#I didn’t realize my joints could hurt even MORE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

silkscream · 1 year ago

Text

possession

venom!peter x silk!reader

ੈ✩ synopsis: peter parker is not himself when he falls into your universe. it must be a curse that he finds himself tethered to you. the darkness inside him has never wanted anything more.

ੈ✩ genres: strangers to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn

ੈ✩ cw: smut (18+ only minors dni), unprotected sex, slightly dubcon, biting, masturbation, violence, gore, self-harm, angst, codependent relationships, slightly ooc peter

ੈ✩ wc: 10k+

ੈ✩ a/n: this is post-nwh. i’ve been working on this for months and i finally feel comfortable posting it even though i still have a love/hate relationship with this story. hopefully i’ll muster up enough energy to make a part two because i certainly have more in store for them. (i miss peter so bad)

ੈ✩ playlist | ੈ✩ masterlist

Peter wakes up with a sharp, throbbing pain in the back of his skull. Maybe if he was lucky, he had completely knocked the wind out of his frontal lobe. Maybe he’d woken in the middle of a coma-induced dream state. As he blinks his eyes open, through the haze of the world around him, his environment pulls itself together. What he sees isn’t familiar.

This isn’t his room.

Maybe this isn’t his body, either. He hopes it isn’t, but he feels the sting of a side wound like an electric shock when he stretches his upper body slightly.

He scans the walls in search of clues. He knows he’s not in danger – at least, he doesn’t think so – considering that he’s in a girl’s room and not a cavernous dungeon. His vision is dreamlike, blurry, still. When he squints at his surroundings, he can see posters on the walls and books stacked in every corner. He shivers when he realizes he’s looking around the room without his mask. Where the fuck is it?

When Peter looks down at his body, he notices how it stings and frowns at the few rips of lycra on his suit that showcase bloody wounds underneath. The bruise on his cheekbone throbs along with the tension headache that plagues his temples. He can taste copper in his mouth from his split lip.

“You’re awake.”

The voice startles him. Everything is still sensitive, his joints and wounds and the act of occupying his body. The sound of someone else’s voice in the room triggers enough adrenaline in him to shoot out a web in the direction of the bodily presence that enters.

You frown, cringing at his attack, but you don’t look as startled as he would expect. He widens his eyes when he sees that you’ve dodged his webs completely. Sitting up, he winces from the sharp pain on his side.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Reflex.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

He doesn’t know what to do other than stare. Quite frankly, he didn’t expect to have to entertain a stranger tonight, nor did he think that his identity would be compromised in the presence of one. He’d barely remembered what had happened before he’d gotten knocked out. All he could recall was pain and the taste of blood in his mouth. Glancing at the slenderness of your fingers, he realizes that he doesn’t even remember your hands pulling him toward safety.

“You took my mask.”

“Wanted to make sure your face wasn’t broken. I didn’t take any pictures or call the cops if that’s what you think.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” he asks cautiously.

“I'm not particularly fond of them. Unless you want me to test how much ransom a loose Spider-man is worth.”

He blinks at the name, considering how ironic it is that you are the first person to see him in his most vulnerable state since his world changed for the worse. You, this unassuming stranger, who happened to have enough kindness to lug his body into your home.

He’s on edge. Of course, he is; he feels as if he’s been kidnapped, but the acuteness of his senses feels differently than they do when his body knows a threat is in front of him. Instead, it feels like the kaleidoscope of neurons inside him collects together in clear recognition. Like he knows you in his soul alone.

“How did you– how did you even get me up here? I was in an alley, and then–”

“And then I carried you back to my apartment.”

He narrows his eyes.

“Don’t see how that’s possible,” he mutters.

You surprise him by shooting a web from your fingertips to grab a water bottle from your desk and having it recoil into your hand without much effort.

Oh.

He asks you your name, and you tell him. When you ask him the same, he shifts uncomfortably and doesn’t answer you. You don’t take it personally.

Christ, he needs to leave now. But he’s transfixed by your big eyes and your curious stare, and he begins to wonder about you in the same way, as if you are the wounded butterfly he’d picked up on the street instead of the other way around.

You’re fucking weird, Peter’s decided, because, after this, you don’t ask him any more questions. Not anything that deviates from your concern about his wounded state.

You’re rather casual, which surprises him. You make him a cup of tea, lend him some of your oversized clothes (they fit him perfectly), and force him to stay on your bed so you can attempt to tend to his wounds. (He doesn’t let you.)

Naturally, he watches you wash your dishes and he plays the interrogation game, and you let him. You tell him that you’re in Brooklyn. You negate the idea of him swinging back to his house despite how much he insists. When he asks why, you’re hesitant.

“You’re probably safer here,” you sigh, almost impatiently.

He doesn’t argue when he feels the ache in his bones again.

“How is it that you’re like me?”

“I was also bitten by a radioactive spider.”

“Shit. There was another one?”

You don’t answer. God, your nonchalance freaks him the fuck out.

Why aren’t you fazed? What the fuck is wrong with you?

Maybe Peter will fake you out and flee, and he’ll forget all about you. He’ll never come near you again. But then there’s the warmth of your voice, and he stubbornly refuses to give in.

“I’m too fucking tired for all this interrogation, okay?” you exasperate. “You can take the bed. Or the couch. I don’t care. Just pick one.”

Why the hell are you letting a stranger crash at your place?

He doesn’t register it coming out of his mouth. You scoff.

“I’ve been through worse. And you’re barely a threat.”

Peter should feel offended, he thinks, but mostly he’s fascinated by you. He doesn’t blame you for your crabbiness once he sees the clock on your wall read 2:45 am. There’s a nebulous pause between the two of you now, so you make the first move by turning away from him and rummaging through your drawers. You throw an oversized t-shirt and sweats toward him that he catches immediately.

Without a word, you leave the room, which leaves him confused. He thinks that maybe you’re coming back eventually, washing up in the bathroom, but after twenty minutes of examining the knick-knacks and pictures on your wall, your absence is louder than ever. He frowns when he steps out and sees your sleeping figure on the living room couch. Shit. You were serious about him taking the bed.

He peers at you again, eyes adjusting to the room's pitch-black darkness until the window's blue moonlight allows him to see your face. You look peaceful, at bliss, almost.

Peter should just fucking leave. He contemplates this for over an hour as he lays in your bed, frowning at the ceiling because he’s not letting himself succumb to your weirdly kind offer of staying in your bed as a complete stranger.

Yeah, there had to be something wrong with you. You’d probably taken him in to use for human meat to sell on the black market or something. The whole girl-next-door thing was definitely a facade. It was.

Fuck you and your pretty eyes and pretty hair and how he could smell it everywhere in the room regardless of whether or not you were in it. Fuck you and your soft sheets and obnoxious amount of pillows.

Of course, once Peter is done ruminating, the sleep he has in your bed is the best he’s had in fucking weeks.

Your bed smells just like you. Like your sheets are fresh out of the laundry with a hint of something citrusy. Peter can barely open his eyes, but the sunlight from your window annoyingly beams onto his bruised face. The warmth licks his face.

He can hear the barely-there pattering of your light footsteps in the hallway. The hissing of a kettle. He emerges from your bedroom cautiously like a wild animal released from captivity. Your back is turned to him as you hum something nonspecific, some song he thinks he might’ve liked when he was in high school, but he doesn’t remember the name of it.

“Good morning, Peter,” you murmur, looking up and turning around when you notice his presence.

He furrows his brows. There’s a gleam in Peter’s eye that you can tell is untrusting. Like he’s expecting you to attack him.

“I never told you my name.”

Your gaze softens with sympathy. For some reason, you utter a soft apology.

“You already knew about me, but I didn’t know about you,” he accuses, arms crossed. “Why?”

You sigh. “Have you heard of the multiverse, Peter?”

No. No fucking way.

In a panic, he makes his way toward the front door of your apartment, but you beat him to it with two hands on his chest to block him.

“Peter! Peter, stop–”

“What the fuck is going on? Where am I?”

He doesn’t realize that he feels short of breath, chest heaving as he clutches you by the shoulders. He also doesn’t realize the extent of his super-strength, though you don’t complain or flinch from the contact.

“I’ll explain if you just calm down,” you reply, your voice still calm. Even in crisis, you’re still so fucking soft, so placid, and Peter isn’t sure if the fact is comforting or terrifying.

Something catches in his throat when you place your warm palms on his cheeks, an embrace too loving and nurturing for a stranger like him to deserve. The entire gesture rewires his brain instantly. Despite his ragged breathing, he stills and nods slowly.

“You’re on a different version of Earth. Okay? In this version, I’m the one who got bitten by a radioactive spider. I’m Silk.”

“I’m not supposed to be here.”

It comes out more like a question than a statement. You shake your head.

“No. I don’t know how you got here, but I promise you’ll be able to make it back. There’s a lot of us–”

“I know about the multiverse. I’ve– I’ve met other versions. Of myself.”

“You have?” you raise an eyebrow.

He hesitates. His brown eyes search yours, scanning your face until his gaze falls through you to fixate on your collarbone instead of your eyes. He blinks with a glassy scrutiny that bleeds with anxiety.

“I fucked things up on my Earth, and now no one knows who I am. No one knows who Peter Parker is, I mean. But why do you know who I am? How did you find me?”

“You know there are other Peters. I’ve met other Peters. After the multiverse nearly collapsed, the Spider Society was created. As a preventative measure, so that shit doesn’t happen again. All of us have the same story, and fucking it up fucks everyone else up, to put it simply. That can be something we can unpack for later. And I– I felt your presence. And I wanted to keep you safe, so I took you in..”

“There was something out there last night when I fell through. I don’t even remember how I got here. It was like waking up inside of a dream.”

The bewildered look in Peter’s eyes has you nearly as panicked as he is because you recognize it all too well. You’d seen it in the mirror yourself when you had first got bitten by that damn spider, however, at that time, you were fifteen and alone.

“What thing?”

“Something… dark. Amorphous. I don’t know.”

You frown. Your hands are still on him. His face feels like it’s on fire.

The thing inside his body screams at a frequency he can’t understand. It’s so loud that he can’t even hear himself think.

Kill her. Kill her. Kill her.

Shut the fuck up.

Peter jumps and takes a step back. When you try to move in tandem with him, he doesn’t let you. The voice in his head has a rasp unfamiliar to him, and it wants to overtake him. Fuck, is he hallucinating? Is he being fucking possessed?

Get out. Get out. Get the fuck out.

I don’t have anywhere else to go, Peter.

GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY BODY.

Look at her. Fucking delicious. We have to devour her. Now. NOW. NOW.

He won’t remember it later, but he runs through your bedroom door to the window, fumbling on the hinges until he nearly falls off your fire escape. When you relay this to him later, he’s bewildered, shaking. Too afraid to touch you. Too afraid to be in your apartment at all. Unsure of his memory, considering his lack of ability to recall any of this.

And yet, the warmth of your touch drinks him in, and he thinks that if he’s going to be trapped in a different universe than his own, he’s comfortable being in yours, under your roof. After he blacks out, your face is the only thing he can remember when he dreams.

The nightmares wake him up this time. He remembers the horrors of the night before you had found his mangled body in the alleyway. He remembers the pain, the glitch in the atmosphere that had seemed to have his body bursting through the seams, and the black entity that consumed his skin and stuck to it like glue. He remembers what it felt like to be transformed. He just doesn’t remember by what.

When Peter’s lids flutter open, he sees that his environment is sterile and sanitized. You make eye contact with him, and his honey-brown eyes darken, almost spiteful. The longer you look at his face, the more you notice he looks like a child.

He attempts to get up from the bed, but he’s restrained to it. He groans quietly, sucking his teeth.

“You’ll be out soon.”

He doesn’t say anything, though the grimace on his face says a thousand words. Instead, he scoffs.

Kill her. Kill her. Kill her.

The voice in his head is faint and raspy, though, unlike the other times, it’s barely there – much more muted than before. It comes as a passing thought, so nonchalant and quiet that Peter almost convinces himself that it’s something he hears echoed from the hallway nearby.

Your expression doesn’t falter. You merely watch him with curious eyes. It makes his skin hot.

“What happened?” he finally asks.

“You don’t remember?”

Peter doesn’t shake his head, nor does he look confused. He stays neutral as if he’s testing you. His jaw clenches.

“You fucking scared me, you know,” you mutter. There’s an exhaustion to your voice. How long has he fucking been here?

“Tell me.”

“It’s like you weren’t in your body,” you breathe. “Your eyes were all dark and you were trying to run away from me. You passed out after trying to jump off the fire escape. I thought you were trying to kill yourself, Peter.”

He notices that the edge in your voice is languishing, full of a distinct type of worry that he hasn’t felt from anyone else in ages. No one’s known him in over a year. But here you are, from a different universe, sitting across from him in this room with a face that almost looks like it’s about to be ruined with tears.

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“I know.”

“Why am I here?”

“I don’t know what happened. The tests they ran on you – it’s nothing we’ve seen before. Or yet.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“We use a device to send our Spider-people home based on your DNA. Or the spider you were bitten by since that’s what tethers you to your Earth. We thought you might go home and transport back to your universe, but you didn’t. The system fucking went berserk after scanning you.”

Peter’s first instinct is to say I’m sorry, but he knows that would be stupid, and the parasitic thing in his body shuts him down. He clamps his eyes shut to find darkness under all the harsh fluorescent lighting, but the hint of something sinister shakes his body in a way he can’t explain. He briefly remembers the moments before he allegedly tried to jump off the fire escape of your bedroom. Your soft eyes. Your hands on his face.

Your hand touches his now, and it makes his whole body jerk.

(Your warmth reminds him of someone else’s, and for that, the thing in him wants to fucking kill you.)

Miguel doesn’t know what the fuck is wrong with Peter, either. He has other shit on his plate, like chasing misfits through the multiverse.

Peter gets tired of the tests. It’s not like they’re doing anything because every so often, the thing inside him is lecherous and makes him feel disgusting for reasons beyond him. You are the only thing that keeps him calm. It’s like a manifestation of some curse cast upon him, a plague of a punishment.

In between the tests, he stays at yours. You don’t talk to him much because of your hours at the office, and when you’re home, you mostly eat dinner in silence. Sometimes Peter cooks and has dinner warm for you before you get home because he’s impatient and knows how to make a few basic meals from living alone in that dingy apartment.

It’s mundane. Comforting. In some stupid, twisted way, Peter wants to keep it. Keep you. Even if he won’t admit it.

He doesn’t have to be Spider-Man on your Earth, and no one knows his identity. He almost feels like a housewife from how he dotes on you in small ways without you asking, this domesticity he’s adapted just because he can. His injuries have healed, and he works on yours instead.

You reject his help because you’re used to it. Still, he hovers by the bathroom door when you bind your wounds.

He watches you with bated breaths, bottom lip sucked in his teeth. You have no qualms about the pair of eyes on you – at least, you don’t show it.

“That shit’s gonna get infected.”

You roll your eyes without looking at him. Your nimble fingers work on patching up the cut under your breast instead.

“I know what I’m doing,” you huff.

“You didn’t even put Neosporin on it.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t have Neosporin in this universe?” he asks, an incredulous expression on his face.

You shrug.

“Again, I know what I’m doing.”

“Maybe I should be out there with you on patrol.”

Your head whips around then, studying Peter’s face. He stares back at you with a seriousness that doesn’t break. You narrow your eyes.

“We’re working on getting you home, Peter. I’m not dragging you into my shit.”

“You dragged me into your shit the moment you took me in.”

You grimace, saying nothing. Your lack of response annoys him, but more than anything, it chips away at his ego.

Maybe you regret rescuing him. The thought brings dread to his chest, guilt riding up in the caverns of the space he holds for you, which has grown bigger and bigger as the weeks go on. He thinks that if the two of you had met in different circumstances, normal ones, perhaps the two of you would be friends.

He’d been alone for far too long. The scrubbing of his identity already turned him into a shell. The old Peter would’ve been much more proactive about this situation. He certainly would’ve been less fucking moody. But he knows there’s no one to accuse him of not being his usual self because nobody knows him anymore, except you.

Peter is so fucking bored of staying in your apartment. He needs something to keep him going, whether it’s crime or college. Cooped up in your home, he feels like nothing at all.

Sometimes, that feeling subsides when you’re home with him all domestic. He agrees to your movie nights despite protesting your incessant preference for horror. He likes how you curl your lip in a smirk when you tease him for being so damn jumpy.

While your relationship is mildly symbiotic, the thought of you permeates him more and more, usually at night. He has dreams of you that he’d be ashamed to relay when he’s awake. The thing inside him lurches, wants with so much zeal that he has to take measures to calm it down.

One night, when you return from patrol, your Silk suit ripped at your bicep, hip, and the space that’s supposed to cover your ribcage. He lets you patch yourself up like you always do without words other than an annoyed gruff.

Peter can’t get the sight of your bloody wound out of his head, the exposed skin under your breast. Even the tightness of your suit allures him more than it should, which is fucking ridiculous. It’s nearing five weeks since he dropped into your universe. He should be used to you by now.

“You good?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh-huh.”

You know that’s not true. Peter looks like he’s seen a ghost. You don’t pry. You stopped doing that weeks ago.

The second he leaves your room, he runs the shower on cold.

You want it.

“Shut up,” he growls under his breath.

Peter has never wished for a lobotomy, and certainly not as much as he is now.

You want her. Take her.

Shivering does nothing for him. He turns the water up to hot, nearly scalding, just as he’s convinced himself to like it. The thing inside him is consuming him, getting closer and closer to his point of breaking, and he knows it. Every moment he can’t be around you for more than a minute, he knows it.

The only thing that satiates the feeling is to take action himself. To truly quiet that dark, venomous desire, he has to touch himself for release, and he’s ashamed that you’re the thought at the apex of it every single time. Each time he reaches his peak, he can almost make out the figure expanding over his own, a viscous black substance that seems to breathe over his veins. Once he comes to bed with you, it’s gone.

The stupid urges make him feel animalistic. It’s never been like this.

Images of you with your suit ripped at the seams and flashes of your bare skin reel in his brain constantly. It’s embarrassing. He’s not fucking sixteen.

You bother less with pleasantries now that it’s been nearly two months since he fell into your universe. After the initial shock of his situation, of course, he’d had a billion questions, to which you attempted to answer to the best of your ability. Proactive as ever, he’d opted to go to the Spider Society himself on several occasions without you, attempting to understand what could be keeping him tethered to your universe, and to no avail.

After those trials and tribulations, he’d become withdrawn.

“Wanna watch a movie?” you try one night. He shrugs. It’s an answer to most of your questions now. It’s starting to get fucking annoying.

“You mentioned you like Star Wars, right?”

“Sure,” Peter mumbles.

“I’ve never seen the prequels.”

It’s the only thing that brings light to his eyes in maybe a week, you notice. The only other times you see that lightness is when you catch Peter in secret moments cozying up to your cat, Ferris.

(Weird name for a cat, he’d remarked. You tell him you’d watched Ferris Bueller’s Day Off the day you found him in the alleyway.)

Now Peter is settled on your couch with a soft black t-shirt clinging loosely to his frame. Maybe he doesn’t mean to be on the complete opposite side of the sofa, but the distance feels more apparent to you than it should. Ferris purrs in Peter’s lap. Traitor.

You pretend you aren’t fixated by the slight freckles that decorate his nose. Or his collarbone. Or the way that he smells just like you because he hasn’t bothered to ask you to buy him soap for himself.

You get bits and pieces of Peter’s personality over time. You learn that his favorite Thai dish is larb, just like you. He’s incredibly smart, which isn’t unlike you, but you certainly give less shits about the scientific aspect of the multiverse than he does. He has a guilty pleasure for sugary cereal. He loves the Velvet Underground. He has a freckle under his abs on the left side of his body. He’s annoyingly persistent in helping you patch yourself up.

When you hear the sound of your name in his voice, you wince.

“You zoning out already?”

“Huh?”

He gives you a look and you can’t help but giggle.

“You didn’t even hear anything I just said.”

“I was having flashbacks,” you shrug, blinking back at Natalie Portman on the television screen instead of Peter’s eyes. “To my Padme Halloween costume.”

“That’s stolen valor!”

“I was twelve, dipshit. It was on sale at Specter Halloween and there was nothing left.”

“Spirit Halloween?”

You furrow your brows.

“Oh my god. Nevermind.”

For some reason, this reaction makes you pull the fleece blanket from his body. You mumble a rushed apology to your cat, who scrambles off of Peter’s lap in an instant. Peter is quick to pull the blanket back immediately until the two of you end up in a tug of war. You see a flash of grinning teeth.

“Peter!” you squeal when he yanks the blanket so hard that you nearly fall off the couch.

“Why do you have so much energy– dude!” You’re almost in his lap but he’s faster than you. You are so close to using your webs on him.

A flush of heat spreads over your cheeks when he has you pinned to the couch, arms above your head with the blanket now forgotten on the floor. His knees are on each side of you, so squirming does nothing for your cause.

“Relax,” he gruffs.

You can’t tell if his eyes shift in darkness or if it’s just a trick of the television light. The warmth emanating from his cheeks matches yours. The way his legs are spread above yours is vulnerable, and so is the way you’re looking at him, and – fuck, can you stop looking at him like that?

You feel the grip on your wrists loosen as he shuffles to his feet, nearly tripping over the discarded blanket.

“We need more popcorn,” he mumbles.

Fixing the mess of your hair, you peer at him through the dimness.

“That was the last bag.”

“I can get some more then.”

He pulls on the hoodie that’s draped over the armchair – your oversized hoodie, in fact – and it’s clearly too tight on him.

“What? It’s late. Are you – are you hungry or something? I can make you food.”

“With what?” he snaps. “We haven’t been able to go grocery shopping yet this week.”

“Well, it’s too fucking late for that now.”

Silence permeates the space between the two of you. The seconds that pass feel so long. There is no void in Peter’s head, only the sound of a disgusting, gnawing desire. Grotesque wanting. He wishes you would just leave so he can scrub himself raw in the shower like he usually does.

She smells so good.

“I’ll get some stuff from the bodega. I need– I need air, anyway,” Peter stammers. “Should swing around and stuff. I’m holed up in here every goddamn day.”

The comment stings. It’s not your fault that he’s stuck here like a stray cat. He knows that, so he feels guilty when his words come out with more bite than he intends. He can’t stand to see the way your bottom lip trembles slightly as you look away from him, mumbling something of a useless apology even when you both know you have nothing to apologize for.

You flinch when the door slams behind him.

You don’t see Peter the next morning even though your keys hang right next to the doorway. The window by your bed is left slightly ajar, so you assume that it’s meant for him.

It’s fine. He had already expressed his cabin fever to you, so it makes sense that he’d be out exploring the city. (This is what you tell yourself throughout the day, even though you can’t stop feeling an ache in your gut.)

Your day is mundane, but they always are, you suppose. Maybe they haven’t felt as such since you had company every day. Peter’s absence is so much more apparent than it should be. You haven’t been without him in a bit. Even at your stupid day job, he occupies your mind, and the mere knowledge of his absence sears a hole in your heart. It feels pathetic. Maybe he’s home. Maybe he’d come back after you’d left for work.

When you get home in the evening, he’s nowhere to be found. You pretend that it’s nothing to you. You still make dinner for two.

Once you’re settled for bed, Peter is on the other side of town at a random bar. It’s a miracle he gets in without an official ID and all, not to mention his boyish face. A raven-haired girl who skips the line takes a liking to him, plus she seems to know the bouncer. She’s attached to Peter like a moth for the rest of the night.

She’s daring and touchy, with a sense of humor that’s too over-familiar to appear charming. Peter doesn’t have to do much except nod and smirk to seduce her, downing shot after shot just so he can feel a buzz instead of irritation whenever the girl has her hands on him. On the dance floor, the shape of her body slightly resembles yours, maybe. She reeks of over-saturated vanilla, like the inside of a Victoria’s Secret.

When he fucks her in her lavish penthouse, he can only think of you. He thinks her apartment is boring, lacks character, and looks soulless. It’s nothing like yours. It doesn’t even begin to contain the same warmth. Peter feels similarly about the girl, but he’d had enough shots in the bar to ignore that emptiness. For now, he feels full with his cock inside her, hearing her whiny pleas and soft moans as her face gets buried into the mattress. He only cums when he thinks of your face.

It’s not enough.

Shut the fuck up, Peter screams in his head. Shut up.

Though, we’re hungry, aren’t we?

No.

Peter groans, digging his teeth into the girl’s neck as his fingertips press into the curve of her waist. He shuts his eyes, breathing rapidly as his body relaxes on top of hers. None of her sweet nothings registers in his brain. He holds off the violence in his head until she’s fast asleep, to his relief, because then he can return to you.

___

You’re wide awake when Peter fumbles with your bedroom window at three in the morning. He nearly trips next to your bed, but he braces himself, landing his hands on the softness of your rug.

You hear him sigh. Maybe you’ve become too attuned to him. Every movement he makes is a small earthquake to you, so present and real as he unravels even when he’s just taking a few steps toward you. Maybe you’re imagining his breath behind your neck. Maybe you’re dreaming and you wish for it.

He assumes you’re asleep when he crawls into bed with you. This is only the second time. The first time, he’d had a nightmare on the couch and you had offered your warmth. At the moment, he’s inexplicably warm as he wraps his arms around your waist.

“Where were you?” you whisper.

“Out.”

“You smell like a high school girl’s locker room.”

He snorts, tightening the grip he has over your middle. You feel his breath tickling the nape of your neck.

“Okay.”

“You gonna answer me?”

“Why does it matter? ‘m a big boy.”

“It matters when I’m responsible for you and I don’t know where you are.”

“I was always going to come back.”

You don’t say anything to that. You think this is too intimate, but you can’t help but admit to yourself that it’s what you need. The touch of someone else. The feeling of warmth enveloping your body.

You haven’t felt him this close to you before, at least when you’re this hypervigilant. Stretching your back slightly, you decide to turn to face him. Your body curls naturally into Peter’s without a second thought.

You notice the way he bites the inside of his bottom lip subtly. It’s dumb, how rapidly his heart beats now that you’re looking right at him. You pretend you don’t feel it from being so close to him, but it makes your heart elate.

Peter closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see your face. It’s not like the action helps him calm his heart down, because fuck, you’re so warm and soft and pliant in his arms. He’s gotten good at quieting the voice in his head lately but he’s still afraid of it consuming him.

“Goodnight, Peter,” you murmur.

He pretends he’s asleep. It takes everything in him to keep up the facade until he knows for sure you’ve passed out inches away from him.

___

When Peter wakes before you, something primal pushes his senses into overdrive. You smell so fucking sweet. It’s like the universe wants him to eat you.

She’s right there on a platter for you. Just for you.

He’s good at restraining it. Sucking in his teeth, his eyes scan the curves of your waist to the soft edges of your lips.

Despite his restraint, he can’t be in the room with you right now. Certainly not in the same bed basking in your warmth. For fuck’s sake, what were you thinking, allowing him into your bed in the first place?

He already knows the answer – kindness is what fuels you—your altruism. When the mind gets the best of him, Peter curses at your character when he’s alone. Sometimes he’s on a random rooftop bombarded by thoughts of you. Sometimes he’s in your shower.

If anything, you were perfect, so perfect that Peter couldn’t stand it. So warm and pretty and pleasant that even the way he touches his cock doesn’t dirty the image he has of you in his head. You’re too pure, even when you use your nasty tongue against him, even when you fight him.

The slightest showcase of your bare skin doesn’t help the cause. Peter retreats to the couch again even though you tell him that you don’t mind the space he takes up in your bed. He can’t tell you he’s doing it for your safety.

Even so, he’s so attuned to you that he hears your midnightmare whines in the night as if you were right next to him. And when he guards your bed like a dog while you’re asleep, he tries not to focus on the shape of your collarbone. Of course not. He convinced himself that he was lonely, fucking pathetic. He tells himself that the mere sight of your exposed neck and the pout of your lips does nothing to him at all.

