#and hopefully you’re not having anymore nightmares :(
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hiya love, if you don't mind could you do some hcs or a blurb or whatever you'd prefer about minwon comforting reader who had a nightmare? i've been having bad ones for the past couple of nights and it suckssss. :( -minwon nonny
sorry to hear that :( hopefully your nightmares go away soon!
your heart is beating harshly in your chest when you wake up covered in cold sweat. the remnants of the nightmare you just had are still fresh in your mind, and you hate that you can’t calm yourself fast enough to drift back to sleep. you look to your side, heartbeat slowing a bit when you see your two boyfriends sleeping peacefully.
wonu and gyu look so peaceful when they’re sound asleep. the way mingyu cuddles deeper into wonu’s neck as he hugs him closer to his chest is a comforting sight. you let out a quiet, shaky sigh as you lift wonu’s arm off your stomach as gently as you can. without making much noise, you slip out of your bed and go to the kitchen to get some water.
ofc your bfs always made you feel better when you woke up from a nightmare, but they had been waking up to comfort you for the last three nights. you hated to keep interrupting their sleep.
“baby?”
you jump a little when you hear two synchronized voices.
“what’s wrong?” wonu asks you immediately as he and gyu walk over to you.
“had a nightmare.” you say, doing your best to keep you voice steady so how affected you are won’t show.
they both frown at you, a little upset that you didn’t wake them up right away. instead of saying anything, they guide you back to bed and make sure to squeeze you between them. they’re so close that you can feel every inch of wonu’s torso against your back and all of gyu against your front. they’re gently caressing your body without saying anything. it helps you feel better, as usual.
“you should’ve woken us up, pretty.” gyu says, and you don’t have to look at him to know he’s pouting.
wonu hums in agreement.
“sorry. i just didn’t want to wake you guys.”
“you can wake us any time, baby.” wonwoo assures you. “okay?”
you him peacefully, feeling drowsy already. “okay.”
#soft!minwon is vv dear to me#but on another note#sorry this was late#and hopefully you’re not having anymore nightmares :(#minwon nonny
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heyyyy ryyyyy <333
since ur requests are open i thought id go ahead and ask if you're mayhaps open to anything for batmom? i don't have a completely solid idea but maybe smn like batmom has been getting threats or maybe hate or smn from somebody and everyone's reactions and how they get hella protective?
obv no pressure and you definitely do not have to write this
hope you have a great day bb
Heyyyyy, so this grew hands and wrote itself, I hope you enjoy it. It did end up with a lot of backstory.
Earned Position
5.3k words
You knew this would happen. Once your relationship with Bruce got out there would be an influx of love and hate. You also knew that everyone else knew that as well. It was common knowledge than anyone around a celebrity of sorts would experience that.
Of course you did the normal things, turned off most notifications and only looked through areas online you knew would mostly be safe. You blocked tags and and only followed people you knew or ones who didn’t post about drama.
When you did stumble onto hate, you moved on. If someone kept sending you nasty messages you blocked them, when they made other accounts to keep sending the same things, you changed your settings so only those you followed could message you.
It wasn’t something you wanted to deal with but it was something you could handle. Something you started mentally preparing yourself for when Bruce’s attention on you lasted more than 4 dates, even more so when you caught yourself daydreaming about him.
You were not going to let random bitter people on the internet destroy your happiness like they did their own. Your family however, wanted to destroy what was left of your haters' happiness. Something you were trying to curb, but trying to tell a family of vigilantes who considered you the best mom in existence not to destroy your haters was like talking to a brick wall. Over the years, you had gotten used to it. It barely even registered anymore. But there had been a recent influx of the hate and while it didn’t bother you, it bothered the rest of your family. None of them could stand people talking bad about their mom.
While you hadn’t been there while the older ones were young, the second you had introduced yourself to them, you had taken a very important role in their lives. None of them realizing it at first. All of them had gotten used to the random women Bruce brought home that it took a little while for them to realize how important you were.
Dick wasn’t sure at first. Thinking you were just another girlfriend that wouldn’t last long. So he didn’t really interact with you much. Ignoring your existence when it wasn’t too rude, or at least obviously rude. Until one night when he was staying at the manor and had a nightmare about his parents death.
Bruce had an open bed policy. As long as there was still room for him, his bed was open. A policy he had started when Dick had gotten old enough he was worried he wouldn’t be allowed to go when he had a nightmare. Bruce had always reminded all his kids, that nightmares don’t go away just because you’re older and that needing comfort wasn’t something they would outgrow.
The thing was, you were there. Girlfriends didn’t mind when children did it but they never liked it when his adult kids did it. The shaking in his hands and the way he saw them fall in the darkness of every blink told him the only way he was getting any sleep was with someone.
Hopefully he could just slip into Bruce’s side and leave before you woke up. That was the plan until he found Damian on Bruce’s side and you had been pulled closer to Bruce taking up what was left. You moved a little and Dick took that as his sign to deal with it himself until he heard you whisper his name. He hummed so you knew it was him and not some random stranger standing over Bruce’s side of the bed.
“Nightmare?”
“Yeah.”
“Come on.” You lifted the blanket next to you, “Bruce told me you guys come here when you have nightmares. There's plenty of room over here for you.” Dick hesitated for a second before giving in. He needed sleep anyway. You weren’t when you said there was plenty of room, Dick had most of your half of the bed. Once he had settled on his side, facing away from you, he felt you pull the blanket over his shoulders.
“Night Dick, sleep well.” For some reason, that was what did it. Once the tears started they didn’t stop. Silent sobs made him shudder and he felt one of your hands gently rubbing his back. “Oh Dick.” There was no pity in your tone and he found himself rolling over and curling into you. Your chin resting on his head while you rubbed his back.
The next day, he followed you around like a puppy. Your side of the bed became his favorite when he had nightmares and it wasn’t long before he turned to you for general comfort over anything.
Jason met you at his grave. Neither of you exchanged words, but he caught something in your gaze he didn’t quite understand. He also wasn’t sure why you were at his grave either, he didn’t know you when he was younger.
When he saw the Gotham News post about Bruce and Your 2nd anniversary, it brought more questions than answers. Why were you at his grave alone? Let alone longer than a few seconds. It was an odd way to gain more of Bruce’s affections.
