#I think you can pinpoint the exact moment my will to continue this started desperately escaping my body in fact | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tarisilmarwen · 2 years ago

Text

Rebels Rewatch: “Path of the Jedi“

Midseason upgrades and freshly-brewed nightmare fuel, let’s go!

Right, I’m just going to go ahead and link to the obligatory “Someone had an annoying rancid take on this episode” post right now and get that out of the way, let’s talk about something more fun instead because this episode has a lot of very very fun narrative things going for it.

A bright and airy rendition of the Main Titles theme to start us off, which almost feels like an apology for the drama they left us hanging on last episode and the stress they’re about to inflict on us in this one.

“We’re sorry about the horrors we made you witness. It will happen again. In the meantime enjoy this pleasant non-threatening scene. :)”

Zeb looks so annoyed lol.

Some of the many shots in this episode that look absolutely gorgeous, especially in gifsets or amvs.

(Sometimes you have to slow the footage down just a teeny fraction to fully appreciate how beautiful it is. Along those notes, have a link to one of my favorite Rebels fanvids. You’ll thank me.)

“I was with Sabine.” Yeah I’ll bet you were, lol.

I think a few people in fandom figured out that Ezra had shown Sabine the stolen TIE fighter before the actual reveal but post season finale it’s still retroactively hilarious that we can pinpoint this as probably the exact moment.

Not entirely clear if it was a one time thing or if he’s been hanging out at the TIE fighter watching Sabine paint it a few times now, speculation best relegated for the realm of fanfic. Of which there are plenty for this particular moment. :)

(Personally I’m fond of the idea that it was a gift/thank you for making his birthday suck marginally less and possibly also a bit of an apology for the whole mess on Anaxes.)

Kanan starts the conversation a bit frustrated, the implication coming across that Ezra’s been avoiding his Jedi training and Kanan is feeling supremely unconfident in both his role as a teacher and whether or not Ezra is actually meant to be a Jedi. As Ezra points out, he’s not exactly had a traditional Jedi upbringing and everything is a lot more difficult for him. Kanan’s likely worried that continuing to train Ezra will just lead to more disaster, put him at greater risk of Falling. So Kanan wants to be absolutely sure that Ezra’s committed to this.

Hey, remember how I talked about how Ezra completely hero-worships Kanan and latched onto him for a parental figure as well as mentor?

“I want to be the Jedi you see in me, the one I don’t always see in myself.”

Yeah.

Ezra desperately wants to be worthy of the potential Kanan sees in him. It’s kind of understated in the series, but Ezra has a serious self-esteem problem. He doesn’t think he’s any kind of special, thinks that if not for the efforts of others he would just be an insignificant nobody. He wants to live up Kanan’s example and expectations.

Maybe that’s why he acts a bit eager-to-please in this scene, departing with a very respectful and formal, “As you say, Master.”

Hera showing complete faith in Kanan to be able to help Ezra. <3333

The music is rather nice, not terribly memorable, but appropriate for the mood and tone here. It falls away so we can focus on Kanan and Ezra’s conversation, and then comes back in with very sweet female chorals as Ezra taps into the Force in search of Jedi outposts.

I don’t think I ever paid much attention to this cue before, but it is lovely.

Frick there’s mist drifting over the fields here, thisshowissogorgeous.

Right, so you’re gonna be hearing me talk about how pretty this episode is A LOT, I’m guessing.

It’s ridiculously pretty.

Aaaand there’s the Force theme, right on appropriate cue.

Subtle animation appreciation moment: Kanan’s and Ezra’s breath misting as they speak.

Ezra’s theme piping in as he and Kanan harmonize through the Force again.

Egads look at that lighting, look how soft it is askjhaf.

Lots of strings, chimes, and vocals in the score this episode.

I’m sorry, this frame made me laugh.

These are my idiots and I love them.

Ezra seems confident until Kanan tells him he’s going to be doing this on his own.

Kanan falling back on parroting the things he heard, even though he understands how unhelpful they are to Ezra. It’s all he’s got, though.

The strings turn ominous in the score here, impressing a looming sense of danger on us.

There’s a Force ring right when the vision!Kanan speaks, a very sneaky subtle hint that he��s not actually there.

Also, if I may? I still cannot believe they brought the little nonsense “Loth-cat, Loth-wolf” rhyme back in the trailers for the fourth season like some kind of ominous portent of doom like for real????

It’s more obvious in the vision back on the Ghost but the Temple has Ezra’s friends saying the things he most fears to hear from them. In Kanan’s case, it’s that he doesn’t have any actual confidence in Ezra at all. Ezra questions this less (see aforementioned self-esteem issues) but it still stings, I bet.

The sound design this episode is on point. *chef kiss*

Love how everything goes stained dark red once the Vision!Inquisitor appears.

Oh yeah, he was absolutely terrifying for me the first time I watched this. *shudders*

I’M SORRY, THE HORROR THEY PUT IN KIDS CARTOONS GETS TO ME A LOT WORSE THAN ANYTHING IN “ADULT” FARE.

I never really liked how jerky the animation was in the lightsaber fight here, but I think there’s wiggle room to consider that this is Ezra’s vision and he’s never seen a proper lightsaber battle before, doesn’t know how graceful and fluid it’s supposed to be.

Idk it makes me forgive this fight a bit more.

Side note: I haaaaaate Disney+’s anti-epilepsy features I wish I could turn them off. We have the whole series on DVD but I also don’t have a disc drive on my computer, why does modern technology suck so much?

Bbyyyyyyyy :((((((((

You can see tears glimmering on the edges of his eyes.

Right so, one of Ezra’s fears, obviously, watching his master die in front of him.

Please do not think about “Jedi Night” and that fear coming true.

“So he called himself Kanan, did he?” Our first hint that that’s not actually his real name. Which of course Grand would know, given his access to the Jedi records.

Ohhhh wow, in contrast to how easily he pulled Kanan’s saber to him the previous episode, here it takes a slow minute. Signs of his unbalance perhaps?

Nothing metaphorical in how the saber refuses to ignite and falls apart in his hands tho. XD

The visions be trippy this episode.

Oh ho man, the meta I could spill about this scene and how it reflects aspects of Ezra’s innermost fears.

I’ll try to be brief.

Vision!Zeb: Dismissive and flippant and considers Ezra an annoyance and a nuisance. Not far off from the truth, but as of “Fighter Flight” the two did develop a respect and appreciation for each other. Ezra fears that it’s skin deep and that Zeb still thinks he’s an annoying disposable kid.

Vision!Hera: Only cares about how “useful” Ezra is to “the cause”. Ezra fears she only values him for the skills he can bring as Rebel soldier, that she’ll cut him loose and abandon him the moment he’s no longer an asset to her.

*shoves this under the noses of certain uncharitable parties*

Vision!Sabine: He’s a weak, scared, pitiable kid, incapable of any true heroism, only worth being sighed at and condescendingly sympathized over. Ezra fears not being able to protect anyone he cares about, fears Sabine will never take him seriously, fears how she and the others see him, fears being weak and fragile and powerless.

Ezra’s obviously hurt by the false assessment of him, but has enough wits about him to remember that he’s in the Temple and couldn’t just have teleported back to the Ghost... so this must be false.

He’s not able to fully articulate those thoughts before Vision!Inquisitor shows up to be completely horrifying.

Zeb and Hera die pretty quickly in the vision (and the offscreen implications are almost worse than seeing things on onscreen) but Sabine lingers, calling out to him desperately, begging him to help.

OH HI MY NIGHTMARES FOR TONIGHT.

I said, the first time I watched this.

Ezra presses up against Kanan’s door first, and then his own room’s, before frantically pressing at the hallway junction controls. Even in his vision he’s trying to find places of safety.

He already considers his room on the Ghost somewhere that’s supposed to be “safe” *sobs*

Bbbbbbyyyyyyyyyyy. :((((((((((((

The vision drops him back in the temple and he’s able to quickly parse that what he just saw was an illusion.

He’s briefly overcome by the thought that’s he’s alone and abandoned again before remembering he’s already survived that and come out of it, and he can do it again.

And boy if that isn’t Applicable.

*hurts in very specific and personal RL ways that I will not disclose*

Anyway, Grand shows up again to be terrifying. I love that he’s even more implacable and menacing than he is in reality, shows the kind of distortion that fear plays on our minds.

Excuse me, do not touch my blueberry, Sir.

Ezra sees through this lie as well, and accurately assesses his own worries and fears, before declaring that they have no hold over him and bravely standing defiant in front of the illusion that is the Grand Inquisitor.

He is such a good Jedi saskjhak.

His unflinching bravery and acceptance dissolves the vision. Fittingly his theme plays out in unapologetic brass.

Ffkajshkahfs AND THEN YODA’S THEME PIPES IN JUST A FEW SECONDS BEFORE WE HEAR HIS VOICE ENCOURAGING EZRA.

I kind of dig how we just hear voiceover from Ezra, we don’t see him speaking at all due to the camera angles. Makes it seem uncertain if he’s replying to Yoda mentally or out loud.

My gosh the camera movement in this scene perfectly conveys the slippery effervescent feel a Force Vision is supposed to.

We finally pan back to Kanan and his first concern and worry is for Ezra. <3333

He looks and sounds so astonished to hear Yoda awww.

Love the implication that Yoda just spends his time trying to reach out to other Jedi in the Force, looking for survivors he can help. Or that Kanan and Ezra coming to the Temple was significant enough that he felt it and was like, “Gotta get me in on this action.”

Kanan immediately adopting the proper reverence and respect once he confirms it’s actually Yoda.

I think I mentioned before but the Force tends to pair Masters and Padawans that affect each other’s personal growth. Kanan is learning as much from teaching Ezra as Ezra is learning being taught.

On Kanan’s end, he’s having to confront all his doubts and anxieties and fears about his worthiness as a teacher. Since he never finished his own training he feels inadequate and ill-prepared. Moreover, since he ran from the Jedi part of himself for so long, ran away from who he was, he feels a deep sense of shame and personal failure, a failure he doesn’t want to pass on to Ezra.

It’s all the classic parental, “Oh god there’s suddenly a young vulnerable whole other human being that I have to be a Responsible Adult for.” worries.

Having kids changes you, man. Can attest.

This is a really pretty shot.

As is literally all of this my gosh look at it. Hello World Between Worlds-shadowing!

With Ezra, Yoda mainly nudges him into articulating and defining why he wants to be a Jedi.

Once again I will attempt to be brief and not spill a thousand and a half words of meta sobbing about how much I love him.

“I guess because Kanan believes I can [become a Jedi].”

I repeat myself but...

Kanan inspires Ezra.

Ezra looks up to Kanan.

“He sees something in me that I don’t see in myself and I want to live up to that expectation because I care desperately about what he thinks of me.”

“I’ll become stronger, powerful.”

“I’d make the Empire suffer for everything it did [...] I don’t want to be helpless anymore!”

Ezra does not crave power for power’s sake, but for what it represents: A way to no longer be weak and helpless, like he’s felt almost his whole life, to strike back against the entities that have wronged him. His visions prior have struck right at the heart of this insecurity of his. He was helpless to save his parents, helpless to save Kanan, helpless to stop the Inquisitor.

“I don’t want to be helpless anymore.”

Yoda probes Ezra to clarify if he wants revenge. Ezra denies it, but Yoda rightfully points out he has a lot of fear and anger inside him.

Ezra does not deny that, but corrects himself by telling Yoda:

“I just want to protect myself and my friends!”

“I want to be a Jedi to protect the people I care about.”

And then he expands that.

“And not just them, everyone. I’ll protect everyone.”

Ezra “Hero Complex“ Bridger folks.

*sobs*

Ezra once again credits Kanan and the others as the reason why he’s becoming more selfless, completely discounting any part he’s played in his own growth (see aforementioned self-esteem issues), but there’s an infectious passion behind his voice this time, and the animators emphasize his eyes with soft little highlights in the irises.

Ezra wants to help people like his friends do, bravely, selflessly, giving everything away.

Because now he feels alive.

This whole exchange is cathartic as hell.

Somehow I made it through all that without mentioning the score, so let’s remedy that. Yoda’s theme continues to play out sweetly for his first interactions with Kanan, floating in and out as we intercut between him and Ezra. A couple other hero themes are briefly excerpted. Some deep bass male vocals start, a low steady single note sound like a meditative chant, emphasizing the mystery and spirituality of the inner chamber of the Temple.

The vocals drop out and calm strings pipe in, in tandem with Ezra’s moment of catharsis.

The Temple fades out partway into the starvoid of the World Between Worlds, and then a single blue glowing light descends from above, softly into Ezra’s hands.

Once again screencaps cannot accurately convey just how pretty this scene is.

The Force has tested him and found him worthy and so he has earned his kyber crystal.

He doesn’t know what it is, but he certainly looks at it the way he looked at Kanan’s lightsaber, with absolute utter awe, the Force theme in clarinet with plinking xylophone chimes like twinkling stars playing in the background.

Kanan’s so ridiculously proud of Ezra fskasjfhkh. Probably just a little bit consternated that the Force decided Ezra was ready for a full-on lightsaber. Like his job wasn’t hard enough ha ha.

The Force read the script and was like, “Yeah, uh, you’re gonna need this.“ lol.

“And hopefully it’ll be here long after you and I are gone.“

*CRIES IN SEASON FOUR*

NO BUT HOW FAR BACK EXACTLY DO YOU THINK THEY HAD PLANNED OUT THE WHOLE WORLD BETWEEN WORLDS PLOT BECAUSE TUA’S LINE ABOUT THERE BEING A SECRET REASON WHY THE EMPIRE’S INTERESTED IN LOTHAL WAS CRYPTIC ENOUGH THAT MOST OF US THOUGHT IT WAS JUST MORE DEATH STAR FORESHADOWING.

AND THEN VADER AND THE INQUISITORS FOUND THE TEMPLE LATER IN THAT SEASON AND THERE WAS SPECULATION THAT MAYBE TUA MEANT THAT.

BUT YOU KNOW, WE THOUGHT IT WAS JUST FOR NORMAL KYBER AND DEFILEMENT PURPOSES.

Ooooooone more pretty shot for your enjoyment.

Later in the Ghost, everyone seems to be waiting anxiously for Ezra to finish his saber. I love that pretty much everyone contributed some parts for it, something about the symbolism of Ezra’s strength being his connection to others, to his family, that he carries them with him into battle.

Kanan turns the hilt over in his hands like, “This is a lightsaber???” Lol.

The Force theme has been creeping in slowly and now it builds and builds until full volume as Ezra ignites the saber.

I’m so proud of him. <3

This is one of my favorite episodes of the show, it’s so pretty and well-animated and has such good material for both Ezra and Kanan and their character development, both separately and together.

It’s a real milestone in their character journeys; they faced and overcame their fears just like the Jedi of old. There’s more than a bit of similarity to the “The Gathering” episode back in TCW, a focus on acknowledging and conquering one’s personal inner flaws and finding balance.

Aaaaaaah I love it. I love what this episode does for Kanan and Ezra’s relationship, I love the Jedi aesthetics, I love my precious boy Ezra so much. <333333333

#star wars #star wars rebels #space dad and his precious pumpkin child #rebels rewatch #liveblog #ezra bridger

47 notes · View notes

1kook · 4 years ago

Text

commercial break ; SIX

this is part of my netflix & chill series this is foreshadowing for the next fic 👀

summary; Jungkook enjoyed pushing you down, indulging you in all your little fantasies, but he too had some he wanted to live out. warnings; smut in the forms of riding, penetration, soft sex rating; mature (18+) misceallenous; jungkook thinks a lot.... and they're not always pg things... word count; 1.8k

notes; i have been neglecting my og jk dream team couple so here we are! anyway please look [ here ] and remember this face ....

He’s never minded taking the reins before, but there’s something distinctly carnal that flashes in Jungkook’s chest when you ask to ride him that morning. The sun filtering in through the window beside him captures the entirety of your beauty on top of him, endless expanses of soft skin and dips and curves. “Pretty,” he sighs, hands on your hips. You’re so tired but so gorgeous, supple breasts bouncing in his face, eyelashes kissing your cheeks with each sleepy blink. Rarely do you push him down like this, hands on his chest as you whimper and grind yourself to completion, but Jungkook certainly wasn’t complaining.

In all the time he’s known you, Jungkook’s become quite familiar with your sexual prowess. You liked to play the opposite game with him, seduce him and push him until he snapped and took you over a table or cuffed you to a bed, all blessed experiences that he treasures very much. He loved how you sounded bent over the kitchen counter, or shoved against the sheets. If Jungkook had to pinpoint the exact moment his horniness skyrocketed, it was definitely the second his name left your lips in a breathy little whimper. He adored you and your body, liked taking care of you.

But every now and then… he liked to be pampered.

Jungkook enjoyed pushing you down, indulging you in all your little fantasies, but he too had some he wanted to live out. Blindfolding you and having you cum on a riding crop was definitely the highest on the list and that was done; after that incident he’s woken many a night with a rock hard cock in his sleep shorts like some dorky teenager fantasizing about his girlfriend. And on the nights you didn’t sleep over, he was forced to fend for himself, the tape recorder in his brain recalling every single thing that had happened that night.

But now it was time to move onto the next, and that next bullet point on his imaginary list was letting you fuck yourself on his cock with no help at all.

Most times you rode him you tended to give up halfway through. You started off strong, overexcited glint in your eyes as you rabidly fucked yourself on him. But your natural pillow princess tendencies (no shade) always won over, always had you softly begging him to help. He’s always been more than happy to, especially if it meant coming sooner, but sometimes Jungkook just wanted to be used. Wanted to be pushed down and taken advantage of, especially if that was at your hands. It was a concept that probably went against everything your sexual relationship was built upon; him being the submissive one was about as rare as you not play-fighting back. And still, Jungkook wanted more than anything in the world to see that side of you, that femdom, as Doyeon had so meanly teased him about once.

So here he is, partially living that fantasy as you slide up and down on his cock. You’ve got one hand on his lower abdomen, the other on the top of a thigh, working yourself against him lazily. It’s not at the intensity of Jungkook’s dreams, but it sure is a sight. “B-Bend your knee for me, honey,” you pant, and Jungkook does, pulling his leg up until you’re sloppily using it as leverage to bounce on him. “G-Good boy,” you rasp.

It’s that word, that wretched word that makes something in Jungkook go soft, throw the past year of training out the window. He likes to think he’s in charge— he is ��but every now and then you use that word against Jungkook and it’s like everything is reversed and always has been. Like it’s always been you leading sex, you telling him how good he is, and not the other way around.

He groans, tightens his hands on your hips as you continue bouncing away. Every glide of your warm folds around his cock makes his heart lurch, makes him want to bury himself inside of you and never leave. Jungkook would never admit it to your or anyone, but there was this rather clingy side of him that reared its ugly head when you were involved. He never wants anyone else to see you like this, never wants anyone else to feel you like this, which is where his spiraling begins.

You see, below that being-pushed-down-by-my-girlfriend point was another, slightly overlooked point, that entrenched upon dangerous, almost taboo territory. And that was stuffing you full of his cum— off birth control —and watching you swell and swell until there was no way you couldn’t be pregnant. And Jungkook, for some odd reason, wanted that really badly.

A soft groan above him, a lazy smile on your face as you reach down to idly toy with your clit, pussy flush against the base of his cock now. He knows better than to tell you to move because it’ll break this tender moment, this unique experience of you using him like some glorified dildo like he so desperately wanted sometimes. So he shuts his lips, goes back to that other fantasy that is only fueled by the soft swell of your tits when you move.

God, they would get so big, he thinks. Would be so round, just like the rest of you, and bursting with milk. It’s for the baby, for the baby, he tells himself, but there’s image in his head, this so terribly wrong image, of him suckling your breasts, holding your waist as the milk drips down his chin and over your skin, senses overwhelmed as he does something he’s definitely not supposed to. But you’d be so sweet, his mind says, would be so sweet and... full of life.

Above him, you giggle deliriously, sweat dripping down the slope of your neck. For a second he wonders if you’ve somehow tapped into his thoughts, seen all his perverted fantasies, but then you’re looking at him with that adoring gaze that makes his heart burst. “Pretty boy,” you tease, rolling your hips forward until that cute little button above your slit is grinding against him.

Yes, he certainly was your pretty boy, your good boy— he was whatever boy you wanted him to be. Why? Because he was so in love with you that the mere thought of you not being his and him not being yours made him gag. He just wanted you, so soft and warm around him, for the rest of his life. Maybe a belly? Maybe a child? Jungkook wanted it all, and his dick throbs at the mere idea of you possibly giving him that and more.

He was completely lost in his thoughts, never to be seen again.

A muffled whimper, so airy that it takes Jungkook a moment to realize it came from him. He’s too riled up to feel embarrassed, simply rolls his head from side to side as you clench those puffy walls around him. “C-Cum inside?” he pants, “can I— can I cum inside?” You lean forward; the tip of his engorged cock brushes against a sensitive spot inside of you, pulling a sinful moan from your lips. “P- Please?”

You smile, so pretty and sweet, it makes his dick twitch. “Of course,” you murmur, small hand on the side of his face, hips rolling rhythmically. “Wh- what’s that thing you said the other day?” you shiver, sleek skin catching the rays of the sun perfectly. A glittering highlight decorates your body, and that only tightens the coil in his stomach until it’s springing up with insane force. “Baby?”

“Yes?” he grunts, every muscle fiber in his body needed to hold even the smallest semblance of self control.

A giggle from you as he dazedly looks up. “Not you,” you chuckle, leaning down to sweetly peck him on the lips. It’s so soft and gentle, just like everything else about you. It takes everything in his body to keep him stable. “Remember?” you purr, hot breathe flush against his skin. “You wanted to put a baby in me.”

His hips jerk, a moan spilling from his lips that he doesn’t catch fast enough. “N-No,” he mewls, turning his face away from you like maybe it’ll prolong his orgasm, maybe it’ll lessen the aching heat around his cock. He can’t possibly hear those words from your lips, not when he knows you’re on birth control and that that notion is physically impossible right now. It’ll plant a terrible seed in his head, ruin Jungkook for weeks.

But you’re nothing if not persistent, forcing yourself down against him as he begins violently blushing, trying to mask his excitement. “Baby?” you repeat, as if he’s a puppy hearing the words ‘outside;’ fuck it, Jungkook thinks, he was whatever you wanted him to be. “Wanna fuck a baby into me, Jungkookie?” you exhale, hot breath against his ear. His hips spasm a second time, send you rolling down his cock with those perky nipples flush against his chest. “Mmmh, come on, honey… need you to work for it.”

And work Jungkook does.

His hands wrap around your frame, pull you flush against his body. Feet against the bed, thighs tense, he begins rapidly thrusting up into the warm entrance of your pussy, where yours and his cum seep out together. It’s slippery and wet, but not wet enough — he wants to feel his cum around himself, feel it bulge inside your stomach until you physically can’t hold anymore. “G-Good boy,” you whine, lips raining down featherlight smooches along his jawline. “Doing so good for me, honey—“

You’re cut off by the earth-shattering orgasm that consumes Jungkook, an almost feral groan that tears itself from his throat. “Mine, mine,” he sobs, doesn’t recognize his own voice in his ears. “Gonna be mine.”

A stuttered reply as your juices join his, leak down his softening cock until the sticky sweet fluid makes him feel dirty. It’s not even 8 AM yet and he’s already covered in cum. But it’s worth it when you lean back with that pretty smile, push his damp hair away from his sweaty face with the practiced touch of an angel. “Did you like that?” you ask softly, not making to move off of him. In fact, Jungkook swears you squeeze around his quickly limpening cock.

Any other woman he thinks he might have been embarrassed, die from humiliation of presenting her with a soft dick. But with you, it’s comfortable. It’s sweet and soft, your silky folds milking the last of his cum straight out of his cock. Jungkook whimpers, head bobbing at your question. You cup his face in your hands, fingers like butterflies against his skin. He swears he could transcend right now.

Another languid kiss, tongue lazily toying with his until his mouth feels heavy from the saliva you push down his throat. The light filtering in through the window paints your skin in soft colors, makes him feel so warm and loved; he could die like this and not feel an inch of remorse.

#goldenclosetnet #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts smut #mine

1K notes · View notes

dumpsiteforfics · 4 years ago

Text

Missing Piece

Fandom : Criminal minds

Pairing : Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid

Genre : angst and fluff probably? At least happy ending lmao!

Warnings : 16 years age difference, but both are well above legal age. Just heads-up, it references all our important Hotch reid moments from seasons 1 to 3.

This is just a oneshot? Or drabble probably which I wanted to write after reading this prompt! The section which is in bold and italics is copied as it as from prompt!!

******†******

"I love you Aaron, and I want to be with you!!"

Those were the words Aaron never thought he would hear, not from this person that he was so in love with! Spencer Reid was epitome of everything Aaron ever wanted from his life, and everything he never thought he deserved to have! He can't pinpoint the exact moment it all started, but he can remember the exact moment he realised he had fallen for the younger man.

It was in that grave all those years ago, when he was helping Spencer get up after shooting Tobias Hankel, a name he would never forget! He had never been this scared for someone else's life before, and that's saying something because with the job he had, there were so many lives he saved on a routine basis. But he could still remember in detail how his chest felt like someone had put bricks on it, how his brain was in constant thoughts of what if they lose their agent, what if they lose Spencer? Their youngest agent, he was so young!! And he was in the hands of a psychopath and he had still fought the mad man, despite being beaten, being kidnapped and tortured at some remote location away from any help, he somehow fought back and used his brain to get help.

And when Aaron pulled Spencer up and into his arms, he felt like his missing piece was found. That hug lasted just for a few seconds but Aaron felt eternal gratitude in those moments. And then Spencer gasped out, I knew you would understand!!

And Aaron still wakes up from nightmares where he somehow fails to understand Spencer's clue and that results in the horrific death of the younger man. And Aaron lays awake, gasping and shuddering, struggling to calm himself and trying hard not to dial Spencer's number just to confirm that he is indeed alive.