Peter comes with you to headquarters. The other spiders are sympathetic to him, often over-friendly. He sticks to you like a lost puppy.

“Did Miguel figure out anything yet?”

“Huh?”

“About getting me home.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise, though your expression neutralizes once you look away. It was stupid to hold any value towards Peter. This is what you tell yourself, at least, so you must remind yourself that his questions aren’t out of left field.

You refused to face the reality that you’d grown attached to him, that his presence had felt normal to you after he’d stayed with you for more than two months.

“Still working on it,” you reply, giving him a sheepish smile.

You feel guilty despite telling the truth. No tests could decipher why Peter was immune to being sent off back to his universe. No updates to the technology had worked, either.

(You don’t really know what he’s still doing here, especially considering how quiet it is at headquarters today. You’re only really there to assist Margo in perfecting the gizmo that helps Miguel verse-jump.)

“I got you lunch, though. And feel free to leave whenever you want, I might stay late.”

You drop a paper bag in front of him. The contents reveal a Cuban sandwich, bread smooshed flat with extra pickles. His favorite. You’d remembered his long rant about missing Delmar’s.

The gesture is sweet. You’re sweet, even though you’re a hard shell to break.

The voice in his head is louder than usual today. Once you’re in a separate room, he feels immediately desperate for your presence, and he can’t tell if this is one of his usual emotions. The moment he fell into your world, besides feeling possessed, the emotions he experiences within his body are unlike him. Stronger, desperate, on the brink of detonation.

“I’m sorry you’re stuck here,” you stammer after clearing your throat.

“I’m lucky,” Peter shrugs. His eyes don’t waver from yours. “That you’re the one taking care of me, I mean. You’re kind for letting me stay.”

For keeping me. Do you want to keep me as much as I want to keep you?

The smile you give him is saccharine as you flush. He wonders if it’s fake, secretly full of vitriol. Perhaps he’ll find out when the both of you are home.

He decides to give you space for the rest of the afternoon. After boring himself with floating in and out of random stores in Manhattan, he returns to your apartment in the evening, jiggling your bedroom window open even though you had given him a spare key.

None of the lights are on except a glow emitting from behind the bathroom door, left open slightly.

Your eyes shoot open when you hear the creak of the door. In the dimness of your bathroom, the only thing that helps you see Peter’s face is the dozens of tealight candles you have around the bathtub.

He gulps, mumbling an apology as he looks away.

“You’re home earlier than I thought you’d be,” he murmurs.

“I was having massive brain fog all day so I came home early,” you tell him. He nods in understanding without saying anything. He doesn’t know why he’s lingering.

“You clearly haven’t figured out the concept of a front door.”

He blinks at the wet sheen of your collarbone, how the candles flicker an orange light across your face, and then he looks away again.

“Sorry. Force of habit.”

“Well, you should try it. You have a key,” you snort.

Peter’s heartbeat races. God, you smell so fucking good. Like citrus and sandalwood and sunlight. There’s no way he’s going to be able to sleep next to you tonight.

TAKE HER RIGHT NOW. FUCKING DO IT.

“Uh, I’ll leave you be,” he rasps, accidentally slamming the bathroom door closed.

He knows you’ll be annoyed about it later, but he unlatches your bedroom window again to get outside and feel the fresh air. He doesn’t know what to do with his energy, with the gnawing in his body, so he tries to get his breathing even on the roof of your building.

“Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off,” Peter mumbles in succession, straining his body.

On the concrete of the rooftop, he lies down and stares at the evening sky, trying to think of literally anything else, but he can’t. He knows that your existence isn’t a curse, that whatever it is that’s plaguing him is deep within his body, but he doesn’t know how to exorcize it.

In a frenzy, he rips his suit from his body because the thing inside him is begging for stimulation. Thoughts of you flood his brain. Every angle of you, every memory, every scent. You would be surprised to know how much he’s memorized about you considering how rarely he likes to make eye contact.

And God, your eyes. How would you feel if you were watching him right now? Would you be disgusted? Would you be as disgusted as Peter is with himself?

It takes a minute or two of palming his dick before he finishes just from thinking about you. He groans lowly, animalistic, and there still isn’t any relief despite the mess he’s made on his suit.

YOU’D FEEL BETTER IF IT WAS HER.

Fuck you.

Why is he so goddamn flustered? He’s literally slept next to you. And it isn’t like he saw anything when you were in the bathtub. Just your bare face, your wet shoulders–

Fuck, he’s hard again. Peter doesn’t think he’s been this hard in his entire life.

It doesn’t take long for him to cum again even with all the overstimulation. You’re probably wondering where he is, too. He hopes to God you aren’t in your room so he can sneak back in quietly and get changed, maybe throw in a load of laundry so he doesn’t give himself away.

This is so stupid. So, so stupid.

Luck is on Peter’s side when he crawls back into your apartment. He hears you humming from the kitchen and the smell of onions and garlic wafts under his nose. He strips quietly and changes into new clothes.

“Pete?”

Sighing, he follows the sound of your voice. The smile you give him is nearly blinding.

“Where were you?”

“Uhh, checking the mail.”

“For half an hour?” you raise a brow.

He shrugs. An excuse makes its way into his mind.

“And I went out to look for cat food. We ran out. I couldn’t find the, uh, brand Ferris likes, though. Sorry.”

“Wow,” you give him a hint of a smirk. The cat in question jumps onto your shoulder as you bend down to get a pot from one of the lower cupboards. “You hear that, Ferris? Seems like Petey cares if you live or die.”

You coo at the small tabby, who meows in response. Peter rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance.

“And you still haven’t figured out how to use the front door. Do you need a live tutorial from me or what?”

Peter bites the inside of his cheek as he sits down at the island, watching as you pour crushed tomatoes into the pot. The sight makes him awfully nostalgic. You’re the first person who’s cooked for him in years.

“Let me be,” he huffs, the hint of a chuckle in his voice. “And you’re gonna get cat hair in the pasta sauce.”

“No. Ferris is so well-groomed.”

“Not when he sheds all over my clothes.”

“You should be thankful he likes to roll around in your dirty laundry pile. That means he likes you, you know.”

Silence stews in the room, save for the sounds of boiling water. Peter takes the liberty to unlock your phone and put one of your playlists on the speaker.

He clears his throat. “You need any help?”

“Nah, it’s just pasta,” you shrug. “It’s the last we have, though. Wanna go on a grocery run tomorrow?”

“Of course. The fridge is pitiful.”

“I don’t need your attitude when I feed you every day, Parker.”

You smile in jest at him and of course, he avoids eye contact like he usually does. Over the weeks, you’ve been accustomed to him acting like another stray kitten, but sometimes, you wonder if there’s something about your presence or personality that makes him keep you at arm’s length. Not that you should care what a stray thinks about you.

Peter wishes he could act normal around you instead of constantly being on edge. Again, it’s not your fault. If there was a way he could make it up to you, to let you know how much he’s grateful for you, he would. Every time he thinks about it, his body takes over and shame is all that’s left.

The bowl of pasta you put in front of him smells heavenly and looks like a page in the cooking section of the New York Times.

“Help yourself to seconds, big boy.”

His eyes flash to your face, but you’re busying yourself with putting wet cat food onto a small plate for Ferris.

You both end up eating on the island together. You don’t take a seat next to him, choosing to stand up across from him. Instead of conversing, the music continues to play quietly from the speaker, and you scroll mindlessly through the emails on your phone.

“I can feel you staring at me, you know.”

“I wasn’t,” Peter replies, defensive.

“You were,” you snort. “Which is funny because usually you refuse to make eye contact with me.”

“That’s not true.” (He’s lying through his teeth.)

“It’s okay. I’m not offended.” (Okay, maybe now you’re the one lying through your teeth.)

Peter scoffs, looking away, of course.

“Thanks for dinner,” he mumbles.

He looks down, collecting his bowl and utensils. He decides to busy himself with the dishes, taking yours wordlessly without looking at your face.

“You don’t have to do that,” you say softly. He shrugs.

When you say his name, you’re right next to him and he feels like he might choke on nothing. Sure, he senses your presence in proximity to his own, but there’s nothing to stop you from getting close to him.

“You’re always on edge around me.”

He doesn’t reply, even though he knows the sound of running water from the kitchen sink isn’t enough to drown out the tension between you two.

“Peter,” you try. Ugh, now you feel whiny.

“Hm?” He feigns ignorance as he glances at you, turning off the faucet.

“I– I just want you to be comfortable around me.”

“I am,” he lies.

You don’t know what to say to break through the invisible wall he’s put between you two. He doesn’t know how to tell you that the distance is to keep you safe.

Your shoulders sag in defeat as you turn away from him and it conjures a new ache in his chest. Peter is often too caught up in his agony to notice how it might affect you. He can notice the frustration that radiates off of you – he’s not stupid. But the clear disappointment in your body language is so much more apparent than it ever was before.

“I think I might go to bed early,” you tell him, your voice just above a whisper. “Thanks for cleaning up.”

“Of course.”

The door to your bedroom shuts quietly.

Despite his constant uneasiness around you, Peter feels petulant now that you’ve left his side. Especially with the guilt of making you feel alienated in your own home. The trouble of explaining any of this to you feels like a burden more than anything, and you were already dealing with the burden of him staying in your apartment like he was haunting the place.

Ferris slinks between Peter’s legs, purring. He climbs up his legs the same way he does to you and Peter welcomes him into his arms.

“You shouldn’t be nice to me, either,” Peter whispers, stroking the cat’s fur slowly.

After Peter finishes cleaning up the kitchen, he settles on the couch for mindless television while Ferris settles on his lap. It doesn’t take him long to feel his eyes heavy-lidded, and although it should be easy to fall asleep on the couch, his body itches for your touch. Trying to sleep on your couch makes his limbs feel like they need to stretch every other second. So he surrenders and falls into your bed like he usually does. Like how you expect him to.

He dreams of you. He often does.

Usually, he never remembers once he wakes up, which is probably the safest option. At the moment, the dreams are too visceral to be considered dreams to his subconscious.

At the moment, he thinks the silkiness of your skin has to be real under his fingertips. It has to be. It would only make sense because your scent is so fucking strong, so alluring. It permeates the entire room, along with the subtle smell of sex and desperation.

Peter can see your pink mouth parting. The way your back arches. The way his name sounds when it comes from your throat, babbling its way out of your mouth, so sweetly. So fucking innocently.

It’s all rudely interrupted by the darkness that he’s attempted to keep away for so long. A black cloud that envelops the both of you, until the cloud is tangible, until it feels like a substance that could drown you.

Where his senses only uttered your name and acknowledged your sweetness is now replaced by an insatiable hunger. One that is partially his, partially from an entity that could break you in half without a second thought.

Now, the entity clouds him. Consumes his entire body until he’s nothing but a vast monster with sharp teeth with you underneath him.

The look on your face is full of horror. Your naked body shudders. Peter wants nothing more than to comfort you, but he knows he can’t, not when something black and viscous has obscured his entire body.

He is not in his body when his teeth graze the skin of your shoulder, biting hard enough for blood to trickle out of your skin. Your scream is the only thing that he can hear, maybe other than his own, once he sees your mouth spit out blood.

And then, darkness.

___

“No, nonononono, no, fuck, please–”

It all happens so fast. He doesn’t know what he does to you that makes you drop dead so quickly, and for fuck’s sake, his arms are still not his arms.

“Peter!”

A shake in his universe breaks him apart. When he opens his eyes, he sees yours, wide and shocked and bright despite the darkness of the night.

You’re in your bed and so is he. And you’re holding him, unscathed. There is no black gore adorning his arms.

“Peter, it’s okay,” you shush him softly.

One hand strokes his hair while the other is splayed with fingers stretched across his warm cheek. You’re more than concerned by how shaken he looks. Like he’s in shock. You’ve never seen him like this.

“You’re okay,” he says. It’s a whisper. It sounds like a prayer.

“I am,” you nod. “I’m fine. I want to make sure that you’re fine, too, okay?”

His lashes flutter when you stroke his cheek. His breathing is heavy like a newly discovered beast, but you know that you don’t have to tame him from the way he keens to your touch.

“I–I thought–”

“Shh, you don’t have to talk about it. It wasn’t real, okay? You just had a nightmare,” you coo.

You can feel the way he swallows sharply and the way he struggles to breathe through his nose. He winces when he realizes that you’re wiping away a tear from his cheek.

“I was– I was terrible–” he stammers, gasping for breath. “And you–”

“Peter, it’s okay. It was just a dream. It’s okay.”

“You aren’t safe with me.”

His eyes are wild. He’s so earnest when he speaks that maybe, just maybe he could be telling the truth.

You ignore it even though the way he says it breaks your heart.

“I am safe with you. And you’re safe with me, right here,” you try. The sound of his voice has tears brimming the corners of your eyes, too, but you don’t notice. You just want to get through to him. You swallow your anxiety. “We’re safe together, I promise. I would never let anything bad happen to you.”

He scans your face frantically until his eyes zero in on your lips. His senses are flooded with you, like he’s an animal ready to pounce on his prey, but he tries to hold back. His breathing turns shallow and he can’t help but stare at your bottom lip quivering, feeling the warmth of your palms against his cheeks.

TAKE HER. TAKE HER. TAKE HER.

He’s not sure what the motive is for him pressing his lips to yours, whether it’s the demon inside him or the desire festering in his body. Peter knows that they’re one and the same.

To his surprise, you surrender your mouth to him immediately. His tongue slots into between your lips without effort as his hands clasp your body with his innate strength, ranging from your hips to the undersides of your breasts.

You didn’t expect him to kiss you, but now that he has, you don’t think that you want him to ever stop.

Your hands graduate from his cheeks to the back of his head, pulling at his brown tresses as his hands roam your body with more fervor than anyone else has given you.

You’ve been intimate with other people before, but they were always so careful, so timid with you. Maybe sometimes they were rough, but your mind was too checked out to notice. But now, the mere touch of someone else’s fingertips on your hard nipples has you squirming in your bed, making your breath hitch. Already, you feel the warmth in your core.

Peter discards your shirt (nearly rips it off) with ease as you whimper, enabling him, neither of you saying a word at all. You grab at Peter’s shirt to tug off, which he does, but when you pull at the waistband of his sweatpants, he takes your hand and slams it above your head with fingers interlocked.

Look how fun this is, Peter. Don’t you want to ruin her? Fuck her pretty little face?

Peter groans at the thought of you gagged with his cum, but he can barely fathom even taking out his cock yet. Well, he can, and although he’s thought about you like that, he doesn’t want to move too quickly. In contrast, his body seems to be moving faster than his brain.

He never thought you would want it as much as he does.

You whine when you feel Peter’s fingers creep under the waistband of your shorts and underneath your panties, immediately feeling your wetness. It pools into the fabric as he rubs your slit incessantly, making you mewl eagerly as Peter’s teeth suck on the skin of your jaw.

“F-fuck–,” you whimper, limp in his arms, preening to the feeling of his tongue on your clavicle.

You’re so fucking wet, he could devour you in one bite if he wanted to. He could make it painless for you, but that wouldn’t be fair, would it? You wouldn’t feel any of it, none of the agonizing pleasure that should build up between your thighs from his touch alone, and he wants to see it all over your face so fucking badly.

Do not tease us. We have an appetite to fulfill, don’t we?

I’m fucking getting there, hold on.

Sure, the monster in him wants to devour you, kill you, swallow you whole in a snap. But Peter wants to enjoy it. Wants to enjoy you. So he attempts to quiet the deep voice inside of him.

He still has your wrists bound in one large hand while his other grips your thighs hard, discarding your bottoms in the process. When he opens his eyes, he sees you splayed naked for him with a wanton expression on your face, nearly drooling.

He also sees that somehow, he’d taken off his sweatpants and boxers, hard cock swelled up and aching as it grazes your folds slowly.

Peter thinks he’d like to finger you, go down on you, and see how his touch makes electricity spark within your abdomen while your face contorts. He wants to see all your features twist into a sweet expression of pure pleasure, but he’s too fucking impatient. Maybe that’s the thing inside him speaking, so hungry and urgent that he can’t tell if he’s suppressing a being or his desires at this point.

He doesn’t know what currently guides his instincts. They’re all blinded, flooded by thoughts of you. As if there’s nothing else on Earth he could want, ever.

That could be true. It probably is. But that’s something he can unpack later.

For now, he can only be influenced by the sound of your voice begging his name. He swallows down the sound of it with his tongue in your mouth, drinking in your whimpers as he bites on your bottom lip.

“Please,” you beg, lifting your hips to meet his length desperately as you squirm underneath him. “Need it— need—”

“Need me, huh?” Peter rasps. He touches his forehead to yours, hands still clutching at your wrists above your head.

“Yes.”

“So fucking clingy,” he mumbles against your mouth. You arch your back at the mere feeling of his cock prodding against your wet folds and it drives him fucking insane.

For once, the voice inside his head is only yours. He feels grateful for it.

“Were you planning this the whole time, huh? Wanted me in your bed from the beginning, didn’t you? Admit it.” He’s all teeth when he taunts you. He wonders if you’d let him spit in your mouth if you weren’t so busy pouting.

“Y-yes.”

“So fucking cute,” he sneers. “Pathetic, too.”

You don’t recognize the wrath in his voice — it’s unlike him. Even when he’s been pissed off with you. But you don’t have it in you to question it, because the darkness in it sounds like silk and crushed velvet, and the feeling of his hot breath against your neck makes you want him even more.

In the darkness, Peter’s eyes look otherworldly. Dark and bottomless, the devil incarnate.

You moan his name once more and whiplash meets the senses.

With a shaking exhale, you take the stretch of him, all of him, wincing the slightest bit as he bottoms out. It stings until he slides out just to thrust himself back in again, the resolve blatant on your face as your mouth falls in surrender.

Usually, you’d be embarrassed. It takes a bit for you to let someone in like this so intimately, and even when you’ve done it with other men, you were at least a little intoxicated.

Right now, you’re merely blissed from drowsiness, borderline euphoric from Peter’s proximity. You wouldn’t be able to admit it out loud — you knew the sweet sounds falling from your mouth were enough. Even when Peter had first settled into your bed tonight while you were asleep, you subconsciously curled into him like a moth to a flame.

Peter cups your breast in his hand harshly to latch his mouth onto your nipple, sucking and biting just to hear you whine. He’s rougher than any lover you’ve had before, so you aren’t exactly sure if he’s being sadistic with the amount of teeth he’s using. The feeling of his canines against your flesh is like nothing you’ve felt before. You’d never thought it would be a feeling you would get so fucking addicted to.

He fucks into you harder now, pulling up your legs so that his large, calloused palms are bruising the skin of your thighs. One leg ends up hitched over his shoulder so that he can thrust into you from a deeper angle, one that makes your eyes roll back into your head.

“So fucking good for me– so fucking good–”

Your hips shake when Peter inevitably reaches your sweet spot while his hand that isn’t propping you up is focused on stimulating your clit. You’re fucking brainless, listening to his filthy praises.

“Peter! Aah– oh my god–”

He’s obsessed with the way you’re rendered speechless, how you’re lifting your hips just to meet his, how you’re so obedient when you whimper his name. He’s obsessed with you. He thinks this might be another dream.

Sloppily, he nibbles at your earlobe and laves his tongue from your jaw down to your throat as he fucks into you with ease. His pleasure is a rubber band about to fucking snap. Your hushed breaths and whines nearly tip him over the edge, especially when he can feel you sucking in him so tightly.

“Cum for me, fucking cum for me,” Peter growls. “I know you can do it, baby. Can feel you’re close.”

He’s more intense with his thrusts now that he’s trying to coax your release, and truthfully, he can feel himself following you right after.

“I’m– I’m gonna–”

Your voice falls into a staccato of moans that dissipate into Peter’s wet mouth. Your nails dig into his back as he nearly melts into your body.

His frantic thrusts begin to slow, his hips sloppy against yours as he groans against your neck. His mind is in such a frenzy that he thinks he might just devour you. It starts with his fingers wrapped around your throat. He revels in the sound of your voice choking on your moans.

Peter nearly smothers you with his hand over your mouth, while he bites incessantly at your neck and shoulder. The sweetness of your voice, desperate and wanton for him, is quickly replaced by something darker in his mind. A voice dormant inside him that awakens with the threat of contamination. He’s in his nightmare again, but with the aid of your body to remind him of bliss. Of power.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, fuckfuckfuck–”

His body is so fucking heavy on top of yours, suffocating you with his desire. His teeth bite down hard enough on the juncture of your neck to draw blood, and he ignores your cry. The frenzy of war and lust and intoxication in his head is too fucking much. It’s his own personal eclipse.

His warmth spills into you. He feels his cum in between your bodies, overflowing out of your soaked cunt and onto the bedsheets.

It takes a moment for Peter to notice that you’re crying. He knows it should hurt him. He knows he can’t stand the sight of tears flowing down your delicate cheeks because of him. But he doesn’t feel anything at all.

In a way, both of you are changed.

You had leaped off of a precipice the moment you let him into your bed.

Peter furrows his brows at your tear-streaked face, body stilling with shallow breaths. He cups your face in his warm hands and kisses you sweetly like a lover would and not a monster.

For some hellish reason, you kiss him back.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #spiderman x you #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker angst #spiderman x reader #mcu!peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker x you #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #peter parker x you

1K notes · View notes

audhdnight · 1 year ago

Text

Just thinking about the common experience of late diagnosed disabled people of “the normal amount of pain is none” and how we’re just supposed to know that despite *some* level of pain being OUR normal for our entire lives, even if it’s usually not super bad it’s just always there.

Thinking about how, when I told my mother this, she asked me “So what’s hurt?” Which is very different than “what hurts?”

I looked at her, confused. “Nothing is hurt. I just hurt.”

And she says “But where do you hurt?”

“Well, right now it’s my stomach and my ankles-“

She cuts me off. “So you twisted your ankle?”

“No,” I say. “My ankles just hurt. I’ve been walking today.”

Now it’s her turn to look confused. “Just walking doesn’t make your ankles hurt. You must have sprained them or something.”

But I shake my head. “Nope. This just happens on days when I walk more than a little bit. My ankles hurt first, then my knees by lunch time. And if I don’t take a nap and stay on my feet all day, my hips will be hurting too.”

“Oh.”

Joint pain is my normal. Sometimes, if I barely walk all day, the ache in my ankles is barely noticeable and doesn’t affect my functioning because I’m used to it. If I do what most able-bodied people would consider to be a “normal” amount of walking, almost all of my joints will hurt by supper. If I have to wash dishes or run any errands, I’ll hurt so bad I can’t walk for the rest of the day.

Then there’s the chronic migraine attacks. I used to have them multiple times a week as a child, and no matter how I explained myself, nobody ever understood that they weren’t just headaches. I experienced those too, and frequently, but they were not the same. Thankfully, at the age of eleven, I found an article explaining migraine triggers. I was able to identify a few of my own triggers, and the frequency of my migraine attacks reduced to maybe a couple a month. For a few years I was basically on cloud nine, I’d never experienced such a lack of pain before and it was so freeing. Unfortunately, migraine is a progressive condition, so the attacks have gotten more frequent over the years.

And then there’s the “random” pains. Some mornings I wake up and my stomach hurts. Or my chest. Or my back. These are just things I have to live with, because my body’s connective tissue is… well, for lack of a better word, faulty. And I never knew that other people didn’t experience this, because how could I? We never talked about it. Sometimes I’d hear people complain about back aches and just assume they were like mine. Of course, I knew that injuring yourself could cause muscle aches, obviously. But I just assumed that *most* of the time, other peoples bodies hurt like mine did. I didn’t realize that humans aren’t supposed to “just hurt” without a connected incident.

And when I try to explain this to able bodied people, their response is always the same. “Well, everyone’s back hurts sometimes.” “Everybody gets headaches sometimes.” “You’re not special just because you’re too lazy to walk. I still go to work when I don’t feel good.” And no matter how many times I try to say that No, you don’t get it, I *always* hurt, they still brush me off and dismiss me.

#connective tissue disorder #hypermobilty syndrome #joint pain #migraine #chronic migraine #migraine attack #invisible disability #spoonie #disabled #disability rant #nightramblestm

3K notes · View notes

upsidedownmvnson · 1 year ago

Text

idiots to lovers | eddie munson

eddie realizes his feelings for his best friend when you return from a few weeks away at camp - and luckily you've been discovering the same thing about your own feelings

just practicing my writing, idk, i want to start long fic format but i'm just a sucker for 3k words and a satisfying end, yaknow?

"You know," Dustin Henderson says, elbowing Eddie in the side, "Y/n gets back from camp today."

"I know," Eddie snaps, looking up at the clock again. The drive was three hours, and you'd called him at ten saying you were about to be on the way home, and now it was one. And you should be pulling up to Steve's house any second.

"I just wasn't sure," he shrugged, "because you've been staring at the clock for two whole hours!"

"Will you be... quiet?"

"I'm just saying," Dustin shrugged, "maybe you missed her so much because, oh, I don't know... you love her?"

"I don't love her," Eddie sighed, having to defend his friendship with you all the time was kind of exhausting, you guys were friends. Always have been. Why does everyone think you're dating? Why does everyone think he was in love with you? "Well, like, I do love her, but not like that - I just..." Eddie thinks for a minute. "...fuck off."

The rest of the group was snickering nearby, holding their laughs and trying to pretend that they weren't listening to Dustin's stupid questions.

"You've been talking about her all day everyday since she left. When's y/n coming back again? Do you think she misses us? Do you think she's having fun?" Dustin would've continued to ramble if Eddie hadn't scowled at him, and Dustin knew this conversation would end like all the others. Eddie would ignore, deny and continue to pine over you while blissfully unaware that he was seriously in love. "Have you ever had a crush on someone?"

"Of course I have- what kind of question is that?"

"And what did it feel like?"

"What?"

"Just humour me," Dustin said, "close your eyes. And don't answer out loud but just think of the answer." Eddie looked at him unamused, but Dustin waved him on, "C'mon, humour me!"

Eddie sighed, rolled his eyes, and then closed them, making himself wonder what the hell he was doing. He thought about the giddy feeling of a crush walking into the room. He thought about the late night calls, and the subtle touches, and the pining, the wishing for someone to just... notice you, notice your worth and pick you, pick you out of a crowd of worthy people.

"And how do you feel when you think about y/n?"

Eddie froze, both of those feelings eerily similar. Dustin was close, but he saw Eddie's walls go up in real time.

"This stupid experiment is over," he said, standing up and trudging out of the house, leaving them all behind laughing at Dustin's stupid... whatever the hell that was.

And then Eddie was outside, trying to enjoy the serenity of nature in Steve’s vast yard, while he puffs a joint he’d stashed in his pocket. Not wise to smoke his own supply, but everyone deserves a little something in the summer. Especially since he couldn’t get his mind off of you. Dustin was right about one thing, ever since you left - it’s felt like something was missing. He just… missed you. Sometimes at night, when he’d hoped you call and you didn’t, he would miss you so badly that it hurt. Like a physical ache in his stomach, or like there was this weight on his chest that he couldn’t get off no matter how hard he tried.

What the hell did Dustin know, anyway? The kid has had one girlfriend and Eddie didn’t even know if that was still, like, occurring.

More than Eddie, but still.

But all those irritable feelings went away when your car pulled into the driveway. Every annoyance, every frustration, every ache, wiped away by your arrival. And it was a breath of fresh air, like he could finally breathe again. he snuffed the joint out on the step, just shoving it bare into his jean pocket, and stood, waiting for you to get out impatiently, bouncing his weight between his feet.

And when you did get out he ran to you, unable to stop himself from picking you up and spinning you around.

“You’re back!” he all but shouted, listening to the beautiful sound of the little giggles escaping you as he finished his twirling and set you down.