Every Tuesday you would be there, leaving flowers and talking softly to the stone. Every time you left, you would smile and nod, the look in your eyes he couldn’t figure out was still there. Every time he would strain to heat what you were saying and only be able yo a few words here and there.
6 months into it, the routine changed. You brought a blanket and Basket with your usual flowers. You did what you normally did with the flowers but instead of talking to the stone you waved him over. When he didn’t move, you stopped what you were doing and looked at him.
“Jason Todd, I have been keeping your secret for 6 months. Helping me spread this blanket and having lunch won’t change it.” He stared at you while you waited expectantly. Eventually when he could get himself to move, he came over and helped. He sat down where you motioned for him too, all while trying to figure out how you knew.
“Bruce mentioned this used to be your favorite when you were younger so I asked Alfred to teach me how to make it. I hope it's up to your standards.” He looked at the plate of food you handed him. It was almost overflowing with food, all of which reminded him of the good times back at the manor before he died. “Alfred also sent your favorite cookies when he heard I would be eating at your grave.” The bag of cookies was placed next to the basket, within easy reach.
“Why?” Was all Jason managed to choke out around the lump in his throat.
“I decided early on in life, no matter who I was with, I would love their family as my own. My grandfather hated my grandmothers side and it caused a lot of pain in all the generations. I decided I would never do that to another family.” Jason found himself back in control enough to start eating.
“So when I started dating Bruce and he told me about you, I decided to treat you like you were my own. Even though I had never met you and you were dead. Most of what that meant was keeping your grave clean and always making sure there were fresh flowers. While I did that, I would tell you everything that was going on.”
“How did you know it was me?”
“Your eyes, they may be a different color but they looked too similar. So I did a little digging and found pictures of your biological pictures to place the face shape it matched. I think however you look more like Bruce then either of them.”
“Are you going to tell them?”
“As much as I would love to. It’s your choice. You’ve been keeping this to yourself for a reason. If I can help you get to a place to tell them, I would love to. But I won’t say a word until you're ready. However, I would like to keep having lunch with you.”
A year later, Jason reintroduced himself to the rest of the family a lot calmer than originally planned and was glued to your side anytime he felt overwhelmed that night. Every Tuesday after that, lunch was scheduled.
Tim was nervous when it came to you. He was still living in the manor so he saw you more than the older two. You always seemed nice and respected his privacy but Bruce was always with you so you obviously would.
It was when he wasn’t around that worried Tim. Bruce attracted golddiggers and they were always mean when Bruce wasn’t there. When you were given a copy of the key, Time braced himself.
Of course he knew that if he told Bruce anything that happened like that, Bruce would break it off. He had always told them that they came first. But he also knew that Bruce liked you a lot. All the other ones Bruce liked a lot that turned out to be horrible, he broked it off. Tim had seen how it had made him upset and he really hated doing that to him. Maybe he could deal with it for once.
So when Bruce left for a business trip, Tim was Expecting the worst. What he didn’t expect was for you to knock on his door and ask if you could join him. When he agreed and stepped back so you could come in. He expected you to go to his bed or his desk chair not, the oversized bean bag on the floor.
“I have a question for you but you can’t tell Bruce yet.” Here it comes. “What would a funny way to tell him I know he’s Batman?” Tim wasn’t expecting that one. “I was thinking a lot of batpuns but his paranoia is too bad for that.”
“How did you figure it out?” You walked him through your process and didn’t say anything as he wrote parts of it down. Once you finished explaining the process for Bruce, you explained any way it was modified in figuring out their identities.
“Who do you think I am?”
“Red Robin.” Tim found himself getting excited.
“You know those notes you leave him in his office?” You nodded. “You should leave those in the Batcave.” You considered it but your thinking was interrupted but Tim shouting.
“No! One night when we’re all in the cave, you could bring some snacks!”
“You just want snacks when he’s lecturing you don’t you?”
“Maybe..”
“Alright, but you have to tell the others so they can tell me what snack they want.”
So Tim slowly and carefully went through all his siblings, letting them know you figured it out, Bruce didn’t know, and what the plan is. Every time he relayed a snack to you he’d watch how carefully you’d write it out to make sure you had it correct or look up recipes if you couldn’t find it in stores.
Two weeks later, Tim was the one who sent the signal in the middle of a lecture everyone was receiving and he got a front row seat to see Bruce’s face when you walked in and handed out snacks before giving him a kiss and telling him to be nice and leaving.
Any other worries were left in the dust when you helped him win the nerf war for the best seat in the home theater. He thoroughly enjoyed his spot next to you while Bruce swore revenge from the other side of the room.
Damian treated you politely but that was it. His mother was still alive and he didn’t want another one, one was more than enough. Not only that, but you were weird.
One time when you were over, you found one of his report cards. Immediately you were praising him. He didn’t understand why, he had basically failed one of his classes with an A-. You should be disappointed like his mother would be, not hanging it up on the fridge and telling people not to touch it. Definitely not taking him out for ice cream and calling him so smart. He definitely shouldn’t be feeling any pride when he walked past it, but he still was.
When he was practicing his violin and Messed up, you were supposed to tell him to stop failing, that he should be better. Not smiling at him and telling him he’s making good progress. You should be telling him that he should have memorized that piece in a day. He shouldn’t be feeling any pride when he finally does memorize it, it took him 4 days to learn it.
When he was struggling to learn a language, you were supposed to tell him to work harder. He could do better, after all, he already knew so many. Instead you just smiled and recommended a break to refresh his mind.
When he snapped at you in Arabic, he expected you to be upset since you didn’t know what he said and it was obviously not something nice. Instead you set the rule that if he was going to use Arabic to speak to you when upset, that he had to teach it to you and if what he said wasn’t something you had learned yet, he had to tell you in english. When he told you what it meant, you didn’t even get upset. He definitely shouldn’t be as excited as he was when you actually started learning.
So many more little things piled up, leaving Damian confused. The differences between how you and his mother treated him was so big he didn’t know how to process it, he liked you and all the little things made him happy in a way he hadn’t really felt. But he still loved his mom, When he had enough of it, he asked you to stop. He still wanted to love his mom. Once again, you did something you weren’t supposed to.
“Oh Damian, I’m not trying to replace your mom nor am I trying to make you feel like you can’t love her or she doesn’t love you. Your mom and I show our love in different ways and its ok for you to love or like both of us. You mother loves you and she will always be allowed in your life if thats what you want.” You weren’t supposed to do that, but Damian was really glad you did.