And then Chester Hardwick came and he had the audacity to threaten Spencer in front of him, and Aaron would never let anyone get away with that. And he was so ready to kill Hardwick with his bare hands but Spencer, yet again saved them.

Just like all those years ago when he killed Philip Dowd and saved Aaron, like how he killed Tobias and saved Aaron, he yet again saved Aaron again this time by making use of his sharp tongue and unstoppable brain.

And the words that Aaron never wanted to let out, poured out of his mouth as he admitted his relationship problems to Spencer.

What I want, I'm never going to get!!

But now, Spencer is standing in front of him, they have just wrapped up the bombing case and he had said goodbye to Kate with a heavy heart, just one more person he lost to this job.

He came back home to find Spencer waiting for him. Aaron was worried to see Spencer with this Haunted look in his eyes. They went inside and before he could ask him anything Spencer was spilling out his every feeling.

He had never seen Spencer like this, so desperate, so needy, so fiercely wanting… And all Aaron wants is to pull the younger man in his arms and just escape from the reality that's keeping them apart! But he can't. No matter what they want, they have to think carefully. Spencer, even with his gifted IQ and old soul, is still just so much younger than him. 16 years. That's too many years in between, probably a generation gap you can call even.

And Aaron is thinking about those predators they hunt, those who prey on younglings. Was he one of those? Was he attracted to Spencer's pretty face and young age? No! He was attracted to Spencer's heart, the heart that never stopped giving despite never receiving much love, he was attracted to Spencer's courage that made the man so much more admirable than he already was, he was attracted to Spencer's mind, too beautiful despite the fractures it might bore in future, he was attracted to Spencer's soul, kindest despite the horrors he sees everyday.

But he should try to lay all the cards down, he is old , he is just a boring agent who has trouble expressing his emotions! He is an agent who is more dedicated to his job and all the unknown faces who need saving than his own family. He is a man who will never think twice before jumping into fire if it meant he could save someone's life. And he tries to portray it through words!

Spencer is just listening, his heart so easily readable through those hazel eyes and Aaron has to keep looking somewhere else to continue talking.

"Spencer, I appreciate your feelings, and I do return them! God! I have been returning them probably even before I realised I had feelings for you. But, we can't be together. We are too different, you are too young and I'm just too old. You have this life waiting for you whereas I have already been through my half. I don't want to tie you down to me when you have so much more to live for. So much time which I might even not have. The thing about time is, the older you get, the faster it goes,” he said. “Tomorrow, you will be my age, and I will be dead.”

And Spencer looks up in Aaron's eyes, understanding everything words could never explain.

"But Aaron, I don't even have you to lose. You are just so out of my reach despite the efforts I take to be closer! I don't care about your age Aaron, I don't care how short or long life we might have unless it's together! I yearn for you Aaron! Do you even know how much?"

"And you are talking about dying when we both know we have probably equal chances of dying tomorrow with the job we have. We understand each other Aaron, there is this deep understanding which stems from never-ending trust that we have on each other. I gave you a clue even when I was delirious from drugs and wasn't even sure you'll be listening, and you understood it Aaron. And you think we should just let go of this beautiful bond because of something as trivial as age gap? I would've understood it if I was underage or just barely 20, but Aaron I'm in my thirties and I'm yet to find a person who came as close to understanding me as you do!"

Spencer is all but sniffing now, and Aaron's heart breaks all over again.

"I don't give a shit about the reasons why we should not be together Aaron, I only care about one reason why we should be! And that's, I love you as much as you love me back! And that should be enough! For once, let that be enough reason Aaron, let us be enough for each other!! "

And Aaron couldn't stop his heart from skipping a beat. Let us be enough for each other! Wasn't that what Aaron wanted his entire life? To be enough for someone? And he is maybe getting it now, and what does he have to lose anyways?

He took a shuddering breath before saying, "Well I have given you enough chances to back out of it, now you don't get more chances. You are going to have to be in my life, as my whole heart till the day I die."

And then the wide smile he got in response made his heart almost stop but he decided if he could die now, at least he'll die happy.

Before he could spend more time muling over those unnecessary thoughts Spencer pulled him in a hug, his arms going around Aaron's shoulder as Aaron's own looped around his waist. And there was that feeling again, like he found his missing piece!!!

#heid #hotchreid #hotch x reid #aaron hotchner x spencer reid #criminal minds #my fic #angst #sorry for all grammatical mistakes #i literally wrote it on my mobile in an hour #and english isn't ny first language

44 notes · View notes

jincherie · 5 years ago

Text

florescence | vi

❀ — pairing: taehyung x reader x seokjin ❀ — genre: hybrid au, hybrid tae, hybrid jin, poly au, fluff, smut (future), angst ❀ — words: 4.9k+ ❀ — rating: sfw...ish? ❀ — warnings: everything is smoothing over.... and now that angst is out of the way, oc is having to deal with some thoughts that now have the time to rise to the surface. so um. hickeys and also an almost risque dream ❀ — notes: happy birthday to me!!! i hope u enjoy this!!! every chapter we get closer and closer to the heat!!!!!!

Okay, so maybe you’re lonely, and maybe there is something missing in your life, a void that you maybe want to fill with a companion that may or may not be of human origin… You’re perfectly content not doing anything about it though, until your best friend calls you in desperate need for your help and you suddenly end up coming home with not one, but two hybrids that may or may not have been on the way to the chopping block had you not taken them in. They’re more than a little rough around the edges, and the situation is less than ideal but… maybe the best things don’t always come in perfect, shiny packages. Maybe they just need a little time to bloom.

— posted; 30.03.2020 // masterlist || prev. | next.

It seems that for all your many efforts over the weeks in reassuring the two hybrids that they’re wanted by you and that they can settle down and make this their home, it doesn’t really sink in until after the night you let them scent you.

Which, of course, makes sense considering that was what was making them unsettled in the first place. You knew that letting them do that would return their behaviour to normal, but you weren’t expecting that in the process it would also do a complete one-eighty.

It’s like a switch has been flipped.

The first thing you notice, is that when you all head to bed and you enter your room, closing the door behind you, they seem to hover outside of it for a moment before continuing to their own room. Now, the old you would be thinking why? But! This is the new you, the new-and-improved y/n who knows how to use google when she should! And since you’ve been referring to google and the more trustworthy sites you’ve found, you know that they’re probably battling the urge to be closer to you.

What you mean by that, is that you read that more often than not hybrids prefer to be as close to their owners as possible at all times—and this can also mean that they want to sleep in the same room. It soothes an instinctual part of them, apparently. You can understand it, plus, if you’re being honest…. You’re not as opposed as you should be.

The idea of getting to cuddle with them while you sleep makes you feel warm and gooey inside, but the thing is that after the way things were hinted to be going the other night… you kind of have to chase off more than inappropriate thoughts every time you think about it. You can’t help it! They’re both handsome, sweet boys, and—

You’re gonna stop yourself there.

“I’m home!”

You call out as soon as you enter through the door, an unnecessary act considering they could probably hear you all the way down the street if they really tried. Still, it’s habit. You used to yell it even when no one was here, because it made you feel less lonely. Kind of sad, now you think about it. You hum, reaching the bench and placing your things down on top of the counter.

You’re startled into yelping when thick arms slip around your waist, heat pressing against your back and a face mushing into your neck. The lack of whining tells you it’s Taehyung that has reached you first today, eager to cuddle close until every trace of any other hybrid’s scent is gone. They’ve taken to doing this every time you get home—at first you wanted to protest, since they barely let you get five steps through the door before accosting you, but after seeing how pleased and content they look after, you couldn’t be mad at them for it even if you wanted to.

“Tae,” you hum, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair; your nails run against the back of his ear by accident and something akin to a purr thrums through his chest. He presses his lips to the junction of your neck before nipping it lightly in greeting, arms tightening around your waist fractionally. “I missed you too.”

When he pulls away and moves around to your front, you’re taken aback by how pleased he seems to be that you pinpointed what he was trying to say. His big chocolate eyes with those long, pretty lashes are looking at you so earnestly you can’t help but coo, bringing your hands up to pinch his cheeks. They instantly flush pink beneath your grip.

“So cute,” you coo, grinning as you squish his cheeks like he’s a newborn baby and you’re an aunt who is performing her obligated first cheek-pinch. “My cute baby Tae, I really did miss you so much.”

Teasing him probably isn’t the best way to deal with the sudden overstimulation of your senses at how cute he is, but his reactions are always worth it. He’s growing so bold lately that even though he doesn’t talk still, you almost forget how shy he can be. Blushing, Taehyung steps forward and drops his head, headbutting your shoulder to hide his face. A laugh tumbles from your throat before you can even register it, arms coming up to hold him close. You’re gonna die from a heart attack at his cuteness one of these days, you just know it.

“Where’s Seokjin?” you ask after a moment of holding him, trailing your fingers down his spine soothingly. His tail wags in joy each time you do it.

At your question though, he pulls back, and you’re surprised to see a look of hesitation on his face. You tilt your head, wondering as to the cause of it. “Is he okay?”

Taehyung nods instantly, not wanting you to worry, and seems to make up his mind about whatever he was considering. He slips his hand into yours, entwining your fingers, and tugs you towards the stairs. You follow, letting him lead you easily—this works well with your plans since you wanted to get changed into your pyjamas anyway. You kind of expect him to take you to his room, but your eyes widen when you see him turn and pull you in the direction of yours. You don’t have a name for the light, fluttery feeling that occurs in your stomach.

The door is slightly ajar as you approach and Taehyung goes straight in, pushing it open softly before stepping to the side and halting, a somewhat sheepish expression crossing his face. You see why a moment later.

There, on the edge of your bed closest to the wall, is Seokjin. He’s curled up around the blankets, a blue material you quickly recognise as one of your shirts clutched against his chest as he snoozes. He looks so at peace, cheek mushed against his hand and his hair tousled so endearingly; you’re making your way over before you even realise it.

As you approach and take in the other side of the bed, the comforter rumpled and another shirt laying discarded atop the covers, you surmise that Taehyung must have joined the older male in his nap at some point as well. When you shoot him a knowing look, he purses his lips and averts his eyes somewhat guiltily, making you laugh softly.

“Seokjin,” you say quietly, resting a knee on the bed so you can lean over and nudge the fox’s shoulder. His hand uncurls from his chest and you tickle his palm with your fingers. “Seokjin.”

He grunts softly, smooshing his face into the bed for a moment. Reflexively, his fingers start to curl around your own. You try calling him to wake again, “Seokj—oop!”

The sensation of falling onto the bed has your stomach temporarily being left behind your body as you’re pulled down, arm instantly slipping over your waist. Your cheeks heat, heart thudding so loudly you’re sure Taehyung can hear it; right in front of you is Seokjin’s face, so close that if you leant forward even a centimetre your lips would brush his own. The knowledge has your blood pressure skyrocketing.

A soft sound, almost like a whimper, comes from behind you, and you turn your head to glimpse at the dhole hybrid who still has a hold on your other hand—his expression is almost indecipherable, a mix of fond, jealous, and somehow amused all at the same time. There’s something else in there that melts his citrine irises into dark honey, something that makes your stomach flip instinctively before you push it forcibly from your brain.

Brushing your thumb over his hand to soothe him, you then turn back to his brother and ponder how to proceed. You need to wake him up because, to be honest, you’re hungry as hell and want to sort out dinner already. He has your hand trapped and held against his chest, hugging your arm like a teddy, and so you free your other hand from Taehyung’s grasp (ignoring his soft protest) and bring it to cup his cheek. Admiring his features for a moment, you brush your fingertip down his nose, and then pass your thumb over his cheekbone; even asleep, he nuzzles easily into your touch. Your chest is so warm.

“Seokjin,” you murmur, not wanting to alarm him by being any louder. “Seokjin, wake up please.”

He mumbles unintelligibly, bringing the hand he has in his hold up to his cheek and nuzzling against it—honest to god you think your heart is going to explode like that bird in Shrek when Fiona sings to it. What are you supposed to do with these feelings! There’s so much of them!

Unable to help yourself, you end up channelling it the exact same way you did before. You pinch Seokjin’s cheek, huffing, “Seokjinnie, wake up, I’m hungry.”

Apparently the pinch did the trick, because in the next second he’s cracking his eyes open, blinking blearily. As soon as he catches sight of you—or really, as soon as he registers that it’s you in front of him that he’s been staring at the past few seconds—he freezes, mouth popping open.

He continues staring at you for one, two, three seconds. Then he jerks back like he’s been burned, flinging somewhat haphazardly into a sitting position with a yelped, “y/n!”

You take the opportunity to sit up and climb from the bed now that he’s released your hand, smiling at him cheekily. “Missed me, did you, bub?”

His face erupts into a violent blush, but surprisingly he doesn’t shy away. “No!” he denies, before realising how incriminating his current location and choice of teddy-bear is, and later amending, “… Maybe.”

You laugh, grabbing his hands and pulling him to a stand; fluidly, in the same movement his arms slip around your waist and he curls around you, face going straight to the other side of your neck to perform his daily evening scenting. You allow him until the soft trailing of his nose along your neck tickles too much and you let out a squeak, wriggling out of his hold.

“You guys are gonna kill me one day,” you remark, shaking your head with a smile. Still sleepy, Seokjin returns your smile with a dazed one of his own, his hand coming to clutch your sleeve as you beg to depart from the room. Taehyung rushes ahead to get the door, fluffy russet tail swishing happily behind him. “I missed you both too. What did you get up to today? I mean, besides napping in my bed.”

Seokjin lets out a protest at your teasing, but it doesn’t last long before he’s happily filling you in on the details of the day, running you through its contents in detail. You listen attentively, pulling out utensils and dishes for dinner as you do so. You only pause when Seokjin halts suddenly, and you feel his tentative touch on your elbow.

When you turn to him, it’s a determined, pleading look in his amber-hued eyes that greets you. “Can I cook tonight? I want to learn so I can make dinner for you. You always come back and make it for us after being away most of the day.”

Something akin to fluster creeps under your skin and warms your cheeks—you don’t know what to do with the way his words make your heart throb. “Oh, o-of course. You remember how to make spaghetti?”

At his fervent nodding, you relinquish the items in your hold to him and step back, moving to join Taehyung on the stools at the other side of the counter. Now that he’s gotten his question out of the way, Seokjin resumes his earlier chattering, speaking enough for the three of you. You did have some slight reservations about him cooking by himself, but as you watch you realise that he really has been paying avid attention every time you teach him how to make something. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he’d taken notes and studied.

“We wanted to nap on the hammock outside, but it’s not the same without you,” Seokjin pouts, squinting his eyes as he slices onions. “Also, we kind of finished that season of The Dragon Prince without you… sorry.”

“That’s okay,” you answer immediately, before letting out a surprised gasp when something brushes your back. You didn’t even know Taehyung had moved until you feel him pressing against you from behind, slipping his arms over your shoulders to hang slackly and resting his chin on your head. “You’re very cuddly today, Tae.”

“He missed you,” Seokjin supplies without pause, pausing his cutting only to give the younger hybrid a fond look. His peppery tail sways and wags contentedly behind him. “You were gone extra early this morning, and he didn’t get to say goodbye.”

“Ah,” you hum in realisation, tilting your head back to meet Taehyung’s gaze, your hand coming to touch one of the arms hanging over your shoulders. “Sorry, Tae. I’ll make sure to say goodbye in the future.”

To your utter surprise, the dhole hybrid lets out a sound oddly like a mew and a chirp blended into one. He brings his arms to hug your shoulders, face burying into your hair happily; you can feel his ears flick against your head and you focus on that instead of the way his hand had accidentally brushed against your chest when he moved his arm.

“You’re forgiven,” Seokjin informs you, amused. His words bring a smile to your face.

Seokjin is quick and concise while making your dinner, but spends a fair amount of time in the final stages making sure it tastes just right. By the time the food is served and steaming in a bowl in front of you, it’s barely been forty minutes and you’ve never been hungrier. The smell alone in the last twenty minutes has had you salivating consistently.

To Seokjin’s credit, it’s delicious and honestly better than your own cooking. You make sure to tell him so and he blushes, shoving a forkful of spaghetti in his mouth to hide his happy smile. The praise makes him glow with pride for the rest of the evening, Taehyung telling him in his own way that he enjoyed the meal too. You wonder if Seokjin would be interested in looking up other recipes, and make a note to look into finding a recipe book for him.

After eating, the three of you move somewhat lazily to the living room to watch something before you retire. Well, you say that loosely. What really happens as soon as you sit on the lounge is that your two hybrids lay on top of you and command all your attention in the form of cuddles. You’re so happy that things have resumed the way they were, better even. You feel soothed, and surprisingly a little bit giddy with anticipation for how things can only go up from here. As you turn on Netflix and catch up on the series they’d watched without you, you can’t help the way your thoughts stray to what is going to happen as soon as you call bedtime.

Honestly, you haven’t paused and let it sink in that you found Jin napping on your bed earlier. Do they do it often? It would explain a lot—namely the way your bed when you come home would sometimes be in a different way to how you left it in the morning. It also makes sense considering you’ve noticed how drawn they are to your room. It’s not like it’s explicitly out of bounds for them, but you get the sense that to them it’s a topic that they don’t know how to approach yet. You wonder if tonight you will catch them lingering on the way past your door again.

A few hours and several episodes later reveals that the answer is: yes.

You’ve just finished changing into your pyjamas, some shorts and a loose, thin singlet, when you catch familiar shadows moving from underneath your door. You smile, stretching as you make your way to the door as quietly as possible.

When you swing it open and catch two hybrids standing hesitantly outside it, you promptly scare the living daylights out of them.

“Sorry,” you say, grinning at the way Taehyung pouts grumpily at you and Seokjin places a hand over his heart. “Wanna tell me what you’re doing outside my door?”

At your question, their faces draw a blank. Apparently, they hadn’t realised that you noticed their usual lingering.

“Um,” Seokjin bites his lip, canines digging softly into the plump flesh. “No?”

You try not to laugh, for his sake. Your hybrids always blush to easily and while they look cute when they do you kind of wonder if there’s any long-term side effects of having that much blood rush to your head on the regular.

The longer the interaction goes on, the more flustered he gets. “Um. We were just going to bed. Goodnight—”

You don’t miss the way Taehyung smacks his arm, giving him a pointed look, and you decide to be the bolder person in this case. You made a promise to yourself after last time that you were going to be more attentive and proactive, and so here you are! Doesn’t mean you can’t tease them a little while you have mercy on them, though.

“Oh,” you say, letting out a sigh. “Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to sleep in here tonight, but if you want to go to your own bed it’s o—”

The way their eyes light up is almost comical, Seokjin cutting you off hurriedly. “No! No, we don’t want to—I mean, we like our bed, but i-if we can, um, sleep in yours…”

You opt not to say anything, simply stepping back and opening your door to them. They dart inside like they’re scared you’re going to change your mind, diving onto your bed and worming beneath the covers in record timing—you have to laugh as you climb into the space they left you in the middle. Using your remote, you make sure the light is off and your fan is on since you have a feeling you’re going to wake up overheated.

It’s only the fairy lights framing your window that cast a soft, blue glow over the handsome curves of your hybrids’ faces now, both of their eyes trained on you as you settled down onto your back. As soon as you’re comfortable, they dive forward and plant their faces in the respective sides of your neck they’ve claimed.

“Sorry,” Seokjin murmurs after a moment, nosing against your skin and inhaling softly. “It’s… a hybrid thing. Being around your scent is really… calming.”

“Oh,” you say, flustered. “So long as I don’t stink, then. Tell me if I insult your nose.”

“I don’t think you could ever smell bad, y/n,” he confesses lowly, Taehyung humming softly in agreement. The vibrations against your skin almost make you shudder.

“I’m flattered but I can assure you that’s not true,” you laugh, breath hitching as Seokjin buries his face further into your neck, nosing along your hairline.

“Whatever,” he mumbles, wriggling closer and hugging you tight. Taehyung almost fights him for the privilege of having an arm around your waist but settles for looping it over your ribs instead. “Go to sleep, ‘m sleepy.”

You roll your eyes, wondering how you never noticed his sassy streak earlier on, but oblige his request. Its warm in their hold, and as it usually does you find yourself quickly melting into the security of it, sleep coming easily. You pass out, limbs intertwined with those of your hybrids as you all slip into your respective dreams.

x—x—x

About midway through the night you find yourself waking, eyes blinking blearily at the ceiling before you even realise you’ve been roused from sleep. For a moment, you find yourself sifting through the fog of sleep in your mind for the reason why you’ve woken, until you become aware of a sensation at your neck.

It’s wet, you realise belatedly at the feeling of cool air brushing your sensitive skin, but that’s not all. Warmth travels down your spine and your thighs twitch with the urge to move at another sensation, one that takes you another moment to identify.

Someone… is sucking on your neck?

Your brain, even still hazy with sleep, is quick to piece it together after that. It’s Taehyung, soft chitters escaping him as his chest thrums with something akin to a purr against your shoulder. He’s still asleep, you surmise, but even in sleep he’s really ravaging your neck. Each soft suckle of your skin into his mouth is paired with the scrape of his teeth, a shudder fighting to roll down your spine as something a little too synonymous with pleasure shoots through you.

Distantly, you know you should push him off of you, but your head is so fuzzy and your heart is doing a tumble routine in your chest. You go to push him away softly by placing a hand on his shoulder but only end up bunching it in the material of his shirt when he moves lower and huffs before attaching his mouth to the tender junction of your neck and shoulder. The whine that rises in your throat thankfully gets caught before it can escape, your hand sliding up from Taehyung’s shoulder to touch his cheek.

Your finger accidentally brushes his mouth, but what catches you more off-guard is that he immediately detaches his mouth from your neck and goes for your finger instead, the hand wedged between you two holding it to his face as he nibbles and licks the skin there instead, much more gently than he had your neck. You think your heart is about to give out, but now that the sensations aren’t so overwhelming, you find yourself sinking back into sleep once more. You’re so tired, after all, and it’s so warm… it doesn’t take you long at all before you’re snoozing away once more.

x—x—x

When you went back to sleep, you weren’t expecting to be thrown back into a dream—but you have a fleeting realisation, for just a moment, that that’s where you’ve ended up.

Everything is a little foggy.

“you—you won’t… you never…”

You pause—you’re waiting for him to continue. You’re in his room, and you don’t know where Taehyung is. The shower? Maybe. Seokjin is confessing something to you, something to do with his hybrid nature. It filters through your brain—you’ve messed up again, but it’s something different this time…

“Why are you upset, Jin? You scent me, Taehyung scents me. I thought that was what you needed to feel more comfortable? And at ease?” you push softly, prodding for an answer that will finally enlighten you. You’re on the bed now, reaching for his hands—were you on the bed before? You can’t remember, but it somehow makes sense that you’re there now. His hands are startlingly, lucidly warm in your own.

“Y-yes! We do! Because we care about you!” his tone has grown sharper now, voice lower and rougher. “But you—you don’t do it, and you never do it, so how are we supposed to f—”

It clicks into place in your head about midway through his rant, what has got him all bothered this time—the information comes to you like a premonition. A hum escapes you, and you shuffle closer to him on the bed, watching his gaze rest elsewhere. At least, it does until he feels your hands come to his waist where it blends into the sight flare of his hips, material bunching in your grasp.

Maybe its because a part of you can tell that this is far too fuzzy and far-fetched to be real, that this is really just a dream, but something foreign and brazen wells up in you, fills every inch of your body like a hand slipping into a glove. You’ve never had these thoughts before, but at the same time… they don’t feel unfamiliar. The urge you’re feeling isn’t one you recognise but it doesn’t feel out of place.

Even so, when you move you’re surprised by your own boldness—its like you’re only controlling a portion of your own body, and the rest of it is acting out a script you’ve never seen.

“You think I don’t care about you because I haven’t ever scented you, Jinnie?” you ask, tone soft but clear. His ears flick towards you before flying back, his tail flicking once behind him. His cheeks are a familiar pink, but the heaviness of his golden eyes isn’t something you recognise—you struggle to discern, even in your dreamlike state of omnipotence, exactly what you’re seeing. An optimistic thought whispers across your mind; is it yearning you glimpse? “Even though I tell you every day, and every night, how much you mean to me?”

Seokjin stumbles over his words as he fumbles with his grip on you, eyes wide and stuck on your face. You don’t remember the transition, don’t think it even happened, but his back is pressed to the pillows now, and you hover above him. The soft cotton in your grasp is all too easily pushed up to allow your fingers to brush his skin—wasn’t his shirt different before? It’s not important enough to keep you occupied.

“N-no, I mean y-yes, b-but you—”

“Alright, Seokjin, I understand,” you breathe, meeting his gaze and taking in the way he shudders at your words, confusion flicking across his features. “You want me to scent you? I’ll scent you.”

The poor fox hybrid doesn’t even have a chance to orient himself after those words before you’re swinging a thigh over his hips, knees pressing into the lush bedding. He scrambles to adjust out of instinct, unintentionally helping you in the process as he tips you forward, your face landing against his neck. Immediately, he freezes, the slightest sound catching in his throat, and you know you’re on the right track. Distantly, you realise the dream would have carried you here no matter what.

You allow your arms to slip and embrace him, laying against him for a moment until you feel his racing heart calm just a tad; it’s an odd detail that sticks out to you amongst the fog of everything else. Then, you turn your head and take in a long, deep breath, and it starts thudding frantically away all over again. His hands clutch the material of your shirt tentatively, chest moving yours with it with each inhale.

Realising where your face is pressed, somewhat playfully you smile and hum against the smooth skin of his neck, feeling his whole body shudder beneath you in response. He rasps, voice thick, “y-y/n—”

He doesn’t finish whatever he begins to say, though, because in the next second you’re nuzzling your face against him, tip of your nose brushing the dip beneath his jaw before it’s replaced by your lips. He chokes mid-sentence, breath catching audibly in his throat, and you’ve never been so endeared and… other things, in your life.

Yearning, yearning, yearning—it fills you to the brim and you feel you’re about to overflow.