“I’m back,” you said, wobbly on your feet after the airborne spinning. “I missed you,” you said, lovingly wrapping a small piece of his hair around your fingers. He smelled like freshly smoked weed, but he also smelled like cinnamon and home. You’d loved camp, but you were so happy to be home. You pulled him into a hug, and he closed his eyes, leaning down to really wrap himself around you, and rest his chin on your shoulder while you pushed your face into his chest.

He could feel his own heart beating faster, he could feel the heat in his cheeks, and all he could think about was how good you smelled. Like lake water, and vanilla. And- and he shouldn’t be thinking like this, thinking how natural it felt to have you back in his arms.

“Y/n!!”

The party shouted at you all at the same time, clamouring down the steps noisily. Eddie quickly stepped away, turning away from all of them and toying with his hair like you had done, trying to hide his pink cheeks and neck from everyone, but Dustin, of course, saw.

“Hi guys!” you said, bright genuine smile as they all surrounded you in a group hug. You had to worm your way out to hug all the others, Steve, Robin, Nancy and Jon. “What did I miss?”

And everyone was shouting things at you at once, and you couldn’t keep up, just smiled and nodded like you knew what was going on.

You followed everyone into the house, listening to Nancy talk about her time at an internship during the summer. Eddie trailed behind slowly, confusing himself by being unable to tear his eyes away from your legs. You had started wearing jean shorts… and they were short and he was frustrated at how much he liked them. And your shirt… a t-shirt tied in the front, exposing an inch of skin between your shorts and the shirt. Tanned and soft and…

Eddie stopped walking before he stepped onto the porch. What was wrong with him??? Why couldn’t he, like, focus? Why couldn’t he stopped thinking about the intoxicating lake water and vanilla aroma, why can’t he stop thinking about your legs?

“Whatcha doin’?” Dustin asked, popping his head out the front door. “Thinking about what a crush feels like?”

And Eddie took off, trying to grab the kid before he could dash away, but he was unsuccessful, and Dustin laughed as he dodged between his friends, hiding behind Steve, who was talking to you about his promotion at Family Video.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Eddie. What the hell was wrong with you? Steve was talking about how he was promoted at work, and all you could think about was how it felt to have Eddie wrapped around you.

Summer had done wonders for him, he looked the same, but different. Eddie just looked… really good. And you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him as soon as he lunged in the door. Dustin was behind Steve, laughing, and Eddie was frozen in his tracks, suddenly bashful.

“Are we missing something?” Steve asked, hip popping out with his hand on it.

“No,” Dustin mused, “nothing at all.”

And you gave your attention back to Steve, or you tried to anyway. but your eyes threatened to drift back over to Eddie, where he was leaning quietly near the door, all dark and handsome, waiting for everyone to get out of the way. It was near impossible to focus on Steve’s riveting assistant manager story, when Eddie was over there.

You’d missed Eddie so much while you were gone. There were cute boys at camp, sure, but you didn’t give any of them your time, even when they begged. They thought you were playing hard to get but you just weren’t feeling very… available. And you didn’t really know why at the time, but you were starting to figure it out. You weren’t available because your heart was already gone. While you were at the most beautiful lake in Indiana, your heart was back in a trailer park in Hawkins.

“And now Robin works for me,” Steve finished, hitting Robin with his elbow and laughing.

“You mean because I’m going to college?” she joked, grinning as his smile fell.

“That’s mean, Buckley.” Steve crossed his arms, pouting. “I’ll fire you.”

“No,” she laughed, “I don’t think you actually have that authority, but you could tell Keith I hurt your feelings, sure, and see how that plays out.”

“Okay,” Steve said, clapping his hands and getting everyone’s attention, “why don’t we head into the living room instead of clogging up my entryway.”

You and Robin laughed, walking arm in arm to the other room, laughing about Steve’s stupid pout, and mom stance. The girls at camp were so nice, and you’d made friends but no one could replace Nancy or Robin in your heart. Those two had been through so much with you, you were bonded forever.

The three of you sat close, you and Robin on the couch and Nancy on the floor, letting you braid her hair in a fancy way you’d learned at camp.

Eddie sat by Dustin, totally drunk on the sound of your laughter as you giggled with the girls, and he realized… Dustin was right. All of them were right. He did love you. He was actually so in love with you and he just didn’t realize because you were so close, but spending all this time apart, it made these feelings just explode in his chest. And he couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t fight the yearning, or the pining, or the love he felt. He should’ve known. Should’ve known by the comfort he felt while you were around, should’ve known by the way he sleeps better when you have sleepovers, or how he’s always trying to sneak in a little skin to skin contact, whether that’s sitting an inch too close on the couch, or just holding your hand through a crowded concert.

And suddenly Eddie is sick. He’s sick with desire, and…and… and he’s gunna throw up. He turned, high tailing it outside before anyone could notice.

It was going to mess everything up, being in love with you. Eddie had no choice but to confess, this ache in his chest would kill him otherwise, but if you turned him away, didn’t love him and sent him away from you, well, that would kill him too.

He ran to the fringe of the trees, leaning on a big oak and trying to take deep breaths. He was panicking, he loved you and he needed you, and your long legs… and he just couldn’t stand it, any of it.

“Eddie?” you asked, softly, making him jump. He hadn’t heard you follow.

“Oh,” he said, clutching his heart and leaning over, “this is a heart attack.”

You giggled, stepping closer until you were close enough for him to get another hint of vanilla. The nausea returned, was that normal? Nausea when a pretty girl was this close. You pressed two fingers to his neck, feeling his heart beat, as he stared down at you, doe eyes wide, and beautiful.

“I don’t think you’re having a heart attack,” you said finally, letting your hand drop to his shoulder. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“No,” he said, too sharply and too harshly, and he corrected himself as soon as he saw your smile drop slightly, “I mean, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why?” you asked, bringing your hand off his shoulder and back to your side. He wanted it back. Wanted you to touch him, and comfort him, and stay with him.

“I don’t know what to say,” he answered, eyes falling down to the floor. “I just… I really missed you a lot, and now you’re back, and I feel…”

“What do you feel?” you asked, cheeks heating up with anticipation. You wanted him to say it, in your mind, you begged him to. Because if he would admit that he loves you, you wouldn’t have to, you’d be free to say I love you too, and kiss him, and hug him, and be wrapped in his arms again, and again, and as much as you wanted.

“I feel like…” he sighed, “I think maybe I love you,” he whispered, voice catching with immediate anxiety, and his eyes darted anywhere but at you.

“Eddie,” you whispered, taking a hesitant step towards him, but he wouldn’t look at you, like a cat that didn’t want attention, “Eddie, please. look at me”

And his eyes fell to your face, and he caught your blush, and your smile, and he fell all over again. “Well, what do you, uh… what do you feel?”

“I think…” you smiled, stepping closer until your could wrap your arms around his back, smiling up at him and he smiled down, all anxiety erased by a simple move, “I think I love you too.”

And he was free, without another thought his soft lips found yours, warm and lovely and he was everything you’d wanted. Eddie put his hand on your cheeks, cupping them softly and holding you close to him, letting the intoxicating smell of you surrounded him, totally drown out all his other senses and hesitations, and let you have him, all of him. He was yours.

It’s true, you weren’t available all summer, and neither was he. Just two idiots who fell from platonic to romantic somewhere in the high school years and just, didn’t figure it out until now. He was yours, and you were his, always had been.

A round a whopping applause cut your moment short, and you both blushed furiously at the group of losers cheering for you from the doorway.

“We’re all very happy for you guys,” Steve shouted, “but would you both come back and enjoy this friggin’ welcome home party I planned?”

#eddie x you #eddie x reader #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #stranger things s4 #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fic #bestfriend!eddie munson #eddie munson fluff

1K notes · View notes

jaehaeryshater · 1 month ago

Text

“You’ll have others”, he said. “Sweet babes, and trueborn.” Lysa had miscarried five times, twice in the Eyrie, thrice at King’s Landing.

Lysa and Jon Arryn, 284 AC, art by @sofikiii

“Her Lord Husband had told her it wasn’t her fault, that the baby didn’t make it. It was the first time Lysa had heard that, that something that happened wasn’t her fault.”

This, of course, is not a real life out of A Song of Ice and Fire, but the general sentiment got stuck in my head about a month and a half ago. After Hoster forced a miscarriage upon Lysa, I doubt that she had heard any words of comfort like that and that wrecks me. I couldn’t get it out of my mind, so I asked my good friend Sofia who I have worked with before if I could please commission this from her.

Lysa, for starters, is not the most morally upright character in A Song of Ice and Fire. Whether or not she realized it at the time, she did have two non consensual encounters at a young age with Petyr Baelish, she ends up killing her husband and aiding to the mental stunting of her young son, and she is very volatile and cruel with Sansa. She’s obviously not in her right mind, although that is not an excuse for all those actions, but there is an interesting story to tell as to why she’s not in her right mind, what led her to her current state of mind when we meet her. The most surface level answer to this (although of course this does not explain her action towards Petyr prior to this) is that her father Hoster Tully forced her to have an abortion because she got pregnant by Petyr Baelish, and then married her off to Jon Arryn, who was 20 years older than him, essentially old enough to be her grandfather. She was around 14 years old at this time. We learn from the text that she is consistently pregnant over the next 14 years and of her children, only Robert survived. With this art, depicting her first stillbirth, I hoped to show a moment in time leading up to her mental decline. My goal is not to justify the things she did because she suffered, but to show a moment in which she is a victim as part of a broader statement of how woman and, quite frankly, girls are treated in Westeros. I also did not want to romanticize her and Jon’s relationship, but given what we know about him, he probably comforted her and that must have been hard for her to internalize and healthily understand because he’s a person that is victimizing her, is older than her father, but she has to cling to in a way, both as a husband and potentially for this love that she is not currently getting from her family. She’s a very young girl in this and that was something else that I wanted to make sure to implement, that she has just gone through a pregnancy so is looking more mature, but she still has baby fat and a lot of childlike elements to it because in a modern sense, she’s still a kid. A kid that is grieving a baby.

As for the detailing in this art, we mostly have blue coloring for House Arryn. I wanted to do some pink on her walls, as this is her chambers instead of joint chambers with Jon (although historically, even if she had shared chambers with Jon, her confinement rooms would be completely separate anyway) and I wanted to really drive home the childlike aspect of it, that she’s girly and frilly and has this wonder about her that comes crashing down. However, we decided it wouldn’t look good with all of the blue detailings so we stuck with different shades of blue. Jon’s outfit is inspired by an outfit in the Princess Bride, I couldn’t tell you who wore the outfit because I have not seen the movie. It looks like this though, which I usually use a reference for Robert Arryn but it works well with Jon too.

The fish is a stuffed animal from Lysa’s childhood in Riverrun. I never decided if Minisa or Cat made one, but I would more so go with that Lysa and Cat had matching ones as children. I think Lysa would probably get rid of most of her things from the Riverlands because of how hurt she was emotionally, but I still liked the symbolism there and how she’s stuck between being a child and an adult. The portrait in the background is of Minisa. Although it would make sense for Lysa to shun most everything from her life before the Eyrie, seeing as Minisa was not involved in anything that happened to her that caused her harm, I do not think that would extend to her. There’s no reason for Lysa not to feel fondness towards her mother, and especially at the age she is in this depiction, it would make sense that she would want to feel her mother’s presence while in her confinement.

Lastly, this is the inspiration for the poses. The art is called Age and Infancy by John Opie.

Thank you for reading all of this and an even bigger thank you to Sofia!! Lysa is so interesting to me, Jon Arryn too just because of how long his life spanned. I love talking about them and commissioning things that I haven’t seen other people work on before.

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones #lysa arryn #lysa tully #jon arryn #house tully #house arryn #fanart

123 notes · View notes

buddiebeginz · 6 months ago

Text

Okay everyone listen to me Tim posting a B/T video (if he even did because his FB is private and people are saying he posted it but took it down) does not mean he’s saying Buddie is a no go and T*mmy is Buck’s endgame.

First of all let’s remember that Tim wanted to do Buck’s bi storyline years ago particularly back in season 4 and this was likely going to lead to Buddie (look at how the shooting arc was handled).

Second so much of this season has been geared towards Buddie. We had a lot of joint interviews with Ryan and Oliver (more than ever before). We’ve had Buddie talked about in pretty much every interview Oliver and Ryan have done both together and separately this season. This is not something that happened (to this extent) previously, it’s clear Fox did not really want them talking about Buddie. Also remember that if Buddie wasn’t happening and if Tim and ABC didn’t want them talking about Buddie they wouldn’t be allowing these kinds of questions over and over again. They would answer the Buddie question once or twice and that would be the end of it. Everyone knows how much people ship Buddie especially Tim. I'm positive he knows it would be really stupid to keep bringing it up if he wanted the subject to die down.

More importantly let’s look at how this season has gone we’ve had Buck and Eddie together more than ever. Tim even explicitly stated he was trying to put Buddie scenes in almost every episode. Look at how he answered that person about the karaoke scene. Tim basically said he was a Buddie shipper too.

Also think about this Tim knew he was going to have Buck come out and naturally it stands to reason that when it happened people were going to speculate more than ever about Buddie. If Tim has no intention of making Buddie happen and if his long term goal has been to put Buck with T*mmy as Buck's forever love interest (Like Bathena and Madney) wouldn't he have handled this season differently?

I'm not saying Buck and Eddie wouldn't have scenes together if the plan is never for them to be a couple, obviously not they're best friends but I do think Tim would have been extra careful with this being the first season Buck is out as as a bi character. Yet like I said we've had Buddie together more than ever. We've had them talking about sexual tension, dressing in couples costumes (when the actual pair that is dating didn't), singing karaoke together (even if most of it got cut), Buck talking about Eddie's cologne, Buck being a parental figure to Chris, Buck coming out to Eddie in a private quiet scene (when he only had two coming out talks this season), a buddie hug when we haven't had one for years, Buck talking about how he wished he could help Eddie when Eddie was talking about being sexually frustrated.

Most importantly though and what really seals the deal for me on why I think Buddie is happening is that Buck's entire bi awakening episode was focused very heavily on Eddie. Buck was NOT jealous that Eddie was getting to spend time with T*mmy in that episode (i.e. jealous because he wanted to spend time with T*mmy) he was jealous because Eddie was spending so much time and sharing parts of himself with someone else. He was jealous of T*mmy getting to spend time with Eddie and felt like he was being replaced. He thought him and Eddie had something special but then he sees the connection Eddie so easily formed with T*mmy and it hurt him.

We just haven't (as of yet) seen Buck really be willing to dig deeper to understand what he was truly feeling during all of that. How it was all about Eddie and not T*mmy. At this point all Buck knows is that T*mmy kissed him and Buck realized oh I like guys and he's reveling in the newness of all of that. At some point though he's going to realize none of this was ever about T*mmy and that even the main things drawing him to T*mmy were because of his similarities to Eddie. (I wrote a whole post about this episode btw)

But back to my point and that's why would Tim make a whole episode about how Buck obviously has feelings for Eddie and make it in the same episode where the audience (especially the general audience) realizes that Buck isn't straight? Why do that if Buddie isn't in the plans? If Tim's goal is B/T he still could have had something with Buck being jealous. What if T*mmy was hanging out with Chim and the rest of the 118 and he started being friends with all of them. They could have had it where Buck felt threatened kind of like he did in season 2 with Eddie but what it really was about was that Buck liked T*mmy and didn't know how to express that. What I'm saying is that Tim wasn't backed into a corner with this bi Buck storyline and T*mmy there were so many different ways he could have told it. He chose to tell it where it revolved very heavily around Eddie. Buck was even talking about Eddie right before and after he kissed T*mmy what exactly are we supposed to take away from that?

I know B/T stans like to say we just see what we want to see but decisions like having Eddie feature so heavily in Buck's coming out ep aren't made on a whim these are very deliberate especially when the powers that be know how much people ship these characters. Very specific choices have been made to tell a story with Buck and Eddie this season that is leading them towards the same goal and that's eventually together. If you're not seeing that it's because you don't want to.

There's also the fact that if B/T is the ship we're supposed to be rooting for if it's the ship that's going to be as big to 911 as Bathena and Madney (at least according to B/T fans) why has there been so little focus on them? I know some people might say it's a shorter season and they already have so much to fit. Or that they're trying to go slow with B/T's story but here's the thing they rushed into having Buck come out to the audience in one episode and then rushed into having him come out to all the other characters a couple of episodes after that. If Tim wanted more focus on B/T there would be. They also wouldn't even have to do much with them. We've barely even seen them have an actual conversation and the few times we have most of it has been when there has been some kind of uncomfortableness or annoyance between them. Like when Buck was full of anxiety during the date (and then T*mmy made that closet joke) or when Buck was upset about T*mmy not dressing up and T*mmy seemed annoyed.

I don't know I've watched a ton of different shows and to me this doesn't feel like how you build a ship you want the audience to root for. And I'm not saying that you can't have two people at odds and then have them get together. I love a good enemies to lovers thing but that's not what this is. To me the show is trying to tell us that Buck and T*mmy have an attraction but they really aren't on the same wavelength in other areas. Plus the show is always having Buck either talking about Eddie or having Eddie show up. Like when Buck came out to Maddie and was more concerned about lying to Eddie than his date going bad. We had Maddie literally Telling Buck if he had something to tell Eddie he'd tell him in his own time. What am I supposed to think about a line like that? Or when you had Eddie there during the whole scene with B/T at the karaoke bar or how the scene immediately cut from the B/T hospital kiss to Eddie. Plus we haven't even had a mention of T*mmy since 7x06 and now we're going into the finale. You'd think that they would have at least had Buck mention T*mmy during that date night scene where Buck was watching Chris for Eddie but no instead we had Buck being rather flirty with Eddie talking about his cologne and throwing popcorn into his mouth.

Now let's look at this video. There’s a high probability Tim didn’t even watch it. It’s long and not good in my opinion (I saw it before today). B/T stans call us delusional but they’re yelling about how Tim must believe in this bs invisible string theory they came up with and because it’s mentioned in that video. But here’s what the cover looks like

And this is why I think Tim posted it (if he even did) because it’s not about what’s in the video it’s about the title.

Has 911 found Buck’s perfect match?

This is what Tim wants us thinking about going into the finale. Is T*mmy the perfect match for Buck? Some like to think so but we know there is someone better and Buck is going to realize that.

No matter what happens with Buck and T*mmy at the end of this season and even if they're still together going into season 8 I 100% don't believe that T*mmy is meant to be Buck's endgame. Buck is for all intents and purposes the shows main character. We were basically introduced to the show through him we've watched him have the most growth, tim is not going to give him some lackluster love story.

Most primetime shows have a couple that the audience can root for. A couple where the audience isn't sure if they're going to get together but everything happening with them makes you want to see it happen so it keeps the audience tuning in waiting for the day it finally does. 911 had that for a long time with Madney before they got together and then later when they broke up and got back together. But now that they and all the main couples are happily married and rather settled 911 has no main couple like that not one that will garner media and audience attention, except oh wait they do it's Buddie. If B/T were going to be the couple they were betting on we would have had at least one Oliver and Lou on screen interview by now talking about them and we haven't. We definitely would have had more press promoting the couple but we haven't. The focus like I said before is on Buddie. The focus in the episodes is towards Buddie, the focus in the media, it's all a bright neon flashing sign that says BUDDIE. Nothing is pointing towards B/T in actuality I think Buck and Taylor may have even had more press than B/T has gotten so do with that information what you will.

I know a lot of you will hear about Tim posting this and think that's it Buddie is dead in the water but it's just not true. We are closer than ever to Buddie happening I promise you. We just have to be patient and let the story play out. Please don't pay attention to all the negativity coming from that other ship in fandom. Block as much as you need to so you can keep your peace. The best thing you can do right now is to show your love for Buddie as much as possible. Make sure you're tweeting about Buddie, leaving comments about Buddie on 911's official accounts (on ig YT tiktok etc), making new posts and graphics about Buddie on tumblr. We need to continue to be a loud (respectful) presence online and to remind everyone that we won't give up on Buddie.

Sending love to all of you ❤️

And remember:

#buddie #911 buddie #buck x eddie #tim minear #911 abc #911!#long post

204 notes · View notes

prodagustd · 1 year ago

Text

the road not taken | myg

part one: back home

Summary: To have the job you’ve always wanted and the life you’ve always dreamt of you had to break a few hearts, including your own. Four years later after running away from your home, your family and friends, you realized that maybe you fucked up; you’ve been a bad daughter, a bad sister and a bad friend. Getting your shit together seemed difficult enough, you didn’t expect that it included facing the first man who ever broke your heart: your brother’s best friend.

part two>

—pairing: lawyer!yoongi x actress!oc

—rating: +18

—genre: brother's best friend, one sided pinning (or both?)

—warnings/tags: angst, fluff, eventual smut, angst, sexual tension? lmao, slow burn, flashbacks, ANGST!! Btw english is not my first language !!

—words: 12k

—a/note: literally finding the courage to post this rn because yesterday i had an identity crisis and i wanted to delete everything!!! but i hope you like it more than me <3 feedback is very much appreciated, if you want to be on the taglist pls let me know!!

series masterlist | teaser | playlist

Four years ago.

In your almost twenty one years of life, you never had to spend the holidays without your eldest brother, you were never prepared for that. All the attention of your family was fixed on you now, making you feel like you were an only child for the first time. It felt weird, but nostalgic, like you were waiting for him to enter through the door at any moment. You supposed it was going to happen at some point, opening the gifts with just your mom, sitting on the front seat of the car for the first time while listening to christmas songs on the radio, only to arrive to your grandparents’ home and attempt to survive the questions of your future alone, that didn’t sound fun at all.

Simon, your eldest brother, didn’t die, by the way, he just got a girlfriend. A girlfriend? Yes, a girlfriend, that word wasn’t part of his vocabulary, or at least it wasn’t a few years ago when he left for college, but now all of a sudden he had a serious one, the kind who invited their boyfriends to spend the holidays with their families. Now Simon wore knitted sweaters, drank black coffee and listened to all the bands your uncle liked, he grew up, or something like that, but you didn’t think he grew up enough to get a girlfriend, to fall in love. Well, you hoped he was in love, you didn’t meet the girl yet but you hoped he was, at least that was what he said.

Yes, Christmas without your brother sounded a bit sad, but New Year’s eve on the other hand… didn’t sound so bad.

If your brother’s absence would’ve happened years ago, you would’ve planned this the same way as always, getting drunk with your highschool friends at the only decent party that there was in your hometown around that time, only this time he wasn’t going to be around to tell you to stop drinking or to take the joint off your mouth when you failed to hide from him to smoke weed. But this year you got sick of all that, you got sick of the same faces from highschool and all the girls who approached you just because they wanted to fuck your brother, or all the girls who fucked your brother’s best friend, maybe you got sick of the same music, the same party, the same people. This year you felt like you were seventeen again, too afraid to wish that something different could happen, maybe this time you weren’t coming home alone after watching Yoongi giving the first kiss of the year to some random girl, maybe this time your heart wasn’t going to hurt that much.

Yoongi, your brother’s best friend, was painfully always there in your life, you didn’t know how the mess that was your brother was able to have such a good friend, they knew each other even before you were born, when they were only four and met each other at basketball practice. Yoongi was always like your brother’s conscience, the voice of reason, the calm one, the designated driver ever since he was sixteen, the smart one, the boy every mother wanted as their son. Yoongi was the boy who helped you with your math homework when you were eleven, he was the boy who defended you when your brother made fun of you, the boy who gave you his joystick so you would stop crying when you found out your brother was making you play with the one that didn’t work. He was sweet and kind with everybody, you wished you knew that when you were twelve so you could save yourself the eternal heartache that came along with being in love with a man who only saw you as your brother’s little sister.

Yoongi was always mature, always wiser, always older. And you were always immature, always stubborn, always younger. Just a brat who couldn’t stand the fact that he was the only one you wanted, but the only one you couldn’t have.

Maybe forgetting about him when he went away to college was the best thing that happened to you, you pretended he didn’t exist during the school year and made yourself believe you got over it, that your heart didn’t jump every time you called your brother and you heard his voice in the background, that you didn’t read every birthday message he sent you since you were sixteen until you memorized them, that you didn’t compare every guy to him and that you weren’t annoyed when you realized that none of them was half as intelligent as him. You were obligated to pretend you weren’t condemned to look for his face in every crowd ever since you were a teenager. All that mental effort was wasted away when you came back home for the holidays and saw him sitting on your couch again.

You repeated the cycle every year as you pretended that your heart wasn’t tired of it, like seeing him that morning in your kitchen didn’t make your heart drop like you were twelve years old again.

It began when you heard voices coming from the second floor, an outburst of laughter, your mother’s laughter, and then the laugh that echoed so many times in your dreams, were you still in a dream? You thought you might be in one when you entered the kitchen and saw the long figure of the man, the long figure of Yoongi, sitting on a stool as he peeled a tangerine and listened to your mother talk, but the minute they noticed your presence they fell silent.

Two pairs of eyes landed on your sleepy face, making you aware that you were wearing your old pajamas, the one that was pink and had a bunny pattern all over it. You locked eyes with him and it felt like it hadn't passed a day since the last time you saw him.

“What are you two gossiping about so early?” You wondered out loud, slowly approaching the aisle of the kitchen, slowly approaching Yoongi, whose hair was slightly shorter from the last time you saw him and whose cheeks were still red from the cold outside. You arrived three days ago, confidently thinking that even if your mind was a mess at least you didn't have to see your brother's best friend's face.

In your mind, you cursed your mom for always telling him that he will be forever welcomed in her house.

“Why do you care?” He spat at you, following your figure with his eyes as you sat in one of the stools beside him. “That’s between your mom and me.”

“Dude,” You said under your breath, grabbing a tangerine from the bowl of fruits in front of you “You have to get a fucking girlfriend.”

Your mother frowned, annoyed, but Yoongi is too used to you to do anything else but laugh.

“God, darling, you barely open your eyes and you’re already cursing.” She complained, shaking her head in disapproval. You shrugged, pretending to pay full attention to the tangerine in your hands.

“It’s fine, Lila. I can handle her.” He said, carefree as ever.

You scoffed, “Yeah, sure.” You played it cool, as if that didn’t make your heart jump a little. “What are you doing here, anyway? Weren’t you supposed to come back for christmas?”

“Why?” He asked, “You want me gone?”

You saw a stupid smirk appear in his face, the same one you’ve seen countless times in the past. It seemed to be the only thing that could put out your cocky attitude.

“Don’t be stupid.” You managed to answer, running away from his eyes.

You heard him sigh “I finished early, I arrived last night.” He answered the question, reaching his hand under the counter to pinch your thigh, as if that could shake off your bad attitude, plot twist: it only made it worse. “That’s what I was talking about with your mom, I left Simon behind while he was still dealing with exams.”

“Such a good friend.” You joked.

“Maybe… But hey, he’s the one who ditched me for a girl after all.”

“Well, if it’s a pretty girl you can’t blame him so much.”

“If you say so…” He hissed, rolling his eyes “What about you, huh?” He changed the topic “What are you doing here two weeks early?”

“You see, this is my house.” You quickly replied, putting the first tangerine segment between your lips to avoid saying the truth. He narrowed his eyes, shaking his head.

Of course there was a coherent reason for why you weren’t in school right now, but since you arrived you couldn’t seem to quit the bad attitude, especially in the mornings, it was driving you crazy.

“You shouldn’t ask, dear.” Your mom intervened, turning around to wash her mug previously filled with coffee “Sensitive topic.”

Yoongi’s eyes shifted to you again, as well as his whole body, curiously raising his eyebrows.

“Sensitive topic.” You mocked your mother, annoyed that she used such words. She was quick to disappear from the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone. You wondered if she was already tired of hearing you whine.

“Don’t think I won’t ask you about it.” He smirked, stealing a segment of your tangerine just to annoy you.

Oh, you were sure he would want all the details.