Barbara wasn’t sure how you would react to her. She wasn’t just Bruce’s kid. She had a loving family she went back to every night. Most people weren’t really a fan of that, one of Bruce’s past girlfriends had some strong and hurtful things to say about it.
When you took her for a day out, she found herself warming up to you but still waiting for the other shoe to drop. One of the new places you had planned to go, didn’t have wheelchair access. Like all the other girlfriends who had done this, she expected you to be annoyed that your plans had to change or you would just leave her outside while you shopped.
You didn’t seem to notice her hesitation, just looking at what was next on your list and starting the trip there. When Barbara stared a little longer at a new movie that was in theaters, tickets and snacks were bought and you listed to all the lore she told you about before it started.
While it had been a nice day, Barbara wasn’t convinced. One day was easy to fake. Sure she had lots of fun, but Barbara was used to fakes when it came to Bruce’s girlfriends. Of course she wasn’t complaining about you being nice, she just wasn’t sure how long it would last.
“Did you hear about that boutique?” She looked up from her food to look at her dad. “That new one that you tried to go to with Bruce’s girlfriend? Well there was a report that it didn’t meet the Americans with Disabilities act and the boutique is in trouble. People are speculating they’ll have to close down.”
Later that night, Barbara looked into it. They were in trouble, pretty big trouble from the looks of it. Towards the end of the article she found the name of the person who reported it, she wasn’t sure who she was expecting. Not you for sure but the Name Y/n L/n took her by surprise and filled her chest with feelings she couldn’t describe.
The boutique ended up closing but a new one opened. Once it was open, you were the first to ask her to go. That weird feeling came back when she wheeled herself up the ramp and through the door you held open for her. Later that night, in the privacy of her room. She decided she liked you.
Steph seemed like she liked you, she acted like she liked you, she didn’t really like you. Sure you were nice, Bruce loved you, the others were warming up to you, but she wasn’t sure how to feel about you. So she stuck with not actually liking you but pretending to.
So when she was around you, it was all smiles and jokes. She wasn’t a big fan of it all but she did it because she knew you were important to Bruce and that was enough of a reason for her. She knew Bruce and the others could see through the act but as long as you couldn’t, that was enough.
When Bruce announced he had to leave for a business trip right before she could hand him the parents visit for one of her AP classes, something the new teacher liked doing. She tucked the paper away. When Tim gave her a questioning look, she shook her head and later swore him to silence.
Every time she heard someone mention their parents were going, she felt a pang of jealousy in her chest. Every time Tim mentioned bringing it up to you, she swore him into silence again. It wouldn’t be the first time no one showed up for her. She was however thankful you wouldn’t be at the manor as much so she didn’t have to pretend to like you.
When the day arrived, Steph was not having a good day. School dragged on slowly. Slower than normal. When school finally ended, she had to sit in the classroom and watch everyone else that was in her class leave and the parents of her classmates show up while no one was there or coming for her.
Someone sat in the seat next to her, she expected another family member of one of her classmates. Definitely not you. She couldn’t return your smile, too unsure of how you found out, the fact you actually showed up, and how she felt about you being there. You leaned a little closer so that the others in the room wouldn’t easily overhear.
“I know I’m not your parent and someone you just pretend to like so if you want me to leave I will. But I figured someone was better then no one. Oh, and Tim wanted me to tell you he didn’t spill. Your teacher called the manor because no one had RSVPed for you and I answered it.”
That night, as Steph showed off all her hard work to you, the charade fell. She actually enjoyed her time with you and the boost of pride as you oohed and ahhed over all her projects and listened to her explain all the little details. That night, Steph realized, she didn’t need to keep pretending. She liked you, until she found out you didn’t like her favorite show but a nerf war solved that.
Cass could tell you were different then the other girlfriends, your body language as you interacted with all of them showed it. However that didn’t mean she knew how to interact with you.
She had learned that she was fairly hard for new people to interact with. She also knew she had trouble interacting with people she wasn’t fighting. So it wasn’t a surprise when it started rocky.
What was a surprise, was when you found out she was still having trouble reading and writing, you stepped in to help. Well, that wasn’t the surprising part, a lot of girlfriends did that. The surprising part was the amount of patience you had when it was only the two of you.
When one method didn’t help, you tried another. Never once did you snap at her or call her a name. Everytime you got frustrated you would stop and look at her, say something along the lines of “If I had as much trouble with this as you do, I wouldn’t want to keep trying. You're doing absolutely amazing! I’ll keep looking for other ideas, but for now, lets take a break and get a treat.”
Cass wasn’t sure why that always made her feel better, but it did. Every treat you brought was something you made just for the tutoring sessions and it always reminded her of what Alfred had told her once. “Something made with love for you will always taste better.”
And when a method that made it a little easier to learn was found, Cass found herself smiling along with your cheers. Bad days where she couldn’t seem to make any progress were always met with the same excitement, cheers, patience, and treats that all the others were.
Cass still wasn’t sure of what to think of you exactly, but she knew she liked you and that you cared about her.
So when Tim saw the new rise in hate, a sibling meeting was called. They all went through each site, blood boiling as they saw what people were saying about their new parent. Plans were made, declarations of war were ready, and anger fueled all of them. Bruce could tell something was going on, but he wasn’t sure what it was and as long as it didn’t get out of had, he wasn’t sure if he had the energy to deal with it.
War was declared in an interview by Steph. The lady was asking questions when the topic switched to Bruce, then you. The reporter was clearly trying to subtly find some dirt on you and Steph was not going to stand for it.
“Oh yeah! Y/n! She’s the best!” She put on her best press face. Trying to hide her anger over the hidden intent. She didn’t have to lie or act when talking about you but the change in the lady’s face going to disappointment when she didn’t get anything she wanted was making her look very punchable.
“She’s always showing up for us and making sure we’re doing ok. If Y/n and Bruce were to break up, I think most of us would go with Y/n.” The way the lady kept trying to get anything really got on her nerves and Steph decided she needed to get out of there before she started using the lady’s face for target practice. You wouldn’t like that.
Cass was the first one to resort to violence. They had asked a thinly veiled question, basically asking if you were a golddigger. So she punched him in the nose and leaned down to flip the camera off. She hated interviews already but that made it so much worse. She hoped you wouldn’t be too upset with her punching the guy though.