You don’t give him much of a chance to adjust, especially since you suddenly recall exactly how he was when you first let him scent you, barely a week ago.

At the sudden sensation of your tongue dragging along the flesh beneath his jaw, Seokjin jerks and whines.

You blink your eyes open, the harshness of the sunlight filtering in through the window making you snap them shut once more.

What. The fuck.

The details of the dream are still fresh in your mind, but you can feel them slipping away even as you ease your eyes open to check where you are. Okay, you’re in your room. What just happened, didn’t happen. What even…

As you lay and mull over the contents of your current reality, it sinks in exactly who and what happened in your dream—instantly, your face burns. You’re mortified, and only now do you suddenly recall the two hybrids that had been sharing your bed.

One of which, you just almost had a raunchy dream about.

To your surprise, though, when your gaze flicks to either side of you, the bed is empty of anyone but yourself. Instantly, relief flushes through you. They probably got up to make breakfast, and of course they have no idea about the contents of your dream. You’re just being paranoid because you’re somewhat ashamed right now.

God, you need to repent—but you’ll do that later. In the meantime, you’re just thankful that your two hybrid housemates are none the wiser to the mess that is currently going on in your brain.

Little do you know, that the reason they’d fled your bed early was because of the telling, sweet scent that begin to sink into their senses partway through your dream, and the instincts that had begun to rise within them in response to it.

a/n: happy birthday to me!! please let me know what u think and whether u enjoyed by leaving a like n reblog!!!! <3 <3

masterlist || prev. | next.

2K notes · View notes

sazc94 · 4 years ago

Text

Pietro and Bunny

HELLO

Here is my second entry for the wonderful @msmarvelwrites 2k Challenge.

This a spin-off from my Bucky fic: The three times Bucky broke your heart. Part 1 linked Here.

It follows the same timeline and explores the relationship of Pietro and Reader (Bunny) More.

Words 6034

Themes. Angst, Suggestions of smut. But mostly lots and lots of fluff. 18+ Because of the smut suggestions.

This has two parts and I will upload part 2 tomorrow.

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲?"

Pietro thought you were pretty cool. He thought you and Bucky made a great couple. He enjoyed hanging out with you when you would all hang out as a group. Pietro wasn’t one for girlfriends. Sure he’d had a few semi-serious flings and would occasionally bring a date to the parties after a game and loved how you would instantly make anyone feel welcome. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment he started to think of you as more than a friend. It was sometime during his senior year.

At first, he pushed the idea out of his head. You were Bucky’s girl Y/N! You were the cute shy girl Bucky had brought out of her shell, who was still deep down that adorable musical theatre-loving dork. However, when Bucky started getting defensive around him and Sam about who he was texting, Pietro stopped feeling so bad about liking you of course Pietro would never do anything to jeopardize your relationship with Bucky and his friendships with either of you, but he couldn’t help but feel a tang of jealousy towards Bucky.

2010

“Look at Bucky, can’t go 5 minutes without texting his little cheerleader,” Sam said walking up behind Pietro. Bucky was too engrossed in his phone to pay any attention to the pair of them. Pietro smirked.

“Sam, watch this” Pietro said, before breezing over to Bucky and pulling his phone out of his hands. Bucky instantly shot up trying to grab the phone from Pietro, however, he was too quick throwing the phone to Sam.

“Dear Doll, I love you so much and all thought I only saw you this morning, I am already missing you” Pietro sang in a teasing manner.

“Come on guy’s give it back” Bucky grunted. Sam and Pietro kept throwing the phone between them. Suddenly Sam stopped laughing.

“Hey Buck, who’s Nat and why is she asking if you’re going to be around this summer?” Sam asked his eyebrow shooting up. Bucky’s façade faltered for a second. His usual bright blue eyes deepening with an unfamiliar expression. Pietro’s interest was also piqued, he may have wanted you for himself but that didn’t mean he wanted to see you get hurt.

“Oh, she’s just a friend of Jane’s. I met her at that party after our game in Green Bay last year she’s a cheerleader like Jane and Y/N. Natasha and her boyfriend Clint will be in town the summer and she wants to introduce us apparently her boyfriend was impressed with how we played” Bucky said, shrugging it off like it was no big deal. After that incident, Bucky was on his phone around the football team less and started talking about how much he loved you and couldn’t wait to spend some quality time with you in the summer.

November 2011

By the time graduation rolled around Pietro had put any thoughts about the pair of you out of his mind, chalking it up to wanting a relationship as opposed to you. At least that’s what he kept telling himself. You came along to his graduation ceremony. Well, it was for everyone. Pietro, Sam, Wanda, Jane, and Carol. Bucky came along too. Late. But you were there with Peter Parker who was a freshman, he had talent, but he seemed to prefer being behind a camera as opposed to on the field.

The whole gang hung around the field and bleachers after the ceremony. Goofing off and enjoying the last time the group would all be together like this for a while. Peter took photos of you all. Pietro’s favourite was one where he and Sam had picked you up whilst you were in the middle of talking to Carol and Wanda. The laughter that came out of your mouth as you squealed and shouted for the two footballers to put you down made his heart flutter.

Okay so maybe he wasn’t as over you as he told himself he was. Now he could understand what that Taylor Swift was banging on about in that song of hers.

Have you ever thought just maybe?

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Bucky’s girl,” he said grinning at you. For some stupid reason, probably because Pietro didn’t know what to do with his hands, he ruffled your hair like you were 5 again. He couldn’t help but notice you wince at the old pet name. He mentally kicked himself. Why had he called you that?!

Graduation was the last time he saw you for over a year. Unlike Bucky, Pietro had actually been away at a football camp when Bucky had cheated on you. He didn’t know what had happened. Only knew you two had broken up. Wanda was fiercely protective of her friendship with you and didn’t want to betray you by admitting to those that didn’t know that Bucky had cheated on you. He wasn’t going to lie; he was saddened when you didn’t stay in touch with him after he graduated. But after he started his first year at the University of Michigan, he didn’t have much time to worry about it. He was a Line Backer having secured a football scholarship after college scouts came to see Sam and a few others play, Pietro had caught the eye of the scout from the University of Michigan, all though he was a great player, Pietro didn’t want to play professionally like many of the guys on the team. He was studying Business and Economics.

Since about the age of 15, he and Wanda had always planned on going into business together. Between parties, flirting with the pretty cheerleaders and sorority girls and his studies you became a distant memory to Pietro. That was until one November game in his second year.

The Wolverines were playing the Wisconsin Badgers. Boy did they suck. Not that Pietro minded it allowed him the opportunity to watch the cheerleaders, he knew a few of the girls on the team from various parties, he hadn’t paid much attention to the new girls on the squad. Then out of the corner of his eye, he spotted someone who looked familiar to him. Could it be Y/N? Wanda had mentioned something about you getting a scholarship at Uni for your cheerleading, but he’d been in the middle of a game of Mario Kart with Sam at the time.

He tried to rack his brain’s but then the ball came towards him. He smiled to himself. Showtime Pietro. The game was an easy win. Whilst his teammates cheered Pietro made his way to the side-lines, desperate to know if the girl he’d seen earlier was you. His heart skipped a beat when he heard your familiar laugh. He couldn’t believe it. Pietro came jogging up towards you determined to chat.

“It’s just Y/N” or you can call me cutie you said winking at Pietro, he chuckled.

“How about I just call you tomorrow?” he retorted, you felt yourself blush. Pietro may come across as confident but inside he was shaking with nerves. Was he really doing this? What if you said no? You shrugged before pulling out a sharpie from your bag, you wrote down your number on his arm. He cocked his head puzzled.

“I changed it last year after Bucky wouldn’t stop blowing it up with apology texts,” you said simply wrongly presuming Pietro knew what had gone down. Before Pietro could respond you ran off to join the rest of your squad and headed for the changing room. He couldn’t help but smile to himself as your laughter rang in his ears whilst you walked off the pitch.

“Pietro! What’s good? How’d your game go tonight?” Sam asked. He sounded buzzed and Pietro could hear the faint sounds of a party in the background. Excellent he thought to himself. Sam was buzzed enough to have loose lips but not drunk enough to be of no use and if he was lucky Sam might not even remember half the conversation.

Pietro got back to his apartment, he had zero clues about what had gone on with you and Bucky. It was obvious due to your remark about him blowing up your phone with apology texts that he’d done something. He weighed up his options. Wanda or Sam? Wanda was his twin, and he knew deep down if he pulled the twin card she would tell him, but then if nothing came of this, he would be opening a can of worms with his sister over nothing.

Then there was Sam, he was still pretty close with Bucky and liked to chat a lot. But ultimately, he was like a brother to Pietro, and he trusted Sam to keep his mouth shut. Taking a deep breath and raking his hand through his Silver-blonde hair he picked up his phone and dialled Sam.

“So Sam you’ll never guess who I ran into cheering on the side-lines of the game!?” Pietro tried to sound breezy and cool like it was no big deal, despite the fact he was about to ask his friends ex out on a date.

“ I ran into Y/N. You know Bucky’s girl?” Pietro carried on forcing his voice to sound light. Sam choked on his drink down the other end of the line.

“I wouldn’t let her hear you call her that. That boy broke her damn heart, the fool” Sam said, there was an edge to his voice that Pietro almost missed.

“Wait, what do you mean?” Pietro asked genuinely curious.

“Well remember that little party your sister threw that last week of summer whilst you were away at football camp with some of your new teammates?” Sam asked. He didn’t wait for Pietro to respond before he continued.

“Well, Jane brought her friend Nat along” Sam continued. Pietro took a sharp intake of breath. No, Bucky wouldn’t have been stupid enough to kiss her at a party with your mutual friends, would he?

“Well turns out that Clint guy Bucky talked about wasn’t her boyfriend he was just a really good friend. But by the time we found that out Jane realised both Bucky and this Nat chick hadn’t been seen for at least a good 15, 20 minutes. So, she went to go find Nat. Only to walk in on them fucking. Oh yeah, it was on your bed bro”, Sam finished his story like it was no big deal. Other than the telling disdain in his voice.

Pietro stood stunned. No wonder you had winced at the use of your old nickname. Pietro’s heart broke for you at that moment. He vowed at that moment that no matter what happened between you both, he would do everything in his power to ensure you never had to feel heartbreak like that again.

Pietro will never forget that first date with you. He had come up with some lame excuse of showing you the best-hidden beauty spots of the campus. Not that there were any, he just wanted an excuse to spend some time with you. He wore jeans and a jumper with his beat-up converse.

All though it didn’t look like he had put much effort into his outfit he had spent a good hour agonising over it. In the end, he settled for a faded blue jumper hoping it would make his eyes and hair pop. He met you by the school library and the sun was shining, it was still a chilly November mid-morning.

You had turned up with your hair tied up in a messy bun a few stray pieces framing your cheeks, you had opted for a sweater dress. He remembered because it was loose and comfy but sinched inwards in all the right places. It was a silvery colour almost the same shade his hair was. Pietro swore you took his breath away.

Winter Break 2011

“And that right there is where the fraternity pledges had to stand and sing, I’m a little teapot every time someone put 10$ in the bucket. I didn’t truly understand the strange British Nursery Song or whatever it was, but I did like watching the pledges get embarrassed every time they had to sing when the cute cheerleaders walked past. So, I put 40 Bucks in the bucket when I knew the 3rd Years would be heading to practise” Pietro said pointing to the school statue.

You had nearly fallen over laughing at his story. Pietro noticed how you scrunched your nose up when you laughed. Like a rabbit. No like a Bunny. When Pietro walked you back to your dorm, he wasn’t sure if he was going to kiss you, but when you let him hold your hand, he decided at that moment he would regret it more if he didn’t take the plunge.

The moment he knew he was yours and you were his was at a party, he’d taken you on lots of hot chocolate dates, he knew you didn’t like coffee because it tasted bitter to you and that coca was nice, but you preferred the sweet comfort of a creamy hot chocolate.

It was at a party being held by the Ice Hockey team to celebrate their latest string of wins. You didn’t come to parties often preferring the comfort of a book and a cosy night in, but you always tried to attend parties after the football matches. You walked in wearing a red top and black skinny jeans.

The top wasn’t super low cut, but it hinted at your cleavage, you’d left your hair down for a change in loose curls. You’d recently gotten your hair dyed a deep chocolate brown and it brought out your eyes. Pietro nearly lost his damn mind when his Ice-blue eyes met your chocolate brown eyes after he’d drank all of you in. He excused himself from the conversation he was having with Scott Summers and co making his way over to you.

“Bunny, you look good enough to eat,” Pietro said dipping his head down to meet your lips, your lips were always so warm and welcoming a stark comparison to his cool lips.

“Bunny?” You replied scrunching your nose up. This was the first time Pietro had called you a pet name, you felt your heart somersault.

Pietro was messaging his sister on the drive home. He could tell you had something on your mind, but he knew better than to push you.

“So,” you began.

“What’s up Bunny?” Pietro asked snapping his eyes up from his phone.

“Well, I just thought now might be a good time to talk, we’re clearly going to run into a lot of our old friends, and there’s no way Wanda won’t know something is going on here, and I, I saw your lock screen,” you said. Well yeah Pietro thought, was he meant to be keeping you guys a secret? He didn’t want to, and he had just assumed you were a couple. You did couple type things, watching movies together curled up, holding hands when you guys were out together.

“So you were wondering what we are?” Pietro’s couldn’t hide the amusement in his voice. God, you were adorable. He watched your demeanour change and felt a pang of guilt, the determination in your eyes as you tried to not show that you felt embarrassed.

“Hey Bunny, look at me” Pietro grabbed your hand, wanting you to know how much he truly meant the next few words.

“We are a couple. I’m sorry you felt the need to ask, but I adore you, so we are a thing,” he said stroking circles on the back of your hand. You smiled and nodded to yourself. Pietro held on to your hand stroking circles the rest of the traffic. He couldn’t wait to tell Wanda she was wrong about him never getting serious with anyone.

“Hey Wanda, have you got a second?” Pietro and Wanda were heading out to meet up with you and the rest of the old school gang who had made it home for the Winter Break in the local coffee shop.

“Sure brother, what’s up?” she asked shrugging on her red jacket and lacing up her boots.

“So, you know that girl I told you I was seeing?” Pietro asked, you two hadn’t said if you were going to tell people or just let them figure it out, but he at least wanted to give his twin a heads up. Wanda straightened her brown hair falling behind her ears. She impatiently cocked an eyebrow waiting for her twin to continue. They were going to be late at this rate.

“Well, you know her. In Fact, you’re good friends” Pietro continued sucking in his breath.

“If you mean to tell me you’re dating Y/N, I already know brother”, Pietro froze. “I’m happy for you, but if you break her heart like that James did, I will not hesitate to kill you and hide the body” she continued.

“How did you know?” Pietro couldn’t help but ask, you guys hadn’t been a secret, but you hadn’t exactly announced it to the world either.

“I’m good at reading people Pietro” Wanda shrugged before heading out the door.

“You sly dog,” Sam said chuckling. Just then Peter turned up. Sam’s comment hadn’t escaped you, so you simply shot Pietro a quizzical look, one of your eyebrows arched. Pietro gently shook his head. He’d tell you about the phone call later.

It was great hanging out with the old gang, shame about Carol, and Jane being unable to make it back. Bucky was dating that Natasha chick and hadn’t come home from the holidays. Evidently, this wasn’t a surprise to Sam or Wanda. Pietro however was a bit taken back. That was until he heard how his sister had almost killed Bucky when she had run into him last summer. Carol had had to restrain her. Pietro couldn’t lie he was kind of bummed to miss it.

Pietro and Wanda didn’t celebrate Christmas, but they did celebrate being around people they loved and as the four of you sat around waiting for Peter Parker to make an appearance, he couldn’t help but feel his heart swell. You hadn’t even reacted to the mentions of Bucky. The way your brown eyes lit up when you teased Sam about his poor season or crinkled your nose when Wanda complimented your new hair, made Pietro come completely undone. Not being able to restrain himself anymore he leant in and kissed you, a slow soft kiss. The taste of your gingerbread cookie and peppermint hot chocolate lingering on your lips. When Pietro pulled away, he shot Sam a wink, and you promptly turned crimson. Sam just sat there gawking. Pietro watched as Sam tried to piece together his hazy memory from that phone call.

2012

Pietro absolutely adored the photo you had gotten him for Christmas, displaying it on his bedside table proudly. He had brought you a stuffed bunny for Christmas, cheesy but it made you beam at him.

“A Bunny for my Bunny” Pietro said shooting you his signature grin. Your heart constricted; it was an adorable soft fluffy powder blue bunny.

After winter break things got crazy busy. The year also seemed to rush by, between keeping on top, your rehearsals for the play. Pietro’s football practises, football matches, nationals for your cheerleading competition. It felt like you had barely any time to breathe. Pietro always looked forward to football games, not because he loved playing which he did, no it was because when you were cheering your face lit up, you always had his number painted on your cheek. Your brown hair always pulled up in a high ponytail, accentuating your big beautiful brown eyes that always looked for Pietro’s ice-blue eyes on the field. Mostly he loved the looks of jealousy he would get from the other team when players would be checking you out. Pietro would always come over for a kiss for good luck when he wasn’t on the field. You always giggled about how Mr cool; the confident cocky big-time football player was such a dork around you. Pietro was fast, sometimes your eyes couldn’t quite make out his movements, all you would see was a flash of his silver-blonde hair that peeked out under his helmet. You had started calling him Quicksilver, originally as a joke but it had stuck.

“So, move in with me for the summer,” he had said, his heart pounding in his chest. It wasn’t a big deal really but the thought of waking up to you every day for the summer made him practically giddy. Pietro continued to stroke circles on your bare legs. He was watching Grease, but he wasn’t absorbing what was being said.

Pietro loved every single second he got to spend with you, but mostly he loved the summer. College football season had finished, school was winding down and it meant he got to sit in those quiet moments with you. Pietro had no plans to go home for the Summer.

Pietro adored you more than he was willing to admit, hell he loved you which is why he was always never going to push you for anything more than you were comfortable with. He was content just kissing you, steamy make-out sessions. He just liked being close to you breathing in your scent, in the winter you always smelt like Vanilla and crushed Rose Petals. In the summer you changed your body spray, and he hadn’t quite been able to pinpoint the smell, but you smelt like Peaches, sunscreen, and sunshine. Okay, maybe not sunshine but he felt the warmth of your presence every time you were together. Pietro knew you were stressing about summer accommodation so he couldn’t help but offer up his place.

“Okay, I’ll move in for the summer,” you said. You picked up the remote and pressed pause on the DVD Pietro had been so focused on trying to play it cool he hadn’t even heard you the first time you spoke. When you started undressing, Pietro didn’t know where to look. Sure, you’d spent nights together, but Pietro always left you to get changed in his room whilst he went to brush his teeth. His eyes couldn’t help but wander over your body as you walked into your bedroom. Pietro inwardly groaned and felt himself harden. Trying to take his mind off what he had just witnessed he pulled out his phone. That’s when you appeared in the door frame, wearing nothing but his football jersey, when it lifted to show the skin of your bare stomach Pietro nearly lost his damn mind.

“Well, are you coming or not handsome?” Pietro grinned throwing his phone on the sofa and closing the gap between you in seconds, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder. Pietro was certain that if he didn’t get his way with you right that second, he would combust.

Winter Break 2012

“You love her, don’t you?” Wanda asked Pietro. You were finishing up tech rehearsals, so Wanda and Pietro were enjoying some sibling bonding by cooking Paprikash. Wanda’s eyes narrowed at Pietro who was avoiding eye contact with his sister. He could feel his sisters warm blue eyes boring into him. Eventually, Pietro stopped washing up and turned to face his sister. Wiping his hands on a tea towel he finally lifted his eyes to meet Wanda’s.

“Yes, of course, I do but that’s not a secret, so what are you actually asking Wanda?” Pietro raked a hand through his silver-blonde hair.

“It's obvious you two love each other Pietro, dearly. But you’re in love with her, you would hang the stars for that girl, and when are you going to admit it? You visibly had a thing for her back in high school and you have healed the damage done by James Barnes. So why don’t you let your guard down and tell her how you truly feel?” Wanda asked. Pietro stood there dumbfounded. Had it genuinely been that obvious to people he had liked you back in high school when you were Bucky’s girl? As if reading Pietro’s mind Wanda answered his question.

“You may have fooled everyone else Pietro, but not me” Wanda returned to her cooking and that was the last of the conversation.

“Are you sure your mum doesn’t mind me staying with you guys for winter break?” you asked twiddling your hair nervously. Pietro chuckled lifting your small suitcase into his car.

“Come on then quicksilver, let’s get going before the traffic builds up,” you said shooting him a grin your worries disappearing.

“Yes Bunny, she wouldn’t hear of you staying here alone. Besides, Wanda would rip my arms off if I even thought about coming home without you” he said pressing a kiss to your temple. Pietro had refused to let you drive saying it was his turn as you had driven last year. You still looked unsure tugging at the selves of your red jumper dress as you walked round to the front of his car. Your brown hair fell in loose waves, still slightly damp from your last-minute shower.

Pietro sensed something else was bothering you but didn’t push it. Instead, he hopped up on the bonnet of his car and pulled you between his legs. Pressing his forehead to yours, he uttered a silent promise that his mum would love you and that that the rest of the old gang would be happy for you both like they had all sworn they were. You looked up at him through your big doe eyes and pecked a gentle kiss on his nose.

“So, who did you say was coming tonight again?” you asked. You were standing in Wanda’s room whilst you both got ready for the small hang out Pietro and Wanda were hosting. Pietro had gone out to pick up Sam and Peter Parker and this girl he was bringing, Gwen. Pietro of course had been right about his mum loving you, you’d spent the last four days feeling welcome, included and at home. Wanda and Pietro’s mum had enveloped you into a big hug the moment she met you.

“Sam, Jane, Peter and his girlfriend Gwen. Carol’s coming, I think she said she was bringing her girlfriend. Now put this on” Wanda said handing you a low cut, slim-fitting black sweater dress. You rolled your eyes at Wanda; you were quite happy wearing one of Pietro’s oversized sweaters and your jeans, but you knew better than to argue with her. Just then you heard the door shut.

“It will be great to have so many of the old group back together,” Sam said shrugging off his jacket as he followed Pietro down to the converted basement.

“How are things between you and Y/N?” Sam asked.

“Sam, they’re pretty amazing,” Pietro said, a slight blush forming in his cheeks.

“Okay, that’s good to hear. Did you know Bucky’s in town for the holidays? I text him saying he should come along tonight; I hope that’s okay?” Sam asked. Pietro shrugged, he hadn’t spoken to Bucky since Bucky’s graduation and even then, that had been by phone. It wasn’t that Pietro actively avoided speaking with Bucky, it’s just that Pietro didn’t have anything to say to Bucky.

The pair of you had spoken in great detail about everything that went down between Bucky and yourself last year after winter break, and Pietro could see you still carried the scars from what he had done to when he cheated on yourself. Just then Wanda and you made your way downstairs into the basement. Pietro felt himself harden when he got a good look at what you were wearing. It was going to be a long night whilst Pietro thought the urge to take you upstairs and fuck you senseless. As if reading her brothers thoughts Wanda smirked to herself, a job well done, maybe now her brother would grow some balls and finally tell you exactly how he felt.

“Bunny, you look. Just wow” Pietro said. Sam rolled his eyes, you giggled before walking over to give Pietro a gentle kiss on the lips. You wrapped your arms around him hugging him close before you felt his hardened member. You cocked an eyebrow at him, but Pietro shook his head brushing your hair behind your ears before giving you another gentle kiss.

After about two hours, everyone had relaxed, caught up and were just chilling. Sam hadn’t heard from Bucky, so Pietro hadn’t thought anything more about it, no sense bringing it up to you if he didn’t show.

Sam had also gotten up nudging Pietro, swearing he would beat him next time. Pietro chuckled, that’s when Sam nudged him.

“You sly bastard Parker” Sam practically shouted. The three of them were playing Mario Kart whilst Taylor Swift played in the background, all though he’d never admit to anyone, including no, especially you. Taylor Swift had grown on him over the past year. Mostly because he loved the way you lit up when you sang along to her in the car.

Pietro was so engrossed in his game with the boys he barely registered you getting up off the sofa next to him. Whilst Sam had been busy yelling at Peter for using Banana peels, Pietro had overtaken Sam in the race. Once the game finished Pietro noticed you weren’t next to him. Feeling empty without you snuggled next to him he got up and stretched. He figured you were probably talking to the girls or something.

“Uh, Pietro, you might want to go save your girl from an awkward encounter with her ex” Sam looked pained. He was realising the error of his ways by inviting Bucky along. Pietro just shot him a puzzled look before following Sam’s line of sight. Pietro sucked a breath in.

“Sam, I swear to god if she ends up in tears tonight because of you, I will not hesitate to punch you in the face,” Pietro said before walking off to the fridge where you and Bucky stood.

“Yeah, schools fine thanks Bucky,” you said politely. Pietro’s heart was beating loudly in his chest, he had no concerns about how secure your relationship was, he just wanted to save you from any unnecessary heartbreak when it came to James “Bucky” Barnes.

December 2012 – August 2014

“Hey Bunny,” he said kissing the corner of your head before wrapping his arms around you.

“Hey Buck, long time no see!” Pietro said. Bucky stood frozen for a few seconds processing what he had just witnessed.

“Hey, Pietro Yeah. It's been a hot minute, so you two are a couple? You guys look cute congrats. Oh man, wow is that Peter over there? I barely recognise him I’m going to go say hey. Catch you guys later!” Bucky said practically running over to Peter. You turned around and kissed Pietro.

“Come on Quicksilver, let’s see if I can beat you at Mario Kart,” you said pulling him over to the sofa. Pietro instantly felt himself relax, glad to see that you hadn’t been impacted by Bucky’s sudden appearance. He grinned at you as he let you drag him behind you,

“What?” you said chuckling at his goofy grin.