“Whatever.” You gritted your teeth. “You only came to see Lila? I bet she would love to switch you with me.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Yoongi smugly said, ignoring the sudden annoyed look on your face, he was too used to it to be bothered by it. “But as much as I love your mom, I came to see you.”

You blinked, not sure what to say next. Now your angry expression turned into a surprised one, cursing yourself for feeling excited to hear that. You knew Yoongi finished early and was coming back home, you asked your brother about it last time he called you, you were just playing dumb when you asked, but when Simon told you he was going to be in town you didn’t expect to see him in your house the next day he arrived.

“Me?” You tried to confirm.

“Yeah, you.” He said, booping the tip of your nose “Simon told me you’ve been having trouble with your car, I thought I could help.”

You nodded, that made more sense than him just coming to see you.

“Simon is such a snitch.” You murmured.

“I can’t deny that…” He laughed, looking at you tearing apart your tangerine and putting another segment between your lips, “Do you… want me to help?”

“Maybe…” You murmured “Do I have to pay you?”

“Maybe…” Yoongi answered, imitating your tone “Or you can just tell me why you are here before the break, I don’t know.”

You squinted at him, knowing it was just a matter of time until everybody found out you dropped out of college, but there was certain relief in delivering the news to Yoongi, something inside you told you he would understand.

“Bold of you to blackmail me when I know you won’t fix my car properly.” You accused him, mentioning that time he tried to fix your brand new car when something happened to it and you had to take it to his uncle’s garage when he made it worse.

“C’mon, that was only once.”

“Let’s not make it twice, then.” You clapped your hands, getting off the stool to walk towards the stairs to your room again “Let me change first. And don’t try to seduce my mom while I’m gone, it won’t work.”

You heard his laugh from behind, and even if you thought about it, you didn’t dare to look back.

Not even five minutes later, you found yourself with him in your cold garage under the dim old light that provided you the tiny room. You supposed it was easier to open the garage door but you didn’t want your fingers to be frozen.

You sat on the old desk in the corner of your garage as you watched Yoongi open the hood of your car, trying not to stare when pulled the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows.

He was wearing a beige sweater that tightened around his shoulders and his waist, Simon told you that he and Yoongi started going to gym lately and you could tell, his back was wider than you remember and you hated how different he looked from the last time you saw him.

You hated to think there were people who saw him everyday and couldn’t tell the difference.

You looked at your feet hanging in the air, hearing him suck his breath just to let you know he was just about to start throwing questions at you.

“So?” He asked, persistent as always.

“So what?” You played dumb.

“So?” He emphasized, not willing to give up.

So? You didn’t know how to start. Serious talks weren’t your thing, and even if you knew that Yoongi wasn’t expecting that from you, you still felt a rush of nervousness when the absence of his voice filled the room, your cue to start talking.

“Mmm… It’s difficult to explain.” You trailed off. “I’m starting to think that I might be the black sheep of the family.”

Your words made him turn his head at you, curious to hear more.

“The black sheep?” He repeated.

“Yeah, I think so.” You confirmed, without saying anything else.

“Fine…” Yoongi scratched the back of his head, a bit confused, something that was normal when he was with you. “You’re not giving me a lot of context.”

You knew this, but making a joke was easier than telling the whole truth. You wished you could tell him jokes until he forgot what your mother told him. But no, your mother already opened her mouth and now you had to explain your life crisis to the man in front of you.

“Let’s just say.. I dropped out of the semester…” You mumbled, unsure of your own voice “but I’m thinking that it is not just the semester, maybe it’s the whole thing.”

Yoongi turned his whole body to you, paying full attention to your words “Really?” He asked, just in case you were joking, but by the look in your eyes and the tone of your voice he could tell that you weren’t playing. You just nodded “Why, though?”

“That’s something I’ve been asking myself.”

“You don’t know?” He chuckled, making you roll your eyes.

“Maybe I don’t know.” You tried to admit, but that was a lie.

“Mmm, but I think you do know, though.” He contradicted you, turning around to keep checking your car.

“Well, kind of… Do you want me to tell you half of the truth or a lie?” You offered him, leaving him without many options.

“Well, you are not very democratic, Pinky.” He scoffed, using the not-so-funny nickname he’s been calling you ever since you were kids. Only Yoongi could still be calling you like some character from an old cartoon that aired twenty years ago. “But I choose the half truth.”

“Wise decision, as always.” You commented, clicking your tongue. “The half truth is… that being a nurse is not my thing, I don’t want to be that predictable, being the bitch in highschool that ended up being a nurse. At least I want to be the bitch in high school who ended up being something else. And I was not happy at college, not even a bit. I don’t think that’s who I am”

Yoongi frowned, trying to process all the words you just vomited. If that was half the truth, what was the whole truth?

“Wait, wait. Let’s go for parts.” He stopped you. “So, now you were a bitch in high school?”

“You know I was.” You said, rolling your eyes.

Bitch was a strong word to call yourself, but to be fair you weren't being the nicest with yourself these past weeks. You stared at him, waiting for him to admit that yes, you were a bitch when you were seventeen years old, but that would be a lie. Yoongi would never have called you a bitch, you did have an attitude, you weren’t the friendliest in the mornings, you weren’t friends with everyone, you treated boys like shit, but you weren’t a bitch to him.

“Isn’t that too… harsh?” He asked softly.

“Isn’t it the truth?” You kept pushing it, but you were crazy if you think he’s going to agree with you.

Yoongi shook his head, taking a long step to break the small distance that was between the two of you so he could be in front of you. As a gentle gesture, he put his cold hands on your knees, it was not an unusual gesture, but it had been so long since you had him that close that you couldn’t help but shiver. “I know you don’t like me getting all sappy, but I hope you know that only you get to decide who you are, and if you don’t think that is a nurse, then it’s not.” He rubbed his palms on your clothed skin, searching for his last words. “But, I must say, I don’t think a bitch is who you are either.”

The cold room suddenly turned warm under his gaze, catching you with your guard down once again. You hated when he turned conversations into something like this, and worse, you hated when you bumped into the ugly reality that surrounded you when his eyes stopped looking at yours. This was not easier than last year, you wondered if it will ever be easy.

“Well, the boys in my class might disagree.” You said, looking straight into his eyes.

He laughed. “Well boys at that age are dumb.”

“Boys are always dumb.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Even me?” He asked, batting his eyelashes at you like he was a little girl.

“Especially you, I bet you don’t know what the hell are you doing right now with my car.”

Yoongi reached out to try to pinch your knees, but you escaped from his fingers. “God, you’re so mean.” He complained

“So mean?” You questioned, moving closer to him and pretending to be annoyed.

“Yeah, so mean” He repeated “But not a bitch.”

You rolled your eyes, watching him turn around again to come back to your car. You can’t help but feel disappointed when he moved away. “So… If you are not a nurse, what are you?”

You tilted your head, thinking about it. What were you? Well, in your room you were a dancer and in your dreams a mermaid, but in reality you were too embarrassed and too afraid, too insecure to admit what “you were”.

“I don’t know.” You hesitated to answer. You loved Yoongi, in more ways that you could ever allow yourself to love him, but you could not tell him all your dreams just like that.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire.” He sang, mocking you, but from your position you could only resist pushing him into your car. “You don’t have to say it, I already know.”

You quirked an eyebrow, curious. “Do you?” A smirk appeared on your face, but he couldn’t see it, he was still working on God knows what.

“Kind of…” He laughed “I don’t know exactly, but I do know that you are too bright to just be a nurse, with all due respect to the nurses, of course.”

You stared at his back until he turned his head to find your eyes, offering you a soft smile. You mentally cursed him, if he hadn’t turned around you could blush like a teenager without care, but now your cheeks were red and your heart was jumping, the only thing you could hope for was that he couldn’t hear it from where he was standing.

“That isn’t very respectful to nurses.” You simply said, and he shook his head, laughing.

“Maybe, but I still stand by what I said.”

“Well, whatever I might be,” You started saying, trying to keep talking with all your feelings still swirling around inside your chest, “I still don’t want to disappoint any more people by making the wrong decision and coming back to live with my mom in six months.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but laugh, not because he was mocking you, but because he couldn’t believe how you couldn’t be at least a little positive, how you were only twenty one and you felt like there was no turning back.

“Who don't you want to disappoint?” He chuckled, “I really thought you didn’t care about that stuff.”

“I thought so too!” You exclaimed, just as surprised as him. “But I already disappointed my mom, Simon will be disappointed too when he finds out, I’m sure.”

“God, you’re so wrong, I don’t even know who I’m talking to right now.” He tried to joke, but the feeling of emptiness that had been living in your stomach for the past months didn’t go away just like that. “Do you really think that about your mom?”

“I don’t know!” You said, throwing your arms in the air to be just a little more dramatic that you were already being “But when I told her she made that face that she does when she’s annoyed or upset, now she wants to talk to me about the future every time we sit down to eat, she looks at me like that all the time, like she’s mad with me or something.”

For the past few days you tried to understand your mom, but you failed when you tried to understand yourself. After Simon followed Yoongi to law school, your mom expected you to do something similar, and when you decided to be a nurse she was content enough, both of her kids were off to college now, nothing could go wrong.

Your mom always bragged that she knew you like the palm of her hand, the only conclusion she could reach when you appeared at your house with the news was that you were never happy with what you had, you always had to have something else, something you couldn’t have. And even if you were about to be mature enough to admit she was right, you knew she wasn’t completely. Yes, you were a brat, but you felt in your heart this time was different.

“C’mon, Pinky. I don’t think your mom is disappointed, I’m sure she is just confused. You were two years into college, she must think this came out of nowhere, she’ll have time to understand that it didn’t.” He turned around a pointed a tool hanging on the wall, you didn’t knew the name of it, or what the fuck he was doing with your car, but you handed it to him anyway. “And, she’ll have even more time to understand that you’re not Simon and that her children are two completely different people.”

“Do you think?” You murmured.

“Yes, dummy. And you’re crazy if you think your brother would ever be disappointed in you for something like that, he is the first person that supports you no matter what, he’ll understand that dropping out of college is not the end of the world.”

You stayed in silence, not daring to say a single word after what he said. You wanted to say that you were tired of all of that, how predictable Yoongi was, how terribly annoying it was for him to always be right. How was it that he always knew what to say? Was it so hard for him to be wrong at least once so you could argue with him? So you could correct him and tell him that he was saying nonsense? Yes, it was. You just rolled your eyes, even if he wasn’t watching you.

“You’re insufferable.” You said, when what you really wanted to say was just “thank you”, but he understood.

“Maybe I am.” He laughed, “But at least I’m not the one trying to find excuses to be miserable.”

You watched him put the tools aside and closed the hood of your car, but you were too focused on something else to ask if your car was okay or not. He grabbed a piece of cloth lying next to you and wiped his hands, “What about my grandma?” You wondered out loud, like he knew what to do about that as well.

“You’re seriously not thinking about your grandma right now.” He leaned over your car, with his arms crossed over his chest while shaking his head disapprovingly. If it was any other guy doing that, you would have told him to get the fuck away from your car, but Yoongi still had his sleeves rolled up, which made you think it was okay for now.

“But I am.” You answered “I can already picture her face when she finds out, I can already hear the comments of her neighbor’s daughter, how she’s on her fourth year of medicine and I’m going back to square one again or some shit like that. The worst thing is that Simon is not here, so I’ll have to endure all of that alone.”

Yoongi was run by logic most of the time, so it was hard for him to understand how fast your imagination flew, but he knew that was part of your very theatrical self. It wouldn’t hurt him to become a little more like you, maybe being a rational person made him more intelligent, but sometimes made him more of a fool.

“And since when do you care what your grandma thinks?” He laughed, “She will always have something to complain about, to impress her you would have to be born again, but this time blonde and with blue eyes. Do I need to remind you again, that woman doesn’t have a loving bone in her body?”

“God, stop.” You sighed, fully knowing he was right.

“You stop.” He laughed, “Stop trying to make everyone happy but yourself.”

“Well, maybe that’s the hardest thing to do.” You murmured.

“Getting your shit together is the hardest thing to do, but I’m sure you’ll get there.”

Believing Yoongi surely is not the hardest thing to do for you, but when it comes to believing in yourself is a whole different thing.

“Says the man who always has his shit together.” You snorted “Difficult to believe you.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, moving from your car to sit next to you on top of the uncomfortable desk “That’s not true.” He tried to deny it.

“Yeah, sure.” You bumped his shoulder “Name one time you couldn’t balance your personal life with your academic life.”

Yoongi straightened his back, crossing his arms over his chest and pretending to think about it.

“Mmm… Right now?” He murmured.

“Right now?” You repeated, raising your eyebrows in disbelief.

“Yeah, look at me.” He pointed at himself. “I don’t think I have a personal life at this point, all I could think about was finishing early to come home to my mom so I could take care of her, and guess what?”

“What?” You asked, curiously.

“She told me she already planned a trip with my aunt for both Christmas and new years. She ditched me, and now? I’m alone, I’m starting to think my personal life was just my mom.”

You covered your mouth, not being able to hold yourself back before bursting in laughter. “She ditched you?” You laughed, but he nodded, annoyed that you’re laughing at him. “Oh my God, she got rid of you.”

“She got rid of me.” He affirmed.

“Lucky her, honestly.” You teased him “Isn’t that proof enough that you have to relax with her? You’re in college worrying about her health and she’s here organizing trips with her sister.”

Yoongi shook his head, still in denial, “Maybe, but she can’t do things like this without letting me know first.”

“Why not?” You scoffed “She’s an adult, isn’t she?”

“She’s an adult, but I’m her son.” He huffed “And that’s all I’ve ever known to do, care for her.”

“Well, you can take care of her at the same time you take care of yourself.” You reminded him “I’m sure that’s what your mom wants as well, she would be pissed to know you’re forgetting about your own life being busy worrying about her.”

Yoongi knew you were right, he knew that more than anyone but still couldn’t help but worry about his mom. She had her siblings, who always knew how to take care of her, but he always felt like it was his responsibility as her son to do it, no one could take that thought off his mind. The only reason he brought it up was because you asked, but it was not a thing he wanted to discuss right now, he could put his social life on pause if that meant his mom was going to be okay.

He turned his head at you, offering you an amused grin as he ruffled your hair with his hand, willing to change the topic. “Why are you scolding me? I’m supposed to scold you.”

You pushed his hand off you, “I don’t need you to scold me, I have enough with my mom.” You sighed “Besides, if it were a competition, I would win. At least you have a future, I’m more fucked than you.”

“No, yeah. I’m sure of that.” He teased you back “You just have to make up your mind, I know it’s a mess inside there but I believe you can do it.”

“I hope so.” You said, and this time your words are sincere. “But for now the plan is to survive the holidays, then I can get my shit together.”

Yoongi laughed, sitting next to you on top of the uncomfortable desk. “Sounds like a good plan to me.” He agreed. “And you know, about christmas…”

“What about christmas?” You asked, at the risk of looking so visibly lost in his eyes.

“I was thinking… Since I don’t have any plans for Christmas…” He hesitated to say, lengthening the syllables of his words. “I was thinking… If you want to, I can go with you in place of your brother. You know, so you won’t be alone.”

The offering took you off guard, among all the things Yoongi could tell you, (the realistic ones, not the ones that only happened in your dreams) that was the most surprising. You had spent Christmas with Yoongi in the past, but your heart jumped at the thought of him spending Christmas with you, and not with your brother. Was he serious?

“Really?” You asked, afraid that he could see the excitement in your eyes “Would you do that?”

“Of course.” He smiled, “We can talk shit about your grandma together.”

You can hardly hide the smile on your face, you have to suppress the immense urge you have to hug him. “In that case, I would love it if you come.” You dared to admit “I mean, you owe me that for fucking up my car again.” You pointed at your car, already knowing that he couldn’t fix it.

He closed his eyes shut, throwing his head back “God, I’m sorry.”

Present

You had been wishing to sleep in your childhood bedroom for the past two months. You had been wishing to lay under the baby blue covers, have your mom kiss you goodnight and sleep a nap long enough to heal your heart.

You had been feeling like you were thirteen again for the whole year, thirteen and completely clueless, thirteen and scared, running home because you just saw your brother’s best friend kissing a girl at the bus stop, hiding under the covers and trying to forget that you were thirteen and there was no way he could ever see you the same way as that girl.

The last time that you visited your mom’s house was a year ago. You texted her every week, sent her and your brother gifts and tickets so they could see you in the current play you were in, but visiting her house was harder than it looked for you. You managed to come once every few years for thanksgiving, telling your mom that you were busy and that theater life was like that, but the truth was that after so many years you still couldn’t find the courage to spend more than two days in the town you grew up in, not after everything, not after Yoongi.

After so long, you were back where you started, running home after hitting a wall. The life you built with your own hands, the life that was supposed to be your dream turned out to be a lie, the boyfriend of three years you thought you loved was now gone, and the only person who ended up breaking your heart was yourself.

When was the moment you stopped calling you brother every three days? Or when you stopped showing up at every birthday? When was the moment you got so far from the person you used to be? You weren’t thirteen anymore, you were twenty five and just now you realized that no matter how many shiny people you have around, you are still alone and far from home.

Now you were headed home, with a bag full of clothes in the trunk of your car, prepared to install yourself in your mom’s house for the rest of the winter, determined to get your shit together, just like you thought you did a few years ago. Oh, how you wished you didn’t have to do this, how you wished you weren’t a complete mess. You wished you could enter your mother’s home and ignore the fact that you didn’t remember when was the last time you told her I love you, but to be fair with yourself, you didn’t remember the last time someone told you I love you either.

Your mom knew you were coming, she was the first one who knew about your break up with Ian, your boyfriend, so she was assuming that you were sad and heart broken, and even if that was true, it wasn’t because of the break up, you were the one who left him.

You didn’t know why, but you assumed that Ian understood what your relationship was, a sad pact that benefited both of your acting careers, a good image for the media, both of the most successful young actors being allegedly in love, and for you, just an arrangement to avoid being alone. How surprised you were when he got down on one knee and proposed, with his mom’s ring on one hand and a bunch of your so-called friends hiding in the distance, preparing to celebrate when you were supposed to say ‘yes’. He had a smile on his face, convinced that wasn’t the worst idea that ever crossed his mind. You thought it was clear that you never wanted to marry him, you believed you found someone who loved you enough not to leave you alone but not enough to marry you. God, you sounded crazy, but that was what you became, a superficial celebrity whose whole life was calculated enough so people thought it was perfect.

You felt like shit when you had to say no to Ian, but you had no other option. Everything was so fake it made you want to throw up, and on top of that, he was the asshole who didn’t even bother to invite your family to, what was supposed to be, your engagement party. If you were to say yes, where was your mom to hug you? Or to tell you that you were being mental for marrying someone you didn’t love? That was the moment when you knew you were about to lose it, that’s when you knew that if you stayed there you would’ve lost your mind, and you were so close to doing it, the only thing that finally woke you up was a marriage proposal.

You turned right, immediately recognizing you were close to home. You had to start doing things right, but where do you begin?

Four years ago

When you arrived home, the realization that almost every person in your life had found someone except you hit you. It started when your best friend, Emma, finally got a girlfriend last summer, then it followed with your brother spending the holidays with his new girlfriend, and now, to your complete surprise, you had to find out that even your mother was seeing someone for the first time in years.

Yes, at first you thought it was going be to weird to see your mother leaving you every afternoon to have dinner with her new boyfriend, -whom she refused to present to you just yet-, but after the first week of cooking for yourself to sit in the kitchen island and eating while watching a random youtube video, you realized it was not weird, but it was making you feel extremely lonely. Love seemed to be everywhere around you, but not for you.

That afternoon you helped her do the groceries, but she had already warned you that, once again, you were going to have to cook for yourself since she was not going to be around tonight.

All your friends from home were still away and they weren’t coming back for another two weeks, so you were almost completely alone in your hometown. And without you wanting it, only one particular name swirled in your mind, wondering if he was as lonely as you were, which he probably was, but you didn’t want any part of it. You were still trying not to look around too much in the grocery line hoping to see a familiar face, forcing yourself not to look up when you knew you were passing his street. You promised that you weren’t going to wait to see him again, as if that way you could prove something to yourself.

You expected Yoongi to disappear only to see him again the day before Christmas, you were sure he wasn’t going to appear at your doorstep like that morning, it wasn’t going to happen, you convinced yourself of it. Because of that, on the way home when you were riding in your mom’s car as you came back from the store, you thought that maybe you were just hallucinating when you saw him waiting in your driveway.

Your mom got down from the car first, you watched her giving him a hug and then observed them talking, you were sure he was going to offer to help with the bags and you were sure your mom was going to smile and accept his help. Your mom loved Yoongi, and Yoongi loved your mom, you could see it. When Yoongi was a kid and his mother had to spend long days at the hospital your mom always opened the doors of your house so he wouldn’t be alone. Like you, Yoongi grew up without a dad, so his mom was lucky to have your mom to look out for him when she wasn’t around.

You mustered courage and got down, surrounding the car to get to the trunk where the bags were and finding him with his arms already busy.

“Hi, Pinky.” He let out and in the cold you could see his breath. His nose was red and his eyes crystallized from the weather.

You barely got to open your mouth to greet him before your mom spoke. “Yoongi was looking for you.” She told you as she headed to the porch.

“Really?” You wanted to know, just in case your mom was lying, for some reason.

“Yeah, really.” He answered, watching you grab the last two bags and closing the trunk of the car. “Do you have any plans tonight?”

Your heels suddenly dug into the ground, making you stop dead to check if you heard that right. Yoongi didn’t notice, he started to walk backwards, heading towards the door as he looked at you and invited you to follow him. You took the first step, not knowing what to say, not knowing how to react. Did you have any plans tonight? For a second your mind went blank, completely forgetting you had a date with Robert Pattinson as Edward Cullen in Breaking Dawn at nine pm.

You avoid his gaze, trying to come up with an answer. “Do you have any friends?” You asked. Classic you, insulting him in case he noticed your face was two seconds away from burning red. You heard your mom grunt as she entered through the door, but Yoongi just laughed.

“Do you?” He attacked back, smirking “Going to the store with your mom on a friday night, I thought you were popular in high school.”

“I was not, you must have confused me with my brother, we have the same nose.” You scoffed, walking with him to your house “And I do have friends, they’re just not around.”

“So you don’t have plans.” Yoongi confirmed for himself, letting you enter through the door first.

“No, not really.” You admitted, leading him to the kitchen to leave the bags on the counter. “Why? Did you want to take me out?”

The question was intended to come out as a joke, but it burned on your tongue. You often tortured yourself with those kinds of comments, but his answer was worse than any kind of cruel joke you could’ve made to yourself.

“Yes.” He said, leaving his bags next to yours. “That’s what I was thinking before you made fun of me for not having friends.”

You stayed quiet, pretending to look for something in the bags, pretending you weren’t screaming in your mind. Why on earth was he here? Why was he torturing you this way? You were enough of a mess, the last thing you needed was this, bringing you more torment than you already had.

You sighed, quickly coming up with another answer “Sorry I can’t retract myself.” You said. “But what were you thinking that was so important for you to come to my house instead of texting?”

“I was afraid that if I texted you would’ve said no.” He admitted.

You arched an eyebrow “Why?” You questioned.

“Because… I saw that the theater is doing a Christmas special, and they’re showing Home Alone tonight.”

“Which theater?” You asked, but you were fully aware which one was.

“You know, the one near the park with the weird fountains.” He said, confirming what you were thinking.

You wondered what to say next. There you had Yoongi, inviting you to watch a movie with him, ‒your favorite movie to be more specific‒ but at the place you used to secretly go to theater classes when you were thirteen until you finished highschool. You knew the place had those kinds of events where they showed old movies following a theme, as Christmas approached they never failed to show Home Alone as many times as they could.

Would it be so bad for him to find out that you used to be obsessed, maybe still were, with musicals? You never told him about that, let alone about the classes, that was something you used to keep to yourself and no one else, so going out with him meant to out yourself to him. It was inevitable for people to recognize you there, you knew a lot of your friends from back then were still very attached to the place, unlike you, who decided to leave everything behind once you left for college to be someone you didn’t want to be.

“I don’t know, I allow myself to watch Home Alone only once a year.” You tried to excuse yourself.

“I know that, that’s why I came here instead of texting” He said, “But I’ve come up with a solution, I tell you this, we can go and watch Home Alone tonight, and on Christmas we watch Home Alone 2.” He offered, but you felt offended he even dared to mention Home Alone 2.

“I don’t like Home Alone 2.” You reminded him. “I think it’s un-”

“Unrealistic that they lose Kevin twice, yeah, yeah, I know!” He interrupted you, stealing the words from your mouth. “But I like Home Alone 2, I think it’s still a good Christmas movie.” You stared at him with narrowed eyes, pretending to think about it, as if your heart was strong enough to even try to say no to him, even if that meant you had to go back to the place where you used to be a completely different person from who you were in school, and most importantly, even if that meant you would have to watch Home Alone 2. It was painful to admit that you already knew your answer when you saw him in your driveway. “Don’t be boring, Pinky. I’ve already got tickets.”

Just for a moment, while the dim lights of your kitchen lighted up his eyes as they begged you to go with him, you wished you had plans that evening already. You took a second to imagine a scenario where you told him that you weren’t free that night, that someone was going to pick you up later. You tried to imagine his face when you told him that you were in fact going out on a date with some other dude and pictured him heartbroken because you rejected him. But of course that wasn’t the case, your friends from college used to joke around and say that men ran away from you and only the brave ones were capable of asking you out, there was no way you were going out with someone who knew you in high school. And even if that were true, you lived in a reality where Yoongi wouldn’t flinch if you told him you were going out with someone else, a reality where you could never reject him. There was a part of you who enjoyed the pain of coming back to him, of being around him and living with the knowledge that at some point you'll have to get over him.

“Fine.” You finally gave in “I guess I could watch Home Alone 2 on Christmas”

He smiled victoriously, raising his fists in the air like he won some trophy.

You didn’t know what was worse, whether to have him around or not see him at all, you knew that the safest option was not seeing him, but your poor heart didn’t seem to understand that it was for the best.

Present

When you parked your car, you realized you didn’t have the keys to your house anymore. You were sure they were somewhere in your apartment back in the city, but even if you had remembered to look for them, you wouldn’t have found them, you had no idea where they were. It has been a long time since you thought about putting foot in your home, your real home, not the one back in the city, with countless empty rooms you had never used. They keys to your home, where were they? You bitterly laughed as you walked towards the porch, with your bags in your hands and your heart on your sleeve, that was how disconnected to the place where you grew up in you were.

The little pumpkins your mom put on the porch reminded you that the last time you were home was also october. The play you were in last fall was just about to end and you visited home for a weekend just to ask your mom to go and see you for your final performance. You remembered how angry you felt when she told you she and Phil, her boyfriend, had already planned a trip to Scotland for that same weekend. It took you a whole year ‒or even more‒ to realize that while you were busy living your life, your family was doing the same thing, you disappeared for months and they had no other choice but to keep going without you.

You stood in front of the big wood door for a few seconds, feeling like some prodigal daughter, until you decided to finally ring the bell.

As soon as your mom opened the door and you caught the surprised look on her face, you knew you weren’t supposed to be there, at least not yet.

“Darling! What…?” She breathed out as if she had seen a ghost, but to be fair you weren't far from looking like one, you didn’t remember the last time you had a proper sleep. “What are you doing here?”

You shrugged, not knowing if she was joking “I called you on the phone last month, don’t you remember?” You asked. The surprise on your mom’s face morphed into confusion, and for some reason it made your chest hurt a little.

“You told me you were coming Friday the 5th.” She said, but she didn’t move from the door, as if you were about to turn around, leave and come back for the date she thought you were coming.

“That’s… today.” You reminded her.

She frowned, raising her left arm to check the apple watch on her wrist, the one you gave her as a present for mother’s day a few months ago, immediately realizing that you were right. “God, where’s my mind?” She exclaimed, cleaning her hands on the apron she was wearing to grab one of your bags from your hand, finally leaning back to let you in. “Sorry darling, I don’t know what I was thinking when you called me.”