Jason, surprisingly enough. Did not get violent… physically. He did however curse one out and threaten him when the reporter implied you were forcing them to say nice things. When the reporter kept pressing Jason broke his mic and told him if he ever heard him talking bad about you again, a broken mic would be the last of his worries. Jason knew you would be disappointed but he had held back, he didn’t shoot the guy like he wanted.
Tim threw his coffee at one reporter because he heard them say you were nothing but a regular person who didn’t deserve any attention. He then took over her segment, threatening the company to air it or he would make sure they went bankrupt. Once he finished his threats, anything he said was praising you name. Telling everyone how amazing you were and how much they all loved you.
Barbara made it a point to bring up everything you did for the community when they tried to throw some shade at you in an interview. She had documents to prove it and hacked their systems to add them into the interview so they couldn’t claim it was fake. She also made sure to run over his foot when she left.
Dick punched a reporter when they tried to ask him what you were really like behind closed doors. He told them the truth, that you were just as good, kind, patient, and loving behind closed doors as you were out in public. He didn’t throw a punch until the reporter disregarded that as asked again because she couldn’t be that good. Dick knew a lecture would be coming once you saw, but he would rather sit through a lecture then let anyone tarnish your name.
Damian spent 10 minutes cursing and threatening a reporter in Arabic when they asked him if you had ever hurt him. When he was done, he told them in english, that if he ever got asked that question again, he would impale them. He knew you were going to make him sit down and translate everything and the general response you would give but he didn’t care, no one speaks bad about either of his mothers.
Bruce figured out what was going on after Steph’s interview. He saw the ones where they assaulted or threatened the reporters and made sure his lawyers were on standby to keep the kids out of trouble. After all, he had seen more than they had.
He had watched as you tried to connect with Dick early on, how you worked hard to try and get somewhere. He had woken up before you when Dick had come in that night and heard how you handled it. He had woken up the next morning to find you holding Dick close, like you were trying to protect him from the nightmares. He had seen how you never turned Dick down when he wanted comfort, no matter how serious or silly the matter, and he had heard your excitement when you told him Dick liked you.
Bruce had seen the way you never missed a visit to Jason’s grave, on a visit of his own, he saw how much care you showed the stone marking it as his lost son. While he hadn’t been sure why it was alway the same time on Tuesday, he didn;t mention it. He felt the way you would sob in his arms after each visit, a year after the tradition started, you always said you had promised not to tell and he watched as you kept that promise even if it tore you to pieces. Once the shock and tears wore off for a little bit, he could see the trust that Jason had in you.
He heard the way you questioned if you should have a key to the manor, you didn’t want to make Tim uncomfortable in his own home, or how you questioned if you should visit while he was gone. Not wanting to stress Tim out when there was no reason too. He saw the way you and Tim grinned at each other when you brought snacks down for all the kids he was currently lecturing. He head the excitement in your voice as you told him about the tour Tim had given you of the Batcave and the shared laughter as you and Tim worked together to win the nerf war.
Bruce saw how you worked to give Damian the affection he didn’t think he needed. He felt you crying in his arms upset over the fact Damian thought you would be angry because he made a mistake or struggled in a class. He heard you practicing your Arabic as you got ready for bed and he watched as you stress paced over whether or not you said the right thing to him about his mother.
He saw how angry you had been when you came back from your day out with Barbara. He had heard your call with your lawyer as you tried to figure out what to do. He saw you going through the laws and making a list to make sure your lawyer didn’t miss any. He heard about the movie you didn’t particularly care about and the lore you remembered in case of another because you wanted Barbara to have someone she could tell all of her favorite things too.
Bruce saw the pictures you had taken from the school night. He heard all the details from you as you praised Steph’s work. He saw the way Steph stopped acting around you and the silly arguments the two of you would get into for fun. He heard the way you would listen to her as she verbally worked out her problems. He saw the way Steph looked for you in a crowd, the way she knew you were there but not where you stood exactly, the thought of you not being there never crossed her.
He saw the way you stayed up late, researching different ways to teach reading and writing. He heard the patience and kindness and you worked with Cass. He saw the way you always made a treat just for Cass to have after each lesson because you wanted to reward her hard work. He heard the way you cried for Cass when she had a bad day and got frustrated with herself because you knew she was smart and you wanted her to see it too. He heard your celebrations when Cass made any progress, no matter the size.
Bruce heard, saw, and felt the way you worked hard to have a relationship with his kids. How you had mourned for their losses, celebrated their wins, and felt their pain. He saw the way his kids blossomed under your care, growing to be better and more confident in themselves. The way you cared for them as if they were your own flesh and blood. So when he was asked about his kids behavior, he said as much.
“Y/n has worked hard to be accepted by them. She’s given so much of her time, effort, patience, and love and never wanted anything in return. She always shows up for them, no matter what the occasion is, big or small, it doesn’t matter. If they want her there, she’ll be there. Everytime they need or want her, she’s there. She never judges them and treats them as if they were her own blood. Of course their upset and lashing out, people are insulting the woman who has cared for them more then most of their biological mothers.”
Later, a clip of you scolding Bruce and all the kids went viral. While you were scolding them over their behavior and making the kids who had reacted with violence or threats write apology letters because asking mean questions does not make it right to respond badly especially when its someone just trying to start drama. Everyone one noticed that there was no actual bite to your tone and no anger when they all refused to stop acting like that. In fact, there was a small soft smile on your face as you shook your head at your family.
#dc#jason todd#dick grayson#tim drake#fem reader#batman x reader#bruce wayne x reader#Damian wayne#cassandra cain#stephanie brown#barbara gordon#batfamily x reader#batmom reader#batmom#request#cipheress-to-k-pop
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Why’d You Have to Wait?
🔥 - synopsis. You get kidnapped on a case. Aaron’s coping mechanism? Self isolation. But when you’re recovering, Aaron wonders if staying away from you is the right thing to do. Jack convinces him anyway. Are things too far gone for Aaron to fix?
🔥 - warnings. Non descriptive torture. Scars. Burns. Very vaguely described mental issues. Slow burn. Friends ro enemies to lovers? Sad hotch. Angst. No happy ending.
🔥 - author’s note. Doing a part two. Hopefully this doesnt flop :)
Aaron had dreams about it now. They were so vivid- lifelike and real. Every time he had them he woke up in a cold sweat, heaving in the bathroom as tears dripped slowly down his face.