“I’m just so fucking in love with you Y/N,” he said. Your heart skipped a few beats. Sure, you had both said I love you, but the way Pietro’s ice-blue eye’s shone at you, the way he had phrased it as being in love with you, made your heart squeeze, butterflies erupt in your stomach and all those other cliché metaphors.

“Pietro, I am going to rock you fucking world tonight, because I feel the exact same way”, you whispered in his ear. Pietro’s eyes bulged out of his head. He lent down and gave you a hungry kiss, sending electricity coursing through your body. When you finally broke free from the kiss Pietro, caught sight of Bucky glowering in the corner of the room ignoring whatever it was Peter was wittering on about.

Winter break came and went. Your second year at Uni whizzed past. Pietro even joined you and your family for your annual summer vacation in Miami, your grandparents were getting on a bit, so you decided to skip the summer production of Hairspray. Pietro joined you for two summers of family vacations in Miami. Your Grandma took a liking to him.

“Pietro, so good to see you again,” she said hugging him. “If I was 55 years younger”, she said shooting Pietro a wink. Pietro chuckled and stuck his tongue out at you.

“See I told you that she loved me the most out of all of you,” he said. You rolled your eyes. Pietro was right your grandma did have a soft spot for him. Who could blame her? Pietro was a true gentleman and his muscles stretched out any shirt he wore. His floppy silver-blonde hair and his goody grin. You were truly a lucky girl. He was going to break your grandma’s heart as much as yours when you two ended things this summer.

Saying goodbye to you was going to be one of the hardest things he ever had to do. The pair of you had spent the last week of summer in Florida with Wanda and her boyfriend James also known as Vision. Tomorrow you would both be getting on separate planes and going your separate ways. You were dancing around in the sea not a care in the world.

Pietro loved the way you were in the summer, the stresses of school melted away. You burned easily so your skin always had a very faint sun-kissed glow to it, but the way you were with your family. That was when you truly glowed. The way you blushed when your parents would talk about how proud they were of you. You were an only child, so your cousins were the closest thing to siblings you had.

And boy did your two male cousins pick on you. Teasing you about being smart, your relationship with Pietro. The way you would roll your eyes at them. Pietro’s heart squeezed with adoration when he watched you huddled in the kitchen with your grandma. Oblivious to the fact he was watching your brow would furrow in concentration as your grandma bossed you about in the kitchen whilst the pair of you cooked up some delicious treats.

“You know brother if you asked her to do long distance and wait for you, she would”, Wanda said sitting down next to Pietro. Wanda’s red hair almost looked like fire in the setting sun. Pietro sighed and shook his head.

“I know, but it’s not right or fair on her. She has plans of her own and we will be busy setting up your fashion label in NYC” he said, raking a hand through his hair.

“Besides, She's Cheer Captain, and I'm on the bleachers. She deserves to enjoy her last year, her heart is in Michigan, where her mum and dad are.” Pietro sighed. Just then you came bounding over. Your black bikini just about covering all it needed too. You plopped down on the blanket beside Pietro, your brown hair trying to escape its messy bun. You rested your head in Pietro’s lap. You giggled as he gently bopped your nose. Swallowing down the ache in your chest.

The pair of you stood wrapped in each other’s embrace at the airport, the rest of the world shut out. Pietro breathing in your familiar scent one last time. He didn’t need to hear you to know you were crying. It was taking everything in him not to cry too.

“Be good Bunny, don’t cause too much mischief with Loki and stay in touch. I love you my little Bunny” he said wiping the tears from your eyes. You couldn’t say anything, so you just held him tight and cried. When you finally broke the embrace and Pietro boarded. He wiped away the few tears that had escaped his eyes.

#pietro maximoff #pietro x reader #pietro x you #pietro fluff #bucky x natasha #wanda x vision #msmarvelwrites2k #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #avengers au

35 notes · View notes

queenk00k · 5 years ago

Text

red wine lips part 2 // rafe cameron

READ PART 1 HERE

PART 3 NOW UPLOADED

FINAL PART NOW UPLOADED

warnings: alcohol, SMUT, NSFW, fingering, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex (pls use protection), semi-public sex, swearing

word count: 1.7k

author’s note: highly recommend that you read part 1 so you understand wtf is going on. this is my first ever smut so please let me know what you think, i thrive on reblogs and comments, and uhhh be kind thanku...

You couldn’t quite pinpoint the exact moment you realised you wanted to fuck Rafe Cameron.

Perhaps it had a long time coming.

You think of any time you went swimming together and he came out of the water, wet skin glistening in the sunshine.

Any time you two hung out at his house and he was wearing sweatpants and a backwards hat and you felt weirdly more attracted to him in those moments than any other.

Or maybe the realisation was today, with him in his navy suit and red tie that matched your dress perfectly, spending money to impress you, running his fingers up your thigh, bringing his lips to your ear, sending shivers down your neck.

And now you’re sat next to him at a table with the rest of your friends, painfully aware of the fact that you’re not wearing any panties and he knows, and you can predict what he’s going to do with that information and you like it.

Rafe’s lips are brushing against your ear again as he whispers “are you sure we’re going to play this game, princess?” But you know he’s confident in your answer before you’ve even had a chance to voice it as his hand is resting at the top of your thigh again, pushing the silk aside.

Your breath hitches as he runs his fingers down even further, not quite reaching your heated centre but dancing around it, all while keeping his eyes on the rest of the group so as to not raise suspicion.

You clear your throat quietly. “I’m already wet, Cameron, you don’t have to try so hard. Stop teasing.”

Damnit, you think. It’s not like his ego needed to get any bigger.

Rafe chuckles. “If you’re already wet,” he whispers, “then I guess you won’t mind if I do this.”

With that, Rafe slips a finger further down and runs it through your folds, pressing against your clit and moving his finger ever so slightly in a circular motion.

You whimper and grab the edge of the table in frustration, earning a peculiar look from Topper.

“You good, Y/N?” He asks, furrowing his brow.

“Mmhm,” you reply. “Just really feeling the wine, you know?”

“Yeah for sure, it’s good shit,” he responds and turns back to Kelce.

Rafe starts teasing your entrance with his finger, using his thumb now to keep the pressure on your clit, and you feel yourself opening your legs slightly to allow easier access, leaning back every so slightly in your chair.

You turn to Rafe with widened eyes as he slips a finger inside you. “Damnit Rafe,” you hiss. “You can’t do that here. People are gonna know.”

Rafe simply looks at you innocently. “Not sure what you’re talking, princess.”

You narrow your eyes at him and glance down at his lap, where it’s clear he’s straining against his suit pants.

Fine, if he’s going to play it that way.

You reach your hand down and grip his half-hard dick in your manicured hand, feeling it stiffen even more as you palm him through his pants.

Rafe’s jaw clenches and his blue eyes darken with lust.

“Y/N,” he warns.

You smile sweetly at him. “Something wrong, sweetheart?”

Rafe abruptly brings his hand up, causing you to whine quietly at the sudden lack of touch and press your thighs tightly together for friction. He grabs your wrist and you feel your wetness on his fingers as he grips you and pulls your face close to his.

“Meet me in the bathroom. Don’t fuck around, Y/N,” he says and pushes his chair back hurriedly, stalking off to the restrooms without so much as a second glance.

You swallow thickly and look around at the rest of the group, who seem drunk enough to not even notice both of your absences, let alone care. You smooth your dress down again as you stand up and make your way hastily to the bathroom.

_______________________________________________________________

The door’s ajar when you get there and you step into the dimly lit restroom, thanking your lucky stars you were at a nice establishment.

“Rafe?”

The door slams shut suddenly and you jump, turning around as you hear the lock click.

You barely have time to react when Rafe suddenly pushes you against the tiled wall, his large hands holding your hips firmly as he stares at you, a lone strand of brunette hair falling in his blue eyes.

“I don’t like being teased, Y/N,” Rafe says quietly.

“You started-“ you begin to say, when Rafe brings his finger to your lips to silence you. You notice with a jolt that it’s the same finger he had inside you at the table, and he brushes it against your lower lip.

“Haven’t even kissed me yet and this is where we start? Bold choice,” you say, all snark but your voice is shaky and you can’t deny how turned on you are as you’re aware of the uncomfortable heat building at the juncture of your thighs.

Rafe pushes your mouth open with his finger. “Suck,” he says and you’re left with no choice but to obey him, wrapping your lips around his finger and lapping up your own arousal, maintaining eye contact.

Rafe looks pleased as he takes his finger out with a pop and smiles at you, before bringing his lips to yours in firm kiss, moving against you briefly before slipping his tongue into your mouth.

You kiss like that for a few moments, getting more hurried and desperate as Rafe pushes his hips into you and you feel his hard length against your thigh.

You break apart briefly, panting, your red strap falling down your shoulder and more of his hair falling into his eyes. He presses his forehead against yours and grips onto your waist tightly, moving you backwards until you feel your ass hit the sink.

Like clockwork, you jump up so you’re now sitting on the porcelain, and you wrap your legs around his waist.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he says, and without giving you a chance to respond he brings his mouth to yours again, keeping one hand on your waist as he uses the other to push down the top of your dress until both breasts are exposed.

Rafe breaks away from you again and looks at you hungrily, pupils wide and wanting.

“Well,” you breathe, “they’re not here just to look pretty.”

Rafe smirks and takes that as his invitation, ducking his head down to your chest, closing his mouth around a nipple and sucking, using one hand to brace himself against the sink and the other to cup your other breast, running his thumb back and forth over your hardened nub.

You moan, threading your fingers through his hair, keeping his head in place as he sucked your nipple into his mouth, alternating between the left and right. You bring your hand down and start touching yourself, moving your clit underneath two fingers and bucking your hips up to meet them.

Rafe stops and notices what you’re doing.

“What do you need, princess?”

You moan as you keep your fingers working away.

“Fuck, I need your mouth on me, please Rafe,” you say and he wordlessly pushes your dress up briefly so you’re completely exposed, and dives his head down underneath your dress, using his tongue in broad strokes across your clit. Your hand moves back onto the top of his head as you grip his hair tightly, moving your hips up against his mouth as he makes quick work of your clit.

“Goddamn, Rafe, I’m gonna cum-“

Rafe hums and the vibration brings you over the edge, legs shaking. You start to cry out as you cum but Rafe quickly moves back over the top of you and slaps his hand against your mouth.

Your moans are thankfully muffled as you finish your orgasm, completely wet and ready for Rafe to be inside you.

“Rafe,” you whisper once he deems it safe enough to move his hand against your mouth, “normally I’m a lady who returns the favour but fuck I just need your cock inside me right now.”

Rafe’s already undoing his belt, bringing his hardened cock out and you almost salivate at the sight of it as it springs up from the waistband of his underwear, dripping pre-cum.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he says and he moves towards you, your legs opening on reflex.

Rafe lines his dick up with your entrance and you clench in anticipation.

“Wait, do you have a condom?”

Rafe shakes his head. “I might be confident but even I didn’t expect to be fucking you at a winery tour.”

You’re not normally one to take risks, but you’re so turned on you might scream if you don’t feel him inside you soon. You wrap your legs around his waist even tighter and bring him closer.

“Whatever. Get inside me.”

Rafe groans at your forwardness and pushes himself into you, letting out a whispered “fuck” as he feels your walls clenching around him, finally bottoming out inside you.

“God, you’re so tight.”

You lean back and moan. “Enough small talk, Cameron. Just fuck me already.”

Rafe suddenly starts moving and snaps his hips forward, causing you to cry out as the feeling of his thick cock filling you up is almost too much for you. You move in unison, your hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. Rafe leans his forehead on your shoulder as he continues to pound into you, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he gets closer to his orgasm.

You feel Rafe go to move out and you cross your ankles together and bring him further into you, locking him in as you dig your nails into his back.

“Don’t pull out, please. I-I want to feel you cum inside me.”

Rafe lets out a guttural moan at your words and he thrusts inside you one last time, filling you with his cum and stroking your back with his free hand.

He slips out of you and you frown at the empty feeling. His cum starts to leak down your thigh and you hurriedly push your dress out of the way.

Rafe’s pulling up his pants as you both look at each other and smile.

“So…do that again sometime?”

tag list bbs (message me if you’d like to be added): @letsgofullkook @stargazingstarkey @simpforstarkey @harrysbbby @ptersparkers @socialwriter @thatjohnd @ssjiara @jjsmentalpolaroids @bailspogue @jjmaybankx @jjtheangel @jjmeybank @drewstarkey @obx-direction-sos @sortagaysortahigh @pixelated-pogues @jjmbanks @ims0golden @obbx-tings @honeyycheek @drewstarkey @teenwaywardasgardian @tembo-ndoto @prejudic3 @downbytheouterbanks @starkeymarkey @snkkat @drewxxrudy @pogue-writings @milamaybank @pookie-cleary @jjmaybcnks @obxjj

#obx fic #obx fanfic #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks smut #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader

625 notes · View notes

parkersbliss · 4 years ago

Text

Who | Newt

Pairing: Newt X Female!Reader

Warnings: angst... no- no words? Minho being stupid and me roasting Thomas

wc; 4.4K

Synopsis: Ever since you woke up Newt can’t help but feel like you’re a different person, it seems he’s not the only one.

a/n: will probably make a part two if anyone wants it

Prompt list | Masterlist | Taglist

Based on: Who by Lauv ft. BTS and the scorch trials

—

Outlines of new eyes and visions of you

Girl, I think I need a minute

To figure out what is, what isn’t

It was all very sudden. One minute you were sleeping on Newt’s shoulder and the next you were being yelled at to get out.

Out of where?

“Move, move, move!” An officer shouted, helping Teresa.

That’s when you remembered, you had escaped the maze.

“C’mon, (Y/N),” Came Minho’s voice, gently shoving you forward. Everything was a blur, having just woken up you could barely make out the yelling and the blinding lights. Minho pushes you toward the edge of the helicopter and a pair of familiar arms wrap around your waist and lift you off and onto the concrete below.

“Are you alright?” Newt asked, moving his hands to rest on your shoulders as you blink wearily, flinching at the gunshots.

“Yeah,” you shake your head, “just a bit of a rude awakening.”

Newt nods, lips pursed, “I’ll say.”

“Thomas we have to go!” Minho shouts, but as usual, Thomas doesn’t listen and he dives back into the helicopter to grab something. Minho curses under his breath and grabs the boy's shirt, practically throwing him out the helicopter after, “Let’s go!”

Thomas and Minho get pushed into you as multiple guards surround you and direct you into the base. The door slams shut behind you and your group stares in awe at the huge place. The same question hung in the air as you all looked at each other, what is this place? A man steps forward, introducing himself and leading you through the garage, giving a brief explanation of the place.

“But we do have a place for you,” Janson said, grabbing your attention as you focus on the back of his head, “a refuge of sorts, outside the scorch. Where WCKD will never find you again,” He turns around to face you, “how does that sound?”

You and Newt share the same skeptical look. It seemed almost too good to be true. Was this truly the end?

“Why are you helping us?” Minho asked, taking the words right out of your mouth.

Janson doesn’t turn around, “Let’s just say the world out there is in a rather precarious situation, we’re all hanging on by a very thin thread. The fact that you kids can survive the flare virus makes you humanity's best chance of continued survival. Unfortunately, it also makes you a target as no doubt by now you’ve noticed.”

Janson stops in front of a door, turning towards you “Beyond this door lies the beginning of your new lives.” He slides a card through, opening it and revealing a long hallway, he turns back, smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, “First things first let’s do something about that smell.”

You’re sat on a bed next to Teresa, legs dangling over the edge as you glance at Newt. He’s sat in a chair, a rather big needle being pointed at him as he gives the medical personal a concerned look. It’s as if he can feel your eyes on him as he turns to look at you, he smiles softly, trying to reassure you, but you can see the look in his eyes. He looks scared, and maybe it’s the huge needle in his arm or the fact that you’re so far from him.

“Teresa, (Y/N)? I’m Dr. Crawford.”

You glance at her, turning back to Newt, and your eyes drift to Thomas, giving Teresa the same look and you start to wonder if this place was all that it seems.

These choices and voices, they're all in my head,

Sometimes you make me feel crazy

Sometimes, I swear I think you hate me like uh

It seemed the world had a thing for rude awakenings for you. However, this time, you’re being shaken and someone is calling your name.

“(Y/N)? Hey? Hello, c’mon wake up love.”

It’s his voice, but who is he? Your eyes slowly blink open as your head pounds, you can hear distant shouting.

“Guys they’re coming!”

As you slowly regain conscience you realize Newt is the one holding you, and his eyes are searching your face for something.

“What’s happening?” You asked.

A loud crash grabs your attention and you watch the boys flip a table over and shove it against the door, forming some kind of barricade for the time being. Newt helps you off the bed and you wobble against him, before securing your footing and reassuring him you’ll be okay, but it doesn’t seem to convince as he keeps a tight grip on your hand.

“Everyone get behind me!” Minho shouts, forcing you all back.

“I know I’ve been asleep for a while, but I’m pretty sure Minho didn’t know how to use a gun last week,” you said.

Newt shrugs, “Yeah, well, he’s learning now.”

Minho spares a glance back in your direction, before loading the gun, “We gotta get out of here!”

Thomas comes up with another one of his brilliant (and quite dangerous) plans and grabs a stool, bashing at the glass.

“Newt, help me!”

The said boy grabs another stool and both manage to break the glass. Teresa is quick to drop a blanket over the broken window to prevent any injuries. Thomas practically leaps over the area, helping Teresa out as Newt goes next. You climb over after, rejecting his help as you clamber over. The rest follow, and Minho tosses Thomas the gun as he runs toward a door, trying to peer out of it.

“Stay behind me,” Thomas orders as he opens the door and comes to face with someone. He’s quick to respond and shoots him, the man flies back onto the ground as you all stare in shock.

“Well, shit,” You breathe, looking at Thomas, “that’s one hell of a gun.”

Thomas nods, “C’mon.”

And just like before you’re running again, down hallways, and to what looks to be an exit. As per usual, Thomas and Minho lead. Thomas grabs a key card from his pocket, swiping it through only to be met with soft beeps of denial.

“No, no, no,” He murmurs. Alarms are going off above your head and you’re not oblivious to the hopeless looks on everyone's faces as Janson turns the corner.

“Open this door, Janson!” Thomas shouts, aiming the gun at him. Janson holds his hands up as Minho picks up the key card and tries again.

“You really don’t want me too-”

“Open the damn door!”

“Listen to me!” Janson commands, “The maze is one thing but you kids wouldn’t last a day out in the scorch. If the element don’t kill you, the cranks will.”

Thomas continues to hold fire, but the look on his face says anything but.

“Thomas, you have to believe me, I only want what’s best for you.”

You scoff at that, rolling your eyes, “Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

“Oh yeah? Thomas counters, “Let me guess, WCKD is good.”

Janson smirks, “You're not getting through that door, Thomas.”

As if to prove a point, the door dings, a green light radiating from it as it states ‘access granted’

The door slowly opens and there stands a boy you’ve never met, with Winston, “Hey guys.”

The group of you rushes out, waiting for Thomas, who being Thomas, fires angrily at the guards before throwing the whole gun away.

You lean over to Newt, eyebrows furrowed, “Does he know how to use a gun?”

Newt frowns, “I don’t think so.”

The door begins to close and panic fills you as Thomas runs, but it doesn’t look fast enough. Everyone begins cheering, hoping the runner will make it, but time is running out and the door is closing. Against all odds, Thomas slides through and the boy who you’ve learned to now be Aris smashes the panel as Janson bangs at the glass. In response, Thomas only gives him the middle finger as you laugh.

Newt shoots you a small glance, but you don’t notice. He’s not sure why, and maybe it’s just his brain playing tricks on him, but it almost feels as if something’s off about you. Had WCKD done something to you?

Ever since you woke up he had noticed you weren’t as close to him. Maybe it sounded ridiculous, but it started with when you woke up. He knew you like the back of his hand, and when you first opened your eyes and saw him, there was nothing in them. No love, recognition, warmth, happiness, nothing.

They were just void.

Then there was when you had rejected the hand he gave you when you went through the window - and maybe he’s just paranoid, but you’ve never rejected his help. Even when you were holding onto his hand, it just wasn’t as tight anymore. It’s probably just him, but Newt couldn’t help but feel like ever since you woke you were someone else, but who?

Even now as you climb up the dunes, you were far ahead of him, next to Teresa talking in a hushed voice.

Newt sighs, who were you?

I need a walk, I need a walk, I need to get out of here

'Cause I need to know: Who are you?

'Cause you're not the girl I fell in love with, baby

As the days passed, Newt felt like you were growing more distant. It felt like he didn’t even know you anymore. He could pinpoint the exact moment it happened when you woke up. He knew that much, WCKD had done something to you - you weren’t the same. You weren’t the girl he fell in love with. Newt sighs, running a hand through his hair as he stands up, glancing at the fire in front of him before walking off into the cold night. He just needs to clear his head, reassure himself that it was only him, but he can’t help it. Even now, you were curled up on the desert floor, knees tucked in and completely facing away from everyone. It was like you were closing yourself off from them - distancing yourself.

“You okay?” Thomas asked, startling Newt.

Newt shrugs off Thomas’s hand, nodding, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“It’s (Y/N), isn’t it?”

Newt purses his lips together, staring off into the dark, “How'd you know?”

“She’s not distancing herself from just you. We’ve all noticed, Newt.”

“I’m not crazy,” He mumbles as Thomas nods.

“She’s changed. WCKD did something to her - to them.”

Newt spins around, “Them?”

“Teresa, I know she’s changed too. It only makes sense,” Thomas replies.

“So what do we do?”

“What can we do?”

Newt tugs at the roots of his hair, trying desperately to find a way out of this. “Is there anything we can do?”

Thomas shrugs, “I don’t know.”

Silence settles over the two boys, both sitting on the hard ground and staring into the night. If you weren’t (Y/N), who were you? Had WCKD altered your personality? Changed you? What could they have possibly done to the girl he loved?

Who are you?

'Cause something has changed, you're not the same, I hate it

Oh, I'm sick of waiting for love, love

Oh, I know that you're not the one, one

“Newt, hey do you see that?” Thomas asked, pointing to what looks to be a building in the distance. Newt nods as Thomas works at waking the rest of the group.

“(Y/N), hey, we gotta go,” Newt murmurs, gently shaking you awake. You blink a few times, registering his face before nodding and letting him help you stand up. A loud rumble echoes through the deserted place, followed by a lighting bolt in the distance.

“We have to go, go now!” Thomas said, grabbing at everyone and pushing them forward. You all began running, feet slamming against the sand, desperately trying to beat the storm. Lighting rains down on you all, getting closer and closer.

“(Y/N), c’mon!” Newt shouts, extending a hand toward you and despite what he thinks, you grab it, letting him pull you forward. Holding hands with Newt use to felt right, like two puzzle pieces connecting for the first time, but it only felt wrong now. So, so wrong, and you couldn’t understand why.

A bolt strikes down, alarmingly close and you can hear it ringing in your ears as Newt tugs you toward him, bumping together as you breathe out a sorry.

The building is closer now and you run a bit faster, pulling Newt with you as you near a door.

A loud cackle startles you as you watch Minho and Thomas go flying. Your group screams their names, but it looks like Thomas can’t hear you and Minho is - he’s smoking.

You can hear Thomas screaming Minho’s name, crawling over to him. Newt leaves your side, pushing you back and ordering you to stay there as he and Aris go to help Thomas pick up Minho. You follow Teresa, racing toward the door and waiting in the dark for the boys as they race against the storm.

“Newt!” You scream, urging them to move faster. Against all odds, they stumble inside and Fry slams the door shut.

“Minho?” Thomas cries, shaking him, “c’mon.”

Your heart drops when the boy doesn’t seem to wake up. Out of instinct, you reach for Newt and let him pull you to his chest, hiding your face into the crook of his neck as your fear the worse.

Then, a sharp intake of breath, “What happened?”

Thomas exhales, “You were struck by lightning.”

Minho smiles, a bit dazed, “Sick.”

You roll your eyes, at his comment, stepping back from Newt and offering him an apologetic smile as he nods.

“Guys, do you smell that?” Teresa asks, walking forward.

There’s the sound of chains clinking together before a scream tears through the building. A flashlight shines on the creature and you realize it’s a crank, it screams again and Newt pushes you behind him as the group realizes they’re surrounded.

“Oh shit.”

“I see you’ve met out guards dogs,” A voice says, and you watch as a woman walks up to you guys, “you look like shit.”

You roll your eyes, smiling a bit in relief, “Thanks.”

Feeling hypnotized by the words that you said, Don't lie to me, just get in my head

When the morning comes, you're still in my bed, But it's so, so cold

“Are you okay?” Newt asked, brown eyes sincere.

“I’m fine,” You replied, glancing at your hands instead of him.

“You’re sure?”

“Newt, I’m fine.”

Said boy sighs, “I know you’re lying.”

That gets your attention and your eye snap up to meet his, “What?”

“I know you’re lying, (Y/N),” He shrugs, leaning back. You open your mouth to further argue, but Newt cuts you off, “I don’t know why. I wish you’d tell me, but I guess everyone has their secrets.”

There’s an almost threatening undertone to his voice, but you knew Newt and brushed it off.

“Yeah, I guess we all do.”

Silence fills the void between you both unless you count Jorge yelling at Marcus. You felt so far from Newt, and the reality was you were and Newt was feeling the strain.

“They did something to you,” Newt said, catching you off guard. “They messed with your mind or… or something!”

“Newt,” You call softly, “They didn’t-”

“Don’t say they didn’t do anything, I know they did. I know you’re lying to me - to us. Just tell me, please.”

You turn away from his pleading eyes, intent on keeping your mouth shut, “Nothing happened.”

“Then why are you so cold to me?”

“I’m no-”

“Yes, you are! You can’t even look me in the eye anymore. I pretend I don’t feel it, but I know that when you hold my hand it isn’t the same. You don’t want to.”

You go silent again, opting to look anywhere but him, you couldn’t. If you looked at him, you’d see the tears, the pain in his eyes and it would make the choice too hard.

“I’m sorry,” You whisper.