“It’s okay.” You said, more to yourself than to her, closing the door behind you “These days my mind is nowhere near, either.”

“No, it’s not okay. I can’t believe it flew over my head like that.” She kept complaining, taking off your coat for you to hang it on the coat rack “Do you have any more bags?”

You nodded “In the car.”

“Okay, let’s go grab them later.” She said, turning around to head towards the kitchen with a quick pace. “Follow me darling, I’m about to finish cooking, you arrived just in time for lunch.”

Well, your mom always seemed to be in a hurry, she was like every other mom after all, but today she looked more rushed than usual, making you wonder if your arrival was that unexpected, did you suddenly ruin her Friday just by appearing at her doorstep? The answer wasn’t clear to you, when she turned around you lost the chance to say that she shouldn’t worry since you were planning to spend the whole weekend in your room.. Now you were just trying not to look disappointed when she didn’t give you a hug as she disappeared into the kitchen.

You followed her, taking off your converse and throwing them somewhere in the hall. Your mom had enough energy for you both, it was like she forgot that you had been driving all morning to get there, maybe she thought you arrived on a jet, you didn’t know. You thought your tired face was sign enough that all you needed was a hot shower and a long nap.

“What am I gonna do?” She murmured to herself, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that you were there earlier. “Your room isn’t ready yet!”

You scowled, sitting on one of the kitchen stools. “What do you mean my room isn’t ready?”

“We’ve been using it as a storage room lately, until Phil adjusts himself.” She told you, but you didn’t understand a word she said. Storage room? Why was your mom’s boyfriend using your bedroom as a storage room?

“Mom, what are you talking about?”

“I’m sure I told you!”

You shook your head “Tell me what?”

She tilted her head with her mouth hanging open. You visibly saw her trying to remember something, filling the room with silence. Then, it hit her, her silence suddenly broke into laughter, she realized that, whatever was she was talking about, she didn’t tell you, you just didn’t know what. “Darling, Phil moved in september, how come we didn’t talk about this?” She let out, wondering out loud. “We are still getting the hang of it, he still has a lot of boxes, we decided to put it in your room for now.” She explained, like it was nothing, but you knew it wasn’t. It took her a long time before she introduced you to Phil, she always made it clear to him that her priority was her kids, so it was a big step for her to let Phil move in.

You shook your head, immediately avoiding her gaze when you felt a sudden rush of guilt washing over your body when you tried to remember when was the last time you spoke with your mom on the phone apart from last month, when you told her you were coming today.

“Oh, mom, I had no idea.” You said as if you were apologizing, you kinda were. “I’m gonna start looking for somewhere else to crash, I still don’t know for how long I’m staying.”

She waved her hands, rushing to interrupt you “My God, sweetie, no! You know you can stay here for as long as you want, this is your house!” She said, but you struggled to believe her “But I really thought you were coming next Friday! When was your last show?”

God, the last thing you wanted to think about now was work.

“Just last week.” You replied, hoping that she wouldn't want to comment too much about it.

“How was it?” She continued to ask, going against your wishes.

Terrible, you wanted to say, you couldn’t wait to get off the stage. You did your job and you left, all your partners begged you to stay for the after party but you were exhausted, you left as soon as you could. That was supposed to be an important moment for you, the wrap up of your first main role, a clear achievement of your short career. After you did the first show of the season you went to bed wishing it could last forever, but last week you were just relieved that it finally ended.

You wouldn’t tell that to your mom, you didn’t want to worry her, so you just told her a little white lie.

“Oh, it was great.” You smiled, hoping that in that way it would be more believable. “I had a great time, but I needed to come back home for a while.”

“Well, you worked hard, now you deserve to rest” She said “And besides that… how have you been, huh?” She asked with a soft voice, making you raise your gaze to find her warm eyes and a warm smile. You failed to remember that you couldn’t lie to your mom, she always saw through you, and to be honest she would be a fool not to notice the tired look on your face. It bothered you just a bit that the main reason why she was asking about it was because of the breakup.

“Why, because of Ian?” You asked.

“No just because of him, just… how have you been about everything?”

“Well, fine, I think so.” You kept lying “Me and him… I don’t know, I don’t think I felt the same way about him anymore, I had to end it, I’m sure he deserves someone who feels the same, right?”

She hummed, not really convinced. “You deserve someone like that, too, don’t you think?”

“Maybe.” You sighed “But that topic gives me headaches.”

Your mother snorted, “Well, don’t expect me to be satisfied with that answer, after you take a nap I’m gonna ask you all about that.”

“How nosy.” You chuckled. “You just want to talk shit about your ex son in law.”

“Of course, don’t act like you don’t want to do that too, I know you too well.” You rolled your eyes, but of course she was right. “Anyway, since I thought you were coming next week I planned a dinner for tonight with everyone, they’ll be so happy to see you, but you know, I understand if you want to skip it with everything that’s happening, I’m sure no one will ask about it, but still. You came here to be alone so I don’t want you to feel overwhelmed around a lot of people.”

“Ask about what? The news isn’t out yet” You asked, confused.

Your mom turned around again, looking as confused as you. “Haven’t you checked your phone today?” She asked cautiously.

“No, it died a few hours ago. I haven't had the chance to charge it in the car.” Your words made her confused expression fade into a concerned one.

“Darling, you might want to check it now.” She pointed to the charger that was connected next to the fridge. The look on her face could only mean that something wasn’t okay.

You slowly got off the stool, heading towards the other side of the room as you took your phone from your pocket to connect it to the charger. You knew it was just a matter of time until people found out that you and Ian broke up, but you thought the news would’ve be handled the same way as always, a statement from both you, the only reason why you didn’t do it yet was because you and Ian weren’t talking since the proposal happened.

When your phone finally turned on, a rush of anxiety ran down your body when a thousand notifications began to appear on the screen, including fifty missed calls from both your manager and publicist, you had a feeling that maybe the situation was worse than you thought. “What the fuck happened?” You murmured to yourself, looking at your mother in search for answers. “Did Sally call you?” You asked her, fully knowing that Sally, your manager, had strict orders not to bother anyone in your family with calls about anything related to work.

The room suddenly fell in silence, your mom hesitated to answer, you knew she didn’t want to be the one to give you bad news.

“No, but a friend of mine sent me an article.” She explained, her voice suddenly sounding small. “I didn’t read it, you know, I didn’t even open it, I don’t like gossip.”

Your mind tried to put two and two together; missed calls from your manager, an article about you, gossip, that didn’t sound fucking right.

“Fuck, I have to call her.” You gritted your teeth, wasting no time marking her number. You felt your head swirling just by imagining the sound of her voice yelling at you for not answering her calls.

Less than five seconds later, like she was waiting by the phone, she picked up. “Fucking finally.” Was the first thing you heard, “Where the fuck were you?”

The irritated tone on her voice took you by surprise, making you jump in you place “Driving, for four fucking hours.” You rushed to say “My phone was dead, what is going on?”

You heard her inhale, trying to keep her calm “Every single person in the world is trying to reach me right now except you. It’s a mess.”

“What?” You try not to yell “I just got home, I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Honey, it got leaked, has no one told you yet?”

Then, a beat of silence. The stress on her voice is enough to make you believe her, you didn’t have to think twice. Of course something like this was going to happen to you, you couldn’t run away from the city and pretend everything behind was going to stay as it was, your life from six hours ago was still there, and it was still a fucking mess.

“What part?” Was the only thing you could say. You felt yourself entering a cloud of uncertainty, your fist clenched on your lap and while you listened to her sighing, preparing you for the answer, you held your breath as if that way you could stop time.

“Everything.” She spat. “Listen, I didn’t want to freak you out with this, I tried to keep this situation on the low but it happened anyway. The story’s out, pictures are out, every fucking thing is out.”

You suddenly tense, feeling your heart dropping to the pit of your stomach

“What? What do you-?” You stuttered.

“I know you didn’t want anyone to find out about the proposal but it's the main headline, sweetie.”

Sally is not someone who’s known for sugarcoating her words, she was straightforward and didn’t mind being the person who delivered bad news, but today you could tell she was especially stressed, you were sure she was trying to handle this issue alone with you being gone for hours.

“Fuck.” You hissed “What about him, have you called his manager?”

“Of course I called his manager, but all of a sudden that prick doesn’t want to collaborate with me on this, apparently Ian doesn’t fucking care, how about that?”

“How come he doesn’t care?” You asked exasperatedly.

“That’s the idea that I got when his manager told me to manage this issue myself.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, taking a deep breath as you took a moment to think about it. You knew Ian well enough, but you always held onto a kind version of him, the version of him who made you stay for so long, the version of him you chose to remember so your memories weren't all bad, but that version made you felt guilty for the question that was rotting on your mouth, waiting to be spat.

“Do you think it was him?” You asked her, but her bitter laugh on the other line made you realize it wasn’t a difficult question to answer.

“I mean, would that be so crazy?” She said “You and I are pretty sure who called the people to take those pictures. He's not happy, honey, to him this is just payback for what you did.”

That word echoed in your mind for longer than you would’ve wanted to, was that the way he decided to put this to an end? Payback?

Four weeks ago, you thought that was it. When you were at the backyard of the house of Ian’s grandparents and you saw him on his knees, asking you to marry him, you thought that was the moment when every bad decision you ever made caught up to you, when everything exploded in your face. Now you realized it didn’t end there, everything you’ve done still has consequences.

You closed your eyes, trying to ignore your mom’s eyes in the back of your neck. You left the room, coming back to the hall so you could be alone. You couldn’t just hang the phone and pretend none of that happened, as tempting as it sounded, you had to take care of it. “Okay, now what? Can you clean it?”

“I’ve been trying, but it can’t disappear, you know? It’s been up for a few hours.” She replied.

You nodded, as if she could see you “Okay, listen, it doesn’t matter. I can’t deal with this right now, I don’t care where it came from, I don’t care how the pictures look, what people are saying, I don’t want to know any of it. If people saw it, I don’t give a fuck, it’s me who doesn’t want to see it.” You firmly said “If the story’s out, fine, but I don’t want any major media posting the pictures, can you do that?”

You heard her humming “Mmm, are you sure you want to handle it in that way? No statement to the media? No post on instagram? Just radio silence?”

The thought of making a statement about your relationship in public made you want to throw up, “Are you kidding?” You laughed “There’s no way I’m making a statement about this if you can’t even get Ian’s manager on the phone for him to do the same. If I say anything about this and he stays quiet I’m going to look worse of a villain than I already am for rejecting him.”

“Honey, I don’t think you understand this.” She stopped you, “This isn’t just news that you broke up, this is news that he proposed to his girlfriend of three years and she said fucking no, a.k.a a scandal.”

You rolled your eyes, wanting to curse her for treating you like a five year old child. “No, hear me out, I’m not playing his game anymore.”

“You’re not the one who’s playing his game, he’s the one playing in yours.” She emphasized, “Let me be clear with this, and I’m trying to be nice even though I’ve been working all morning to get this to disappear just for you. You were the one who decided that the relationship was going to have this kind of publicity, you can’t back down now. This could harm your image, you need to make a statement whether he does the same or not.”

You stopped for a second, hating how right she was. Every bit of your relationship with Ian was out to the public, that was the whole point of it from the beginning. Your image as an actress wasn’t entirely constructed by your work, you took charge into making every piece of your private life part of it too, you sold it of your life to the public. After so many years of sharing everything with the media and fans, you knew it would be strange to stay in silence now, but in a matter of seconds the words piled up in your mind, making you see how ridiculously soulless a statement like that would look, lying about how much love and respect you held for Ian but at the end it didn’t work out, that you decided to stay as friends since you still loved each other so much, when the truth was that he was the one who leaked the pictures in the first place.

You were once again reminded to face the consequences, and that was what you were about to do.

“Sorry, Sally, but I'm not making a statement.” You let out, nervously tapping your foot against the floor “I started it, you’re right, but now I’ve decided to end this here. This is my private life we’re talking about, let me keep this thing to myself. The only thing that they need to know is that we’re no longer together, and from now on the only information they’ll get of me is about my work, are we clear?”

Your whole body shook in anticipation, expecting her to yell at you and tell you to do whatever she said, because you knew she knew better. You hoped she somehow didn’t see through your mask, you weren’t as hard as you wanted to sound, you weren’t as confident as you wanted to be. For years working with her you trusted her advice against all odds, and you knew she always meant well, she was just doing her job, but at this exact moment in your life you needed to stay silent.

She hesitated to answer, battling with herself and the love she had for you. “Look kid,” She said “I’m going to let you do what you want, but if this doesn’t end well I’m going to look for you in whatever farm you’re staying in right now and I’m going to strangle you, now are we clear?” She asked, repeating your last words.

It took you a second to understand what she just said, you felt so anxious you didn’t understand if she was giving you a green light or not. When you snapped out of it, you realized it was the closest you’ve felt to be relieved.

“We are clear.” You confirmed.

“I sure hope so.” You heard her sighing once again “I’ll make it disappear and you make sure to keep your phone close in case something happens. Can you do that?”

“Yeah, sure, I’m sorry for the trouble.”

“It’s fine.” She brushed it off “At least you’re not dead, I would’ve felt guilty for cursing you so much.”

“God, maybe the news of my death would make the news about the proposal disappear.” You tried to joke, fighting against the horrible feeling you still had on your stomach.

“Okay, kid. I’m hanging up before you get more morbid. Take care, okay?”

You chuckled quietly, “Thank you, Sally” You said before she hung up “Really, I appreciate it.”

The call ended, leaving your ears ringing and your heart hammering against your chest. You stayed in the hall, sitting on the first steps of the stairs and trying to make sense of what just happened.

You were aware that Ian was angry at you, you couldn’t tell if you broke his heart but you knew that you hurt his ego, and somehow that was worse. You had to admit that your ego was as big as his, so you understood he had to do the same thing to you. Sally was right, you led yourself to this, you managed the circus that was your public life and you were the one who chose him to cover up how miserable you felt. You still felt your blood boiling just by thinking how cruel it was what he did, and at the same time you couldn’t allow yourself to be angry at him because you thought you had it coming.

You thought you were so stupid for thinking that once you got here you were going to be okay, as if you could run away from yourself, as this house was a bunker, protecting you from everything you ever did. Suddenly, you felt all your emotions stacking up your throat, you felt your eyes burning before your whole face was soaked with hot tears of regret, you didn’t even remember when was the last time you cried, that’s how fucked up you were.

You covered your face, sobbing against your palms as you tried to calm yourself, remembering your mom was waiting for you in the kitchen and you had to come back to be a functioning person, but before you could, you heard her steps approaching you, gasping when she found you crying.

“Darling, what happened?” She asked, the concern in her voice made your heart hurt.

You quickly wiped your tears with the sleeves of your sweater as you watched her kneel beside you. “Nothing, just…” You tried to lie, but what was the use of that? She would know, and you were still going to continue carrying the pain on your chest for the rest of the day. You shook your head, feeling her thumbs wiping your tears from your face.

“It doesn’t look like nothing.” She whispered, like it was a secret between the two of you. “It’s about the article, right?” You nodded.

“It’s…” You inhaled, trying to catch your breath. “It’s about more than that.”

And then, the truth. As if you were a criminal caught in the scene of the crime, you had to tell the truth.

After you spent the whole afternoon trying to explain to your mom what was going on with your life, nothing could erase the worried look on her face, looking at you like you were thirteen and you had the flu, wanting to take care of you until it went away.

You felt ashamed, but you couldn’t keep lying to her, not completely at least. You had to tell her that you were never really in love but you felt so alone back in the city, you didn’t have anyone else. Most of your friends were fake, you were tired and sometimes overworked, not even your job was making up for the miserable life you were living anymore. You knew Ian was seeing other women and you couldn’t even find it in yourself to confront him about it, terrified that he’ll leave you in your big apartment alone. Your mom listened with a frown on her face, confused, asking why you never told her, asking why you never called, and you felt so embarrassed, so guilty for disappearing for so long.

“I’m sorry” was the only thing you could say, and even though she waved it off and said that you didn’t have to apologize for anything, you knew that wasn’t real. You had a bunch of this to apologize for, you didn’t even know where to begin.

After a shower, she offered her room for you to take a nap, and as you got into her bed, she sat next to you, hugging you for the first time in months.

You breathed out against her chest, feeling like a kid again around her arms. It was like she was trying to extract the sadness out of your body, and maybe it worked for now.

“You’re still invited to join us for dinner tonight, you know?” She murmured “I know you’re sad but it’s just us, maybe it’ll cheer you up.”

You nodded, “I’ll think about it, is that okay?”

“Of course, darling.” She smiled, kissing your forehead before getting up to leave.

Before she opened the door, you stopped her.

“Wait mom, who’s coming?” You asked before she disappeared from your sight.

She turned to you again, smiling. “Your brother, of course.” She said “He’s bringing Yoongi and his mom, I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to see you.”

You snapped your eyes open, but before your mom could see your reaction she disappeared through the door, leaving you alone and with your heart clenched in your fist.

@kingofbodyrolls @tea4sykes @overtherainbow35 @namin13 @p34rluv @moonchild1 @oukya @yoongisoftface @namgihours @honsoolgloss @idkjustlovingbts @loviyunki @yoongisducky @bangtansmauyeondan @tarahardcore @wobblewobble822 @secfir @ot72025 @baechugff @hopefulchick @heroinanne

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi one shot #yoongi masterlist #bts masterlist #bts smut #bts x oc #bts x you #bts x reader #bts au fanfic #bts au #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x oc #min yoongi fanfic

558 notes · View notes

morbidmorbid · 6 months ago

Text

rare affections i think s2 daryl would like.

fingers scratching at his beard. this is usually followed by typically smaller qualms; brisk disagreements within the group. it was talking to him under the shade of the tree, listening to him swear out selfish complaints about anything, everything. it was telling him to shut the hell up and bringing a chiding hand up to swat at his ears and it stays there then, like appeasing a cat with light scratches rather soothingly against his jaw and beneath his chin.

daryl would nudge away at first like he always did, but he wanted it—needed it more, perhaps—if the way he’d simultaneously lean into it was telling. it seemed it killed him, too—to accept something like this, to surrender to someone, to allow himself to sit and think for a moment.

and he would indeed shut the hell up, fiddling with a handful of arrows with a dwindling frown. it didn’t do much damage control otherwise a bigger situation, though in these observantly smaller moments it did enough.

playing with his hands. he pretends that he hates it, ‘hurts like shit,’ he’d say when you massaged the knuckle, kneaded the palm. the filthiness that he never seemed to wash away would turn up on your own hands as you kept in contact with his. daryl’s flexing fingers and tight joints were a combination that you had to work through, and while it seemed to ease him a bit, it did for you as well.

he would usually talk through it, seemingly not understanding having an idle mouth and mind. if you eased him at the muscles, you simultaneously couldn’t at the mouth. he would talk about his missing brother, about sophia, about the farm and how much disdain he had for the group. and so often would he pause in between spits of negativity to eye the way you soothed over the skin of his hands, and when the air stiffened with his realization of finding a comfort in something, he would swat you away. “s’enough.”

but later when he’d been worked up by something else and you watched the way he mimicked on himself what you often done to him, it was reassuring.

forehead kisses. another thing he pretends to dislike—or rather him declining an act so foreign to himself. it always shocks him, always makes him flinch, always keeps him up and a bit lost. you typically feel that urge whenever he’s hurt or on the brink of sleep or thinking entirely too much and you do it to reassure him without the words. you’re going to be okay. yes, it’s alright to sleep. relax, this doesn’t all fall on you. if it helps or not isn’t too clear at first. if he’s lying down, he is quiet, unreadable eyes on you until he’s turning in the other direction and ending whatever thoughts had even dared to make a head.

but after some time, after he’s expecting it, he practically asks for it. when he’d been grazed, bruised and bandaged and forced to spend valuable time in bed, he talked with you in the midst of the night. you talked loads and he listened and for a while it halted his complaints of being in recovery, and when the night and conversation came to a close, he’d look at you in a way; someone who yearned for something they’d never had. like someone addicted to something that they should have been given but was not.

so when you’d read him completely with a peck to his temple, that’s when he’d finally roll over.

this could probs pertain to daryl at any point in time i think but my obsession for him in the earlier seasons makes me imagine these things in the earlier stages and how they’ve developed idkk. also i want to add that i can only see this being a thing specifically if reader and daryl have known eachother prior to the outbreak, not exactly a relationship but an establishment of something ..

but yes i have a terrible horrible brain eating “i can fix him” delusion and that is why i wrote this

#daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon imagines #daryl x reader #twd #twd daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x you #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead

324 notes · View notes

rotthepoet · 5 months ago

Text

Theodore Nott and The Late Night Smoke Breaks

or, The time Theodore Nott realized he fucked up.

Theodore Nott x gn!Reader

Content: Modern AU, Language, No use of Y/N, drug use/smoking in order to cope(Nicotine/Weed), angstish to fluffish, Theo has daddy issues, a jealous Theo is a sad Theo, they make up in the end. Not my best work by a long shot, and I hate it actually, but stories are stories and I want to put mine out there.

The breeze high above Hogwarts was cold and Theodore Nott, a seventh year nicotine fiend draped in green to honor his prideful house, sat on the balcony of the astronomy tower. The castle stone pressed against his back, digging past the thick sweater he wore and into his shoulder blades. Theo didn’t bother to adjust himself, just opting to fumble with the joint between his fingers. His third of the night to be precise, but no amount of smoke in his lungs and fog in his mind could undo what he had done mere hours ago.

A simple question. That’s all it had to be. That was all it was supposed to be. Just a quick question to quell the burning anxiety in his stomach. Just a friendly question. Of course that wasn’t how it played out. He was never quite able to communicate with you.

Theodore’s fingers itched towards his phone, and he cursed under his breath. A glimpse of twelve new messages did nothing to ease the licking flames of guilt burning in his chest. He had really fucked up this time.

Perhaps he was higher than he had initially thought as he picked up his phone, allowing muscle memory to unlock the screen and let him view his missed messages. Although, missed isn’t the right word. ‘Avoided’ might be more fitting in Theo’s circumstance. Long paragraphs blurred together, simple phrases like “wtf is wrong with you?” and “you do this every time Theodore!” Stuck to his mind like flies in a glue trap; or maybe a rabbit in the jaw of a wolf. You were the wolf, weren’t you? Or had he been the predator the whole time?

He had his father’s tongue, this fact was quite familiar to Theo, who spat vile words and insults in fits of rage before he could fully process what he was saying. It often led to physical altercations, bloody knuckles and bruised eyes. He hated the way you looked at him afterwards. Ashamed. Embarrassed. Disappointed.

He sent the text without even thinking, the burning anxiety twisting in his stomach. “K” was all he sent. All he could manage. He shut his eyes, cursing himself aloud. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t just avoid you. It hurt.

One missed call. Two, then three.

One new voicemail.

Curiosity- more-so an intense desire to hear your voice- clawed at his mind, and with a simple press of his fingers he closed his eyes and listened to your words. Angry or not, he missed the way you talked. He missed you.

“You can’t keep doing this, Theo!”

Guilt twisted at his stomach. You sounded like you had been crying, your voice raw and cracking.

“You keep shutting me out, you get so angry when I tell you about any of my friends, or any of my plans! You ask, I answer, and then you lose it. Every single time. You threatened to beat the shit out of that Gryffindor after they asked me to help them study-“

Untrue. He threatened to beat the shit out of that Gryffindor after they obviously hit on you.

“-then you claim that I’m ignoring you- or that I take your friendship for granted! You talk to me like your friendship is some privilege I don’t deserve. You just… You dangle it over my head like it’s a prize! I don’t understand why you’re so mad at me. I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Your voice cracked. It made his own heart shatter. He hated it when you cried. He hated the long breath you took to steady yourself. He hated that he wasn’t brave enough to look you in the eyes and tell you he was-

“Draco said you stepped out for a smoke. You’re always avoiding conversations like this.”

You stopped talking for a moment, letting the microphone pick up your soft breathing and light footsteps.

“I can’t keep doing this Theodore, I can’t be your friend if you just keep treating me like this. I don’t know what to do to make you feel better.”

The voicemail ended, and Theo wished the stone of Hogwarts would fall upon his head and crush him. Tears welled in his eyes, and it took more than a minute to will them away. He stood, slowly and shakily. He fucked up. He couldn’t lose you, not like this, not now.

His feet carried him without a second thought, breaking into a sprint down the darkened hallways of Hogwarts. He raced down and up stairs, listening to the annoyed groans of paintings he disturbed. He didn’t even bother to avoid the ghosts patrolling the halls, sure to rat him out. He’d take a year’s worth of detention just to have a moment with you.

He was at your door in mere minutes, fist rapping against the heavy wood of your dorm room.

It wasn’t you who answered, but your roommate instead. Their “Can I help you?” was ignored, and their body was shoved out of the way and out of the door. He slammed the door behind him.

Your eyes met his. They were sad, red and puffy. He reached for your face, and you pulled away. The nerve pulsating through his veins dissipated. He fucked up majorly.

“You shouldn’t be here, Theodore.”

“Not Theodore… please. Just let me talk to you.”

You shook your head, but ultimately scooted over in bed and allowing Theo the space to sit down. He looked at you, desperate to see your face, to fix his mistake. You didn’t look back again him, instead picking at the dead skin around your nails.

Theo’s heart raced faster as he inched his hand towards yours. He couldn’t formulate the words. This was all wrong. He wasn’t supposed to tell you like this, not when you were crying. Not when you were angry at him.

“You’re my everything.”

“Are you serious?” Your eyes blew wide with rage. “You tell me that I’m a waste of time, then avoid me, and you come in here to tell me that I’m ‘your everything’? Have you lost your mind?”

Theo had in fact lost his mind. Everything he said made it worse. Every move he made caused an avalanche of consequences.

“I can’t lose you.”

“Why? So you can yell at me to feel good about yourself? Do I fuel your ego, Theo? Do I make you feel special? Is that all I am? Just here to make the ‘oh high-and-mighty Theodore Nott’ feel powerful.”

He gripped the loose fabric of his pants. He couldn’t do this anymore. He lost his nerve.

“No…”

“Then what am I to you Theo? Am I a friend because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it. You make me feel like-“

Theodore didn’t let you finish your sentence. His lips pressed against yours in the blink of an eye, and while he closed his eyes, yours stayed wide open in shock.

Theo moved one hand to your cheek, barely letting the skin touch. You could feel him shaking. You could feel the heat radiating off of his cheeks. You could taste the cigarettes on his lips and the smell of pot was overwhelming.

He pulled away, opening his eyes, watching your face. His heart sunk when you wiped your mouth, declining to speak.

“I need you.” He whispered, voice cracking with the words. “I’m sorry. I was so…” he couldn’t even find the right words. “I just needed you to be mine.”

You stared at Theodore. A blush crept up to your cheeks, and the rage boiling inside of you slowed to a simmer.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Theo gripped your hand, “I wanted to- I just couldn’t…” he paused, “I just couldn’t find the right way to say it.”

“So you threatened to beat up everyone who talked to me?”

“Only the one’s who were interested in you.”

A small laugh left your lips, and it made Theo’s heart swell.

“I’m still angry at you.”

“How can I make it better?”

You thought for just a moment, the blush pushing up to your ears. “You could start by asking me out.”

“Will you go out with me?”

“Maybe.”

And that was all Theodore needed to hear.

#slytherin boys #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott x reader fluff #slytherin boys fluff

132 notes · View notes

bruhnze · 3 months ago

Text

Apple tarts and tiramisu - Part 10

Summary ''Apple tarts and tiramisu'': Lucy just moved to Barcelona, you offer to teach her Spanish. Reader gets into a relationship with Lucy Bronze who she met while she served her an apple tart.