He hadn’t gone to the hospital to see you. In fact, Aaron hadn’t seen you since the day you almost died. He rode in the ambulance, but tore himself away from the hospital as he watched the doctors wheel you into the operating room. Your blood had stained his hands, face, and arms for days. Every time the white spots danced in his vision after emptying the contents of his stomach, he swears he can still see the glossy red liquid drip off his fingers.
You were well like. Not only by the team but by Strauss. She had given the team the time off to help y/n recover: sit in her room after another surgery, cheer for her during physical therapy.
Jack loved having time to see his dad after school, but he knew something was wrong after consistently hearing him pad to the kitchen during the middle of the night.
Tonight was no different.
Jack sat up in his bed and rubbed his eyes. He blinked owlishly around the room and stood up. The little Hotchner slowly followed the light to the kitchen and saw his daddy lean over the sink. “Daddy?”
Aaron turned his head and tried to smile at Jack. Aaron knew he probably looked a mess. “Hey buddy. Let’s get you back to bed.”
Before Aaron could set down set down his water cup, Jack crawled up the seat and watched his dad over the counter. “What’s wrong, daddy?”
“I just can’t sleep,” Aaron shrugged, facing Jack with his arms crossed. “Why do you think something’s wrong?”
Jack looked at Aaron as if he had grown two heads. “You get up in the night a lot, daddy. And your eyes are red. You cough a lot too.“
Hotch wanted to laugh. Of course Jack knew something was wrong- he always knew. “Yeah. You’re right, kiddo.”
“You yell when you sleep sometimes too. What happened to y/n, daddy? She doesn’t come see me anymore.”
Aaron shuddered as he inhaled. Smart boy. “She got really hurt, buddy. It’s bad. I guess I just… get scared thinking about her getting hurt,” Aaron admits, feeling his heart beat faster in his chest.
Jack nodded. “Can we go see her?”
“I- I don’t think we should. She’s still getting better.”
Jack furrowd his eyebrows and tilted his head. “But I miss her.”
“I do t- I bet she misses you, too, Jack, but I don’t know how she’s doing. She might still-“
Jack sighed. “But daddy, she’d be so happy to see me!”
Aaron sighed. As much as he selfishly wanted to see you, he couldn’t. He’d do something he wasn’t proud of- embarrass himself, ruin his reputation of being a mentally and emotionally tough boss, ruin your friendship… No. Aaron couldn’t go by himself, but Jack could go with him. Why hadn’t Aaron thought of it before?
“Okay,” Aaron relented. A smile tugged at his lips when Jack’s face lit up. He scrambled off his chair and collided into Aaron’s legs and squeezed.
“Can I sleep with you tonight, daddy? Aunt Jess always stays with me when I have a nightmare.”
Aaron bent down and picked Jack up and nodded. “Yeah, buddy. Let me brush my teeth again.”
Jack wrapped his arms around his dad’s neck and squeezed, as big of a hug his little body could give.
— 🔥
The days were all a blur for you. Now that you were all fucked up, nothing felt right anymore. Second defree burns crawled up the calf of your left leg. Small cuts littered your entire body, scarring and twisting your skin. The worst part was the long, twisting scar that started on your cheek about two inches away from your ear and pulled down to your collarbone.
The unsub, Barney MacMillian, was a sadist. A stupid fucking sadist. He thought he was punishing you for hunting him when he kidnapped and tortured you.
You know the team tried- they really really did try- to cheer you up, to get you back. But the fact that you now considered yourself a monster and how you started to believe the things MacMillian had whispered in your ear as he tore you apart, layer by layer.
Derek genuinely thought your scar was badass, but learned not to bring it up. Penelope just kept rehashing everything- something you had eventually told her to atop doing. Prentiss was cautious, testing the waters. But she eventually got back into a rhythm with you as your best friend. JJ didn’t do anything wrong, she was just really nice- too nice? Spencer was… himself. And you couldn’t thank him enough for just staying him, recitinf facts about burns and scars, knives and blood loss. It was morbid, sure, but you were always close with him and the way his brain worked.
Rossi was the one that kept you together through it all, though. He had conversations with you, long past visiting hours. He talked with you about anything and everything and somehow knew exactly what you needed to hear or talk about. But he kept making excuses for Aaron.
Aaron. The romantic feelings you kept trying to flush away turned into hurt every time Rossi’s eyes flickered away from yours when you asked about him. But you knew now. He didn’t care. He never would. That’s why he didn’t show. It’s the only plausible explanation of why he wouldn’t show up, shoot you a text, something.
So you turned your hurt into anger and stopped asking, ignoring the way your heart would drop to your stomach and how the acid in your stomach churned eveey time you heard his name.
You already had your resignation documenta stored neatly in a magazine in the second table in the nightstand to your right. You were done with it all.
— 🔥
That’s why you felt tears prick in your eyes when you saw Jack Hotchner leap into the room. His little eyes scoured your face, eyes dragging down the healing skin on your face. You heard Aaron’s footfalls stop short at the door. Your jaw clenched and you stared at Jack, waiting for him to start crying and ask to leave.
But he didn’t. He just smiled and leapt into your arms, completely unaware of the physical pain in your leg and body. He just wrapped his arms and legs around you.
You sat still, eyes looking at Rossi, who smiled at you. You hadn’t yet looked at Aaron and didn’t even want to. Carefully you wrapped your arms around Jack’s back, ignoring how fast the tears left your eyes.
Jack pulled back and looked at you with a smile that faded the second he saw your tears. In all of your time (almost 10 years) at the BAU, Jack had only seen you cry once. And that was during a movie.
“I thought coming to see you what make you happy,” he sad, voice sad. “Why are you crying?”
You smiled at him, sniffling pitifully. “I’m not sad, little J. I am really happy to see you,” you said. You hoped Aaron would hear the sharp undertone in your voice. Judging by Rossi’s huff of a laugh, he did.
“Oh! Well, I brought you stuff. I know you like the Black Widow because she’s really cool, so I brought you a coloring book,” Jack explained as he brandished his backpack full of stuff. You listensed intently, only looking up when Rossi got your attention and nodded to the door to signal him leaving.