“What did they do to you?” He asked, setting a hand on yours, trying to get you to look at him, “Please.”

“I can’t,” You protest, making no move to grab his hand, but also not shrugging him off. “I just can’t.”

Newt clicks his tongue, nodding as he removes his hand from yours, and for some reason, you miss it.

“Of course you can’t.”

“I’m sorry Newt.”

“I’m sorry too.”

“Everyone has their secrets,” You echo back to him, “some secrets just aren’t meant to be revealed.”

Newt shakes his head, “Yeah, I guess not.”

Who are you?

'Cause you're not the girl I fell in love with

The fire did nothing to keep Newt warm. He felt numb, cold all over. It seemed after talking to you, he only pushed you away more. Arriving at the right arm should’ve been a moment where you rejoiced, but Newt hadn’t seen you since they arrived.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” Minho asked, glancing around the camp for you, when he doesn’t see you he turns to Newt who shrugs, “It’s none of my business.”

Fry raises his eyebrows, looking to Thomas and Minho as if to say ‘I think we hit a nerve.’

“Aren’t you guys, like, I don’t know… close?” Thomas stuttered, Minho face-planting next to him.

“I loved her,” Newt answers, looking off in the distance missing the way all three boys jaws fell.

“Did he just say loved?”

“That’s like… past tense.”

“So he doesn’t anymore?”

“Holy shit, he’s in love with Thomas.”

“Minho, shut up!”

Minho raises his hand in surrender, “Okay, so then… he’s in love with Teresa?”

Fry slaps Minho upside the head for that comment as Thomas shoots daggers at the Asian, “How stupid are you?”

“Okay fine! He’s-”

“If you say he’s in love with me, Minho I swear to god I will throw you off this cliff,” Fry threatens as Minho goes silent.

“I’m not in love with anyone else,” Newt said, turning back toward them, “She’s just - she’s not the same person from the Glade.”

“Are you saying she’s been taken over by Aliens?”

Fry sighs deeply, lowering his head into his hands, “Minho I’m seriously going to throw you off this damn cliff.”

Minho huffs, mumbling something under his breath, “Okay. I’m done now. You think WCKD did something to her, don’t you?”

Newt nods, staring at his shoes, “I know they did something to (Y/N).”

“But what?” Thomas questions, leaning forward slightly.

“I don’t know! Maybe she has been taken over by bloody aliens-”

“Ah-ha! I was right!”

“Minho!”

“Sorry,” He coughs, “carry on.”

Newt runs a hand through his hair, “Do you think there’s a way to get her back?”

“We don’t even know what they did,” Thomas said.

“There has to be something,” Newt protests, standing up, “I can’t just - I can’t let it end like this. I can’t let her go without knowing we could’ve done something.”

“Newt,” Fry calls, “Is there maybe a chance she just…” He trails off, hinting at something he doesn’t want to say out loud.

“She what?” Newt snaps.

“She doesn’t love you anymore.”

As soon as he said those words, Fry folding in on himself, mumbling an apology.

Newt shakes his head in denial, “No, why would she - it doesn’t make sense.”

“And her being taken by WICKED and them changing her entire personality does?”

“Yes!” Newt shouts, “It makes a lot more sense. You don’t just fall out of love with someone, you can’t. Look, the moment I woke her up I knew something was wrong.”

Minho stands up, resting a hand on the shoulders of his friend, “Just think about it. We’re not saying she did, but you’re ruling it out because you don’t want to believe.”

Thomas nods, “You know we’re here for you and (Y/N). If something’s wrong, we’ll figure it out.”

Newt nods, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath, “Thank you.”

“We’ll save her, Newt.”

“I know we will.”

Who are you?

'Cause you’re not the girl I fell in love with, baby

Who are you?

Thomas is forced to his knees next to Minho as the guards yank him in line.

“Why didn’t you run?” Minho whispers, glancing at Thomas from the corner of his eye.

“I’m tired of running,” Thomas said.

A loud rumble echoes through the night as another berg lands. Sand is tossed up from the turbines before they shut off and the door opens. Four guards step out, protecting something - someone.

And that someone was Ava Paige, “Is this all of them?” She turns toward Janson.

“Most of them,” he said, “it’ll be enough.”

“Start loading them in,” She orders.

“Yes, ma’am,” He complies, looking to the guards. “Okay, you heard. Let’s go! Get ‘em on!”

Ava stops in front of the three boys, staring at Thomas, “Hello, Thomas.”

Hurt, betrayal, disbelief flood through Newt when he watches you walk forward with Teresa. The guards weren’t pushing you, in fact, they were protecting you.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” Ava said, nodding at the two of you.

Minho stood up, hurt laced in his voice as he looks at the two of you, “What the hell?”

“Teresa? (Y/N)?” Fry questions.

“Wait, what’s going? (Y/N)?” Newt called out, trying to fight the obvious. He already knew the answer, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe it. What happened to you? What changed the girl who wanted nothing to do with WCKD to siding with them? Most importantly, what happened to the girl he fell in love with? Newt had felt like he’d been stabbed. He should’ve seen the signs, they were right there in front of his face, but he had turned a blind eye and he couldn’t help but feel some of this is his fault.

“They’re with them,” Thomas spat, voice like poison as he glares at the two of you.

“Since when?” Minho scoffed, not even meeting your eyes.

“Oh, Teresa’s always had an evolved appreciation of the greater good,” Janson steps forward, “(Y/N)… not so much, but it seems once we restored Teresa’s memories, it was only a matter of time. (Y/N) was just a bonus here.”

“I’m sorry,” Teresa said, “I had no choice. This is the only way. We have to find a cure.”

“She’s right,” Ava spoke up, “this is all just a means to an end. You used to understand that, Thomas. No matter what you think of me… I am not a monster. I’m a doctor. I swore an oath to find a cure! No matter the cost.” She pauses, “I just need more time.”

“More blood,” Mary said, glaring at Ava.

“Hello, Mary,” Ava replies, ignoring her remark. “I hoped we’d meet again. I’m sorry it had to be under these circumstances.”

“I’m sorry about a lot of things, too, but not this. At least my conscience is clear.”

Ava didn’t even bat an eyelash, “So is mine.”

A gunshot echoes through the night and you flinch. Mary slumps forward, Vince desperately calling her name as he fights off the guard.

“Come on, Janson,” Ava commands, gently grabbing you and Teresa’s arm. “Load them up. Let’s go. All these people. Get rid of them. Let’s go! Let’s go!”

Your eyes gaze down at the ground, trying to fight the feeling of all this being wrong. Was it wrong? You wanted to save lives, but was it worth risking theirs?

“Get back! Everyone, stand back!” Thomas shouts, and you spin around, eyes wide when you see the explosive in his hand and the determined look in his eyes.

“Stand back!”

Janson runs forward, eyes blazing, “Hold your fire!”

“Stand back,” Thomas said, “let them go.”

“Thomas, put it down,” Janson tried, but Thomas shakes his head, “Let them all go!”

“You know I can’t do that!” Ava protests.

“Thomas,” Teresa called, voice soft, “please stop. I made a deal with them. They promised we’d be safe - All of us.”

You don’t say anything, you can’t even look at them. Guilt was eating at you, you were in the wrong, but you couldn’t go back.

“And I’m supposed to trust you now?”

“It’s true!” Ava steps in, “it was her only condition-”

“Shut up!” Thomas screams, stepping back,

“Everything can go back to the way it was. Thomas… do you really want all of them to die?”

You turn away from her, eyes glassy as you realize how badly you screwed up.

“Listen to her, Thomas,” Janson spoke, “think about what you’re doing.”

“We’re with you, Thomas.”

Your heart drops when you hear Newt’s voice among the three, all of them crowding around the bomb

“Please,” You whisper, the first you’d spoken, “Don’t do this.”

“Don’t,” Ava backed you up.

“Do it, Thomas,” Minho said, glaring at you.

“We’re ready,” Fry reassures.

“We’re not going back there.”

“Thomas…”

Thomas raises his hand with the remote, finger hovering over the detonation button, “It’s the only way.”

You screw your eyes shut, turning away and waiting for something, an explosion, but instead, a crash and the sound of a truck come through. Chaos explodes as Jorge crashes into the helicopter. Everyone tries to break free from their restraints as you remain frozen in place, wondering if this was your chance to escape. Thomas blinks a few times, still holding the bomb.

“Freeze!” A guard orders, “Drop it, kid!”

Thomas, being the little shit that he is, ignores him and tosses the bomb forward, falling straight to the ground as it explodes. You think this is your chance to escape, to run away and find Newt and apologize, but Teresa grabs your arms, dragging you with her to the berg, and your hope diminishes, “We have to go, (Y/N).”

You follow her inside, watching the whole ordeal play out. Your eyes scan the crowd for Newt, but you can’t find him. Instead, you see Minho being dragged toward you by two guards. The guards drop him right at your feet, and you glance down, eyes filled with tears that roll down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper only to Minho. “I’m so sorry.”

Cause something has changed, you're not the same, I hate it

Oh, I'm sick of waiting for love, love

Oh, I know that you're not the one, one

— END —

The Maze Runner Taglist: @peterspideyy @martinimom @lozzypoz321

267 notes · View notes

kiranogareru · 4 years ago

Text

VIOLENT BEAUTY OF LOVE

Warning: Mention of blood, death, Hanahaki disease and probably cursing, because I curse a lot, may give you the feels

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

A/n: Tried 3rd person view for this, feedback is welcome! Also, I don't know where I'm going with this, so let's take this journey together😅

Katsuki jolted up in his bed, eyes wide and holding a wild look of horror in them!

His throat feeling like it was being ripped apart from the inside, as the burning sensation of brutal scratches from within began to restrict his airflow!

'No, not again..' he thought in realization as he started coughing

He choked and gasped, desperately trying to force some air into his aching lungs! His eyes welling up and unintentionally staining his cheeks with tears

The feeling was unbearable, the agony making him subconsciously reach for his neck with both hands, in a futile attempt to somehow soothe the pain, but alas..there was nothing that could be done

Katsuki kept his condition a secret, not wanting anyone to think he's weak. He's been dealing with this for months all on his own, fighting it day in and day out and the worst part is he doesn't even know what's wrong with him!

At first it wasn't as bad, so Katsuki brushed it off as a stupid cold, but the symptoms kept worsening and no medication seemed to work

As the all-too-familiar metallic taste rose to his mouth, Katsuki knew exactly what would happen

He pushes himself up and off the bed, planning to run to the bathroom, using the last of his strength, but as soon as he stands, his legs give out and he drops to the cold, hard floor of his dorm, knees scraping upon Impact!

Katsuki is now supporting his weight with one arm and gripping at the collar of his shirt with the other,as his coughing fit continues, until his pain spills itself on the tiled surface beneath him

Y/N was so concerned about Bakugou, he had been missing several classes, he seemed disconnected and tired during most of his training sessions these past few weeks

Losing sleep and performing anything less than perfect on the battle field, isn't like him, in fact it is so uncommon that it became an instant tell that something was wrong with the normally, fierce blonde!

Though the weirdest thing ought to be the unusual aura that radiated off of him. He was mostly calm and very quiet!

Y/N is one of the few people that Bakugou has allowed into his life, he trusts her! They're personalities are very similar and that provides Katsuki with a sense of comfort and understanding!

This lead the duo to become close friends, but without realizing friendship turned to love...the one-sided kind to be exact

Y/N had just woken up to multiple messages from Eijirou, saying how Bakugou sounds sick again

Kiri: Do you mind checking on him? If any of us go he'll feel like we're looking down on him for being sick

Fuck, Eijirou was right, Katsuki would mistake the Bakusquad's concern for pity

Y/N found herself at Katsuki's door, worried at the sounds coming from the other side

She was unsure whether she should knock or simply enter and help him, but his shaky breaths and quiet sobs convinced her to do the latter!

She cracks the door open and pushes it gently, slipping into the room

What she's met with, leaves her in shock, her mind unable to form words at the sight in front of her and her gorgeous orbs prickled with building tears!

Right there on the floor, was a barely conscious Katsuki, lying in a pool of flowers, petals and what she could only assume was his own blood!

Never before had she witnessed a thing so mesmerizing, yet so damn cruel! She didn't even know such a combination could be achieved!

It made her angry that this...this violent beauty of love was possible!

Why did such tragedy, such pain have to befall the boy she loves?

Y/N kneels next to Katsuki and cradles his exhausted form, observing her dear friend closely. His vermillion eyes glassy and puffy, tear-streaked cheeks, blood and petals smeared on his lips and chin!

The saddened, soft expression she was wearing, while gently caressing his cheek, made him wish he could dissapear! As much as he loves being in her warm embrace, he despises the fact that she is there!

Bakugou never wanted her to see him like this, so vulnerable and beaten down, so- so fucking weak! He'd rather her think of him as anything, but weak!

He hated that out of all people, she had to be the one to walk in and catch him at his lowest!

His handsome face, was tainted with pain and she fucking hated that! It made her sick to her stomach, to see someone so strong, look so distraught!

Y/N carefully rested Katsuki's head on her lap, brushing some stray, spiky locks of ash blonde hair, out of his face

She couldn't help but wonder how long he's been suffering for and who could possibly be the cause of the heartbreking disease, the one of unreturned feelings, better known as Hanahaki!

How could someone that managed to win Katsuki Bakugou's heart, throw away their chance and deny his love? It just didn't make sense to her!

Some sort of awkward tension was thick in the atmosphere of the room, as silence spread between them, but she couldn't quite pinpoint why..

"Why didn't you say anything dumbass?" She asked, with a halfhearted smile on her lips, using his nickname for her, in an attempt to lighten the mood

"I can handle it on my own, I don't need these extras thinking they can surpass me just because I'm sick" He grumbled, his voice coming out strained

"You're too stubborn for your own good, you know that?" Her question was clearly rhetorical, since both of them knew the answer

"So...who is it?" She finally questioned, voicing the thought that was stuck in her head

Katsuki gave her a strange look, one that implied he had no idea what the Hell she was talking about!

"Huh?" Was all that left his lips

"Who are you in love with?" She hesitantly asked

Bakugou quickly sat up, his back now facing her, as he suddenly started coughing once again, his breaths shallow and sharp!

She couldn't bare the scene that was unfolding in front of her very eyes! His body was a trembling mess, while he struggled to breath, flowers coated by his blood spattering from his mouth and hitting the floor, like some type of poetic murder scene!

She desperately wanted to help him, but didn't know how, or what she could possibly do!

As Katsuki started to calm down, Y/N went to get some wipes from his drawer

Both teens sat down, this time on Katsuki's bed. She cupped his face and begun to clean him up

"Whoever the fuck said I'm in love? And what does that even have to do with anything?" His voice was hoarse and his tone cold as he spoke

His words took her by surprise, since she was so shook up that she forgot she had even asked him something!

'Did he not know?' Y/N thought to herself

"I figured- because of..the flowers?" She stuttered out, her statement sounding more like a question if anything

"What about those damn flowers?" He spat in confusion, with a scowl on his face

"Katsuki..." She softly spoke, taking a hand of his in her own, her other resting on his cheek "do you not know why you're sick?"

He felt his chest tighten at the contact, but kept an unfazed facade, as he proceeded to lock eyes with her

"Don't look at me like that!" He suddenly snapped

"Like what?" She asked, perplexed as to what she did wrong

"I can see the fucking pity in your eyes!" He growled "It's just an illness! It's not like I'm fucking dying Y/N!" He angrily yanked her hand off of him and looked away

"Katsu you- you are dying..." Her voice cracked and trailed off, eyes brimming with tears, that were threatening to spill

"You have Hanahaki. Look around you, the plant in your lungs has grown so much, that you're coughing up fully grown-" Her words caught in her throat, as she pointed to the blossoms, picking one up to examine it closer, only to discover that these were her favourite flowers, even the colour was right!

"Hanahaki?" Bakugou looked heartbroken "I thought it wasn't real"

He'd heard stories about it ever since he was little, but never knew anyone who had actually experienced it! But apparently life has a funny way of teaching you things

It all made sense to him now! He already knew he was starting to fall for her, but now he also knew how Y/N felt and this only gave him two options!

He could either, suffer a little more as a lovesick puppy, until he dies, or get a surgery that will remove the problem from it's literal roots and risk losing all memory of the girl he loves and possibly the ability to love again!

As he was deep in thought, Y/N turned to him, flower in hand and with tears streaming from her eyes to match her broken smile

"It's not me..it can't be me" She mumbled out, gaze on the floor as she couldn't bring herself to face him

"Y/N it is you! I'm in love with you!" He confessed, his head resting against hers, those lively ruby orbs of his staring at the flower in her palm, while his hands cupped hers

"Please don't say that.." She sniffled, reaching into her pocket with her free hand and pulling something out "I don't want to be the one who did this to you"

She opened her fist, showing him petals of a flower he didn't recognize "I don't want to be the one who hurt you!"

'How could I have been so dense, so oblivious? Of course she loves someone else' Katsuki felt his heart shatter like a mirror, the pain returning, as he let out a sigh and pulled her into a tight embrace

He tried his hardest not to break down in tears, not to let the flowers suffocate him and allow this moment to be his last memory! Just her in his arms!

"Don't cry Y/N, I'll be alright! This is not your fault! I'll get the surgery and I'll be alright!" He rubbed the small of her back to soothe her

"But what if you forget about me? I don't want to lose you!" She cried

"I would never forget about you!" He told her sternly

"Do you promise?" She asked, like a line from some cheesy love story

"I promise, but only if you go into surgery too! I don't want you to end up in pain" He admitted

"Okay, I'll do it" Even though Bakugou tried to reassure her, she feels guilty and is willing to do this if it means he will be happy

As the days passed and the time for the surgery came around the teens went their separate ways, since their appointments were registered in different hospitals, or at least that's what Bakugou told Y/N

In reality he had simply asked principle Nezu if he could visit his parents that day for personal reasons and stayed with them

Mitsuki gave her son a whole lecture, but after he got fed up, he decided to tell her and Masaru the truth...or part of it anyway

Meanwhile Y/N was in another part of Musutafu, lying on an operating table

Two days later they were back to UA, trying to catch up on assignments. Y/N had no recollection of her prior love interest and Bakugou had no intention of telling her that he never went to the hospital!

"Yaho Katsuuu" She greeted, as he entered the kitchen. It was their turn to clean it today

"Huh?" He tilted his head to the side "Which extra are you again?" He asked playfully

Her shocked expression made him laugh "That's not funny!" She pouted "You scared me!" She said, before smacking him on the head

"It was funny to me dumbass" He said as he proceeded to wipe the table

Y/N was happy that everything seemed to have gone back to normal, she loved seeing him smile

But little did she know...

By the end of that same month, Bakugou was found dead in his dorm, which resembled a cursed garden of blood-soaked flowers! Some stems and thorns were coming out of his mouth, while others had pierced through his lifeless chest! The scene was gut wrenching!

Aizawa was the one who found him, after Y/N pointed out that he had never followed the rest of the class out of the dorms

The dorms were immediately sealed, so none of the students could see the traumatizing sight!

However Y/N had a feeling that she knew what had happened to the fiery hero-in-training and she couldn't help but blame herself for it

#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #x reader #hanahaki #bnha #bakugou #king explosion murder #dynamight #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou angst #bnha x reader #bnha x female reader #mha x y/n #tw death #tw graphic #bnha bakugou

74 notes · View notes

mrsalwayswrite · 4 years ago

Text

Safe (Eugene Roe x Reader)

Based on this post by @problematicfavesareproblematic because its too cute and I can’t help myself apparently.

This is also my first Eugene Roe fic!! Yay!

All translations are via Google...someone please tell me if they are wrong!

Warnings: angst? fluff?

Words:1500

Tag list: @happyveday @evelynshelby @sydney-m

"Get everyone in the trucks! Go! Go!" Winters commanded his men, walking down the line of waiting vehicles.

Doc Roe looked up from wrapping a bandage around a man's shoulder. He watched the men scurry around like ants after a child kicked their home in childish glee.

Operation Market Garden was collapsing around them. Since learning about the operation, while the other men cheered at the idea of Berlin by Christmas, Roe felt nauseous. Something about the operation did not sit well with him. Call it intuition or a sixth sense, he just knew it could not be that simple. Before they dropped into Holland, he had convinced all the medics he knew to bring extra bandages and morphine, anything they could get their hands on. He hoped it would be enough.

"Can you get up?"

The Private grimaced, face pale. "Thank you, Doc. I'll find a seat myself."

"We'll find you some morphine at the aid station." Roe nodded at the Private before starting along the line of trucks, eyes and ears open for the call of a medic.

He caught sight of Spina helping a limping Private onto a truck bed before climbing in himself to continue administering aid. As he continued, he checked people off his mental list. He saw Shifty, Moore, Liebgott, Ramirez, Tanner, Talbert...more and more raced back to the trucks, some with blood tainting their skin and uniforms. He would have to check on them later.

There was one face in particular he had not seen yet.

The further he walked, dodging men retreating, the more his heart pounded in his ears. She was supposed to be in the back. She was supposed to be safe.

"Non, non, non, où es-tu?" He whispered to himself, panic creeping under his skin. (No, no, no, where are you?)

Ever since she had been wounded in Carentan, Winters had kept her from the front lines unless absolutely necessary. Usually, she was holed up somewhere and watching the men's backs, using her sniper skills. Shifty may be their sniper on the ground, but she was their sniper from above. Their guardian angel. If she had been sent to assist...the situation was worse than Roe had previously thought.

Sometime between Toccoa and Aldbourne, he something shifted between them. He could not pinpoint an exact moment. It was somewhere in the lingering touches, the soft smiles exchanged, the comforting words and stories to cheer one another up...somehow, he had fallen in love. Now he needed her just as much as air. She was his lighthouse, his beacon of hope. She had to be safe.

Glancing to his left, he headed towards the truck with what looked like most of her platoon in it. "Luz! You seen y/n?"

Luz looked down at him from his seat. "No, Doc. Last I saw she was protecting the retreat." Remorse and concern filled his eyes as he answered. They both knew what that meant. She would be the last to evacuate, the last to safety, the one most likely left behind.

Roe started running.

"Merde." He swore, eyes darting everywhere for a sign she was nearby, that she was alright. She had to be. It was that loyalty that he both loved and hated in her, how she would make sure "her boys" were safe, protecting their backs and lives, and in the process, be willing to sacrifice her own.

"Y/n! Y/n!" He began calling out in desperation. Ignoring the stares of some of the men, he wrestled internally with his own panic. His cries bordered on hysterical at this point.

They had never spoken those three little words to each other. Never put a name to what existed between them. They just were whatever the other one needed. Over the past two years, that grew until they were each other's world. How they sought each other out. How in a group, they always looked for the other first before anyone else. The quiet nights they cried together.

"Richardson! Is y/n with you?"

The man glanced around the back of the truck that he was waiting to jump into. "No, Doc. She missing?"

Roe did not wait to reply. He kept moving. He had to. Otherwise the growing terror in his mind would consume him. "S’ll vous plaît, Que Dieu la laisse être en sécurité. S'il vous plaît." (Please, God let her be safe. Please.)

"Doc! Over here!"

He zeroed in on Toye's call at the last truck. Pushing anyone who got in his way, he raced to where Toye stood watching. Once Toye noticed him coming, he sat back down, turning back to the person sitting next to him.

Rounding the side, he felt his heart and mind restart as he saw her. She sat next to Toye and some other Private on the uncomfortable wooden bench, her beloved rifle in her lap. As if sensing him, she looked up to meet his gaze. A soft smile -his smile- touched her lips. The panic and terror threatening him vanished like a mist in the wind.

"Mon amour." He breathed out, relief flooding him. There was dirt smeared on one side of her face and a small cut on her chin. Otherwise she appeared fine, even if her clothes looked disheveled and dirty beyond saving. She was alive. (My love.)

Without a further word, he jumped up into the truck and knelt down in front of her. "Hey, you." He held her face in his hands, gazing into her eyes for a long moment before pressing their foreheads together.

"Hey you." She whispered back, her hands cupping his own face. He could taste her breath on his lips. "I'm alright, Gene. I promise."

Leaning back, he ran a hand through her hair, wondering what happened to her helmet. Then he felt something wet and sticky on his fingers. Pulling his hand back, he saw blood on it...her blood.

Immediately he went into overbearing doctor mode.

"What happened?" He demanded, turning her head to the side and trying to find where the bleeding stemmed from.

"I'm fine."

He glared at her before resuming his inspection. Carding his fingers through her hair for an extra second, he began inspecting underneath, silently praying it was minimal. He could not lose her. There was nothing gushing so that was a good sign. She still seemed coherent, her eyes were not dilated, other good signs.

"I just hit my head a little on a brick wall when one of those explosions went off. It's not a big deal."

"Doll, shut up and let the man look you over." Toye drawled from beside her, watching the two in amusement.

Roe rolled his eyes as she stuck her tongue out at Toye. She winced when he touched a particular spot on the side of her head, hair matted with blood. After a moment, he leaned back on his knees and began digging through his medic bag.

"There’s a laceration but it doesn't look deep. You're lucky." He wrapped a bandage around the cut and her head to hold it there. Suppressing a chuckle, he continued to wrap it as she narrowed her eyes at him. She hated being fussed over. In his opinion, she could deal with it. She needed to get better...for both of their sakes.

The truck suddenly lurched, beginning its escape from Holland and the disastrous mission.

Roe shoved the Private next to her over, ignoring his protest, and slipped to her other side. Quietly he took her hand in his as his eyes scanned the others. He had been so focused on her; he did not even think about if any of the other men in the truck were injured. Luckily none were.

"I'm sorry I scared you. I had to help." She murmured, voice barely above the rumble of the trucks.

He sighed, squeezing her hand then pulled her closer into his side. "I know, mon amour, I know." He looked down, meeting those eyes he adored. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

She laid her head on his shoulder. "No, but you can't protect me from everything. This is war."