Other parts: masterlist

SMUT - MINORS DNI

Wordcount: about 10k, for the final part or maybe this won´t be the final part idk, i feel like it has died off a little and i have a lot of other fun wips/asks :)

Apple tarts and tiramisu - Part 10

You groaned as the alarm on Lucy's phone went off.

When you noticed she wasn’t waking up, you quickly reached over her to silence the phone.

She stirred and let out a quiet groan.

"Good morning, baby," you whispered excitedly, kissing along her naked back.

You would never understand how she could sleep practically naked in the middle of winter, but you would be the last one to ever complain about it.

"Ready for our trip?" you asked quietly. "Or do you want to stay in bed for a couple more minutes while I make you breakfast?"

"Hmmm," she murmured, turning around with her eyes still closed. "You know I love you so, so much, right?" she said in a sleepy voice.

"I'll make breakfast," you chuckled, giving her a peck on the cheek before heading to the kitchen.

After about 20 minutes, you returned to the bedroom with a tray of food and drinks.

You saw that she had fallen back asleep and took a moment to admire her. She looked so peaceful, with Narla lying next to her in bed, having taken over your spot since you had left the bedroom door open.

"Why are you staring?" she chuckled, her eyes still closed.

"You can't even see me," you chuckled, surprised. You walked over to the nightstand to put the tray down. "I was just appreciating the view."

She grinned and finally opened her eyes. "Thank you for letting me sleep a bit longer." She looked next to her and pulled Narla into her arms.

"Of course," you said, taking your place on your side of the bed again.

You reached out to scratch Narla. "You don’t get many days where you can do that."

"You're perfect," Lucy said, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear.

You smiled and leaned toward her for a kiss, "goodmorning".

"Hmmm, goodmorning" she said with a smile as she kissed you. "Napolitana de chocolate?"

You grinned. "Yeah, I was a bit hungry, so I took a few bites in the kitchen."

"Mm, tasty," she said, cupping the back of your neck to capture you for another kiss.

The Narla drop-off went smoothly; it only took a few minutes. After that, the two of you hit the road. A trip that was supposed to take three hours eventually took four due to heavy traffic. Lucy insisted on driving the last two hours, and although she had a bit of difficulty getting used to driving a manual again, she managed just fine.

She pulled up into the gravel parking space on the side of the big house.

"This is it," she said. "Excited?"

"Yes, I always love the New Year’s trip," you smiled and looked over at Lucy. "But this year it’s even more exciting, bringing you along."

"A kiss before we go in?" Lucy asked, smiling at you.

You chuckled. "Sure."

"Hey, a little more excitement wouldn’t hurt," she pouted. "It’s been two hours."

"Are you keeping track?"

"Of course," Lucy grinned. "When my family was over, I didn’t have much of a chance. Now, we’ll be surrounded by your friends for three days, and before that, there was the Christmas dinner with the club. You know these holiday times are filled with gatherings."

"But social gatherings are fun, right?" you smiled. "I love Christmas and New Year’s."

"Yeah," Lucy sighed. "But social gatherings rob me of kisses," she sulked.

"So, you're making sure to get enough of them during our free time?"

Lucy smiled. "Yes. See, you're so smart. Maybe we can make it a joint mission then."

You facepalmed. "You're silly."

"So, you're in?"

"For what?"

"Searching for opportunities for a quick kiss in between our activities."

You smiled as you realized what this was about. "Is this about that day we went to Andorra?"

"No," Lucy said unconvincingly as a smile tugged at her lips. "Maybe."

"I’ve apologized for that already, but I'm sorry again," you chuckled, thinking back to the day your friend group traveled to Andorra for a day trip. You had just been so excited to talk with your friends. One of them had been telling you about the new house she bought and showed you dozens of pictures while the girls helped fantasize about how she could renovate it. Another friend had a new job that was quite interesting. Naturally, the group split into 'the guys' and 'the girls,' and Lucy was talking to Marc at the time. It resulted in Lucy spending the whole day without you until dinner.

You looked at her. "I bet people would be surprised to learn you're the needy one."

She raised an eyebrow at you.

"Oh please, Luce, if I let go of your hand, you ask me what's wrong."

"Okay, true."

"Backrubs," you stated. "Massages. Kisses."

"You make it sound like you do it because you have to, like it’s a job," Lucy pouted. "I just love when you're touching me or I'm touching you."

You grinned with a playful frown. "What now?"

"Yeah, that sounded wrong," Lucy shook her head as she chuckled. "That's also true," she grinned, "but no, I meant I love our little kisses and touches. I just ache for you when we're not."

"So needy," you mocked, but seeing her pout, you took her hand. "No, I actually love it, Luce. It makes me feel loved."

"Good, because I do," she smiled and leaned in to kiss you.

"KNOCK KNOCK!" yfs/n called as she almost broke the window pounding on it.

You and Lucy jumped at the sound.

"Maldita sea, yfs/n," (damn it, yfs/n) you yelped as you saw her peeking through your window.

She opened your door. "Do you two not dare to come in, or am I interrupting something?" she chuckled.

You rolled your eyes. "Hola yfs/n, I've missed you sooo much," you said sarcastically.

"Hey, Luce, I hope you brought a good mood compared to grumpy over here," your friend joked.

"Hola, yfs/n," Lucy said cheerfully as she undid her seatbelt. "How are you?"

After greeting all your friends, yfs/n guided you and Lucy to your assigned room.

The room was cozy, though a bit small. Lucy surveyed the space, figuring out where to drop the suitcases, while your best friend headed to the kitchen to help with lunch.

"Cozy," Lucy remarked with a smile, flopping onto the bed. "Hmm, the bed’s comfortable. That’s a plus."

You joined her, sinking into the mattress with a satisfied "Hmm."

After a few moments of silence, Lucy broke it. "We should probably go mingle downstairs, shouldn’t we? Maybe someone can give us a quick tour, or we could look around on our own?"

"Yeah, we probably should," you groaned, then turned to her with a grin. "Still want that kiss from earlier?"

"Yes," Lucy smiled back. "I thought you’d never ask."

Pascal led you and Lucy on a tour of the house. It was pretty big, with lots of rooms and nooks, but the layout was a bit unusual. There were several staircases leading to the first floor and multiple hallways with rooms branching off in different directions.

The hallway where your room was located also had yfs/n's room. Between the two rooms was a shared bathroom with doors to each room, but none to the hallway.

Only one couple, Pascal and Ale, didn’t sleep on the first floor. Instead, the two of them stayed in a large room on the ground floor. You didn’t mind at all because you figured if there was music or laughter in the common area, anyone in that room wouldn’t get a wink of sleep. But Pascal and Ale were usually the last ones up, so it made sense that they had this setup.

For the last part of the tour, the three of you stepped outside despite the chilly weather. There was a patio that could be used, covered by an overhang with glass-panel walls. Inside this sheltered space were two jacuzzis—one quite large, while the other was just big enough to fit two people, maybe three if they got cozy.

After taking in the outdoor space, you quickly headed back inside, climbing the steps toward the back door. From the kitchen, which bordered the patio, you couldn’t see the jacuzzis. The patio was slightly lower since the house was built on a hillside.

All in all, it was an interesting house, and you were sure the group was going to enjoy the days ahead.

Now that everyone had arrived, the common area and kitchen were bustling with activity. Lucy joined a few others in arranging the tables, pushing them together to create one long dining space. A couch was moved over to join the others, forming a large circle of seating.

You noticed yfs/n gathering cutlery and plates, so you stepped in to help her. Once the table was set, everyone took their seats. It was a lively lunch, full of conversation and delicious food. If there was one thing your group of friends excelled at, it was making sure gatherings were well-fed. Every time you all got together, cooking and eating were central to the experience.

You glanced over at Lucy, realizing you’d forgotten to ask her to sit next to you. She was seated with a few other girls, chatting away. When she caught your eye, she smiled, sitting beside your best friend, who was engrossed in conversation with her. Lucy winked at you, and you couldn’t help but smile back, happy she wasn’t annoyed.

During dinner, it was decided that a walk would be a great way to end the afternoon. The area was beautiful, with a nature park nearby. With the snow where you were, about two hours north of Barcelona, the surroundings were pretty picturesque, perfect for a hike.

You offered to help with the dishes since you hadn’t done much to help prepare the meal. Lucy also offered to help. Marc and your best friend agreed, while the rest went to get ready for the walk, putting on thicker socks and sweaters.

Sadly, there was no dishwasher, but the four of you worked like a well-oiled machine. You and your bestie collected all the dirty dishes while Lucy and Marc washed them. Once you two had cleaned the whole table, you went on to drying. After all the dishes were done, Lucy and Marc helped dry the last few items.

Your friends came back down one by one, all dressed in warmer clothes, and the four of you headed up to put on similar outfits.

"Sorry I forgot about you at lunch," you said as Lucy closed the door behind the two of you.

"Hmm," Lucy smiled at you. "If you word it like that, it almost sounds like you have some making up to do," she said cheekily.

You rolled your eyes as she pulled you in. "And it’s been like three hours," she confided in you.

"Three hours?" you asked, confused. "Since we were here?"

"No-ho," Lucy rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. "Ugh, I really like that you have such a great bond with all of your friends, but I can’t believe you forgot our mission already."

"Mission?" you chuckled, now remembering her kiss-plan. "Ohhh," you cupped her cheeks. "Just give me a kiss then, silly."

And that she did. Lucy hungrily pulled you impossibly closer, kissing you like she was chasing something.

You chuckled, pulling back as you ran out of air. "Luce."

"What?" she grinned, now moving to kiss your neck. "I love you," she murmured.

"I know. I love you too," you tried to push her head away from your neck. "But you’re acting like we haven’t seen each other in a month," you chuckled as you looked at her pouty face.

You kissed her softly. "We can kiss tonight, hm? We have our own room, and I’m not hearing yfs/n’s loud ass, so the isolation is probably pretty good," you added, wiggling your eyebrows.

"Can we at least hold hands during the walk?" Lucy asked, still a bit pouty.

Shaking your head, you chuckled. "Of course."

"Great," a beaming smile took over Lucy’s face. She walked to the suitcases and unzipped hers. "Want a jumper of mine to wear?"

The walk had been a success, ending perfectly at a restaurant where everyone enjoyed dinner together. Afterward, you all headed back to the house in little groups, Lucy holding your hand the whole way back.

The plan for the rest of the evening was to play games and have some drinks.

The room was filled with laughter as the group settled down to play a game. You, Lucy, Pascal, Ale, Yfs/n, Marc, and Ana were gathered around the table, ready for a lighthearted competition. The game was simple but strategic, each move could either help or hinder your chances of winning.

Lucy was sitting close to you, her knee brushing against yours under the table. You exchanged a quick smile, feeling comfortable and content. The game progressed with everyone getting more competitive as the stakes got higher.

As it was your turn, you found yourself in a tricky spot. You could make a move that would benefit Lucy, but at the cost of your own position, or you could choose a path that might hurt her chances but would keep you in the game, even though you had no actual chance of winning anymore. Without thinking too much, you made a quick decision that ended up putting Lucy at a disadvantage. She let out a playful groan, nudging you with her elbow.

"Traitor," she whispered, though there was a smile on her face.

You chuckled, leaning in to kiss her cheek in apology. "Sorry, babe. I got caught up in the game."

Pascal, who had been quietly playing until now, took advantage of the situation. He made a move that earned him advantage, and eventually after a few more rounds, he won the game. The group cheered, though there were a few groans of playful frustration.

"Well played, Pascal," Ale said, raising his glass in a toast to his partner. "I’ll let you win this time."

Pascal grinned, happy with his victory. "You’re all just jealous of me, I won honestly."

As the game from the other group wrapped up too, the energy in the room shifted. People were starting to feel a bit worn out from the competition, so someone suggested moving to the living room to relax. The group migrated to the couches, after pushing them together this afternoon to form a large circle, there was enough room for the twelve people of your friend group. Drinks were passed around and the conversation flowed easily as everyone settled in.

You noticed Lucy giving you a soft smile as she leaned back against the cushions, clearly enjoying the relaxed vibe. Yfs/n, always the instigator of fun, suddenly perked up with an idea.

"Hey, since we’ve got some new faces in the group," she began, glancing at Lucy and Marc, "why don’t we play a game to get to know each other better? You know, to celebrate our newest members."

There were murmurs of agreement and some intrigued looks. Marc chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Should I be worried?"

"Only if you’ve got something to hide," Ana teased, nudging him playfully.

Pascal, leaned forward with a grin. "We are just celebrating our two newest members we never expected to get anymore."

The comment sparked laughter, and you caught Yfs/n’s eye, both of you sharing a knowing smile and shaking your heads. The history between you two was well-known among the group and as usual the teasing had begun right the second someone took a sip of alcohol, apparently the fact you two were both dating someone now wasn’t going to stop them from their jokes.

"So, what’s the game?" Lucy asked, looking around the circle with curiosity.

Yfs/n grinned, clearly pleased with herself. "It’s like truth or dare, but mostly truth. We take turns asking a question, and everyone has to answer. It can be as deep or as light as you want. No pressure, just fun."

The idea was met with enthusiasm, and soon, the group was brainstorming questions, ready to dive into a night of fun and maybe a few secrets shared over drinks. You settled in closer to Lucy, putting your hand on her thigh as she slipped her arm around you.

The game started off lightheartedly, with everyone chuckling over questions that seemed designed to elicit harmless laughs. One guy asked a ridiculous question about relationships within Barça, which led to a spirited debate. The group quickly rallied around Lucy, insisting she only had to reveal her own secrets and that they completely understood if she couldn’t spill any work-related gossip.

As the game went on, the atmosphere grew more relaxed, something that probably had to do with the glasses of alcohol everyone tipped back, and the questions took on a more personal edge. After about half an hour, where Lucy also learned that you had a surprisingly embarrassing high school phase where you attempted to become a breakdancer, the mood shifted to more heated topics.

Someone, emboldened by the earlier questions, threw out a query about everyone’s body counts. The question was met with a mixture of laughter and playful evasions. Everyone dodged or deflected with humorous stories about close calls and near-misses, some answered truthfully, you and Lucy just laughed, kept quiet and tactically decided to refill your drinks.

Marc, however, wasn’t so lucky. He as a ‘newbie’ was pressed to reveal his favorite sex position, which had the group erupting in a mix of laughter and shock. Marc blushed furiously but played along with good humor as your best friend didn’t seem to mind it one bit that this information was made public.

Then, the group turned to Lucy with expectant smiles.

With a playful grin, Lucy said, “Alright, hit me with your best shot.” She took a sip of her drink and leaned back, clearly bracing herself.

Someone from the group threw out a question with a mischievous grin. “Okay Lucía, what’s the most embarrassing thing that’s happened to you during a hookup?”

The room fell silent as everyone waited for her answer, hoping Lucy would join the fun.

Lucy’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she glanced to you, clearly contemplating how much to reveal. You could see the wheels turning in her head as she prepared to share a story. You nodded encouraging, you were curious yourself.

“Alright, here goes,” Lucy said with a wry smile. “So, there was this one time I was seeing someone new, we were at mine and things were heating up.”

The room was completely engaged, eyes fixed on Lucy as she continued. “We were having a pretty intense moment, but then, right in the middle of things, my dog, Narla, decides to make a surprise appearance.”

There was a collective chuckle as Lucy went on, clearly enjoying the chance to recount her mishap. “Narla jumped right onto the bed, right in the middle of everything. Apparently the girl was afraid of dogs and she didn’t tell me.’’ Lucy grimaced as she thought back and palmed her head with a chuckle, ‘’she started screaming and Narla started barking’’.

The group erupted in laughter, with some people almost falling off their seats. “And it doesn’t end there,” Lucy continued, clearly getting into the story. “In the chaos, Narla managed to knock over a lamp, which fell right onto the bed. We ended up tangled up in the sheets, she was yowling, and we were trying to untangle ourselves from the mess. It was probably the least sexy situation I’ve ever found myself in.” ‘’she left and I haven’t seen her after that ever again’’. She added.

“You win,” Pascal declared with a grin, raising his glass. “That’s one for the books.”

Lucy removed her arm from around you and gave a playful bow, clearly enjoying the way everyone was laughing. “Glad I could provide some entertainment with my horrible date.”

Ana laughed, ‘’did she go like right after that?’’.

‘’Mhm’’ Lucy laughed back, ‘’she got dressed and ran off, outside she texted me she didn’t see things working because she was scared of dogs’’.

You smiled as you listen to the whole ordeal, you were glad Narla slept great in the living room. Lucy had probably set that boundary after this event, you were curious about her past partners now, curious if she had more story’s like this.

‘’Y/n?’’ your best friend chuckled.

From the group sounded different people trying to rile you up.

‘’Ay, someone is sleeping on the couch tonight’’.

‘’Oooh, she’s maddd’’.

You looked up to see Lucy’s apologetic eyes, ‘’hm?’’.

Lucy put her arm back around you, ‘’yfs/n asked if Narla ever bothered you’’ she said timidly, afraid you hadn’t liked her story.

You chuckled, ‘’no I love Narla, she’s never been in our way’’ you looked back at the group, ‘’and luckily I’m not afraid of her either’’. ‘’it was a funny story though, I didn’t know it yet’’.

You sended a question back to yfs/n to steer the groups attention back to her and turned to Lucy, ‘’I wasn’t mad by the way, just lost in thoughts’’ you whispered.

‘’Thoughts about what?’’ She asked back quietly.

You kissed her cheek, ‘’I’ll tell you later’’ you chuckled.

It was after midnight now. ‘’Shall we go to bed?’’ Lucy asked you as the night quieted down.

A few people had gone to the kitchen for some refills and some others had turned to the tv, figuring out how to connect it to someone’s phone, as Ale wanted to show a funny video.

Everyone had agreed to eat breakfast around 10 the next morning, wanting to give everyone the chance to also get some rest these days off.

Only one of your friends had gone to sleep already, but she hadn’t felt to good today.

‘’already?’’ you whispered back, you were sitting on her lap, having been pulled on there after you had gotten Lucy and yourself another drink.

Ana cleared her throat, ‘’allright we’re going to bed, goodnight everyone’’.

Everyone grumbled some non-coherent answers.

You debated, you were enjoying the night, but this was a great opportunity to go to bed too, it might get way later if you didn’t go now.

You sat up, ‘’yup, we’re tired too’’ you declared, taking Lucy’s hand to stand up, ‘’goodnight guys’’.

‘’Goodnight’’ Lucy wished everyone a good night too as she followed you to the staircase close to the kitchen.

You were laying in bed in your long pyjama’s, even having put a shirt below your top.

Lucy walked out the bathroom in her briefs and sports bra, your eyes widened ‘’babe, you can’t be serious, it’s minus 10 in this room’’.

She chuckled, ‘’no it’s fine because I get hot from cuddling’’.

‘’if I were you I’d put on a shirt at least’’ you say, shaking your head as you see her hardened nipples, ‘’see you’re cold’’ you say pointing at her chest.

‘’warm me up then’’ she says, pulling up the covers to slip under.

‘’Luce’’ you say sternly, ‘’at least get a shirt near, if you’re still cold you can put it on without getting out of bed’’.

She rolled her eyes but obliged, quickly taking her sports bra off and putting it on. ‘’allright, happy now’’.

You smiled, ‘’mhm, come here, you deserve a kiss’’.

Quickly Lucy got in to bed too.

You laughed softly as Lucy slipped under the covers, immediately climbing on top of you with a playful ambush of kisses.

“I love you so, so much,” she murmured between each kiss, her lips brushing against your skin with an infectious warmth. Your laughter grew as you half-heartedly tried to push her away, only to have her respond with even more enthusiasm, her kisses becoming more determined.

After a particularly loud squeal from you when she graced her teeth along a sensitive spot in your neck, she paused, hovering above you with a bright, affectionate smile. The sudden quiet caught your attention.

“What?” you asked, a curious smile playing on your lips as you looked up at her.

Lucy traced her thumb gently over your bottom lip before leaning in to press a soft, tender kiss there. “I just can’t put into words how I feel,” she whispered, her voice full of emotion as she pulled back slightly to meet your eyes. “I’m so in love with you. Every day I get to fall asleep with you in my arms is the best day of my life. And every morning I wake up beside you, I know nothing could ruin it.”

“Okay, romantica,” you teased, a playful grin spreading across your face as you traced your fingers along the sides of hers. “I love you too.”

Lucy bit her lip, her eyes flickering with something playful before she gently slid off you and settled beside you.

“What?” you asked again, her sudden change in behavior catching you off guard.

“Sorry,” she pouted dramatically, lying on her back and staring up at the ceiling with an exaggerated sigh.

You frowned, not buying her act for a second. “Sorry for what?”

She sighed again, even more theatrically. “I guess you don’t love me anymore,” she pouted, her voice dripping with mock sorrow as she tried to keep a straight face.

You shook your head, noticing the corners of her mouth twitching as she tried to suppress a smile.

“Oh, really?” you said, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you quickly climbed on top of her, straddling her hips. Without warning, you started tickling her sides, causing her to burst into laughter as she squirmed beneath you. “I’m sorry, Miss Needy,” you chuckled, leaning down close to her ear, “I guess you need some more kisses then.”

With a playful growl, you dove for her neck, peppering her skin with kisses, just as she had done to you moments before. Her silent laughter echoed through the room, a sound that made your heart swell with affection as you playfully continued your assault, enjoying every moment of her writhing beneath you.

Eventually, she caught your wrists, holding you still. "What were you thinking about earlier, by the way? You were going to tell me."

You paused, thinking back to the conversation downstairs. "Oh, right. I was just thinking about how we’ve never really talked about our previous partners, or, you know, hookups. I guess I got curious after the Narla story."

Lucy sat up, releasing her grip on you. She scooted back against the wall, pulling you into her lap.

Her hands found their way under your shirt, resting warmly on your sides. "Alright," she said, her voice soft but with a hint of intrigue. "What do you want to know?"

The next morning at breakfast, the group gathered around the table, talking over the plans for the day. The energy was high, with everyone buzzing about the fact that tonight was 'cap d'any,' New Year's Eve, and the big party was only hours away.

Yfs/n was practically bouncing in her seat, excitement evident in her voice as she suggested going sledding, after she had read about a 5km slope close by that rented out inflatable rubber tires to go down on. The idea caught on quickly, with several people nodding enthusiastically. You found yourself smiling at the thought, imagining the fun of speeding down snowy slopes with your friends, it could be like a race. But then you glanced at Lucy, remembering the restrictions that came with her contract - no risky activities, and sledding was definitely off the table.

You turned to her, a pang of disappointment creeping in. "I think I won’t go with them either," you said, offering to keep her company instead. "We can hang out here."

Lucy shook her head, giving you a reassuring smile. "No, it’s okay. Pascal was saying he was going to do some last-minute grocery shopping. I can go with him, or just stay here. Ana and her girlfriend are staying back too."

"Yeah, but Ana has some work to do, making calls and stuff," you replied, your concern evident as you fully turned your attention completely to her.

Lucy reached out, squeezing your hand. "It’s fine, babe. Really. I’ll be okay. Besides," she added with a playful glint in her eye, "I’ll just ask Yfs/n to send me a video of you eating shit - well, snow."

You chuckled at her teasing, but before you could protest further, Lucy leaned forward, addressing Pascal, who was seated across from you both. "Pascal? Can I help you with those errands?"

Pascal looked up from his plate, giving her an easy smile. "Of course, Lucy. I would be nice to have some company, Ale probably wants to go to that sledding thing."

Lucy shot you a quick, reassuring look before turning back to Pascal. "Perfect. I’ll tag along with you then."

You smiled, feeling a mix of relief and affection. "Alright, if you’re sure."

"I’m sure," she said, leaning in to give you a quick kiss. "Go have fun. I’ll be here when you get back."

With that, the group’s plans solidified, most of you heading out for some sledding.

...

Pascal had been pretty annoyed to find the village shop almost empty, his frustration evident as he muttered to himself about not bringing enough supplies. He had planned everything so carefully, yet somehow this detail slipped through. Lucy, however, remained calm and unbothered. She quickly pulled up her phone and found a larger store nearby, assuring Pascal they’d likely find everything they needed there.

During the drive to the bigger store, the atmosphere in the car lightened as they got to know each other better. Pascal mentioned how the group had quickly warmed up to Lucy, and how everyone thought she really suited you. "You two make a cute couple," he added with a smile.

Lucy’s heart swelled with happiness at his words, grateful for how welcoming your friends had been. It meant the world to her that she was not only accepted but embraced by the people closest to you.

As they were standing in the booze aisle, both of their phones buzzed simultaneously. They exchanged a glance before pulling out their devices to check the group chat. Different videos were pouring in—people bumping into each other, rolling over in the snow, and some that were simply snapshots of everyone having fun. Lucy laughed when she saw a clip of you and Yfs/n in a blue "8"-shaped sled, tipping over in a bend of the slope.

@Ale: We’ve gone down the slope twice, but everyone’s cold and wet from falling xd, so we’re heading back home.

“All right,” Pascal sighed, pocketing his phone with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Looks like they’ll be home even quicker than us.”

Lucy smiled, gently patting his shoulder. “It’s okay, amic, you’re fine. At least our shopping trip has been successful, right?” She gestured toward their cart, which was filled with everything they needed.

“Yeah, it was a good idea of yours to find a bigger shop,” Pascal admitted, visibly relaxing a bit. “Let’s grab the last few things and head back. And sorry for being so stressed... I just wanted everything to be perfect.” He shook his head, then looked at her gratefully. “Thanks for joining me and being patient.”

Lucy chuckled softly. “Of course. And you’re fine, really. I think I needed to give y/n a breather anyway, so me not being allowed to sled worked out fine, I guess.”

Pascal’s eyes widened in realization, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Ohhhh, that’s right, you’re a footballer” He playfully palmed his forehead. “Of course! I was wondering why you’d choose to come with grumpy me to the shops instead of sledding. I figured you were the adventurous type, so I couldn’t place it.”

Lucy laughed along with him. “Yeah, it’s part of the job, unfortunately. But honestly, I’m glad I came with you. It was nice to spend some time together and get to know each other better. Plus,” she added with a grin, “I got to avoid face-planting in the snow, so it’s a win-win.”

Pascal chuckled, the tension in his shoulders finally easing. “Well, I’m glad you’re here too. Let’s finish up and get back before they beat us to it.”

The hallway was cluttered with a dozen wet boots, strewn about haphazardly as a sign everyone had returned from sledding. Lucy carefully stepped around them, carrying the groceries inside. After setting the bags down in the kitchen, she headed back outside to retrieve the last few items from Pascal’s car.

Once the two of them were done with unpacking everything, Lucy began to wonder where you were.

Curious, she walked into the living room and, seeing that you weren’t there, asked the few people lounging on the couch, “Has anyone seen Y/N?”

Without looking up from their phone, someone casually replied, “Hm, maybe the jacuzzi?”

Lucy smiled in thanks and made her way to the kitchen, where she noticed steam rising from the patio just below the window. She headed outside, calling your name as she opened the glass panel door.

You were sitting in the smaller jacuzzi with Yfs/n, a contented smile spreading across your face when you saw her. “Hey, Luce,” you greeted warmly. “Did you have a good time with Paz? Was he not too grumpy?” You chuckled, knowing that Pascal could get a bit stressed from organizing such trips. Despite the occasional tension, you were grateful he took on the responsibility. It was just a shame that it seemed to come with so much stress for him.

Lucy chuckled, walking closer. “Mhm,” she nodded, smiling at Yfs/n and greeting her before leaning down to kiss you.

“We wanted to warm up,” you explained as the kiss broke. “We put both tubs on. A few others are coming too, but the big one’s taking a bit of time to heat up,” you added, gesturing to the larger jacuzzi nearby.

Your best friend, teased jokingly, “Nah, you just wanted to cuddle with me.” She pulled you closer in a playful hug.