Jack kept talking and you were overjoyed to listen. He was a pleasent little man, making your time more enjoyable. He opened up the coloring book he bought and started coloring after giving you a Beanie Baby he had that you mentioned you liked. He also got you a necklace- that Aaron no doubt spent a pretty penny for- that had your birthstone set in it. Jack watched you carefully as you opened it, and he put it on with his chubby fingers. You didn’t tell him that you would have to take it off soon after he left so it didn’t kill you when you slept. Hospital policy or something.
Soon after you finished your own coloring page featuring the Black Widow and Tony Stark making a hero landing, Jack turned on the T.V. and fell asleep.
“Hey,” Aaron said finally.
You nodded. “Hi boss.”
Aaron bit his lip. You stared forward, hand threading through Jack’s hair. Aaron felt his heart clenching in his chest. He didn’t know how you were gonna react when he came by, but he didn’t expect this- this silent treatment. He didn’t really blame you though. He wanted more than anything to make it up to you, to get you smiling again, but he knew the distance was probably better. For him at least.
“Y/n-“ Aaron started.”
You cut him off with. “Jack’s asleep, sir. It would be best not to wake him.”
Sir. You only called him sir if you were mad. Aaron swallowed. He knew he fucked up. Would he ever be able to fix his mistake, bring the old you back? He pondered the questions as he leaned back in his chair and watched the television show Jack chose before he fell asleep.
— 🔥
“Y/n is getting sent home today,” David’s voice crackled through the phone. “We wanted to take her out to dinner, something nice. Are you coming?”
Aaron sat at the kitchen table, checking over Jack’s homework. Jack himself was sitting a couple feet away on the couch. “Probably not. I have Jack.”
Rossi scoffed on the other line. “She loves Jack and he loves her. Bring him with you.”
“I don’t know,” Aaron sighed. He rested his head in his hands and closed his eyes. “Dave, she hates me.”
Silence. Rossi exhaled and shook his head. “She doesn’t hate you, but you’re giving her a lot of reasons to. Clean yourself up and meet us all at the address Garcia’ll send you. 6:00. Be there, Aaron. If not for her…” he trailed off, considering his next words carefully. “Then for Jack.”
— 🔥
David convinced you all to wait until ordering.
But when 6:45 rolled around and Aaron didn’t show, you just clenched your jaw and ordered a neat whiskey.
#ssa aaron hotchner#jules writes 📓🖊#x female reader#female reader#x reader#aaron hotch imagine#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner angst#aaron hotch fanfiction#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotch hotchner#aaron hotchner smut#aaron hotchner one shot#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner x gn!reader#aaron hotchner x reader dies#aaron hotchner fic#criminal minds x reader#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x female reader#criminal mnds#bau#criminal minds angst#criminal minds fandom
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Anyway regardless of how you feel about the Royals, even if you’re like me and think they’re all parasites, here are some things to remember:
The UK taxpayer is funding Kate’s high-end treatments whilst millions of citizens are on years-long NHS waiting lists for their own treatments and waiting hours upon hours to be seen in A&E when they’ve had a severe incident; so much money that could be going towards funding the NHS properly is instead going to the Royals. Kate is very likely going to be perfectly fine. Millions of regular tax-paying UK citizens will not.
HOWEVER. Kate isn’t going to see your memes making fun of her on tumblr dot com — but other people whom have suffered because of cancer will. If common decency won’t stop you from posting crab rave GIFs celebrating the illness of a mother to three young children, hopefully the chance of someone else with cancer or with a friend or relative with cancer seeing it will.
Seriously does no one else think Kensington’s PR nightmare is kind of fucked up like the fact they were so Weird about all this and let a sick woman in their “family” take all the blame for their shitty Photoshop skills. Royalist stan blogs I’ve seen you on here and I ask you: is THAT not some kind of indication as to how fucking evil they are if absolutely nothing else is. Please tell me you’ve seen the light by now I can’t cope anymore
#Breaking news we all already knew: The Royals are misogynistic af#kate middleton#royal family#british royal family#nhs#british politics#uk politics#tw cancer#terminal illness#abolish the monarchy#down with the crown#fuck the royals#anti royal family
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Yan!Rottmnt find you sleeping in their bed
A/N, not important: Told you I'd get out more this week. I figured out a system to (hopefully)stop me from burning out as quick. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.
Tw: watching you sleep, implied kidnapping, yandere themes, Raph overthinking and slight babying, unconsentual touching(nonsexual)
Words: 961
Summary: The Yan!ROTTMNT turtles find you sleeping in their bed, and they didn't even have to bribe you for once.
-Ollie
Mikey:
He’s surprised at first.
You’ve been fighting him on this for so long, despite him trying to reason with you. You hadn’t even touched his bed of your own volition so far.
And yet here you were, curled up in between pillows and blankets and the small rabbit stuffie Mikey had given you when he first met you.
He doesn’t touch you at first, opting to silently watch from a distance.
Has the biggest grin on his face as he coos at your sleeping figure, admiring you.
In his mind, this was a step forward to you accepting him, to you loving him.
Depending on the time of day and what Mikey was doing/how important it is, he’ll either get in bed with you and cuddle you while trying not to wake you, or he’ll sit on his desk and watch you as he draws.
Mikey hushes anyone who walks by, making sure his loud brothers don’t disturb you.
Until he wants your attention.
Then you’re getting dragged out of bed, an excited Mikey holding you in his arms.
You can always sleep later, after all, you obviously don’t care about sleeping in his bed anymore.
Don’t fight it, he knows you better than you know yourself.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Donnie:
Knew about it as soon as you fell asleep.
Is a bit miffed, especially if you didn’t wash before getting into his bed. He’s big on cleanliness, and will not stand for you making his bed all gross. He has to sleep there too, you know.
If you didn’t wash up first, he wakes you up and makes you go take a shower/bath first, taking the sheets to be cleaned and replacing them with spares as you do so. Drags you back to bed once you’re done, you don’t get a choice now. Plus, if you're so eager to sleep in his bed dirty, you’d enjoy it even better now that you’re clean.
If you were already clean, he leaves you be for now, having SHELLDON keep an eye on you to make sure nothing goes wrong while you sleep if he’s too busy to do it himself.
If he can spare the time however, he goes into his room and sits at his desk, being able to work while still being near you.
If he’s done with his work and is feeling up to it, he’s crawling in with you, collapsing on top of you and using you as his pillow. You’re soft and warm, you should’ve expected this to happen.