"I can try. Tu es tout pour moi. J’ai besoin de toi à mes côtés. Toujours. Je promets après cette guerre de continuer à vous aimer et à vous chérir comme vous le méritez." The words poured forth, needing to be said, needing to be spoken aloud, even if just for his own sake. Though he meant them with all his heart. (You are everything to me. I need you by my side. Always. I promise after this war to continue to love and cherish you as you deserve.)

"Gene, you know I don't speak French. It's not fair cause I wanna know what you're saying."

"I'll teach you, y/n. I promise." He could not help but press a chaste kiss to the top of her head as they bounced along the road.

Looking at the blue sky and clouds above, he prayed he would be able to fulfill both of his promises to her, that they would both make it through this war. Most of all, he prayed for her to be safe, even at the expense of his own life.

#band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #eugene roe #doc roe #eugene roe x reader #doc roe x reader #joe toye #world war 2 #reader insert #hbo war #mzwrites

190 notes · View notes

whumpinator · 4 years ago

Text

Mongrels, The Both Of You: Captured

Dollar groaned as they tugged on their manacles again. They were strung up at an awkward height, arms pulled above their head and tied to the wall, knees bent in a strange angle. The cuffs were welded to the sumptuous living room wall, making Dollar shiver. How long had Arleen been planning this? How many others had she done this to before?

The bitch herself was sitting in a nearby chair, smoking cigarette after cigarette and snuffing them out on Dollar’s body at random intervals. In between smoking, she talked.

“Honestly Dollar, it’s in your best interest darling. If you win, I’ll make life good for you and if you lose . . . you won’t lose. I have a five-star training room and gym, I’ll personally make sure you crush the competition. Literally” Arleen snickered at her own joke. “The sooner you accept, the less pain is in it for you.”

Dollar snarled behind the muzzle. Arleen had shoved it on after Dollar wouldn’t stop screaming at her. It was a tough leather thing that fitted snugly over their nose and under their chin, tight enough to keep their jaw from moving up and down. Ever since they’d woken up in chains, Dollar had struggled and shouted every curse word they knew. Then Arleen had started talking nonsense about keeping Dollar as her “fighting dog.” Bitch. Dollar was not a dog. Never would be.

Arleen leaned forward again and though they pulled away, tightly as possible, Arleen still managed to press the butt of her cigarette to their open shoulder. The stinging pain made tears water up in their eyes and they desperately launched a kick at their assaulter. But Arleen had made sure her chair was just out of reach and all Dollar managed was losing their balance. All of their weight fell on their manacled wrists.

Blood splattered their face.

Dollar sobbed.

“I want you to think carefully” Arleen continued, as though nothing had happened. “You’re a practical person, you can do that. I have the advantage here. No-one knows you’re with me, you’re chained up, at my mercy. No-one will be looking for you very hard since all your over-worked police office will see is another orphan alcoholic who dropped off the face of the earth after they made a few bad choices at the local pub.”

Dollar grit their teeth, struggling to their feet again.

“Don’t make me hurt you to convince you. I have a variety of toys bought specifically for that purpose. Think about it Dollar. I can treat you well. There are other people, much worse than I am-“

Knock knock knock.

Dollar and Arleen’s heads both turned to the sound of the front door. Arleen frowned.

“Be quiet.” she ordered, getting up to investigate. Dollar ignored her, pulling furiously at the manacles and growling as much as she could with the muzzle on. As if they were going to listen to that bitch. They listened closely to the sound of Arleen padding down the carpeted hallway and opening the door.

And the next sound, a soft, slow speaker’s voice, that made their blood run cold.

“Er . . . are you Arleen? Arleen Kay?”

“Ryker.

No, nonononononononono, no, no, no.

Ryker!”

They resumed pulling on their manacles, desperate to do something. Blood was running down their arm in streams now.

“Yes” Arleen snapped. “What do you want?”

“Oh, um, it’s just. My sibling Dollar. They had a date with you last night? This is the address they gave I was just wondering if you knew where they are?”

Dollar gave up pulling and started screaming, loudly as they could. The muzzle stopped all but the quietest whimpers.

“I’m sorry to bother you. It’s just, they said they’d be back last evening and they haven’t even come home yet.”

Arleen’s voice sounded sickly sweet “Oh, they stayed here with me actually.”

“Really? They didn’t text or call or anything . . .” Ryker’s voice trailed off as he was ushered through the doorway. “You have a beautiful home.” he commented.

“Thank-you” Arleen said coldly They were getting louder and louder as they got closer to the living room. “Will you two need a ride home or do you have a friend waiting for you?”

“Oh, I got a taxi here” Ryker replied with a nervous laugh. “A ride home would be appreciated actually.”

Shut up Ryker! Don’t tell her any more!”

“And you are Dollar’s . . .”

“Brother. They were going to help me apply for colleges this morning.” His voice was tinged with disappointment.

And then the door opened.

They could pinpoint the exact moment he saw them them, manacled, muzzled, face wet with tears they hadn’t realised they were crying, mingling with the blood running down their arms. The way his eyes widened and his mouth dropped in shock, the way he half-turned to Arleen to confirm what he was seeing- but he didn’t get to take it in for very long. Arleen jammed a taser into his ribs and, with a scream of shock and pain, he crumpled to the floor.

Taglist @spookyboywhump @whumpasaurus101

39 notes · View notes

corvidshipping · 4 years ago

Text

Because I Couldn’t Stand to Lose You

Summary: Red has something important to tell Milo after work. Pairing: Bryelle “Red” Harness/Milo Th/atch Warnings: coming out, a very brief moment of misgendering Rating: G/T Word count: 1.5k A/N: once again this was written with 0 outline and very little editing. i wrote this in one sitting between like 2/3 am and 5am. yee haw pardners

Is it possible for a person to pinpoint the exact moment they fall in love? To take the record on which all of life is written, to unscroll the papyrus and point to a sentence, a word, a moment, a breath, where it all started? Is it possible to know the exact words which made you realize that you never wanted to be apart from a person?

A lone figure stands outside the Smithsonian offices, a crowd pushing and heaving against it. Enshrouded in a black coat and a wide-brimmed hat, its eyes are cast in shadow, but it stands watching, waiting at the doors for a man who is always prompt. Somewhere, a church bell chimes for evening mass, and the doors open.

The man who steps out is simultaneously immediately recognizeable and forgettable, a concerningly thin body wrapped in a tan overcoat and topped with a sandy mop of hair. He hurries in the chill of the October evening, tucking a sheaf of papers and books under his arm protectively. Only on the steps does he look up from his rushing feet to see the figure waiting, and at that moment on the rain-wet stone his balance fails him, leaving him to tumble down four more stairs and come sliding to a halt at the figure's feet. Silently, the figure reaches down for his upper arm.

"I didn't think you were coming today," the man says as he allows them to help him to his feet. He checks his papers, counting once and then twice, ensuring they are all present. Once he is on his feet, it's clear the difference between the two; despite an unimpressive stature, the man in the tan coat towers over the one in black.

The figure reaches over to brush off the back of the man's coat, and finally speaks. "I wanted to walk you home. Fluffy missed you." Their voice is soft, higher than the man's yet lower than most women's, and their sentences stay clipped short.

"You checked in on him?" A grin, crooked and bright, grows on his face, glowing in the grey mugginess.

"You asked me to, Milo." A wry smile grows on the lips under the black hat, small and dollike set in the pale white face of the speaker. "I couldn't let him stay lonely all day. I think I like him more than I like you."

"What would I do without you, Red?" The man named Milo says, ignoring the former's comments to placing a guiding hand on his petite companion's shoulder. The two of them set off down the street, lit yellow under the street lamps.

The duo reaches a row of apartments, and Milo separates from his friend. "This is me," he says, looking back at the silent silhouette as he approaches a door. "Or, eh- would you like to come inside? I can brew some coffee, and..." his sentence trailed as his companion remained silent for some time.

"I would, thank you." The figure steps forward, over the threshold behind Milo.

A mewl greets the two of them in a darkened room, and as Milo fumbles with a box of matches, his friend steps forward to the coatrack and relieves themself of their outerwear. The gas light takes to flame as their coat falls from their shoulders, and he turns to glance at them.

From under the black hat, red hair comes untucked. Milo's brow furrows as he notices that there's not enough - in fact, it's about a foot shorter than it should be, clipped short at the base of their head and revealing a pale, swanlike neck. Rather than turning around, they stay with their back to him, holding their hat and fidgeting with the brim.

"You... cut your hair?" For some reason, Milo finds himself swallowing hard with a dry throat. Fluffy winds around his companion's legs as they take a sharp breath.

"Milo, I have to tell you something."

The man steps forward to place a hand on their shoulder, and they release a breath. "Can you tell me on the couch?" As soon as the sentence has left his mouth, he's rethinking it. That was too harsh, he thinks to himself. She's clearly upset. But rather than arguing, they simply allow themself to be guided to the living room. When Milo takes a seat on the couch, they stay standing, head bowed and eyes focused on a stray thread on their sleeve.

"I don't want you..." they hesitate, and chew on their lip for a moment. "I don't want you to see me the way you see me, anymore."

This revelation only serves to confuse Milo further. "The way I see you?" He's fumbling, floundering. Does she not like me anymore? Did I do something?

"As a woman." As soon as the words leave their throat, they breathe in sharply again, as if they wished they could gasp the words back from the air. Milo blinks twice, and the room is silent except for the cat's incessant purring.

Finally, they continue, breathlessly. "I know it's strange, but I'm not the only one. There are others like me. I can show you- I have books, newspaper clippings. There was a surgeon, he identified himself as a man, and there's more, but I forgot their names. I'll show you. I mean, I'm not a man, I don't think, but I'm not a woman either. I think I'm something else. It's all very strange, I know, and you don't have to understand. Just don't be mad, please, Milo."

Milo stared at his friend, glasses slipped to the very tip of his nose, breath from his open mouth fogging his glasses. He swallowed once more, trying to find words, and stood. "Why... why would I be mad?"

His compatriot finally lifted their gaze to meet his. "I don't know. Because it's different. Because maybe if I stop going by my name, if I were to stop being a 'she', you might not think of me as myself anymore." Their next words were quiet, spoken barely on a sigh, not meant to be heard. "I couldn't stand to lose you."

Their eyes bored into Milo's now, searching desperately for words that he had not yet spoken. Milo gazed back into them, tracing a line between two points in his mind. He took a step forward, not breaking his line of sight, inhaling as if he were about to speak, but his voice died in his throat. Strands of copper strayed over his friend's - Bry's, Red's - forehead, appearance forgotten in their confession. Their eyes darted back and forth still, and as the two points connected in Milo's mind, he began to see them, and understand them. Two black pools returning his gaze, reflecting the lamp very much like pools of water reflecting a starlit sky. In the yellow flicker, they became nearly the color of honey, set like citrines in a pale face, porcelain marked only by the occasional sunkissed freckle sprinkled over flushed cheeks and a pointed nose. Their lips began to tremble slightly, barely hinting at tears.

Is it possible for a person to pinpoint the exact moment they fall in love? During a conversation, a walk down a foggy road in October, a silent moment after a confession? Is it possible to know the exact words which made you realize that you never wanted to be apart from a person?

It was Red. It had always been Red. And they hadn't changed. By any name, by any face, they were always the same Red, the same unfaltering friend. The Red who, on their first meeting, Fluffy had jumped into the lap of right away, purring. The Red who had spent hours helping him copy ruined papers after they had been knocked into a rain puddle. The Red who mended his vests, visited his cat, brought him lunch, and all at the simplest mention by Milo without being asked. Even if they changed how they looked, how they wanted to be seen, they would stay the same Red, and Milo knew he must support this. They were too valuable to lose for this, in a way that couldn't be measured or described.

It was one of two things Milo was sure about without hesitation.

He smiled. "You want to dress like this now?"

"I do." Red's eyes kept searching his face, trying to find the hint of disapproval.

"You don't want me to call you 'she' anymore?"

"It's interesting that you mention that," they began on another tangent. "You see, the singular 'they' has been in use since Shakespeare's poetry, I can give examples, and if you-" As they looked at Milo, their sentence cut off. "Yes." They concluded.

Milo's smile simply grew. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah. I can give you some of my old clothes, if you'll need them. I mean... They won't fit you, but you can hem them, right?" Milo finally stepped back, his awkwardness returning as he considered the implications of exactly what he had just realized.

"I... Thank you." Red's eyes become glassy with tears that threaten to spill over as they speak.

"Yeah. I mean, don't worry about it. I l- I care about you." He began to fumble with his words. "Why don't I make that coffee like I promised?"

Red smiled. "That would be nice."

#paper_heart.txt #self ship fic #self shipping community #screams and yells. i wrote this in one night i was up till 5am finishing it but it was WORTH IT!!!! WORTH IT!!!!!!!!#s: i didn't say it's the smart thing. but it is the right thing #lucky stars

11 notes · View notes

sebbytrash · 5 years ago

Text

Through His Eyes - Part Seventeen

Summary - Bucky arrives at the compound to start afresh but you and him have a somewhat colorful past, colorful being that you met him once before as The Winter Soldier and it did not go well. New beginnings, yeah? If you can learn to forgive.

Pairing - Eventual Bucky x Reader

Warnings - Nightmares, angst, self loathing, sad stuff my guys.

A/N - I’m sorry. Trust me.

Through His Eyes Masterlist

“No, please. No.” Bucky’s agonised moans wake you, sharply, his hands twisting in the sheets. “Not her, not her.”

“Bucky, shhh, Bucky it’s a dream.” You try to soothe him, smooth a hand across his face. He doesn’t notice, or wake, just continues to fight against some unseen force.

“I can’t.” He pleads, sweat making his hair stick to his face, dark little lines streaking across his forehead to emphasise the pain already written there. “No, no.” He repeats it, over and over, a mantra, a prayer.

You get up on your knees to crouch over him more, use your hands to shake his shoulders a little and try to ignore the way your heart hammers against your chest, the way it’s threatening to break apart in time with the agony in his screams. “Bucky, wake up! Bucky, you’re okay, you're safe.”

His eyes open, wild and terrified, and you see him see you, see the horror claim his face and see him recoil, push himself further into the mattress to be free from your touch. You know then what his dream was, and how you’d carried it to him when he woke like an unending hell, the dream that won't end.

Your chest is hollow renewed.

“It’s me, Bucky. You’re awake, I’m here.” You sit back on your haunches, try to give him what little space you can afford without mirroring his retreat and causing any more pain.

He swallows visibly, closes his eyes with a clenched jaw and then, just when you are about to say something, anything, his eyes open again and lock with yours, a hurricane in those sea-laden eyes. You stare right back, cautious, regretful, because this is everything you wanted to prevent, being the very cause of his pain all over again. A cycle that can never be broken, no matter how hard you try, he tries.

“Sorry,” he tries to say, voice hoarse from the screaming, swallows again and then clears his throat, “I’m sorry. It’s, uh, been a while since I’ve had one that bad.” You can’t help but notice that he makes no moves towards you, stays exactly where he is, now back pressed against the wall. It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself, even as you ache to touch him.

“You don’t have to apologise.” You say, automatically, roll your bottom lip between your teeth in an attempt not to press him and then the words pour out of you anyway, like the blood in your mouth. “It was me, right? The dream.”

He looks away, the muscle in his jaw moving in time to his clenching and then unclenching of his teeth, the darkness of the room dragging along his jaw and high-hollowed cheekbones like he wills them into place, wills a physical barrier between you and him. You hate yourself for asking and yet, need him to answer.

“Yes. It was you.” He says it like it cost him something to do so, each word dragging in the air between you. You feel like a thief, stealing the words from him when he so clearly didn’t want to part with them. A thief further for stealing away his progress like a flesh and blood nightmare, a purgatory made personal for him, for you.

The silence stretches between you, an open mouth that swallows up all sound and even the memory of sound, a hungry, endless pit of a mouth that swallows you whole. The seconds turn to minutes and slip, like sand, through your fingers and into that mouth until finally, you cast what should be a rope, and instead is an anchor into that mouth-pit. “Well, since I’m up, I’m gonna go get some coffee.”

You see the way his face changes when you say it, think that maybe a slap in the face would have hurt you less and force yourself to climb awkwardly out of his bed and slip out the door before you crumble into dust. He makes no sound, makes no moves to stop you, simply lets you disappear like that dust swept away by the wind.

You retreat to your room, locking the door behind you like it can keep away the thoughts or that wave of despair that's threatening to knock you off your newly found feet, Sam’s concrete already cracking under the strain. You spend hours or minutes pretending to watch TV, ignore Sam when he knocks on your door and Wanda when she texts. You make yourself food and then find yourself staring at the smudges on the wall whilst it goes cold on the table in front of you. The dread in your stomach claws it's way up your throat and threatens to choke you.

You think about that edge you and Bucky had danced along for so long, that leap into the fall you'd taken and those few sweet moments in between where nothing really held its weight to drag you down, soft smiles and smiling, salt water eyes. Well, gravity has its claws in you now, again, you think, and the impact of that fall is fast approaching.

You know it's him before he knocks, the butterflies that dance along your skin and tumble in your gut whenever he’s near give you more warning than his hesitant knocks, the sounds themselves a sad little song that plucks at the strings of your heart. He waits for you to open the door, which says more about where his head is at than he probably realises, you think, a soft smile that doesn't crinkle his eyes in that way you like is offered, and shared.

"Hi." You say, and step back to let him in, doing your best to smother those frantic wings.

"I'm sorry about earlier." He rushes out, and you can tell it surprises even him, "I was just caught off guard. And the bruises…"

He trails off and you realise then what he means, your bruises from the sparring with Steve had triggered his nightmares and the suddenness of it makes sense. It changes nothing, but at least it makes sense.

"You know I'm going to get hurt sometimes, right? What we do here, there's no avoiding it." You begin, not really knowing how to end but knowing that you should.

"I know." His eyes flash, lightning strikes against the turbulent sea, "I just… I didn't know how much it would hurt to see you like that."

A confession, a secret, meant to be a balm but instead feels like the flames. He'll never be free of the Soldier, you think, not while you walk around like a living hallucination of a past he never deserved.

"I think…," You start, feel your tongue fat and uncooperative in your mouth, "We need a little space." The air in your lungs already feels like lead, like the concrete that held up your legs is now filling your lungs and chest, drowning you in your own progress.

He says nothing for entirely too long and yet, long enough for you to be grateful for a few more seconds before the collision. "Space."

"I think it's best, don't you?"

"I can give you space, if it's what you need." He says it like maybe you are the one who needs it.

"Bucky, we can't keep doing this, it's not good for either of us." You say, every bit of emotion clawing its way up your throat, some of it desperate to take back the words. You can feel the shape of each letter scrape against your tongue. "It’s ruining you.”

“It’s not. It’s not.” He says, quieter on the repeat like it’s for himself and not you, his jaw clenches so hard you fear he will snap the tendons. “I love you.”

That’s it, that’s what does it. Breaks you down into all those tiny pieces you used to be, those ones you’ve spent minutes and hours painstakingly stitching and taping back together. You feel the words hollow out space in your chest, replacing the now useless heart that’s beat it’s last beat. The last of your arguments die with it.

“That’s not what this is, Bucky. It’s a crutch, a coping mechanism. A way to ease all that fucking guilt we carry.” Even to your own ears, you sound void of emotion, the last bit of it carved out by the knowledge of what you had done to him. Guilt howling down the corridors of your heart. “It’s not real.”

“Don’t say that, of course it’s real.” He breaks the invisible barrier around you and takes your hand, presses your fingertips to his chest, “Can’t you feel it?”.

He looks at you with such hope that you are almost unmade, the full weight of it hangs off your bones and tries to strip you of that steely nerve but you fight for it, know that this is what he needs if he’s to heal. Go to war with yourself for him. Anything for him.

“I feel a lot of things, Bucky. I feel raw. I feel tired, tired of the guilt, of the fear every time I close my eyes I’ll dream of you, or that I won’t.” The last part sneaks out, betraying more than you want and he latches on to it. “I don’t…”

“Are you afraid you don't love me? Or are you afraid you do?” He asks mildly, like how you might ask about the weather. Or probably, more accurately, like he knows the answer and is just leading you down a path where the answer waits for you to want it.

You shake your head, not in answer but in anger, the kind of uncontrollable rage that comes with defeat. Of words poking at a wound you were denying the existence of. “Stop. Just stop.” Your voice breaks half way, a shout turned cry. A beg for mercy.

“What are you so afraid of?” His voice breaks too, a slow sort of break like the last ebb of his strength, the last air bubble before the silence. It cleaves you in two.

“You!” You shout, pieces of you slipping through your fingertips, not realising what your words would sound like to him. It’s not how you mean it anymore, but he doesn’t know that, takes it on face value alone and you can pinpoint the exact moment you break his ever fragile heart, because you break your own with it. Always with those matching scars and matching pain.

“I’m sorry,” you begin, drift your fingertips across his jaw and let yourself have just one more moment of touching him, “I didn’t....” He closes his eyes, closes himself off, you think, and your fingers smear against the wetness on his face. You turn from him then and head for the door, feeling every single second of the battle and war that raged for him and rages still.

The sound of the door closing quietly behind you somehow seems worse than if it had slammed, a mirror to the way you had quietly broken the man behind it and even quieter, broken yourself.

You take a step, and then another, and then more and more until you are out the building and gulping down the fresh air to try calm the beating of your unsteady heart. You fight the urge to go back and undo it all, to somehow scoop up all the words and pieces of you and stuff them back in place but your feet carry you automatically. Somehow, you're not sure how long later but long enough that the sky has changed color, you find yourself at a door, knocking a little too hard and too long until he answers.

“Mallow, what are you doing here?” Clint asks, taking quick stock of your current state and pulling you in for a hug before you can answer.

“I just needed to be away.” You say, and hug him tighter, “Is this okay?”

“Of course it is, come in, Laura’s making cocoa,” he ushers you in, still tucked under his arm, “and you look like you could use some.”

#through his eyes #kale writes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #marvel fanfic

396 notes · View notes

kayteewritessteve · 5 years ago

Text

Be Alright - 1/2

Description: Steve goes through a bad breakup, but a sweet voice and a friendly smile helps him realize he can begin again, and that he definitely should.

Masterlist HERE.

Word Count: 7,980 ish.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bartender!Reader.

Rating: PG.

Warnings: Angst. Curse words. Mentions of drinking to numb the pain, sorta. Sad Steebie, then a resolved Steebie. Mentions of cheating, and the crappy feels that come after.

Requested: Nah, but it is for @cxptain 1k followers prompt challenge! And the prompt will be in Part 2! Anywho aaaaah!! Congrats to you lovely, you deserve every one of those followers and yet so so many more! Here’s to many, many more to come for you! And I can’t wait to watch as your lovely blog as it grows and grows! ❤️❤️❤️

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader, so I do proudly own all the errors and this story, so there’s that.

Lovely page divider by writeyourmindaway

This is set in the Post Endgame, Everyone Lives AU. Endgame happened about 2 years before the beginning of this story, but no one died during Endgame, and Steve stayed in the future. However, he did still hand the mantle of Captain over to Sam. Also, this part is based off the Dean Lewis song of the same name, Be Alright. So, hope you enjoy!

Steve stood there, completely frozen in his spot in the middle of her kitchen. He’d only arrived moments ago, but he could already feel the shift in the air. He could already sense the impending destruction coming at him, at full force. And deep down he knew in the next few moments, everything would change. The next words out of her mouth would ruin everything, would shatter him completely.

He continued to stare at the floor between him and the woman he loves, the one he knows he will have to stop loving after tonight. He doesn’t know why he feels this way, he just does. And he isn’t ready to face the incoming heartache.

After a final deep breath in, he slowly slides his eyes up and sees her face is unchanged. It wasn’t just a trick of his mind, this isn’t just a joke, he’s not having a nightmare. All the emotions he’d noticed the moment he entered this kitchen are still very much there. Just under the surface, there is no way to mistake them. Her eyes are sad, so damn sad, and he knows that if they could, they’d be drowning in the unshed tears.

His eyes lock on hers for only a moment, before she can’t keep the contact any longer. She turns her head away from him, she’s trying to hide whatever is pooling in her eyes now. She’s trying to find the strength to voice the things screaming at her, in her mind. On instinct—or just from muscle memory, he can’t be sure—he reaches out for her hand to comfort her. A move he’s done time and time again. And the moment he takes her smaller one in his own, he almost retracts from how cold she feels. No longer is her skin warm and comforting, now it’s cold and unknown.

But he doesn’t even get the chance to pull away, because before he can, she does it for him once again. This was his second attempt to touch her, and she wasn’t having any part of either tries. She wanted no contact right now, be it from touch or eyes.

Steve would give anything to hear her thoughts in this moment. He wonders what is running through her mind. Why she can’t look at him. Why he can’t touch her.

He doesn’t have to wonder, silently, for long though.

“I made a dumb mistake,” she finally whispers, and he can’t miss the tremble in her voice—Or how her body is starting to resemble that now as well. But he can’t give it much more thought, when she turns her regret-filled, watery eyes to meet his, finally. Her voice breaking slightly on her next words, “those cigarettes weren’t, Bucky’s. They were my friend’s.”

His brows furrow, what’s so bad about that? It only takes him a second more for it to all click. The way her voice quivered on the word ‘friend’. He couldn’t have heard that right. She couldn’t mean what he thinks she means.

Without even realizing what he’s doing, he reaches out and cups her cheek. He doesn’t know why he does it, maybe so he could keep her eyes on him long enough to find the answers he wants in them. To find the truth he begs internally is there. That he heard her wrong, that he’s overthinking this all. He desperately wants to find in her eyes, that this isn’t what he thinks it is.

But he is crushed when he does see the truth, because it’s not the truth he wanted. It’s the truth that he had in fact heard right. That he wasn’t imagining anything. Yes, they’d had issues in their relationship. Yes, he was away a lot and he knew it killed her. That she hated how often he was away on missions. How she felt neglected and alone. They’d have many long nights arguing over these exact things. But he never thought it would end like this. Not once did he see this outcome coming.

Her next words tell him she is moving on. He didn’t even know they’d gotten this bad. He didn’t even realize they were in a place where she could move on from him. But clearly they had.