You chuckled awkwardly, aware that Lucy had been craving affection so the joke felt a bit off, but yfs/n didn’t need to know about that as it would just make things bigger as it was not really a problem.

Before anyone could say more, the door behind Lucy opened again, and Marc came bounding in, already in his swim trunks. “I found it, babe!” he announced triumphantly. “You were right, we did pack it.” Without much thought, he climbed into the already-crowded jacuzzi, making the water slosh around uncomfortably.

Seeing the crowded situation, you could tell Lucy wouldn’t be too thrilled. You gave her a reassuring smile. “You packed your bikini too, right? Want to join? The big one will be warm in a sec.”

Lucy nodded, her eyes lingering on the small tub before she sighed and agreed. “Okay, I’ll be down in a minute.”

As she turned to leave, you caught her hand, pulling her back for a moment. “I love you,” you said softly.

She smiled, leaning in to give you one more kiss before heading inside. “I love you too.”

‘’Don’t forget a towel’’ you said after her, as she walked away.

The other jacuzzi was now bubbling with steam as well, and those already sitting in it claimed it was quite pleasantly temperatured. You considered moving over, as you were packed in the smaller tub with Yfs/n and Marc, and there was no way Lucy would fit in here too.

Lucy returned faster than the last group of the sledders. You stood up and smiled at her as she entered, but her expression turned to concern as her gaze dropped to your lower half.

You followed her line of sight to a bruise on your hip and the side of your thigh. You hadn’t even noticed it until now, your fingers instinctively tracing the dark mark.

“You didn’t tell me you got hurt,” she said, discarding her towel on one of the chairs beside your slides.

You glanced back at Yfs/n. “Hey, do you have a bruise too?”

She stood up, revealing a similar bruise, slightly smaller.

“Yeah, had you not seen it? I noticed yours when you first got in,” your best friend chuckled.

“Oh, I didn’t feel it,” you shrugged, not too concerned.

Lucy took your hand and guided you towards the larger jacuzzi. It already had a few people in it, but there was ample space, easily able to accommodate ten or more.

As Lucy stepped into the water in front of you, you couldn’t help but admire her in her bikini. She looked hot as fuck stunning. You followed her into the tub and, with a playful smile, settled yourself on her lap.

“Missing me a bit after all, huh?” she teased, her arms wrapping around you as she pulled you closer.

You grinned, relishing the warmth of the water and the closeness of her embrace. ‘’Maybe’’ you murmured against her skin.

After a few minutes, the last of the group joined, and someone brought a tray of drinks. Marc and your best friend, feeling a bit left out, also decided to slip into the larger tub.

One of the guys jokingly pointed out, "It’s fine, Y/n, you can just grab a seat. There are three left, you know."

You laughed, intertwining your fingers with Lucy’s and gently pulling her arms around you above the water. “Oh, sorry that I’m in love,” you teasingly mocked. “Don’t be jealous of me just because Maria's been distant lately.”

The group burst into laughter, and the banter continued, but your attention was mostly focused on Lucy. She was kissing your shoulders with a tenderness that made you shiver. You turned towards her, a playful warning in your voice. “Luce.”

She chuckled softly, her lips brushing against your neck. “Sorry, you just look so good in this,” she murmured, her finger tracing lightly under the band of your bikini top.

You smiled, leaning into her touch. “Hmm, you don’t look too bad yourself.”

After a while in the water, people began trickling back inside, one by one. The temperature had dropped slightly, and most of the group wanted to move on to something else. As the jacuzzi started to empty, Lucy repositioned herself so she could lay out comfortably, resting her head on one of the tub's edges.

Yfs/n and Marc had just left, after asking if they could use the bathroom first. You and Lucy had agreed without hesitation. The jacuzzi was still a pleasure, the water temperature having been turned up a notch, and the bubbles were a soothing massage for your muscles.

“All right,” the last person still in the tub said, shivering slightly as he got out. “See you two inside later. I’m getting cold too.”

When he had gone, you turned to Lucy. “Everyone keeps saying it’s cold. I don’t think it’s cold. What about you?”

Lucy, now stretching out and opening her eyes, smiled at you. “Maybe it’s because you were on my lap,” she said, her voice warm and playful. “We only turned up the temperature a few minutes ago. They probably felt cold before the water had a chance to warm up.”

You nodded, grinning, and made your way back to her, climbing onto her lap again. “So now that they’re gone…”

“Mhm,” Lucy smiled, pulling you closer. “I’m listening.”

You started to sing softly, the lyrics of “Darte un Beso” by Prince Royce spilling from your lips. “Pensar como te pienso es un pecado, mirar como te miro está prohibido, yo solo quiero darte un beso…” You laughed at your own antics.

Lucy raised an eyebrow in confusion. “What?”

You chuckled harder. “It’s a silly song,” you said, laughing. “The singer is even more ridiculous. But the lyrics just spoke to me.”

Lucy tilted her head. “What does it mean?”

You leaned closer, cupping her face with one hand and tracing her shoulders with the other. “Thinking about you the way I do is a sin,” you sang again, softly, now the translation of what you were singing. “Looking at you the way I do is unethical. But I just want to give you a kiss,” you chuckled, before leaning in and delivering the kiss you’d promised.

Lucy hummed into the kiss, her lips responding to yours with equal affection. “Hmm,” she murmured against your lips. “And I thought I was supposed to be the ‘down bad’ one. You’re the one serenading me.”

You smiled, resting your hands against her toned stomach and pulling back. “Mhm,” you said. “I won’t deny it.”

She chuckled and pulled you closer again, capturing your lips in another kiss.

“Okay, maybe I do understand them,” you pouted as you pulled back, your breath visible in the cool air. You and Lucy had been making out for a good ten minutes, but now, the chill was starting to seep in, making you shiver slightly.

Lucy chuckled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Cold?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, trying to suppress another shiver. “Shower?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, glancing toward the house. “If we’ve put everything back here, I’m sure yfs/n and Marc will be done by now.”

You stepped out of the tub, wrapping your towel around yourself quickly to fend off the cold. Lucy stayed behind for a moment, her focus shifting to the buttons on the jacuzzi, figuring out how to turn it off. The smaller tub had already been switched off by one of your friends earlier, so all that was left was to cover them.

Lucy moved to the covers that were propped against the wall, lifting the one from the smaller tub with ease and setting it in place. You walked over to help with the larger one, knowing how heavy the halves could be, but Lucy stopped you with a gentle hand on your arm. “I can do it, baby. Don’t worry about it.”

You chuckled, recalling the struggle you and yfs/n had gone through to get those covers off in the first place. But maybe you shouldn’t have been surprised as Lucy, with effortless strength, slipped the covers onto the tub, securing them perfectly in to place.

“Wow, so strong,” you complimented her, your voice carrying a light chuckle, though the praise was genuine.

Lucy grinned and flexed her biceps, clearly pleased with your words.

She walked over to you and in one swift motion, she wrapped her arms around your waist, lifting you off the ground and carrying you to the chair where her towel was draped over.

“Aye” you squealed, laughter bubbling up as Lucy effortlessly lifted you.

She chuckled in response, setting you down gently in front of the chair before wrapping her towel around the both of you, cocooning you in her warmth. You leaned into her, feeling the comforting heat radiating from her body. “How are you not cold?” you asked, marveling at her ability to always stay warm.

“Ice baths,” she said smugly, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “You know that I take those, right? I’ve conditioned myself to handle it.”

“You’re crazy,” you chuckled, shaking your head at her as you snuggled closer.

Lucy shrugged, her arms tightening around you. “You love it,” she teased, her voice soft.

You smiled up at her. “I love it,” you admitted, ‘’but now I want a warm shower’’.

“Yfs/n!” you knocked on the locked shower door, your frustration growing with every second. “How long does it take? Ugh.”

“Almost done,” your friend called back, her voice muffled. “Give us ten minutes or something.”

You pulled a face, walking to Lucy, who was casually going through your suitcases, searching underwear for the both of you. “They’re not seriously going to... you know, in our shower, right?” you asked, your expression a mix of disbelief and disgust.

Lucy chuckled, glancing up at you with a grin. “I don’t know, and honestly, I don’t want to know,” she replied, shaking her head as she sifted through the clothes.

“Uhm,” she said, pulling out a stack of clothes you’d picked for her to bring along. “You wanted me to wear this tonight, right?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, reaching for your own suitcase, your fingers trembling slightly as the cold started to get to you. Standing there in a wet bikini wrapped in a damp towel, you couldn’t help but shiver.

“Ugh, I’m freezing,” you muttered, hurriedly grabbing your outfit and rubbing your hands to generate some warmth.

Lucy noticed and closed the distance between you, wrapping her arms around you from behind. “We’ll get warm soon,” she whispered into your ear, her breath hot against your skin, “and if they take too long, maybe we’ll find another way to heat up,” she added, gently starting to kiss your neck.

You lean back against her, humming in content as she warms you, ‘’we can’t’’ you groan, as she started nipping at your skin ‘’what if she opens that door to let us know they’re done?’’.

‘’Ten minutes right’’ Lucy grinned against you as she made some space between the two of you to pull away your towel, ‘’and they probably won’t even open that door’’.

You sighed as you knew your body had already agreed a minute ago, so you turned your head and answered her with a kiss.

Lucy’s lips curled into a mischievous smile as she felt you give in. She deepened the kiss, her hands expertly working to peel away the cold, damp bikini that still clung to your skin. The warmth of her touch was a stark contrast to the chill that had settled into your bones, and you couldn’t help but shiver but not only from the cold this time, also from the anticipation building between you.

As she turned you around, her fingers traced a line down your spine, sending sparks of heat through your body. “I’ll get you nice and warm again,” she whispered against your lips.

Lucy discarded her own wet bikini, letting it fall to the floor before scooping you into her arms and carrying you to the bed. The covers enveloped you both, and you sighed in relief, glad your hair had stayed dry, otherwise you’d be freezing now.

The space beneath the covers quickly grew warm, a cocoon where the world outside no longer mattered.

Lucy’s lips began a slow descent down your body, leaving trails of electricity in their path. When she spread your legs and pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, a moan of anticipation escaped your lips.

Quickly she rose back up, leaving you frustrated and aching for more.

She hovered over you, her smile both teasing and affectionate. "Shh, baby," she murmured, her tone gentle yet commanding. Her fingers traced a path along your center, gathering your wetness as she brought them to her lips, tasting you with a satisfied hum.

Leaning down, she kissed your neck, her breath hot against your skin as you tilted your head back into the pillow. "I know you can be quiet for me, hm?" she coaxed, her voice a low purr.

You nodded, your breath catching as she teased your entrance with her fingers. "Y-yeah, quiet," you managed, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Lucy chuckled softly, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that swallowed your moans as she slid her fingers inside. "So pretty," she breathed, her gaze locked on your face, admiring the way you responded to her touch.

Your brows knitted together as you tried to focus, but it was impossible with the way her fingers curled inside you, each movement unraveling you further. She shifted again, her mouth finding your chest, her tongue and lips lavishing attention on your sensitive nipples as your hips bucked involuntarily beneath her.

You couldn’t help but marvel at how easily your body yielded to her, how quickly you fell apart under her touch. In mere minutes, you were a trembling mess, lost in the pleasure she so expertly provided.

"el teu torn!" (Your turn) Your best friends shouts through the door.

Lucy's movements stop for a second, making your almost-orgasm dissappear.

You whine, she presses her hand on your mouth, "thanks yfs/n!" She called in her most normal voice.

Lucy leaned back down to kiss your neck, "i'm so sorry baby, i will make it up to you".

She kisses down as she released her hand, you can't even think of a reply because she is already working her way down your body.

She kissed your tummy looking up at you, "try to keep quiet pretty girl" she said slopely kissing your soft skin.

You squirm as she dives lower and lower, your already so sensitive from her previous build-up.

She groanes as she finally connects her mouth with your slick pussy, she eagerly lapt up your wetness before focussing on your bundel of nerves.

You bit your lip as she sucked on your swollen bud, arching from the bed as she let her tongue circle it.

You feel your walls convulsing, as your almost tipping over the edge.

When she brings her fingers back up, easing them inside, you pull her pillow on top of your head to muffle your moans, afraid she'll stop again.

She brings her other hand up around your leg, gently putting a little pressure below your belly button and with that you're a goner.

The muscles in your legs thighten as the tension that had build up behind your center snaps.

A wave of plessure washes over you.

Lucy hungrily nestled herself deeper between your legs as she lapt at the wetness dripping out of you.

She whipes her chin on your leg, placing a couple more kisses before climbing back, hovering over you.

You frown at her, chuckling in disbelieve "did you just use my leg as a towel?".

She grinned leaning in, "yep, i don't know why either" she kissed you, "sometimes i'm just so random".

You shake your head and accept the kiss. Lucy did have some quirks, but you could only love her more for it, if she wouldn't you would've suspected that she was an allen.

...

After showering you and Lucy got dressed in your nice, but casual, outfits and got back downstairs to help everyone.

You were preparing a dish as your best friend came up behind you.

She pinched your sides, making your jump and yelp.

She chuckled as she stepped closer, "hipòcrita, no se'ns permet tenir relacions sexuals a la dutxa i després escolto el teu joc previ per la porta" she whispered laughing, "but i hope it was good".

You blushed furiously as she stepped away chuckling.

Lucy looked at you curiously from where she was setting the table, lifting her chin as to ask what yfs/n wanted.

You bit your lip, smiling akwardly at her. She returned an akward knowing smile, before glancing over at yfs/n.

You nodded, making her make an 'eek' face.

You chuckled, well, there would probably be worst persons to overhear you and Lucy being intimate, you hoped Marc didn't hear any of it.

After the nice dinner everyone helped to set the room up for a party.

Tables were shoved to the sides.

Someone brought lights that got hung up.

Golden balloons were blown up.

The music got tested and after that it just stayed on, on a low volume, creating a happy setting.

You chuckled as you spotted Lucy helping Pascal create a dance floor, she got pressed to show some moves. Your friends were lively partygoers, everyone in your group danced. But you smiled as you saw Lucy doing some moves without hesitation, you already knew the girl loved to dance but you were happy to see her do it infront of others too.

You chuckled as you saw her getting cocky, signalling people to step aside. You guessed she was going to do the worm, it was her party trick, but you were surprised to see her do the reversed worm. A move she had just started practicing at home.

You smiled as your friends clapped to cheer her on, another friend, who you knew was really skillfull at dancing came closer to see what the fuss was about.

"Ay Lucia, ballarina, la teva sang portuguesa no ho és" he called excitedly.

She stood up with a chuckle, and beat her clothes free of dust from the floor, "allright, dance floor is in great condition, who's next then".

The guys chuckled at her joke and pushed the guy that could dance forward.

...

It was 3 minutes before midnight, everyone had put on a coat and was standing outside now.

One person had a count down pulled up on their phone.

A few others where bended over some fireworks, ready to set fire to the fuses.

You took Lucy's hand as you leaned your head on her shoulder, watching some other fireworks going off in the distance.

With 20 seconds on the clock, the fuses were lit.

The guys stood up and quickly walked back to the group.

10.

7. Lucy put her arm around you as you put your fingers in your ears.

2. BANG BANG, all the loud fireworks exploded in the sky, making the group lit up in different beautiful shades of colours.

"Happy New Year!!!!" Lucy turned to you with a big smile, leaning in to kiss you.

You smiled as you took her face and stood on your tiptoes to reach her.

"Happy 2024 y/n" she whispered as she pulled back, "i hope i'll enter every year after this with your lips on mine".

You didn't know why, but her words made you a little emotional. Or maybe it also had to do with the alcohol in your blood. But the promise of the two of you spending the rest of your lives together sounded like a dream come true.

#lucy bronze smut #woso smut #woso fanfics #lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #woso #woso imagine #ona batlle smut

136 notes · View notes

honey-flustered · 8 months ago

Text

Teaser For…

Along For The Ride 2 (MDNI+18)

Farmer!Older!Beefy!Eddie Munson x Rich!Mean!Reader

You insist. “This is all my fault. I kissed you.”

“And I initiated the whole thing by getting on top of you.” Eddie argues.

“Only because I practically enticed you to reach over me.”

“Except you didn’t have to do much enticing, if any at all,” He says intensely, taking a step closer and hovering over you. “I knew you’d give me the goddamn joint but I reached for it because I…because I wanted to feel…shit, I—I don’t know. But what I did was wrong. In a way, I’m like your temporary boss—-mentor, even. It feels like some corrupt power dynamic I’ve established—-“

“I wanted it,” You say, thwarting his ‘power imbalance’ theory. “I kissed you because I wanted to. That’s it. I was horny, getting high, your lips were there, your body…god, your body was on mine and I wanted to kiss you so badly it hurt.”

You hadn’t noticed how intense things had become until you could hear your labored breaths; panting heavily and not once breaking eye contact.

“You were a gentleman,” You continued. “My brain was fogged up with lust and you could have easily taken advantage of that. You..did right by ending things before it got too far. My body doesn’t realize that. In fact, it still curses you for leaving me high and dry—or wet, for the matter. But you are, indeed, the more responsible adult between us.”

He laughs dryly, shaking his head. “Gentleman? If I stayed a second longer…if you asked me to…I’m not sure I’d have had the strength to stop it.”

You bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning, staring up at him with doe eyes. “What do we do now?”

…..

Working on it consistently and yall know it’s slow burn so when that sex scene hit, it’ll hit different lol

Read part 1 here

Series Taglist: @emma77645 , @eddiesguitarskills , @makaylalovessmut , @supersmexyandhot , @mykuup , @person-005 , @serenadingtigers , @only4wakingup , @anobbs-blog , @empathyroad , @micheledawn1975 , @123iloveyou456 , @ireidsmut , @tlclick73 , @mrsmunson86baby , @zestychili , @cupid-club

189 notes · View notes

topgun-imagines · 1 year ago

Text

Forget Me Not (ii)

Requested: no

Summary: Jake struggles with coming to terms with new information from your doctor. Rooster and Phoenix try to convince him to tell you the truth.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: Amnesia, memory loss, possibly inaccurate medical terminology, injury’s, plane crash, miscarriage, hospitals, angst.

Pairings: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x wife!reader

Previous part | Next part

“Lieutenant,” the man started, glancing down at his notes. “I regret to inform you,” He paused once more and Jake really wished that the man would just spit it out already. “Your wife was eight weeks pregnant. Unfortunately, there was nothing that could be done to save the baby.” Suddenly, Jake’s whole world came crashing down around him.

His knees dropped out from under him. Within seconds, Rooster was by his side, grabbing the large pilot before he could crash into the ground. The mustached aviator thanked the doctor quietly as he pulled Jake into him. As the older man stepped away, Jake’s breathing sped up. You were two months pregnant. With his baby. He had no idea and if you did, you probably didn’t even remember by now.

“Jake, you gotta tell me what’s goin’ on.” Bradley murmured as fat tears began rolling down Jake’s cheeks. He hated the fact that he was now crying in front of Bradley and Natasha but at the thought of his wife losing their baby, he couldn’t help it.

Holding him tightly, Bradley waited patiently for the pilot to explain what news the doctor had given him. “She was pregnant,” The pilot eventually choked out. Bradley couldn’t help but focus on the was. “She lost it in the crash. The doctor said that there was nothing that they could do to save it.” Sighing, Bradley squeezed his wingman tighter. He knew that the two of you had been trying to get pregnant ever since you got married. The two of you would make amazing parents, everyone was sure of it.

Now, Jake not only had to deal with the fact that he couldn’t tell you that you were married, he also couldn’t tell you that you were pregnant. He sniffled quietly in Bradley’s arms. Jake had no idea what he was going to do.

You woke up to the steady beeping of the heart monitor. Blinking slowly, you sat up on the squeaky bed and groaned as your joints cracked. A few moments passed as you sat in silence, mulling over everything that had happened since you woke up. You instantly thought of Jake. the man was so familiar and yet you couldn’t even remember him. It was driving you crazy.

Seconds later the same nurse from earlier walked in, interrupting your train of thought. She smiled at you kindly. “How are you feeling now, Dear?” The elderly woman questioned as she began taking your vitals. You watched her silently for a few seconds.

“A bit better,” You started. “My breathing is a little easier and my leg doesn’t hurt as bad,” You gestured toward your leg resting on the bed in a white cast. The nurse nodded, jotting down a few notes before informing you that she would be back later and moving to step out of your room. “Could you actually do me a favor ma’am?” You question shyly. She nodded, looking up and watching you patiently. “Could you please send Jake in?”

With a knowing smile, the elderly nurse nodded and stepped out of your room to fetch the pilot. There were butterflies fluttering all around your stomach as you willed yourself not to stare at the door. You didn’t know why you were so anxious to see him. The gentle knock on your door had your head turning so fast you almost got whiplash.

Jake was standing there with a hesitant look on his face. If you looked close enough, you could see the tear stains on his cheeks. You blushed slightly under his heavy gaze and patted the arm of the chair next to you. “How’re you feeling?” Jake questioned as he sat down on the plastic chair. At that moment you realized that he had spent four days waiting for you to wake up in that same uncomfortable plastic chair, and never complained one bit. Did you really mean that much to him?

“A bit better,” You started, noticing the small smile that rose on Jake’s face. “I still can’t remember anything, if that’s what you’re wondering.” That was all he could have wanted. You assumed that that was all he was worried about.

Immediately, the pilot began shaking his head. “That isn’t all I was asking. I really did want to know if you were okay,” Now it was your turn to smile, cheeks turning a crimson colour at the sincerity of his words. Jake grinned. He was glad that he could still make you smile like that. “I was wondering, if you’re feeling up to it,” He started. “If you would like to meet some friends?” He watched you carefully to gauge your reaction.

You sucked in a breath. Even though you were anxious to meet people that you may not even remember, you knew that it would need to happen eventually. For some reason, You trusted Jake. Part of you knew that he would never purposely put you in an uncomfortable position. You nodded and Jake smiled softly.

After a few last words, Jake stepped out of the room to retrieve Bradley and Natasha. You waited anxiously, plucking at a loose thread on the scratchy hospital sheets.

Phoenix had her head resting on Bradley’s shoulder as she watched him play Candy Crush. His thumb stopped moving across the screen when he heard someone approach them. Through sleepy eyes, Phoenix looked up at Jake. The two tired pilots waited for Jake to begin speaking. “She wants to see you two,” Without further explanation, they stood from the hard chair and followed Jake down the hall. He stopped them in front of your room. “Please, don’t say anything about us or the baby.” Jake practically pleaded with them. They nodded with sympathetic expressions.

When your door cracked open, your head shot up to watch who was going to walk in. Jake came in first, followed by a woman that looked oddly familiar, you just couldn’t remember her name. But you could remember seeing her at a navy bar one night. It was just after you were stationed in Lemoore. And then the second person walked in. You immediately recognized the mustache.

“Bradley?” Jake felt his stomach drop. You remembered Bradshaw, and yet you couldn’t remember your own husband. Bradley spoke your nickname quietly, looking at Jake for permission before sitting in that same uncomfortable chair. “Why,” You started, glancing between Bradley, the strange woman, and Jake. You couldn’t help but notice the empty look in his eyes and the white skin around his knuckles as he clenched his fists. “Why can I remember you and no one else?”

Bradley smiled at you gently. The two of you had been stationed overseas when you first met. It was only a few months before when you met your future husband. You and Bradley had instantly hit it off, and ever since then, he had thought of you as a little sister. “I think it's because we met first.” He was trying to communicate a silent message to Jake. The only reason that you could remember Bradley and not him was simply because you met first. Not because you cared about Bradley more than Jake.

Jake nodded to himself, knowing that whether he wanted to believe it or not, Bradley’s words were true. Seconds later, you were nodding as well.

Standing up, Bradley moved next to Phoenix, encouraging her to introduce herself. The female pilot had tears in her eyes. Over the past three years, ever since you met, the two of you had become best friends. She was your maid of honour when you got married to Jake. Even though you couldn’t remember it, she was there to hold your hair back when you were throwing up, she was there every time you anxiously took a pregnancy test, and she was there for you after each negative result. She knew you better than anyone and the same was true for you.

“My name’s Natasha,” She started. Her words were watery and she willed herself not to cry. “We met a few years ago in Lemoore and we’ve been best friends ever since.” Now you were almost in tears. You couldn’t believe that you had forgotten your own best friend.

Jake watched as you and Phoenix became reacquainted, the female pilot filling you in on all the crazy adventures you had over the past few years. There was a small smile on his face. He loved seeing you happy, and the bright grin on your face was the best sight he had seen in weeks. He shared a look with Bradley, silently thanking him for staying by his side throughout all of this. The two of them sat down on the other plastic chairs in the far corner of the room, watching you and Natasha laugh with soft smiles.

Everything seemed to be taking a turn for the better now. Given everything that happened yesterday, Jake was almost positive that things would never get better. He knew that eventually, he would have to tell you everything. But for now, he was only focused on the wide smile on your face. Maybe everything would be okay after all.

a/n: Thank you for reading! Stay tuned for future parts and let me know if you would like to be tagged! Requests are open <3

Tagging: @topguncultleader @soulmates8 @t0kyoreveng3rs @there-goes-thefighter @supercatgirl006 @blueoorchid @dempy @dreamgirl3300 @atarmychick007 @alexxavicry @bradleybeachbabe @chaoticassidy @ice-doc-val @nyx2021 @aviatorobsessed @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @natt-67 @angelbabyange @oliviah-25 @cassiemitchell @classyunknownlover @shelbycillian @khaylin27 @bruher @sunsetsimpsblog @lovelywiseprincess @fandom-life-12 @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @emmza63 @cornishkat @iceman-kazansky @himbos-on-ice @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @wkndwlff @entertainmentgal8 @djs8891 @blackwidownat2814 @your-local-crzy-lady @dakotakazansky @kmc1989 @shanimallina87 @memoriesat30 @sarahjoestewy-blog @butterscotchcookies @ducks118 @marvelouslyme96 @linkpk88 @missathlete31 @xoxabs88xox @hzstry8 @abbymwall @eternallyvenus @keileighr @rey26 @lt-spork

Join my taglist!

641 notes · View notes

spinningwebsandtales · 1 year ago

Text

Imagine Taking A Relaxing Bath With Yami

Yami Sukehiro X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Suggestive themes, mentions of nudity, flirting, and I believe Yami is a warning in himself

Word Count: 1k

(A/N:) Oh my gosh y’all! The Black Clover movie is sooooo good! It made me realize how much I miss the anime! I’m keeping up with the manga and reading the chapters as they are released but man there are so many things I want to see come to life! Hey Black Clover studio new season when?! Anyway my magical husband is back (he needed more scenes but honestly I can’t get enough Yami anyway) and I need some self-indulgence stuff! XD So bear with me as I go insane! ~Countess

The Black Bulls had been your home for awhile now and you had seen many battles. Some tough. Some easy. The other members felt like family and you grew closer to each and every one of them every single day. Yami was a different story as you were in a relationship with the dark haired captain. While he seemed rough and crude, he was actually a caring man that showed how much he cared in different ways. He always seemed to in tune to your needs or how you were feeling. While he wasn’t much into PDA, in private he made sure to make up for it tenfold. You couldn’t complain about your life and you enjoyed all that being a magic knight had to offer. But it wasn’t easy all the time. Missions were rough and you did get hurt several times. It was the aches the next day that had you trying to rest to get well enough before the next mission.

Your body was covered in scratches and bruises were beginning to mar your skin. Yami had been out the majority of the day as he had a meeting with the wizard king. He took the loudest Black Bull members with him as well, leaving the base quiet enough that you could get some much needed rest.

Night was covering the sky and still Yami had yet to return. At first you had been concerned that he was hurt or finding the company of other women. But you were quick to find out Yami was strong and not that type of man. Though he did enjoy gambling too much and if you went to look for him, you normally found him gambling all his earnings and then some, away in some seedy tavern. So instead of worrying, you decided to ease the aches by taking a much needed hot bath. Grabbing the few supplies you kept for your personal use, you went to the bathing room of the base. There was two different areas, one for the women and one for the men. Naturally you went into the women’s bath and the steam that greeted you had you relaxing just from the feel alone.