Gets pissy if you fight back, considering you most likely awoke when he flopped on top of you.
You should be grateful he’s showing you such kindness, he can always make you sleep on the floor.
Overall, he is quite indifferent about it. He doesn’t need you to sleep in his bed by your own volition, he can always just make you. Thinks nothing of it as you should be doing so anyway.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Raph:
Very pleased with you.
Seeing you sleeping under the covers of his bed of your own volition, just as he wanted you too was so comforting to him. He almost melted at the sight of you surrounded by his various plushies, one of the bears being held in your arms.
The problem lies with his anxiety, however.
You are currently in his bed, alone. If he leaves, you could get hurt. What if a plush falls on your face and suffocates you in your sleep? What if he leaves and you roll off the bed, breaking your neck? What if you have a nightmare, and he’s not here to comfort you?
Despite what he was doing prior, he drops it to watch over you, not trusting you to be safe on your own as you sleep. There were too many things that could go wrong, too many variables that could lead to your suffering.
No, he had to stay with you, to protect you.
It’s what he’s here for after all.
He tries to stay away for as long as he can hold out, watching you from the opposite end of his room as he sits on the floor, just silently staring.
If it gets too much for him, seeing you there all cozy paired with the worry he has for you, he’d crawl into bed with you. He tries his best to not wake you up, simply depositing your body on his plastron as his arms wrap around you.
Freaks out if he wakes you up by accident, shushing you and trying to coax you back to sleep. You need your sleep after all.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Leo:
This man’s ego raises so high, you have no idea. Is incredibly smug for the rest of the day(unless you do something wrong after you wake up).
See’s this as a win, thinks you’re finally giving in to him. Takes a photo to commemorate the memory before walking over to you.
Depending on his mood, he’ll either slip into bed with you, or sit on the bed next to you and just watch you while you sleep, enjoying this small step towards your reciprocating love.
No matter what, he drops whatever he’s doing to stay near you, not caring how much his brothers fuss at him.
If he slips into bed with you, he’s full on wrapping his arms around you and clinging to you like he’s never felt the touch of a lover before. Absolutely milks it.
If you wake up from his movements, he just shushes your complaints, refusing to let you go now that he’s with you.
You’re the one who was here first, why do you want to leave now?
Is very proud he’s finally making some progress, he knew you’d come around.
#yandere donnie#mikey x y/n#yandere rottmnt#gender neutral y/n#yandere tmnt#yandere#yandere donnie x reader#tmnt fanfic#teenage mutant ninja turtles#rottmnt x reader#yandere raph#yandere leo#yandere mikey#tw yandere#cw yandere#yandere leonardo#yandere michelangelo#yandere raphael#yandere donatello#yandere rottmnt x reader
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Stars of Heartbreak
Pairing: Rhysand x reader
Summary: He was the stars, the twinkling lights that gave hope to the dreamers who spent their nights bewitched by the hope.
Warnings: just a whole lot of angst.
a/n: This is my first time posting my writing so hopefully it's not too disappointing lmaoo. Would also like to clarify that I am the biggest Feysand simp. Let me know what you think!
Masterlist
He was the stars, the twinkling lights that gave hope to the dreamers who spent their nights bewitched by the hope. He was the cool soft caress of the night sky, soft touches and nights spent in soft embraces.
That’s where you were now, staring out into the night sky, standing atop the highest balcony in the Night court, his court. One he ruled with the curse breaker, the beautiful human now fae Archeron sister. Feyre wasn’t your enemy; she was the saving grace to all that knew her. She was noble, brave and beautiful. The things you weren’t. At least not anymore.
Not to Rhysand.
Not anymore.
He was not the male who promised you the very stars you were grieving too now. He was not the love that swept you in its warm embrace, nor was he the face that you woke up to every morning. Not since he had found the female that was his mate. Mate. It’s laughable now, you had always hoped, prayed, that it would snap between the two of you. Between every kiss, every smile, every soft touch. You had hoped and hoped until it had consumed you.
But you were not Feyre Archeron.
You were not the fearless human girl who freed him from the terror of Amarantha and her wicked court. You were not the newly made fae who showed him happiness again. You tried. Every nightmare, every terror induced moment after being freed you were by his side. Holding him, reminding him that he was home, safe finally. You were there to help him regain his control of himself, to regain control of his court.
But you weren’t enough, perhaps you never were.
“You’re going to fall over the railing with all that thinking.” His voice always was a calm whisper, a soft caress of night that made all the hairs on your body stand at his command. Whether it was a whisper or a yell, it always has the same affect.
“Maybe.” You said softly to the night sky, the sight too beautiful to look away from. You didn’t want to turn and face him, to face those hypnotizing violet eyes that would always be able to see right through you. But he didn’t mind, he knew it was hard for you to adjust after centuries of whirlwind romance.
“I’ll catch you.” He muttered, soft steps stopping beside you to lean against the same railing. But he wasn’t looking at the night sky, he was reading your face. Noting the lack of sleep evident by the dark bags under your cold eyes.
Cold eyes that used to shine for him, that used to twinkle in amusement when Cassian would laugh at your dumb jokes, jokes that only the two of you understood. Eyes that used to scrunch in concentration when you would massage the cramps out of Azriels hands on the colder days. Eyes that used to scrunch in happiness when you would paint your nails with Mor, the colors different every week depending on the last place his cousin had returned from.
Eyes that used to be full of hope and love, now dull and cold like the rest of you. Because of him.
“I’ll always catch you.” He whispered, a pang going through his chest at the down turn of your lips.
“Rhys.” You warned, scrunching your eyebrows. His name was always your favorite word. You had said it in so many ways, but now it left a sour taste on your tongue.
“You’re killing me.” He moved, his arm gently brushing yours in a warm gentle touch. A touch you would have leaned in to, drawn to every part of him like a moth to a flame. But now? Now you took a step back, breaking your gaze from the stars above to the stars in his eyes.
“Don’t.” You warned again, your arms moving to wrap around yourself. To protect yourself from the broken shell of a heart in your chest that only ever beat for him.
Rhys took a step towards you again, halting in his spot when you took another away from him. He wished he could save you from the pain he had caused, save you from him. A gentle tug on the golden strand in his chest had him turning his gaze to his mate who was watching them from the couch where the rest of his family was. They were all laughing, drinking and soaking in the feel of each other after years of war.