“I kissed him yesterday—well, actually he, he kissed me,” she turns her face away from his grasp, and his arm falls limp beside him. A tear rolls down her cheek, and she quickly swipes it away as her shaky voice adds, “but I didn’t stop him. I kissed him back.”

He feels it as the colour drains from his face, the deep claws of betrayal clasping onto his heart in a deadly grip. He takes a small step back, as if her words were a physical blow. He shakes his head as everything sinks in, but he can’t shake how her admission has made him feel. He knows he should walk away, but he is frozen in his spot once again. He wants to stay and fix this, but he knows from the look in her eye that there is no fixing this now. There is no going back.

He looks at her for a moment more, this woman he loves, this woman he wanted to spend his life with. Yeah, they had a lot of really bad moments, but they also had a bunch of really nice ones too. With one more deep, shuddering breath in, he turns on his heel without a word and walks out of her place. The door slamming in finality, as if it were the period at the end of a sentence, the end of their relationship.

“You alright there, big guy?” A sweet voice inquires softly in the loud space around him, but even with all the background noise, he couldn’t miss the concern playing in every word.

He glances up from his glass, the one he’d just been staring into for God knows how long. Long enough at least for the ice cubes to have all melted now, and the drink to have turned warm in his clutches. He knows he can’t actually get drunk, but there is something so therapeutic about sitting alone in a bar, with a drink in your hand. Where you are surrounded by lots of people, music, merriment and cheer. Where there is someone resting their eyes on the bar top near the end, and groups of friends piled into booths or around pool tables. Everyone going about their lives, with no notice of him or his troubles. He feels unnoticed, anonymous, and that’s exactly what he needs to feel right now.

He’s never been to this establishment before, walked by it hundreds of times on his route to his girlfriends place. And in this moment, he can’t understand why he’s never stepped foot in this pub. He’s eyes drift around the room quickly, everyone is enjoying themselves, everyone is keeping to themselves. Not a single person even paying him a moment's notice. As if he was just a random stranger, and not the man out of time. He likes it here, he decides.

His eyes finally slip over to the bearer of the sweet voice, and if Steve hadn’t just had a bomb dropped in the middle of his life. If he hadn’t just walked out the door of his girlfr—ex girlfriends apartment, he’d probably have felt his heart flutter at the beautiful creature before him. He probably would have drowned in the beautiful hues of her eyes, or begged to hear her soothing voice once more, or melted at the soft up-tilt at the corners of her lips, or blushed at her unwavering attention—which was solely placed on him at the moment, and no one else.

But he is numb right now. He is broken, and shattered, and above all else, hurt. He is sitting alone in this bar, wishing he could get drunk on the booze in his glass, and ignoring his phone that has been vibrating endlessly from its current place, face down on the bar top where it’s been sitting ignored for the last hour. Message after message, and a bunch of missed calls, but all from his friends. Not from her trying to reach out to tell him it was all a sick joke, or that she wants to try to fix things. But he knows for a fact that none of these messages or calls are from her. They couldn’t be now.

Because he’s been in this bar for 2 hours at this point, and he’d already reread a bunch of their messages. He’d already looked back at all the ones she’d sent, trying to pinpoint where it all went wrong. He knew he shouldn’t have, he knew it wasn’t right, but this was all just fucking with his head. Causing him to make bad decisions.

Bad decisions like reliving a bunch of their moments through pictures, the ones he’d slowly gone through and deleted of her. Of them. Every little piece of her that was saved and held so safely, so lovingly, in this little brick of metal and plastic. He knows he shouldn’t have looked at the photos before he deleted them, but his gluttonous mind told him he had to see it all just once more. He’d gone down memory lane for a solid hour, before he had finally deleted every photo, and then, just before deleting her contact info from his phone, he’d blocked her number.

It wasn’t so much to prevent her from contacting him, it was more to prevent him from getting his hopes up every time his phone made a sound. Every time it vibrated with an incoming text, or rang with a phone call. He knows his silly mind and hurt heart would skip a beat every time his phone made even the smallest of sounds. And just the thought of that alone was maddening, was enough to drive him insane. So blocking her meant he knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was not her. It could not be her anymore.

“I’ll be alright,” he answers, the words feeling like a lie at the moment, but he knows they’ll be true one day. Some day. He takes a sip of his drink, his nose crinkling just a little at the instant reminder that his drink is now warm. As he sets the glass back down, he finishes his words off more truthfully, “soon enough.”

A soft giggle plays in the thick air around him, effortlessly cutting away some of its weight. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. But do you want me to get you a new drink or maybe some fresh ice?”

She’d clearly seen the disgusted look he’d sported just after sipping his now warm drink.

He is just about to shake his head, he can’t get drunk anyways, so there is really no point in his wasting his money on booze that’s essentially just for show. But before he can even begin to move his head, she beats him to it by gently taking the glass with the offending drink and dumping it in the sink between them, just under the bar top. “Ya know what? Let’s just get you a new one, my treat.”

Now he does shake his head, “that’s not necessary, really. But thank you.”

And she just outright ignores him, making and then placing a fresh drink before him. And then she leans in, her elbows resting on the bar as she gives him a small look. One that is both serious and yet so so cheeky, and he honestly doesn’t know what to make of it.

“Just between you and me, booze is never necessary,” she shakes her head softly, “but it does help sometimes.” She gives him a small half smile, as she pushes off the bar to stand back up, before knocking her knuckles on the top as if to get his full attention. But little does she know, she already has it. “I hope it’s able to help you tonight, big guy,” she says, not unkindly, not as if he needed the booze to actually help him. More sweetly, hopefully even, as if she prays this final drink will be the last moment in his bad times, and once it’s finished all his worries will just disappear, like the booze in his glass.

And he hopes so too.

Bucky’s voice pulls his attention back from his phone, where he’d once again been going over their texts. Still trying desperately to find where it all went wrong. He’d deleted everything else about her off his phone, but 2 months ago, when his thumb had hovered over the delete button for their text conversation for the first time, he couldn’t do it. He wasn’t ready to delete that final piece of her. Probably due to the small hope in him that they could still fix this, that this was just a hurdle they had to work themselves through.

Deleting photos is one thing, you can just take new ones. You can find most of the photos, the important ones anyway, scattered throughout social media, if you really wanted them back. But deleting the text thread, that was so final. There was no going back from that. There was no getting all those little moments back. No way to remember and relive those Good Mornings and Sweet Dreams. No way to laugh over the silly conversations over her boss embarrassing himself, or the hilarious chats they had over Tony’s daily antics. There was no way to replay the sweet words typed to cheer the other up, or remind the other of their undying love.

He almost wants to laugh sardonically at that last thought. ‘Undying love’ his America’s ass, it was clearly anything but that.

"I know you loved her, but it's over now, pal,” Bucky says gently, but Steve can’t miss the finality in his friends words. He had spent the last 2 months since he walked out of her apartment moping around the tower. All his friends had been trying to cheer him up, trying to help him through it, help him move on from it, but he just wasn’t ready yet. “It’s never easy to walk away, but you gotta let her go. It’ll be okay soon, you’ll see.”

Steve just nods numbly as he clutches the phone tightly in his hand, a momentary thought that if he tightens his hold even just a fraction more, the phone will be crushed. Broken beyond repair. And maybe that would be for the best? Then their texts would just be gone, and he wouldn’t have to be the one to delete them. He wouldn’t have to put forth the effort to finally click delete, like he’s tried and failed multiple times to do over the last 2 months.

“It's gonna hurt for a bit of time,” Sam adds softly, as if handling a wild animal that could snap and kill him at any moment, if he even so much as makes a single wrong move. And maybe that’s smart on Sam's part, maybe Steve is a wild animal right now. He doesn’t want to be, he doesn’t want to hurt anymore. He doesn’t want to be coddled anymore, he doesn’t want to be the reason his friends feel like they have to walk on eggshells around him anymore. But heartbreak does insane things to a person. Sam gives Steve a small, pensive smile as if assessing him for a moment. He seems to find whatever he was searching for, Steve guesses, as he motions to the half empty drink in front of Steve. The very one Bucky had doused with Asgardian Mead right after they had been delivered to their table. “So bottoms up, let's just forget tonight. You'll find another one, one day, man, and you'll be just fine. But you gotta let her go first."

Steve nods once more, as he forces his phone into his jeans pocket, feeling the warm metal slide along his thigh as it goes. He raises the drink up to his lips and drains the remains, before he’s even put the glass back down on the table, Bucky’s hand is in the air, calling the bartender over with another round.

He is starting to feel the mead now, it’s starting to fill him with a fuzzy warmth he hasn’t felt in a long time. His mind is becoming more muddled and hazy, but in all the best ways. He takes a deep breath in, relishing the blankness the liquor is painting his mind now. It’s a welcome reprieve after the 2 months he’s just had.

“Here ya are, guys,” the bartender says as she places down three fresh drinks.

And Steve furrows his brows at the familiar sweet voice. His eyes snap up from the table and land on that same bartender he’d talked to, two months back. He hadn’t seen her once since they’d arrived here an hour ago, and he figures she must work the later shift. As the first time he was here, by himself, she hadn’t been the original one to help him. Her inquiry into his state had been their first interaction, he hadn’t even noticed that night, in his hurt and heartbroken little bubble, when she’d relieved the male bartender. The original one who’d been supplying his drinks for the first 2 hours of his first visit.

And now, once again, he hadn’t even noticed her relieve the male bartender. Hadn’t even noticed her enter the pub. Hadn’t even noticed her approach their table. How he hadn’t, he has no idea. His eyes take her in, more fully this time than the last. She’s beautiful. How had he missed that before?

Her eyes drift over to his, as if she can feel him looking. A flash of confusion in her eyes is followed very closely by what he thinks is recognition, and then the small uptick of the corners of her lips follows them both. “How ya holding up, big guy?”

And yep, it was in fact recognition he’d thought he saw.

Steve feels the involuntary smile pulling on the edges of his lips, and he does nothing to stop it from happening. He hasn’t smiled, even a small one, in months, and he can’t bring himself to kill this one now. It’s nothing to write home about, but it’s a small step in the right direction. “I’ll be alright, soon enough,” he replies, the words sounding just a little better this time around. Just a little less like a lie, just a little more truthful, hopeful even.

Her smile grows just a tad bigger at his words, and a small, soft voice in the back of his mind informs him that she’s even more beautiful when she smiles.

“That’s really good to hear, you don’t suit the frown,” she says honestly, as their eyes stay locked for just a second more, before she breaks the contact to glance around the table to his two best friends. “If you guys need anything else, just holler,” then she gives him a final glance, paired with a small nod before she heads back over to the bar. And if Steve said he didn’t watch her make her way back over to the other side of the pub, he’d be a liar.

“Now I understand why he was so insistent on coming here tonight,” Sam mutters under his breath to Bucky, fully aware Steve also has super soldier hearing and would catch every word.

And he had, as he now rolls them over in his mind a few times, and honestly, he’d just wanted to come back here because he’d liked the atmosphere. He’d liked that no one gawked at him, or bothered him. Everyone here had just seemed in their own little worlds, much like he’d been—Or at least that’s the excuse his mind had conjured up for his true reasonings behind not wanting to go anywhere else, for his first time out in 2 months.

But maybe that wasn’t the real reason at all. Maybe he hadn’t even realized the true drive to return to this little obscure pub, tucked away between a flower shop and a thrift store.

Steve finally drags his eyes away from the beautiful bartender and back to his friends, not missing the looks they are both sending him now. He just stays silent, refusing to say a single word. Refusing to fill in the blanks around the interaction he’d just had with the beautiful bartender.

“So,” Bucky says slowly, after a few silent moments, about to voice the question that’d just been lingering in the air around them. Clearly his curiosity couldn’t handle waiting any longer for the answer to come on it’s own. “You gonna share who the pretty dame is, Punk, or?” he trails off there, and Steve watches as one corner of his best pals lips slowly tilts up in an interested but cheeky smirk, growing with every passing second that Steve doesn’t reply.

He fights his own smile entirely this time, as he pulls his phone from his pocket, while he answers flatly, vaguely, “the bartender.” Steve is a little shit, and he is completely aware of that fact.

Bucky sighs exasperatedly, that wasn’t the answer he’d wanted, Steve guesses, “I meant, what’s her name, ya cheeky bugger.”

Steve snorts as he stares intently at the screen of his phone, he knows his next reply isn’t going to satisfy his friends curiosity anymore than his last one did. He shrugs, nonchalantly, as his eyes drift back to her behind the bar, “dunno, never actually got her name.”

Bucky groans into his glass at his lips, but the chuckle that follows it shows he wasn’t really that upset. And Sam playfully mutters something Steve couldn’t quite hear. Or maybe he just didn’t care to listen hard enough to actually hear him.

“You planning on finding out her name?” Sam asks after a moment, his voice is much louder this time.

Steve finally turns back to his friends. “Yeah, maybe one day,” he replies, taking a sip of his drink and instantly noticing Bucky had already added the mead to it. When had he done that? Beats Steve. Was he complaining? Not in the slightest. “When I’m ready,” he adds as his eyes drop down to his phone’s screen once more, and with a deep stabilizing inhale and a resolved exhale, he finally clicks ‘delete.’

It’s time to start actually letting her go now.

His heart pumps in his ears, not much louder or faster than usual, but he can hear it so clearly in the early morning silence. It’s his first run through the park in months, he’d been away on basically back to back missions for the last 6. Throwing himself head first into whatever and wherever he was needed. He’d just got off a 4 week undercover mission in Italy, and had finally decided it was time for a break. It was time to just be home for a bit and settle back into normal everyday life.

When he’d first started accepting and requesting missions 6 months ago, it had been for the distraction. It had been to put his brain power to a better use, instead of sitting around and mopping about his breakup. He’d needed missions to keep him out of the dark places in his head, to keep him away from the ‘what ifs’ and ‘if onlys’.

But after a couple months, he no longer felt like he needed the distraction anymore. He felt like he was through the worst of it, but he feared that was only because he was still out there, still working away and doing his part to help the world. So he’d just continued on, taking any and every mission presented to him. His friends had started to worry he was pushing himself too much, that he was forcing himself to keep going too hard. And yeah, they were probably right, he probably was.

But his fear of coming home, only to instantly have all those deep emotions he’d been trying to, and successfully, escaping, kept him going. His fears that the second he stopped, they’d all come flooding back. That he’d find himself nowhere near as healed and moved on as he’d truly thought he was while away.

But even super soldiers needed a break sometimes. So after these last 4 weeks of pretending to be someone else entirely, he decided it was time to drop all the personas and just be Steve Rogers for a while.

The first few days back, he waited impatiently for the emotions and heartache to come. He waited for his mind to drift to those dark places once again. But after a week of being home, neither of those things ever happened. He still felt like he had out there in the world, working away every day. And the realization that he had actually let her go now, was a glorious one indeed.

So glorious that his friends believed a celebration was in order. Though they pretended that wasn’t the reason behind it at all, that it was just a ‘welcome home’ party for Steve. One that for some reason wasn’t even mentioned when he’d actually come home, but instead a week later. And yes, everyone had been present in the tower for the last week, so that wasn’t the excuse. And no, no one had brought this up once over the last week. It had only been decided on this morning by Tony, and he’d used the exact words ‘a welcome back party for Cap’. Steve believed the welcome back part was referring more to his mental state, than his physical one, but he’d let them have their party. And he’d enjoy it too, having missed them all immensely over the last few mon—

He felt it before he heard it, the impact of something small slamming into him, followed by a sound of someone's breath leaving their lungs with force, “ooof.”

His arms luckily worked faster than his brain, and managed to catch whoever Steve had just ran right into. His eyes taking just a few seconds longer to get the memo, before they dropped down to inspect the poor person he had just about barrelled down, but their head was still clasped delicately but firmly to his chest so he couldn’t make out if they were actually okay or not.

The smaller form quickly extracts themselves from the embrace, untangling their arms from around him, where they’d clearly also reacted hastily to prevent their swift meeting with the ground. And as they are pulling back, a sweet voice meets his ears and causes him to perk up. “I’m so sorry, are you alright? I was not paying any attention to where I was—“

His eyes widen for just a second, not long enough to be noticeable to anyone but him, before he quickly catches and corrects it. Of all people to slam into, it had to be her.

No, not her, her. Her, as in the beautiful bartender. And Steve can’t help it as his eyes take her in once again, more thoroughly this time, taking in new details of her face that he hadn’t even noticed the last two times he’s seen her. In his defence though, he had a lot going on back then, and the pub wasn’t exactly brightly lit. At least nowhere near as bright as this open and airy spot in the park is, what with the glorious summer morning sun lighting up the world around them both.

His heart flutters just a little, when he sees the shock morph into recognition, then finally into something he can only believe is happiness. Fondness even.

“I’ll be alright,” he says as a small cheeky grin plays on his lips, he is well aware he’s basically only ever said the same few words to her, but he likes how they have changed a little each time he’s said them, “soon enough.”

Her smile now matches the sun shining down on them both, and the soft voice from before, the one at the back of his mind, is a little louder this time, as it informs him that she is stunning when she smiles like that.

“And this time, I actually believe you, big guy,” she nods, and he can’t miss her smile shifting into a grin. A cheeky as hell one, and Steve decides he likes that smile best. If he’s honest, it suits her best, at least from what he can tell. She playfully rubs at her head as if it was hurting her, “but for real, what are you made of, freaking lead?”

He chuckles deep in his chest, shaking his head, “some days, I definitely think I am.”

She giggles at that, and it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. It’s something that he feels like he could never get sick of hearing, no matter how many times he does. Then, the next place his mind goes is that he desperately wants to hear it again.

However, all those thoughts fly out of his head when what just happened finally clicks fully in, and he instantly wants to kick himself for not asking this yet. “Are you alright though? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” His eyes roam over her, not to ogle, but just to assess that she is in fact okay. As if he could actually tell just by looking, the schmuck.

She nods, “oh yes, I’m okay. Not the first time I’ve distractedly walked into someone. And it definitely won’t be the last,” she chuckles softly at that.

Steve signs in relief, glad he hadn’t hurt her, then something in him pushes his next words out, as if he were the most confident man on the planet, “are you heading somewhere right now? Could I buy you a coffee, to make up for the whole running into you thing?”

A light pink dusts her cheeks, as she glances down at the ground shyly, “I would love nothing more then to say yes to that offer, but I’m actually just heading to the pub to deal with a few last minute issues. And I’m already running rather late.” She glances back up at him, a small frown marring her features in a way that makes Steve want to do everything in his power to bring back her sunshine.

He doesn’t though, and instead just nods, as disappointment seeps through him, but he hides it as best he can behind a small understanding smile. “That’s alright, another time then.”

She chews on her lower lip for a second, and he can’t miss the internal battle clear as the day in her eyes. Like she wants to just say ‘fuck it’ and go to coffee with him, but she knows she has somewhere else to be. With a small sigh, she nods, “another time for sure.” She glances down at her watch, and a small groan leaves her lips, before she looks back up at him. “I’m so sorry, I really have to go, but it was so nice seeing you again, big guy.” She goes to walk passed him, but halts and glances up at him once more, “come visit me one night soon?”

He smiles down at her, a small nod of his head, “of course.”

Her smile grows bright and brilliant once again before she heads off towards the pub. Steve glances over his shoulder to watch her leave, and just as he is about to focus back on his morning run, he swears he hears her mutter “stupid Tony Stark.”

But he couldn’t have heard that right, right?

He shakes his head and then starts running in the opposite direction, on his way back to the tower. Already planning his next visit to the pub, his next chance to see the beautiful bartender, that seems to be slowly infiltrating his mind. In all the best ways.

He stands stunned on the sidewalk, staring up at the outside of the establishment Tony had booked for his ‘welcome back’ party. The very same establishment he’d been planning all day to visit, the first evening he has off this week. Was this just a coincidence? Had Tony just booked this place by complete fluke?

One glance at the man in question, then to his two best friends, tells him this was no mistake. This was all planned perfectly, in their minds. He sighs as he shakes his head to himself, he isn’t sure what the entire night's plan is, and he hopes it won’t be too embarrassing. But with his group of friends, it probably will be.

Tony is the first to move towards the door, all the avengers having stood on the sidewalk for a moment to allow their pub choice to really sink in. To all watch his reaction to their party venue for the night. And it hits him then, that his entire team now clearly knows of the beautiful bartender. He glances at Sam and Bucky, both looking a little bashful and he knows they spilled the beans.

Probably not on purpose though, because they did work with spies. And talking to Nat could turn into an interrogation real quick. Without her victim even realizing it. If she got even a hint of you hiding something, she would expertly have you telling her all your dirty secrets before you even noticed it.

And Clint, well, you never really knew where he was at any given moment, so he overheard way more than he should. But never gave too much indication that he knew anything, most times. Spies—Steve chuckles as he starts to follow his friends into the pub—ya couldn’t keep a damn thing away from them.

And as for Tony, Steve is positive he had Friday inform him whenever a couple team members were having a deep conversation. Steve is also positive that Tony has specific trigger words for Friday to listen out for, and inform him the second one is uttered aloud. Things like: Date, Kiss, Mistake, Mad, Pissed, or Tell me—and honestly, probably hundreds more. Just small words that could be a part of a much more risqué conversation. Because Tony seemed to also just know everything about everyone. He always had some form of blackmail at his disposal.

Just as he is about to head through the door, a familiar sweet voice hits his ears.

“Hello, Mr. Stark, Welcome to The Black Swan,” the lovely voice pauses as the rest of them make it through the door. The group probably looking rather intimidating, all huddled in the entrance of the pub. “Is this your whole party?”

“It is,” Tony replies as he looks around the quaint pub in curiosity.

Steve’s eyes finally land on her, as hers quickly assess all the party members, and when they skim right past him, he is almost sad for it. That is, until she double takes, and shock fills her face. She corrects it quickly, and gives him a small hesitant smile before shifting her eyes back to Tony. “The party room is all set up for you guys, if you’ll just follow me.”

He follows behind dutifully, as she leads them through the scarcely occupied pub, and to a set of double doors that he’d never noticed before. Not that he’d been here often, nor was he too caring of his full surroundings those first two visits. She pushes open the doors, motioning for the group to enter the room, as she states, “make yourself at home, everyone. Kelly and Michael will be your tenders tonight, and they’ll come in to take your orders in a few minutes.”

“Thanks,” the group says or mutters collectively, in response as they make their way into the small banquet room.

As he passes by her, he sends her a smile, and she returns it, though it’s nowhere near as bright as earlier in the park. It almost looks uncomfortable. Forced even. And he wants to question if she’s alright this time, but she nods and walks off before he can even utter a sound. He watches her go, once again, before he shakes his head, making a note to track her down later, and privately see if she is okay.

His eyes move to the room, as he is the last one to enter, and it’s not a banquet hall at all, it’s more of a lounge. Inviting and plush black leather couches and chairs are set up in the middle of the room. A few tables around and between them, plus near the edges of the room, with soft lighting overhead. Old black and white photos and prints scattered across the walls, showcasing the pub and its guests throughout the years.

Steve decides he rather likes this room, likes the atmosphere just as much as the rest of the pub. It’s inviting, and casual, and airy, and, and friendly; all things he appreciates, and is sure has entirely to do with the beautiful bartender. Or at least, he believes it has to do with her at least.

“Well, you all heard the woman, make yourselves comfortable,” Tony chirps as he heads over to one of the big black chairs and plops himself down unceremoniously. Which causes Steve to chuckle through a head shake as he heads over to get seated with the others.

“Is she the owner?” Bucky pipes up after everyone has settled. The question to anyone else’s ears would just sound nonchalant and unimportant. Like it was just a random question that popped into his head just now. But the look in Bucky’s eyes, as he’d stared Steve down while asking, tells him it very much wasn’t a random question, but instead a well played and quickly planned attack.

“Little miss?” Tony clarifies, tilting his head towards the door, and Bucky gives him a nod in confirmation, then he answers a second later. “Yeah, she is. Sweet girl,” he notes, “had a wonderful chat with her this morning. I was intrigued, she isn’t that old, yet she fully owns this place all on her own.” His eyes catch Steve’s, “we just talked business for a bit. I enjoy learning how others amassed their empires, even the small ones.”

And yep, Steve is fully aware, from the cheeky look in Tony’s eyes, that he knows the entire story behind his small, and few, interactions with the beautiful barten—bar owner, he corrects. Tony wasn’t curious about how she acquired the pub at a young age, he was just digging for information for his own personal gains. Maybe he just wanted to know enough about her so he could run a background check or something.

Or maybe it was for entirely different reasons, Steve can’t be sure at the moment. But what he is sure of, is that Tony will let him know the exact reasons behind his lengthy talk with her, soon enough.

The night goes well, minus the lack of a beautiful bar owner, but that’s just a Steve problem. As he glances around the room at his friends, his family, all at different stages of intoxication, him and Bucky included, he smiles. He really did miss them all, just as he’d missed nights like this. Ones where he felt like himself, like at this very moment he had not a single care in the world. Like he hadn’t just gone through a breakup, the end of his 2 year relationship with a woman he thought he’d grow old with.

He missed being able to just have a fun and relaxed evening with his friends, not having to hide any part of him away and plaster on a fake smile to play the part of a well adjusted man. Instead, his smile was real, and he wasn’t hiding a damn thing.

Bucky had smuggled more mead into the pub with them, so Steve was feeling the effects of it right about now. Not enough to be drunk, but enough to be a little less sober than he normally was. Tipsy, as Sam always called it.

His eyes adjust to the pool table before him, after a few drinks, a few team members had decided a game of pool was in order. So the ones who wanted to partake, had left the sanctum of the lounge and ventured into the main part of the pub to take over one of the pool tables. Right now, Sam and Bucky were up against Nat and Clint, and the game was getting a little intense. Both sides wanting to win it all, for the bragging rights and the meagre funds they’d all placed down in the beginning. It wasn’t a lot of money, but it was more then they’d all walked in the joint with.

