At twelve, Jameson had his first real crush on a girl named Mindy. But, Avery knew that Mindy was mean and the daughter of an entitled Karen, so when Jameson asked Mindy if she wanted to dance with her at the school dance, Avery made sure to scare her straight.

“My daddy is a lawyer and sends criminals to prison and my mommy works for the New York Times. So, if you hurt James, everyone will know how mean you actually are are,” Avery threatened, which made Mindy back out of dancing with Jameson. Despite being mad when he was twelve, he was thankful years later when he saw firsthand what kind of teenager Mindy would become.

Now at sixteen, though the two twins were still thick as thieves, they matured into respectable, and frankly perfect kids.

That year, the Fourth of July (aka Steve’s birthday) fell the same night as movie night and the twins took it upon themselves to plan their dad’s party.

“Avery? James? You doin’ alright?” Y/N called from the upper floor of their brownstone in Park Slope, Brooklyn. When it was obvious that Avery and Jameson were at the age that they couldn’t share a bedroom anymore, Steve convinced Y/N to move back to Brooklyn. It wasn’t the difficult, per se, especially when Steve found a place close to where Natasha and her now-husband Bruce lived.

“Doin’ just fine, Mom!” Avery calls back. She was busy frosting the good-old Stars and Stripes cake while James finished the last-minute decorations.

Just then, Y/N heard a thud before some soft moaning. She gasped, already halfway down the stairs. “Are you okay? Do you need help? Screw your surprise, I’m com—”

“No!” James shouted, quickly sitting up, “I just fell off a stool, Mom. No big deal, you don’t need to come downstairs.”

“Are you su—”

“Yep! This is supposed to be a surprise!” James calls back.

“A surprise for your dad, not for me Jameson.”

Avery cackles from the kitchen and James rolls his eyes at her. “We’re fine, I promise,” he reassures her.

“Okay, just be done before everyone gets here. Bucky’s stalling your dad for as long as possible but I know he’ll want to come home soon.”

When Y/N is finally allowed downstairs, she’s impressed with their work. Red, white, and blue streamers are hung all across the ceiling as well as helium balloons that say ‘Happy Birthday America!’ except America is crossed out with Sharpie and ‘Steve Rogers’ is written in her kids’ handwriting instead. In the living room, several games are put out on the coffee table and a playlist full of patriotic movies is ready to be played on the TV. All her friends (minus Bucky and Steve) are in the living room, having a laugh at all the funny touches on the decorations. Their dining table was filled with food their friends brought for the potluck, and for some reason, James had blasted (and looped) a remix of the Star-Spangled Banner and Happy Birthday.

“Do you like it, Mom?” Y/N hears before turning around and facing her kids. Avery’s hand was grasped in James’ and her heart melts. How did I get so lucky? she asks herself.

She gives them a huge smile before enveloping both of them into a hug. “It’s amazing. Better than anything I could’ve done, that’s for sure.”

“Do you think, Dad’ll like it?” James mumbles into her shoulder.

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT!” a voice suddenly shouts. The three pull apart to find Steve standing at the entrance of the living room with a huge grin on his face. Bucky stands behind him, chuckling at his reaction.

Y/N’s smile widens at the sight of her husband. “There’s your answer, James.”

The party is everything Steve could have really asked for. The food was great, his company was even better, and the thoughtfulness of his kids was enough to bring tears to his eyes.

When the night gets darker, the party of people head to the roof of the building so they can watch the fireworks. As they wait, Avery has everyone engrossed in a story of how James followed her on a date with a boy she really liked, Peter Parker. Steve stood at the edge of the crowd, smiling at how happy his kids and his wife looked. He feels a presence beside him and doesn’t need to look to know who it is.

“You did pretty great, Steve,” Bucky tells him softly.

“With Avery and James?” he asks.

“With life, buddy.”

Steve hums contently as the two of them watch Avery cause a bubble of laughter to erupt from the group. James punches her playfully on the arm, but the smile is still evident on his face.

“How’s Steph?” Steve asks him.

“She’s good. She’s with her mom for the weekend,” Bucky answers quietly.

“And how are you and Dolores?”

Bucky is silent for a few seconds. He clears his throat before saying, “Talking. We’re trying to work it out for Steph’s sake. She doesn’t deserve to have a broken family.”

Steve puts a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Buck. You’re a good father,” he tells his best friend.

Bucky remains silent. After a few minutes of silence, Bucky’s conscious drowns him in guild and he speaks up, “I kissed Y/N when we were younger. It was the night you learned you passed the bar. I told her I thought I made a mistake marrying Dolores, and shit…I don’t even know what I was thinking because I knew she probably loved you. I’m so sorry, Steve. I never told you because you’re my best friend and—”

“Bucky,” Steve cuts him off with a small, sympathetic smile, “It’s okay. I know.”

Bucky’s brows shoot up. “You know?” he asks.

Steve nods, “Y/N told me. Y/N tells me everything.”

Bucky exhales, “Ah.”

“I’m not mad,” Steve tells him.

“You’re not?”

“I am married to her and still best friends with you, aren’t I?”

Bucky chuckles and looks down. He doesn’t deserve Steve, Bucky thinks. But he’s damn grateful a guy like him is in his life. “I’m still sorry,” he says.

“It’s okay, Bucky. I mean it,” Steve says, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

The two stand in comfortable silence when the fireworks finally start to go off. The roof glows with red light and Steve can’t help but admire how beautiful Y/N looks with the glow of light on her skin. Avery has her head on Y/N’s shoulder while Jameson has an arm wrapped around her torso. Steve notices Bucky admiring his family too.

“You know,” Steve starts, “she loved you when we were younger. I actually thought the two of you would be great together and wanted her to ask you out. She was about to.”

Bucky looks at him. “Really,” he asks suspiciously.

“Mhmm,” Steve hums, still looking at the fireworks. “And did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Love her?”

Bucky is silent. He stares at Steve’s side profile; he’s still staring up at the fireworks without a care in the world.

Bucky sighs and answers honestly, “All throughout college, even when I was with Dolores. But guessing by your reaction, I think you already knew that.”

Steve finally glances in his direction, “I’m your best friend. Of course, I knew.”

“Did I ever have a chance with her?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, finally looking at Bucky, “once you did.”

Bucky sighs, “How’d you do it? How’d you find someone you love so naturally?”

Steve shakes his head, his eyes trained on his wife and his kids. They looked so happy, living in their own little bubble. Steve smiles softly before saying, “I stuck around.”

Bucky nods wordlessly before turning his attention back to the fireworks above. Steve continues to stare at his family when Y/N turns around and catches his gaze. Despite the night sky, her eyes are bright and filled with joy and love.

Steve smiles widely at her.

And in their own imperfect, but beautiful bubble, Y/N smiles back.

---

steve rogers taglist: @milea

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