All the tension melted away as soon as you hit the hot water and in mere seconds you were submerged up to your neck. You hummed softly stretching your joints and wiggling your digits in the water. You hadn’t been soaking long when the door opened. You weren’t facing the doorway and you couldn’t really see due to the heavy fog of steam, so the only option was to call out the name of the person you thought it could be.

“Vanessa?”

The clack of a wooden tub and a rough chuckle split the air, “Not even close sweetheart.”

You couldn’t get turned around before Yami was kissing the back of your neck. His large hand keeping your hair out of the way of his affections.

“Yami,” you whimpered.

“Mmmm?”

“This is the women’s bath you perv.”

Yami only chuckled and you braved turning around. Relief flooded you at seeing he was a little decent with the loincloth still wrapped around him. Though it made you realize your situation as you were naked as the day you were born. While he was occupied you grabbed the towel you’d brought to dry off with and wrapped yourself in it, to save a little bit of your womanly modesty. Yami had rinsed himself off and didn’t take long on getting in himself. Like you he was tired and sore and the hot water was doing wonders for his body. While you were happy to see him you stayed on the far side of the bath giving him enough space. Yami didn’t like you so far away, so while you were occupied lathering a cloth with soap he made his move. You squeaked when you felt his large hands grasp your waist and unceremoniously plopped you into his lap with a splash. You fought causing water to go over the edge of the tub, but Yami held firm refusing to let you go.

“Do your thing I’m not even here,” he grinned before nibbling at your bare shoulder.

“It sure feels like you’re here,” you retorted.

You couldn’t be mad at him though as you felt safe in his arms while the warmth of the water seeped into your bones. Yami continued to kiss you while watching you scrub at your arms and legs, getting yourself clean. You rinsed off, splashing Yami a little in the process. You were about to get up when he opened the back of your towel. Before you could protest he shushed you quickly, taking the cloth you had used and started to wash your back. You melted into his touch as he got where you couldn’t reach. His fingertips blazing a trail down your spine, you shivered despite the heat. When he was done, Yami spun you around so you could face him. Your towel barely holding up as you kept a hand pressed to your chest. His warm gaze lingered on your lips before he leaned in and took your mouth. You moaned loudly, clinging onto the giant of a man that you called yours. Your senses filled with Yami. His touch, his breath, his skin, everything. You begin to lose where you ended and he started as he starved for your taste. The water suddenly became too hot and you couldn’t take it much longer. Yami sensed your desperation and pulled away. He chuckled at your dazed look while helping lift you from the water. He got you a dry towel and turned away, leaving you to change into something decent. When you were done, Yami had changed into a fresh pair of sleep pants. He took your hand, leading you out of the room and towards your and his shared bedroom. Your aches had finally left your body and you were ready to go back to work. Though you were sure you were going to need another bath to ease yourself of the pains if Yami had his way tonight. There was a high chance he would get what he wanted, as you couldn’t say no to your beloved captain.

#Yami Sukehiro X Reader #Yami Sukehiro / Reader #Yami Sukehiro #Black Clover #Yami Sukehiro Imagine #Black Clover Imagine #Imagine #Not My Gif #My Writing

647 notes · View notes

dindjarindiaries · 4 months ago

Text

Senator's Shadow - Chapter 10 (Epilogue)

summary: Years later, you reflect upon your first mission with Hunter and the squad, now experiencing the sergeant's love more openly than ever.

pairing: hunter (the bad batch) x fem!reader

rating: mature (18+)

tags: bodyguard romance, forbidden love, fluff & angst, emotional & physical hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, injuries & blood, trauma, eventual/mild smut

word count: 5.258k

chapter 9 ⟸ series masterlist

chapter 10 (epilogue) ⟹

“Then what?”

Omega’s eyes were lit up in a way that made you laugh. She was on the edge of her seat, which, in this case, was a rock just off the shore of Pabu’s luscious blue waters. You shrugged and continued to smile at her eager expression. “My people elected a new senator, and I joined the squad. Hunter had me stay with Cut and Suu whenever they had to go back to Kamino.”

“Oh, yeah! I remember you telling me why you were with Cut and Suu when we met.” Omega raised her brow, and you took a moment to observe her in the twilight. Stars, had she gotten old, but so had all the rest of you. “Were you on that mission with them to Onderon?”

You shook your head. “Hunter told me about it, but I stayed behind because of his hesitance—mostly thanks to your warning.”

Omega smiled and jostled your shoulder with hers. “You’re welcome.” She let out a soft sigh, her expression becoming more serious. “Thank you for sharing that story with me. I’ve always wanted to know.”

You beamed, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. “Thank you for listening to it. It’s very special, and I’m glad you’ve finally reached the age where I can start telling you these things.”

Omega narrowed her eyes playfully. “Hunter wouldn’t let you tell me before, would he?”

You laughed. “He never specifically said as much, but… you know him.”

You heard a crumble of rock from up above, and both you and Omega glanced at where Hunter had so obviously been perching to listen to the story for the past half-hour or so. You and Omega both chuckled before you looked at her with a raised brow.

“Protective.” You grew more serious. “He didn’t want anyone to know I used to be a senator, and I agreed with him. The only reason why we didn’t tell you is so no one would try to use you for that kind of information. But…” you gave her a proud once-over, “clearly, you’re old enough to handle yourself, now.”

Omega beamed at you before resting her head against your shoulder. You kept her hand and gave it another squeeze, your stare fixating on the Pabu horizon as she spoke. “At least somebody around here thinks that.”

You chuckled and rested your head against hers. “Give them time.”

Omega’s eyes glanced up at you with an amused sparkle. “They’re already all gray and complaining about their joints. How much longer do they need?”

That drew a louder laugh from you. All you could do was shake your head at her and shrug, minding her head on your shoulder. “Good question.” You heard more crumbling from above and it created a skip in your heartbeat. “Bold of you to say it within Hunter’s earshot, though.”

Omega made a psh sound. “I doubt he could hear it. His senses are fading.”

“You wish.” Hunter’s gravelly voice was already close to your free side. You turned your head to look at him.

Nothing about that first glimpse at him had changed over the years. In fact, the flutters he brought you were only more intense.

Especially now, as the smile he wore on his lips caused the corners of his eyes to crease and wrinkle. His hair had gotten longer, much to your pleasure, and the pieces that fell over his woven bandana gave him an even softer edge. Somehow, time had made him even more handsome. You hadn’t realized that was possible.

His stare caught yours, and you smiled as you looked down, your ears burning. Something about that look in his eyes told you that you would be hearing about this later.

“How much would you be trying to get away with if that were true?” Hunter had stopped next to you, his arms crossing over his chest as he raised his brow at Omega.

Omega rolled her eyes and sat up from your shoulder. You let her hand go. “You’d want me to get into trouble just so you could help me.”

Hunter’s brow furrowed. “I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble, period.” His jaw ticked. “You’ve gone through enough for one lifetime.”

Omega’s gaze softened at the moment your chest tightened. It had been hard for him to let go of everything Omega had been through over the years. You had spent many late nights reminding him that it wasn’t his fault, nor his burden to bear—and that it was because of him and his brothers that she now had an entire life of peace ahead of her, if she wanted it.

Omega stood to her feet and pasted on a reassuring smile. “Maybe, but I’ve learned how to keep going, anyway.” She stepped forward to wrap her arms around Hunter, who was surprised enough at first to widen his eyes. “Thanks to you.”

Hunter melted against her, and your heart did the very same inside your chest. You stood up but continued giving them space as you watched Hunter’s eyes close in sweet satisfaction. After a few heartbeats, Omega pulled away, her brow raised at him.

“So, you really managed to pull a senator?” Omega gave one of his shoulders a playful punch.

You and Hunter both laughed as he shrugged, his gaze finding yours again. “I got lucky.” Even in the darkening night, you could see the sparkle within his brown depths, one that never failed to make your heart beat just a bit faster. There was no doubt he could hear it.

You beamed and stepped closer to his side. Your hand found his, and you laced your fingers together in a way that completed you. “Luck had nothing to do with it.”

The two of you kept staring at one another. That was a habit you had failed to slip out of. The corners of Hunter’s mouth were lifted in a warm smile that remained even as he lifted your entwined hands to his lips and kissed the back of yours, the hair on his upper lip and jaw gently tickling your smooth skin.

Omega clasped her hands together before she spoke into the suspended silence. “Awww, that’s the thing!”

That broke your gaze quickly. Hunter’s eyes betrayed his confusion as his brow shot up at Omega. “What thing?”

Omega rolled her eyes and gestured to your entwined hands. “The hand-kiss that made you two fall in love. Obviously.” She looked at you and shook her head. “I told you he couldn’t hear us.”

It was Hunter’s turn to roll his eyes. No wonder where Omega had gotten that from. “I heard everything, Omega. And even if I hadn’t…” he paused, his stare finding you again, “I would always remember the moment my life changed forever.”

There he went again, effortlessly making your galaxy nothing but him for the moment. You smiled so wide your cheeks hurt, and your free hand rose to cup the side of his bearded face. The pull between you was like gravity, bringing your foreheads and your noses together as you both closed your eyes and savored your closeness.

Given everything that had happened since you two had met, you took every chance you could get to savor him.

Omega squealed, a sound that brought you both back to reality. “This is so much more adorable to see with context!”

You giggled as you lifted your head from Hunter’s to look at Omega. “And don’t you ever settle for anything less.”

Hunter’s hand gave yours a panicked squeeze. “Let’s not talk about that.”

You and Omega both laughed at his protectiveness. Hunter narrowed his eyes at you as you nodded in his direction. “Yeah.” You leaned closer to Omega and lowered your voice. “Wait ‘til you’re off the island.”

Omega huffed and gave her head a fond shake. “Speaking of getting off the island… I’ve gotta go to a quick meeting.” She gave you a hug, and you dropped Hunter’s hand in favor of embracing her back. “Thank you again for telling that story. It means a lot that you can trust me.”

You smiled at her as you pulled away and held the sides of her face. Really, when did she get so grown-up? “We’ve always trusted you. It’s just that now, we know you can keep yourself safe, too.” You lowered her forehead to your lips and kissed it. “Safe travels. Okay?”

Hunter’s tone was low as he questioned her. “Who are you meeting with?”

Omega gave your wrists a squeeze and stepped away. “I’ll be back soon!” She grinned before turning and jogging off.

Hunter raised his voice for her to hear. “Is it Hera?” Omega didn’t respond, but he continued to call after her anyway. “It’s Hera, isn’t it?”

You took his hand again and gave it a squeeze. “You know the answer.”

Hunter’s brow creased, though he kept his gaze focused on Omega’s fading image. “She’s gonna get caught up in that rebellion.”

“She already is.” The nod you gave him was as reassuring as you could make it. “And when the time comes, you’ll have to let her go.”

Hunter let out a heavy sigh before he ultimately returned your nod. He turned his full attention back on you, which only heightened the intoxicating effect he’s always had on you. The worry etched in his expression dissipated as he drank in the sight of you, his warm eyes giving you a familiar once-over that made your knees weak.

“I liked your retelling of our story.” Hunter wore a mischievous smile as his forehead found yours again. “But you were missing a few… details.”

You raised your brow, chuckling as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “If you want to tell your daughter about our sex life, be my guest.”

Hunter’s nose scrunched up. “Why did you have to say it like that?”

You laughed, the giddiness within you rising when Hunter’s hands caressed your waist and held you in place against him. “You’re the one who brought it up!”

Hunter shrugged, though it wasn’t hard to catch the amused sparkle in his eyes—especially when you were this close to him. “That’s not the only thing I was talking about, though.” A knit formed in his brow as his gaze searched yours. “You didn’t tell her you resigned.”

You let out a soft exhale, your gaze falling to your hands as they slid down from his neck. Once they reached his waist, you held him tight and pressed your cheek against his chest, and the hand he set upon the back of your head welcomed you there. “It doesn’t matter how it happened.” You closed your eyes and let his warmth wash over you. “I was always going to come back to you.”

Hunter said nothing, no doubt rendered speechless as he kept you close and rested his head against yours. There wasn’t a single day where you regretted taking the path that led you to him and the rest of your newfound family. It hadn’t been easy, but you would do it all over again to be exactly where you are right now.

After a few more long moments of sweet silence, you spoke up again. “Has Echo gotten back to you yet?”

Hunter tensed underneath your grasp. “No.” His response was a sigh coated in concern. “He’s probably on a mission.”

Your lips pulled tight. “He hasn’t visited in a while.”

“I know.”

Your eyes reopened, watching the Pabu sun as it slid beyond the horizon. “Telling Omega our story reminded me of how much I miss him.” You held your breath and hoped the pressure would dull the sudden pain in your chest. “And Tech.”

Hunter’s chest also stalled underneath your cheek. You lifted your head to look at him, but his gaze couldn’t meet yours. Your hand cupped his cheek while your thumb ran along his skin to soothe him. When his eyes did meet yours again, he gently shook his head. All these years, and it still wasn’t something he could talk about—at least, not like this.

You offered him a reassuring smile. “Come on.” You gestured with your head to Pabu’s night sky, where only a few lingering lights of twilight were left. “It’s getting late. Let’s get you to bed.”

Hunter returned your smile, but it was one of both gratitude and amusement. “You think I’m old enough for a bedtime this early?”

You laughed as you took one of his hands and held it tight in yours. You wrapped the other around his arm. “Going to bed doesn’t mean going to sleep.”

Hunter’s stare returned to you again. You looked up at him through your lashes, enjoying the hard swallow he took before he circled his jaw and focused on the way ahead again. There was a blush creeping up his neck.

You let out a softer laugh and rested your head against his arm. “Still nervous, Sergeant?”

Hunter huffed. “You’ll always make me nervous, Senator.” He gave you another quick glance. “But only in the best way.”

“I know.” You were beaming now as your thoughts returned to the story you had just told. “I really enjoyed telling Omega our story.”

Hunter’s hand gave yours a gentle squeeze. “I did, too.”

“What was your favorite part?”

Hunter hummed thoughtfully. You watched his dark eyes sparkle as he reviewed each memory. “Our first kiss.”

Your brow shot up at him. “When you had a fresh blaster wound in your side?”

Hunter shrugged. “It wasn’t that bad, honestly.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Need I remind you that you passed out from blood loss and I had to drag you to that base myself?”

Hunter was silent for a moment, but the tension wasn’t bad. It was the kind that made your galaxy hazy. “Now that you’ve reminded me, we have to pick up the pace.”

You giggled as he gently tugged you along. “You weren’t this excited about all of that happening at the time.”

“Because I didn’t know the outcome yet.” Hunter glanced over at you with a look warm enough to rival the last rays of Pabu’s setting sun. “If I had known I’d get a lifetime with you, I would’ve reacted differently.” He added the last part under his breath. “And bleeding out wasn’t helping, either.”

You lifted your head and pointed your finger at him. “I told you it was a factor!”

Hunter gave his eyes a dramatic roll. “Whatever.” He stopped the two of you for a moment, and the hand of his you weren’t holding held the side of your neck. “It didn’t stop me from doing this.”

He leaned in for a kiss so breathtaking and passionate that it made your knees buckle for a moment, but Hunter sensed it easily enough to steady you with his arm around your waist. The movement brought you flush against him, his hips caressing yours in a way that had you gasping for breath. Hunter let you borrow his own air, his parted lips offering everything he had for you to take. You accepted and relented, your hands now busy with the long hair at the nape of his neck as you easily lost yourself in your familiar rhythm.

Hunter’s tongue had only just started a breathtaking exploration of your mouth when the sound of a rock hitting the ground just beside your feet broke you apart. He shielded you for a moment before you both looked at the source.

A smirking Crosshair was sitting beside Wrecker, the former tossing another rock in his left hand as the latter cupped his hands around his mouth. “Get a room!”

You laughed and shrugged, too familiar with them all now to feel embarrassed that you’d been caught. Hunter was just unfazed as he yelled back at them. “Your aim’s getting better, Crosshair!”

Crosshair rolled his eyes and abandoned the rock in his hand. Wrecker jostled his brother’s shoulder just to earn a glare for the action. Meanwhile, you and Hunter took the opportunity to “sneak” away, his hand returning to yours as he led the two of you to the aforementioned room.

“Crosshair’s only getting grumpier with age,” you joked, though the statement was quite true.

Hunter chuckled and raised an eyebrow at you. “You say that like it’s surprising.” After a few moments of peaceful silence between the two of you, Hunter spoke again, his voice even softer than before. “It’s your turn, now.”

You furrowed your brow and looked up at him. “For what?”

His stare met yours. “To tell me your favorite part of the story.”

You grinned. “Oh, right.” You mused on the question for a small while, swinging your entwined hands between the two of you as you did so. Finally, you made your decision, and you took a deep breath before saying it. “The banquet.”

Hunter glanced over at you in surprise. “Really?” You nodded. “Why?”

You beamed. “Because that’s when I knew.”

Hunter’s expression morphed into confusion as he processed your words. You let out a soft laugh and rested your head against his arm again.

“You knew exactly what I needed without me having to say it, and the way you treated my holster situation spoke volumes.” You hesitated before adding more. “And when your hand touched my thigh…” you huffed and nodded, “yeah, I knew what we had, and what we could become.”

Hunter smiled at you. “I’m glad I wasn’t the only one who thought that.” His brow raised, instantly making his sweet smile a lot less innocent. “Especially about your thigh.”

You laughed away your shyness, letting your gaze study your feet as you brought yourself closer to his side. “Did you do it on purpose?”

Hunter’s free hand found your chin. He tipped your head back up towards him, a habit he certainly hadn’t grown out of—and you hadn’t grown tired of. “Do what?”

Hot flames licked down your neck as your shyness grew. Only he could still make you feel this way, despite all the years you had spent together. “Touch my thigh.”

The warmth in Hunter’s brown eyes, still golden in the dying lights of Pabu’s sunset, became hotter. “Not at first, no. But your reaction made me want to do it again.”

You held his gaze, no matter how intense it was. “What was my reaction?”

Hunter gave his head a fond shake and lowered his hand from your face. His gaze settled on the horizon as he recounted the memory. “It was probably too quiet for you to even notice you had done it, but… there was this little sigh it got out of you, and I thought about it endlessly until you gave me another sigh to obsess over.”

You looked up at him through your lashes. “How many do you have to obsess over now?”

Hunter’s jaw tightened, as did his grasp on your hand. He exhaled and spoke in a low yet playful voice. “I can only walk so fast with these old knees, love.”

You laughed and rested your head against his arm. “Then it’s a good thing we don’t have to rush.” Hunter’s gaze began to burn upon you again, but you were too busy looking at your entwined hands to meet his eyes. “We have all the time in the galaxy, now.”

That had perhaps been the biggest adjustment after settling down on Pabu. No longer did the two of you have to sneak around and scrounge for spare moments to spend quality time with one another. Part of you missed the thrill of it all, but you were more overwhelmed by your gratitude for this peaceful life you had earned.

But that wasn’t on Hunter’s mind when you listened to him force his next words through a tightened throat. “We have half the time.”

You frowned and found his stare. Hunter had already started to grieve what his and his brothers’ accelerated aging would take from them, and you could see that in the darkened depths of his golden gaze. You raised your free hand to the tattooed side of his face and pulled your expression taut in severity.

“Even just a single second with you is worth the entire galaxy to me, Hunt.” You stopped your stride for a moment and held his face between both your hands, your brow furrowing as you gave him a once-over. “You know that, right?”

Hunter sighed and cut his gaze away from you, but only for a moment. “I do.”

Your heart ached for him. All the things that were taken from him—a proper childhood, a life of his choosing, all of it—made you want to curse those who put him and his brothers in such a position, but without them, he wouldn’t exist. It was conflicting even for you, and you had had enough conversations about it with Hunter to understand how it was for him.

“It’s just…”

You ran your thumbs under his eyes. “I know.” You pulled his head down enough for you to kiss his forehead before gesturing towards the open path ahead of you. “C’mon, Sarge. We’re almost home.”

The word alone made Hunter brighten as he managed a small smile and nodded. You cracked a few jokes on the rest of the trip to lighten Hunter’s spirit even more, mostly at the expense of his brothers, and it worked to relax him back to his normal self by the time you reached the door of your private home. Even just stepping inside filled you with a wave of relief like no other.

But you learned long ago that home wasn’t a place for you. It was a person, and the people he had brought with him into your life.

You looked up at Hunter as the door slid closed behind him. Your hands found the sides of his face again, and in the privacy of your home, you took your time studying him up close. He didn’t let himself grow shy, or at least show his shyness, as his palms splayed over your back and kept you close.

“You know,” your voice was feather-light as you spoke, your gaze flickering all over his face, “you’re only getting more and more handsome with time.” Your fingers gently brushed over the long piece of hair that framed his face.

Hunter beamed, and your chest warmed in relaxation as you failed to find any self-deprecation in his expression. “I would say that you’re only telling me that to make me feel better, but I saw how you looked at me earlier.”

He huffed as you looked away for a moment in your own shyness. “I knew you were gonna bring that up.”

Hunter’s hand found your chin as he gently held it and turned it back towards his face. There was no escaping the adoration in his dark eyes, not that you would want to escape it anyway. “It was the same way I was looking at you the whole time you were telling our story.”

You softened, your finger tracing the outline of his tattoo on his cheekbone that disappeared into his beard. “Yeah?”

Hunter nodded. “Yeah.” He took your wrist and held it delicately, running his thumb over your pulse point. “It’s the same way I looked at you the first time I saw you.”

You would have rolled your eyes if the words weren’t so genuine. You believed him because you had seen it, even if it was all so new that day. It truly had been love at first sight.

“Speaking of which…” Hunter grinned as he eased your other hand off his face. “I have something for you.”

Your eyebrow quirked up. “Is that right?” As soon as Hunter began striding towards your bedroom, you let out a gasp of delight. “Are you finally gonna show me your super secret project?”

Hunter laughed, creating a flurry of butterflies within your stomach. “Sure, if that’s what you wanna call it.”

Hunter needed to keep his hands busy without battles to fight or knives to flip, even if he did still carry his knife with him, and so he had taken up a hobby he hadn’t let you know about yet. He had insisted he was saving it for a special occasion, and as it turned out, that occasion was now.

You were aching to find out what it was.

“Okay.” Hunter’s voice was muffled through the door to whatever place he had been hiding his secret project. “Close your eyes.”

You obeyed, rocking back and forth on your heels in anticipation. You heard Hunter walk back into the room, but you kept your eyes closed until he told you otherwise.

“I know you left a lot of stuff behind on Eirus, and anything you kept with you got destroyed with the Marauder. But there was something I wanted you to have again.”

His voice was quiet, tightened in his nerves. It made your soft smile widen in sweetness.

“You can open your eyes now.”

You did as he said, and as soon as you caught sight of what he held in front of himself, you gasped again.

It was a near-perfect recreation of the dress you had been wearing the day you met Hunter and the rest of the boys. Every color, every stitch, and every accent mirrored exactly what was on that same dress, and it was evidence enough that Echo’s words from long ago were true: Hunter’s good at just about everything. Exceptional, even.

“Hunter.” Your voice was a mere, amazed breath as you finally unfroze and took a step forward. Giving it another once-over, you shook your head in disbelief. “Hunt, this is…” you shook your head, “I don’t even know what to say.”

Hunter shrugged, his stare fixed on the dress as he handed it over for you to hold. “I was at the market when I was trying to find something new I could do with my hands, and I saw this fabric and thought…” Hunter paused and ran a hand over his hair. “It just reminded me of this dress, and I thought you might like to have it again.”

You looked between him and the silky fabric in your hands, still unable to form a proper thought. Hunter shifted his weight and let out a huff.

“I don’t know where you’d wear it, or if you even would, so I probably should’ve asked you first…”

You still didn’t have the words, but you weren’t going to let Hunter begin doubting his incredibly thoughtful work. Stepping forward to close the gap between you, the arm not gripping the dress wrapped around his neck, bringing his parted lips to yours. Hunter breathed his sigh of relief into your mouth, and you smiled in the hope that he would do the same. It was only after he did that you pulled away.

“Thank you, Hunt.” You hugged the dress to your chest and gave him an enthusiastic nod. “I’m gonna try it on.”

Hunter’s brow shot up. “Right now?”

You nodded again. “Right now!” You maneuvered yourself around him and stood in the threshold of your bedroom. “Stay out here.”

The last thing you heard was Hunter’s chuckle before the door slid closed. You held out the dress in front of you and gave your head another fond shake. He had gone from a clone sergeant to a seamstress.

Two things he did perfectly.

You were quick in exchanging your comfortable island clothes for the dress. It fit you just right, as if Hunter had taken your measurements—which you were sure he had—to perfect the way every single part of it hugged your body. You checked over your reflection in the nearest reflector and grinned, the corners of your mouth stretching towards your ears as you gave yourself a spin.

You didn’t necessarily miss being a senator, as the weight of responsibility had been a hefty one, but this allowed you to play dress-up in that role again. Not only that, but it also brought you right back to the day that had started the rest of your forever.

Unable to keep it to yourself, you walked up to the door and spoke directly against it. “Are you ready?”

Hunter’s voice was muffled from the other side. “Whenever you are.”

You grinned and opened the door, keeping your gaze fixed on Hunter. He blinked a few times, his stare warming every inch of you as his jaw worked in poorly concealed admiration—not that he was trying to conceal it. You gave him a spin just like you had done before in the reflector, drawing a sweet, giddy laugh from him as he clasped his hands together over his middle.

You lifted the corner of your skirt and glanced down at yourself. “It fits perfectly.”

When your gaze met his, your ears instantly began to burn at the intense affection you found there. It was as if every loving moment you had spent together over the years was replaying in each golden fleck of his dark eyes. “It does.”

You stared at one another for way too long, though neither of you cared. After a few more prolonged breaths, Hunter extended an open hand to you, inviting you to set yours within his grasp. You complied, beaming as he took it and, without his gaze ever breaking from yours, raised it to his lips, gently kissing the soft skin on the back of your hand.

But this time, he didn’t let go. Instead, he gave your hand a tug, his other hand coming up to support your upper arm as he drew you towards him. You were more than happy to fall into his arms, laughing as you caught yourself on his shoulders. This shared gaze didn’t last as long, as the two of you were eager to share in another kiss, one more passionate than before.

Your arms had only just wrapped tight around Hunter’s neck when he suddenly lifted your legs and eased them around his waist. You broke away to look at him with a raised brow. “Be careful, Sergeant,” you warned, your voice breathy as you kissed his upper lip. “You might rip this beautiful dress you sewed.”

“Don’t worry, Senator.” Hunter was already walking forward with you into your bedroom, his other senses no doubt guiding him as he focused on returning your stare. “I can just stitch it right back up.”

And as Hunter laid you down on a bed you were grateful to share with him, you thought about each early moment and memory that led you here. You both had exchanged enough sentiments of love over the years for you to know how he felt, but it was always his actions that proved it above all else. This dress was certainly a pinnacle of that, almost equally matching his actions that came directly after.

You both had made a gamble the day you decided to pursue one another, but thankfully, it had paid off—and it made you grateful for everything you had gone through back when you were the senator being protected by the sergeant.

chapter 9 ⟸ series masterlist

hunter tag list: @zenrobbins0021 @cw80831 @yunggoblin @maddiedrmr @Molmcb @jellybeanstacey0519 @violetlilly2020

senator’s shadow tag list: @callsign-denmark @dindadjarin @clintbarton-anon

#WE DID IT!!! so sad to be saying goodbye to this one but so excited for my next series!!#hunter #hunter bad batch #sergeant hunter #the bad batch #hunter x reader #hunter tbb x reader #sergeant hunter x reader #tbb hunter x reader #senator's shadow #dindjarindiaries

64 notes · View notes