Steve was standing off to the side, his mead spiked drink in hand, watching the intense battle as it played out. Every so often, his eyes would drift to the bar, seeking out a familiar form, but they’d never find the one they were looking for. He checked his watch, seeing it was nearing 11, and he is pretty sure, if his memory is accurate—which it usually is, that she normally started her shifts around that time. At least from the hazy memories in his mind, he is pretty sure that’s correct. He’d never really been looking at the time, both his other visits here. Though he’d spent a lot of those two times staring at his phone’s screen. Not at the time, but he could just remember it on the edges of his memories. Peeking just above where his eyes were focused on, both those nights.

And yeah, he’s pretty sure both times he’d seen her for the first time those two evenings, was just after 11. Almost completely positive about it, actually.

His eyes check his watch once more, seeing it’s just passed 11, and then they flick up to the bar once again. And yep, there she is, in all her radiant and relaxed glory, he notes quickly in his mind. And before he can think better of it, he’s making his way towards the bar, unconsciously seeking out her presence. As if he just needs to be closer to her, he just needs some small piece of her attention. Maybe it’s the booze, or maybe it’s something more. He doesn’t dig deeper into the true reasons behind it, and instead just allows his body to make the calls all on it’s own. He isn’t complaining with the direction it’s taking him currently, anyways.

He takes a seat in an open spot at the bar, placing his drink down in front of him as he does. She is busy making someone else’s drink at the moment, so he just waits patiently for her to notice him. Realize he is sitting here now, and come over to him on her own.

That doesn’t take long, once she finishes off the drink she glances down, as if again being able to sense his eyes on her, and makes her way towards him. Stopping once she is directly across the bar top from him.

“Hey, big guy,” she sends him a small smile, the nickname she’s always used for him making him return the gesture, “need a refill?”

He glances momentarily down at his drink, before gently shaking his head, “no. I’m okay for now.”

She nods, and before she can take her leave, he pipes up, “so, you own the place?”

Her eyes leave him, and travel around the space fondly, “I do.” Then they find his again, as she leans on the bar top, just like his first time here. And when her voice comes out, it’s just above a whisper, keeping her words between them, and only them, “so, you’re an Avenger?”

Steve grins, as her earlier reactions make more sense to him now. She obviously hadn’t realized who he was the first two visits, not till he showed up with the whole team of world saving superheroes, and looking like the only one who’d fit the original Captains descriptions.

“I am,” he nods, taking a sip of his drink but not taking his eyes off her. He doesn’t want to miss a damn thing.

She nods, the cheeky look back on her face. The exact one he is really starting to enjoy more and more, everytime he sees it, “and their Captain at that.”

“I was,” he corrects. “Gave that title over to Sam a few years back. Wanted to step back a bit, maybe finally have a life of my own.”

“And how did that go for you?” She asks, intrigued, “Did you get the life you wanted?”

He thinks the innocent question over, not missing the small, yet deep undertones within it. Or at least what his mind takes as a deeper underlying meankng, just due to all he’s personally been through since handing the mantle of the Captain over to Sam. He hums, answering truthfully, “at first, it went well. I thought I’d found it in the beginning, but I’m realizing more and more that I hadn’t actually found it. Not truly, at least. Not in the way I’d thought.”

She hums in understanding, nodding her head softly, and then she looks him dead in the eye, “so, what are you going to do about that then, big guy?”

He thinks the question over for a moment again, he’s never told her about his ex, or why he’d ended up in this pub 8 months back, but the twinkle in her eye tells him she’d figured it out. Or at least figured out the basics. That she understands that his words truly meant he thought he had found a life with his ex, but then he hadn’t in the end. And now he needs to figure out where to go from that. Where he wants his own life to go. No more living it for someone else, he needs to live it for himself. For Steve Rogers, the scrappy little kid from Brooklyn.

He gives her a small smile, taking a sip of his drink before he answers, “I’m going to try again.”

She smiles brightly at him, “that’s a wonderful idea, Steve. You deserve the world, and don’t let anyone ever make you feel like you don’t.”

He nods, trying to hide how much he loved hearing his name fall so effortlessly from her lips. “I won’t. Promise.”

She nods, pleased with his answer, then glances down the bar before turning back to him as she pushes off the top, “well, duty calls.” She gestures to his glass, “need a refill before I go?”

Steve shakes his head softly, “no, I think this is my last one for the night.” For awhile, he actually means.

She nods once more, a small happy smile on her lips, before she ventures off to help someone else, and Steve gets up to head back over to the pool tables. To his friends.

But all throughout the rest of the night, he finds himself still glancing back at the beautiful bar owner, as she floats around happily in her own little world. In her element. In the space she’d built entirely by herself. For herself. Something Steve knows he needs to do for himself, as well, he needs to build the world around him that he wants. The life he deserves, entirely on his own and just for him. Not for anyone else.

And as Steve glances at her once more, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen something so breathtaking in his life—No, scratch that. He is positive he never has. He knows for a fact, that he hasn’t. Not yet, at least.

And as the night draws to an end and Steve heads back to his house, walking part way with his friends, he finally realizes that he will in fact Be Alright. Completely and entirely, Soon Enough.

Part 2:Soon Enough - will be up in a few days!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

@caps-lockdown @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @tfandtws @boxofteenageideas @wangdeasang @giggleberts @strawberry-gothchild @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @starrystellars @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @alwaysright4 @steeeeverogers @zombiepotterfour @mu-mu-rs @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly @denzmallows @xremember-me-notx @lollipopdomination @capstopavenger @jemimah-b99 @rcvenqers @justkending @alagalaska @silent-loucidity @sabertooth-potato @pies-wands-and-more @interstellarmess @gabriella69816 @phantom-soilder @wordlesscaptain @captain-hammer-of-asgard @viarogers @pixieferry @kaithezaftig @the-kinkiest-goblin @hysterically-original @badassbeckettswan @heyiamthatbitch @zlixlle @givemehopenfandoms @pretendingandpreposterous @frozen-phoenix17 @emotionallysalty @saturngirlz @atomicsludgedonutbiscuit @ivannagotthebeat @bohemian-barbie @marvelous-capsicle @steverogersxreader @cjhorseback @jasminecalia @secondstar2disney @jessiedaeum @betsynodak @capricornprince118 @just-ladyme @pinkleopardss @drayshadow @sister-of-stars @wiserebelpartypie @dark-night-sky-99 @patzammit @cs-please @troublermalik @bratstopmom @anika-ann @wxstedhexrt @rynabarnesrogers @ab-baybay @scentedsongrebel @captainchrisstan @kelbabyblue @fckdeusername @murdermornings @dreamlesswonder86 @intricate-melody @fiannaofficial @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @nomadics-stuff @hufflepuffvs

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #au fanfiction #fanfiction #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers #long post #long read #angst #dean lewis #be alright #part 1 #of 2 #steve rogers au #steves pov #steve rogers pov

282 notes · View notes

ironmandeficiency · 4 years ago

Text

mr. tin man

pairing: agent whiskey / statesman!reader

word count: 4470

summary: communication is vital in a relationship, and the lack thereof resulted in you breaking up with jack after eight months of dating. when whiskey and bloody mary see each other again, it’s not quite the romantic reunion they deserved.

a/n: apparently writing for a cowboy while wearing a cowboy hat and listening to country music brings out my twang via text. but this song was my inspo, enjoy my first attempt at whiskey

warnings: implied smut, heartbreak, plenty of sad, implied torture, canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, promise of a happy ending

“so that’s it, you’re not gonna explain yourself?!”

“there’s nothing to explain, jack.”

“that’s bullshit and you know it!”

jack had no idea what had gotten into you. just last night the two of you were making dinner together with his record player singin’ george strait, following dinner with slow dancin’ in the living room. the rest of the night was spent in his bed, in his arms as he made you feel his love for you with every thrust and kiss, every word of praise whispered into your ear.

eight months was a short time to be so confident in his love for you. both of your jobs took you all around the country, sometimes the world, but you had always made it work. you both agreed very early on to not let work get in the way as much as possible, but sometimes it was like champ had it out for you despite not knowing that you were seeing someone.

i’m just- i’m grabbing my stuff and leaving, i can’t be around you right now.” your voice was cold and unyielding, nearly making jack think that the previous night’s lovemaking was all a figment of his wild imagination.

“i’m not letting you leave till you tell me why! what changed from last night to now?!”

“i don’t need to tell you a damned thing, now let me go!”

“sweetheart, don’t be like this!”

his eyes narrowed at you, face scrunching slightly as he continued. “like what, jack? a bitch?” your yelling was met with his silence. this silence only made you angrier with him, even though he had no idea what started this or how to fix it. “go on then,” you egg him on, “tell me what i’m acting like!”

“you’re acting like you don’t love me! you don’t treat someone you love like you’re treating me right now!”

now it was your turn to be silent. jack’s eyes were scrutinizing you and if asked to, he could pinpoint the exact second when your eyes lost the softness he crooned over and into rigid, obstinate stone. what was going on in that head of yours, and why wouldn’t you let him help you? why weren’t you talking things out like rational adults, the way you always did when there was a disagreement?

“well maybe i don’t love you.”

the only thing you heard was the blood rushing through his veins, trying to reach his heart and repair the damage you dealt before it was too late. but the second the words fell from your lips it was too late to save him, your cruelty laced with the venom of a thousand vipers as you spoke with no hesitation.

“tell me you don’t mean it. sugar, tell me you don’t-“

“i do, jack. i mean it. now let. me. go.”

you had no words to describe what you felt right then, the way your throat constricted and eyes blurred from tears and hands trembled as you grabbed what belongings of yours you could carry, choking on your pain but hiding it well. it wasn’t all of your things by any means, but he could do what he wanted with the rest of it. you had no intentions of returning for anything and you had the feeling you wouldn’t be welcomed back after what you’ve just done.

with your arms full and not a single glance over your shoulder, you walked out of the door he held open for you to walk out of. the slam of it reverberated through your body and you felt goosebumps when the breeze of the door blew against your back.

barely managing to open the door to your car, you let your things fall unceremoniously from your arms and clatter to the floorboard. eight months of life with jack had meant there were plenty of memories in the seat next to you and there would be far more waiting in your apartment. you weren’t ready for that, not right now. if you ever would be.

you moved to the driver’s side and got in, resting your head on the steering wheel as you tried to collect yourself. what you needed was a distraction, something to keep you from thinking about what you just did.

then your phone rings. one look at the contact name brings a bitter laugh from your throat, the sound broken and wet. this is the first time you’ve wished for work and unlike nearly every wish you’ve made in your life, you get instant results.

first question out of your mouth is about whether there’s an assignment that’ll keep you gone as long as possible. he says there’s nothing currently that doesn’t already have someone on it, but that there’s plenty of grunt work to be done that, when culminated and done all in a row, will keep you busy for nearly two months.

that sounds like heaven to you right now.

you tell him this and he chuckles, saying it’s not the first time he’s had an agent so desperate to be distracted. coordinates are sent to an airstrip eight hours away and even though you’re happy to drive the distance, you’re curious as to why the pilot couldn’t be assed to land at the one only three hours out. but before you’re able to voice this thought to champ, he’s already hung up.

you don’t want to, can’t find the strength to go back to your apartment. you can just buy the things you’ll need once you get to wherever and be done with it. the apartment was blanketed with landmine memories you didn’t want to go anywhere near right now, not before a mission. the moment one landmine is triggered, it’ll tell the others and send you into a blast that you honestly don’t think you’d recover from.

so with a sigh and a flick of the radio dial, you’ve got the saddest songs you know playing as loud as possible. you start your car and head toward the interstate and to the waiting plane, letting yourself go in favor of embracing bloody mary, the one that could handle pain and dish it back twice as harsh. it was time to forget jack daniels by using everything but.

jack didn’t know how to process what just happened. after eight life-altering, blissful months of being together, you just left. no real explanation except for the lingering “i don’t love you” he’s desperate to forget he heard spill from your mouth. he has no idea if he had done anything to drive you to leaving. if you would just tell him what he did, he’d repent for that and every other wrong thing he’s done in his life, if only it meant holding you in his arms again.

“LIKE A RHINESTONE COWBOY! RIDIN’ OUT ON A HORSE IN A STAR-SPANGLED RODEO!-”

he let it ring for a moment, his heart clenching at the fact you pulled the rhinestone cowboy stunt one last time before you walked out of his life. at this point he was hesitant to change it because then it would mean that you’d never do it again. you knew how much he despised the song and you went out of your way sometimes to remind him of its existence, but he could never grow tired of your wide smile when watching him react.

he barely schooled his voice before greeting the voice on the other line. “whiskey.”

“whiskey! good to hear from ya. listen, i got a job for you. won’t keep you gone for long, just a simple in and out, i know you’ve got places you’d rather be.”

last night he would have loved to hear those words come from his mouth. “give me everything you’ve got, champ. i don’t wanna be back for a while.”

the older man could sense that something was off but had the lick of sense required to not bring it up. instead, he told whiskey of some undercover work he needed someone on right away. two months, possibly more. the silver pony is waiting at the private airstrip three hours away and that he’ll be briefed on the plane. where exactly he’s headed isn’t of any consequence.

he packs a bag of his own clothes and a few of yours to help him sleep at night, preparing to submit himself fully to the agency. it wasn’t like he had someone to come home to anymore, no reason to do anything but work.

this undercover mission was gonna be his salvation.

you have a lot of regrets, a lot of things you’ve done that had you close to repenting. but when two months pass and it feels like you never left his apartment, you want to scream every atrocity you’ve ever committed at the top of your lungs if it meant holding him again.

not a word that came out of your mouth that morning was meant, but his safety was priority. it didn’t matter how your heart was bleeding, begging and pleading for you to not go through with breaking him. selfish is what you were, spending one last night in his arms and able to pretend that you could have something good happen for once in your life. he deserved more than that, he deserved all the love this world has to offer and more.

but that’s not how life goes.

so you kept your nose to the grindstone and worked till you bled and then worked till it scabbed and bled again. champ, thank god for champ, has been keeping jack as busy as he could reasonably ask to be. it kept you from thinking of jack and the way his dark eyes haunted your dreams. the way dream-jack would cry, voice cracking as he begged you to stay and tell him how he could fix whatever broke between you.

but there wasn’t anything jack had the power to fix. someone found his address and knew that he was yours, sending photos and calling you to make threats about getting revenge for their boss you killed on your last mission. you would rather offer yourself to the bastards on a silver platter than let anyone hurt your cowboy. if he was pulled into statesman business because of you, you don’t know what you would have done besides the fact that you could not be held responsible for your actions.

but what could you do, tell your boyfriend that you weren’t really in marketing after eight months together? that you killed people day in and day out, had the blood of hundreds on your hands and smeared that blood on his body when you came home to him?

you could just imagine how well that would go down.

you decided to make him hate you, convince him that you didn’t love him. that he wasn’t the motivation to keep going during missions, to stay safe because you didn’t want him to learn the truth about your work through news of your death.

you were many things, liar being on top of the list these days.

jack didn’t want to be in that house any longer than he needed to be. packing quicker than he had in nearly a year. he decided he’d leave his heart behind, damning the organ to seep into the floorboards, echoes of its beating permeating the air with every thunk of his boots against the hardwood.

if that house wasn’t where you were when “i love you” was spoken for the first time, he’d have sold it. if that bronco parked out front wasn’t the one you’d ride shotgun in, singing loudly to every song that sang through the fm dial, he’d have wrecked it.

jack found himself in a conundrum; he wanted to forget you and everything that made him fall in love with you, but he didn’t want to lose the only pieces of you that he had left.

the clothes you left here lost your smell far sooner than he thought they should have, and seeing every hanger in his closet in use, every garment accounted for, skewered him more than he thought it would.

when you spent the night there was always one hanger empty, and when he’d investigate as to the missing shirt’s whereabouts, it would always be on you. didn’t matter if you wore it buttoned or unbuttoned, or if you simply had it draped around you because it was another way to feel closer to him, even if he were only in the other room.

you were suffocating him in your memory and his heart and brain couldn’t choose whether to fight to breathe or let himself succumb.

it was another two weeks of light work when champ called you with a mission a bit more important than anything you’ve had in a while. a fellow agent sent to the badlands of montana hasn’t been making contact for far too long and it was your job to bring him home.

“mary, he’s one of our best. bring him home in one piece.”

“wouldn’t settle for less, champ. who is it, anyway? i’m hoping to god tequila isn’t who you’re thinking is one of your best.”

he chuckled and you could picture him shaking his head with a smirk. he was well aware of the somewhat friendly competition between the two of you and sometimes it was plenty amusing. other times, not so much. then he cleared his throat the way he only does when he’s dealing a harsh blow and your hair stood on end in preparation for what he was about to say.

“it’s whiskey, mary. we think his cover was blown.”

well, that was anticlimactic. “you say his name as if it’s supposed to mean something to me, champ. i’ve never met him a day in my life.”

he sputters for a second and isn’t sure whether he should call you on your shit or go along with your naivety since, if it were real, would be helpful in keeping you from making any rash decisions in the field.

see, champ caught on real early to the relationship statuses of two of his best agents. in the beginning he debated on whether or not to separate the two of you, but after a few months passed by and the quality of your work didn’t depreciate, he decided against it. let them have the happiness they earned, he figured, it wasn’t getting anyone killed.

for the sake of this productivity, he just pulled strings to keep the two of you from being assigned missions together. since the two of you never brought it up with him, he just assumed that you both agreed with his decision.

now he wasn’t so sure that either of you even knew that you were both statesman. oh fuck, this was gonna be fun, especially when they find out that he’d been knowing about the two of you, oh well, nothing to be done now. you were the only one he could trust with this operation and besides, it’s high time the two of you were completely honest with each other.

one thing jack’s learned during his capture, it’s that time was a social construct. the room he’s been in had no windows and the guard rotations were deliberately sporadic, purposefully switching shifts to fuck with his head. the minutes and hours and days blurred by pain and agony as they used nearly every possible torture method trying to get information from him that he didn’t know, stopping just short of killing him each time.

outside of his own blood pounding in his ears and the voices of his captors when they beat him, it was complete silence until a strained phone call was made outside of the door to his personal hell.

“your boss didn’t say he was statesman! i lost several good men on this operation, you owe me big time!” jack assumed they were talking about him, but wait a minute. didn’t they go after him because he was statesman? didn’t he slip up somehow and that’s what got him in this situation?

he doesn’t remember much from the fight he lost that ended with him in the very chair he was in right then, he just remembers them mentioning what he thought to be a name: bloody mary. he didn’t recognize the name from around the agency, so maybe instead of alluding to the beverage, they were hinting at the ghost that haunted mirrors. he didn’t like either option so he pushed it away, unsure of what this bloody mary had to do with him being here.

they’d been asking him about her ever since he got here, and for the first time he was honest during an interrogation. they still hit him, somehow convinced that he was involved with this mystery woman. what was even stranger was that they didn’t even give him some cockamamey evidence, doctored photos that could “attest” to his involvement.

“no! you send your men to come get him! and bring more to replace the ones your idiocy cost me!” a long silence from the man who’d led his interrogations, and a sigh. “have someone send the photos. he’s still not giving information… it’s been a week and he’s near dead, we push too hard and we lose any chance of getting the information… alright. let me know when they’re close.”

oh, they’re gonna bring photos pretty soon. finally he’ll have some sort of explanation as to why he’s here.

but then he hears gunshots outside of his little prison and his senses are immediately on edge. “secure the prisoner! secure the prisoner secure the-” the frantic shouts of one of the guards was cut off by a gurgling noise jack could only guess was his own blood.

this meant two things: someone was here to take whiskey and he had no idea whether he’d prefer a statesman rescue or for whoever his captors were trying to deliver him to. if the latter happens, maybe he can get a read on what kind of threat this “bloody mary” poses.

he’s never longed more for his whip and lasso and his revolver, to go out there and kill every single one of them that fucked with him. but he could barely stand or move as it was, leaving this room was a death sentence right now. stay put, he decided, and see what life has in store for him now.

he was never one to admire fictional characters all that much, but in that moment his mind wandered to the wizard of oz. he remembers watching it with you one night on your couch, you having won a bet that ended in you choosing the movie for movie night.

the tin man stood out the most to jack. here he was, an impenetrable force that yearned for a heart despite the weaknesses such an organ possessed. hypothetically, if the tin man were real, he would offer the man a bargain: your armor for my heart.

now jack wasn’t a con man. he wouldn’t say he was selling a fully functional heart all in one piece. no, he’d tell the tin man straight, that his heart was in pieces and has been pretty worn down over the years. after all, it isn’t like that armor of his hasn’t seen better days.

yeah, jack would be willing to do far too much to get just a scrap of that armor.

he’s too busy entertaining this idea through his hazy delirium that he doesn’t notice the door opening and one of the men approaching him in haste, hands beginning to grab at him, probably to take him away from whoever is attacking his prison.

they both hear the sound of footsteps from the doorway and whiskey’s vision is blocked by the man that was about to move his aching body from its crumpled position.

“turn around and step away from him. now!” the new voice shouted. it was a woman, he realized. what if this was the bloody mary in question? his broken mind could only imagine the opportunities that are falling at his feet.

the man turns, hands raised and whiskey could faintly make out the rapid breathing of the man scared shitless of the looming figure. “b-bloody mary, i-”

“save it. you’ve made a mistake crossing me, thornton. did you forget what happens to the men that dare fuck with me?”

there we go. this was perfect, exactly the woman he wanted to see. he had no idea what his future held, but getting an escort out of here by a woman who clearly wasn’t planning on leaving here without him (and wouldn’t hesitate to kill to ensure that outcome) was like a gift from god.

there was a silent screaming in the back of his mind that told him to pay more attention to the next time bloody mary spoke, that he was missing out on a critical detail by allowing himself to slip into near comatose.

“b-b-but i was gonna g-give you half the money once i handed him over! i swear it!”

“i don’t want your money, thornton. what i’d like back is the time i wasted tracking your slimy ass, but this will do.”

he hears a thunk and suddenly he’s covered in red and thornton’s body is crumpling to the ground, an arrow between his eyes and blood quickly pooling around him. before he passes out, he risks a look at the face of the crossbow-wielding woman who holds his life in her hands.

it’s you.

he has to be delusional. you can’t be here, splattered in blood and dirt and picking him up in your arms. his angel clad in crimson, one foot pressed to the dead man’s head as you yank the arrow out with force he didn’t think you had. you can’t be the one who asks him where his weapons are, jack lifting a trembling hand towards the trunk in the far corner as you pull out his trusted whip and lasso

you can’t be going back one by one to the men you left alive and ending their lives with barely contained rage as you guide him out of the prison he’s been trapped in for god only knows how long. and what was in the canteen you were emptying as you walked through towards the doors?

there was no way on god’s green earth that you were the one flicking open a zippo before tossing the chrome lighter on top of the puddle of what his brain is now telling him is lighter fluid, carrying him bridal style towards the cherry red ford edsel convertible as his hell went up in flames.

he feels himself be gently laid down in the back of the car, a soft hand coming up to cup his cheek and stroking away a tear jack didn’t realize he shed. it really was you, he realized as he met your eyes, eyebrows wrinkled in fear that he felt guilty for giving you.

“you’ll be alright, jack. we’re gonna get you some help, you’re gonna be okay, i swear it baby,” his heart clenched when your voice cracked at the end, his vision going black before he can say or do anything to soothe the ache he knows you’re feeling.

“you son of a bitch, you knew?!” jack knows that voice.

“of course i did, i wouldn’t be doing my job if i didn’t! and you two weren’t slackin off so i thought-” jack knew that voice too. but why did it seem as if they knew each other?

“so when it became apparent that i didn’t know that jack was a statesman, you didn’t think to tell me?!”

“it could have jeopardized the mission if i told you then!”

a loud slap echoes through the room as you loudly call champ a motherfucker, the insult followed by a demand for privacy.

a door clicks shut and for a second jack’s body is preparing him for another hit from an assailant or sparks of electricity from the car battery they electrocuted him with a time or two. his muscles tense all the same when instead of pain, much to his surprise, the touch is feather light and tender.

“jack… baby i’m so sorry, for everything i did. for leaving, for saying such hateful things,” he hears you sniffle and if he could move his body right then he’d wipe away the tears streaking your dirty face if he could move one. they had him so doped up on muscle relaxers and painkillers and whatnot that he was still unsure of whether you were even here.

“i didn’t mean any of it i swear, fuck i love you jack and-” you cut yourself off with the beginnings of a sob, taking a few heaving breaths before you were able to continue.

that is, until he felt your lips quivering against his in a kiss unlike any you’ve shared in the past. every kiss with whiskey was confident, whether it was the passionate connection of kiss-swollen lips as you made love or the gentle pecks when you were just being, cuddling during movie nights or when swaying around the kitchen while cooking. it was a confidence born of two people who knew they were meant to be together and would continue to be. that confidence was gone now.

the anxiety buried behind this kiss burned worse than the cigarettes his captors put out against his skin. you were scared he’d turn you away, tell you that he didn’t want you anywhere near him after how you broke his heart.

you flinch when he pushes his face closer to yours, trying to tame the way your lips shook because he loves you, he misses you, he forgives you. your eyes widen when he does this and your hands are immediately cupping his face and wiping away the tears that were starting to drop from his eyes.

“hello darlin’,” he chokes out. “it’s nice to see you.”

you let out a wet laugh at his reference. of course jack’ s gonna start singing conway right now. “it’s been a long while, you’re just as lovely as you used to be.” your hands hold his face firmly as you bend lower and let your lips linger on the ones you’ve been without for the past two months.

“will ya lay with me, sweetheart?”

“always, jack.”

you maneuver your body around jack’s in the bed he was laying in, humming in content when he kisses your forehead. there’s a lot of obstacles ahead for the two of you, but it’s not anything two statesman agents can’t handle with their hands intertwined.

jack was never happier to not have traded his heart for armor.

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #jack whiskey daniels #kingsman golden circle #kingsman: the golden circle #pedro pascal #agent whiskey imagine

114 notes · View notes