Feyre’s worry radiated through the bond, worry for the female that had sacrificed her own heart for theirs. You watched them in their silent conversation, taking two more steps away from him.
“It’s okay Rhysand, your family is waiting for you.” You said softly, not turning to look into the warmth of the living room. Knowing that if you looked at the family that was once yours, that you would break completely.
Rhys’ gaze snapped back to yours, desperation leaking through the stars swirling in his violet eyes. He swallowed roughly and held out his hand. His hand was wobbling in way you hadn’t witnessed since he returned from the mountain he was held captive. Guilt shot through you, not wanting to cause him any distress, even now.
“They’re your family too. I’m your family.” He begged, steadying his hand. You shook your head with a soft sad smile and took another step back towards the door behind you, the shadowsinger emerging from the shadows ready to help you depart. Violet eyes snapped to the steady Hazel ones of his brother, confusion and panic flooding him.
“No, you can’t leave.” He always was the smartest in the room, quick to put together the plans of others. And as he watched you accept the cloak from his brother, he felt the panic slid up his throat, felt it fill his eyes with tears he didn’t deserve to shed. Azriel took a step out of the shadows and cleared his throat, gently taking your arm to lead you to the railing once more, his body a strong wall of muscle between you and his brother.
“It’s her choice Rhys.” He said, his tone steady and strong. You were his sister, as much as Rhys was his brother. You slid the hood of the cloak over your head and leaned around Azriel to meet his Violet gaze once more, for the last time.
“I wish nothing but happiness for you Rhys. I will always love you, but that is the reason that I can’t stay here.” You said with a tear-filled smile, taking Azriels hand as he lifted you into his arms, his mighty wings spreading ready to leap into flight.
Rhys watched with tear-soaked cheeks as he watched you fly off into the horizon in his brothers’ arms, overwhelming heartbreak racing through him.
But nothing could prepare him for the sight of his brother returning empty handed, shooting him a pity filled look as he knelt down to hold his weeping brother. Your soft scent clinging to his shadows in a faint caress of what used to be.
#acotar series#feysand#acotar#rhysand#rhysand x reader#rhysand x y/n#rhysand angst#rhysand fluff#rhysand fanfic#emmie writes#night court
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Why Me? - Part 12
Pairing: Bob Floyd x Mitchell! Female Reader (Callsign Mantis)
Warnings: Forbidden relationship, some angst, mentions of nightmares, mentions of PTSD, swearing, mentions of anxiety and panic attacks, therapy (we love), mentions of death/being sick, mentions of limb loss (it'll all make sense),
Word Count: 9500
Summary: Everyone prepares for the storm, and you're left with a lot to think about as some forgotten feelings come back.
A/N: Hiiii guys, I am so sorry this took SO LONG. For some reason it was so hard to write and school started so ya know how that goes. But hopefully this makes up for it?? I love all of you and as always I hope you enjoy. Reblogs and comments feed my life force just btw
p.s. you know I love to hear what you think, so fire away
Masterlist
Bob knows he messed up. He knows that, and as much as he wishes he never put you in this situation to begin with, he can’t undo what he said. Things have just gone completely downhill since he told you how he felt and it just…. feels like it’s all his fault. You’re quiet, secluding yourself, and almost scared at work now. But there’s not much he can do if you refuse to open up to him. He can’t help but worry for you, but it’s up to you now. If you want to talk to him, great. If not, he just hopes you talk to someone else.
The wind has slowly been gaining speed since early this morning when he took Sylvia out for a run. It was his last chance to get her out of the house before the shit hit the fan and he wasn’t gonna keep her cooped up anymore than she had to be. He’s been in a daze since yesterday. Can’t quite seem to focus on anything he puts before him, including the several garden gnomes and pieces of porch furniture belonging to his neighbors.
“You sure all of this will fit in the garage?”, he asks while carrying a chair down from the front steps.
“Oh I’m sure”, Rich replies. His eyes have been more focused on placing their gnome collection inside the house, but he’s been making room for everything else in the garage. He’s skeptical as he eyes the rest of the room, they’ve still got to fit their cars inside, too. He’s sure if he moved a couple of those storage bins to a higher shelf he’d be able to-
“You’ve already done enough for us, why don’t you come inside for some sweet tea, huh?”
“I’m ok”, he tries to brush him off.
“I’m not taking no for an answer Bob”, Rich offers with a raise of his thick eyebrow. Bob gives in, like he does most of the time with these two, and follows Rich inside. Harry sits at the table as he wraps up the rest of their pointy-hat clad lawn ornaments, but pauses at the sight of his husband.
“How’s everything going out there?”
“We’re just about done”, Rich responds from behind the fridge door, “I thought we deserved a water break.” Bob laughs to himself, he really hasn’t done much except move a couple pieces of furniture. He probably could have been finished by now if they didn’t keep offering him water or tea.
“Oh that reminds me”, Harry turns to his husband, “We need to bring the hose from the side of the house in. I forgot when I finished watering the garden yesterday.” Bob isn’t able to take one step in the direction of the door before Rich urges him into the seat across from Harry.
“Don’t you worry about that one young man, I got it.”
“It’s really no trouble-”
“I insist, you take a seat and drink your tea. You can take a turn listening to Harry complain for once.” Rich slides a glass of sweet tea in front of Bob before patting Harry on the shoulder and stepping outside.
“I just wish I could help you boys more”, Harry starts. “But ya know the leg starts acting up whenever a storm is coming.” He emphasizes his point by tapping his metal prosthetic onto the side of the table, shaking it the slightest bit. Bob’s never sure if he’s talking about the actual prosthetic hurting, or what’s left of his leg, but at this point he’s too scared to ask. All he knows is that whenever he gets a call from Harry early in the morning, there’s bound to be a storm before the day’s over. This time however, he got his weather from the news, like a normal person.
“So-”, Harry starts as Bob takes a swig from his glass, “Are we going to be seeing Miss Mitchell anytime soon?” The sweet tea halts in Bob’s throat, sliding down the wrong tube and causing him to choke on the beverage. He does his best to not drop the glass onto the table in order to stop himself from spraying the drink everywhere, but Harry looks like he could care less as his brow raises. Bob clearly was not expecting him to bring you up, and Harry’s squint gives into the fact he’s happy to catch him off guard.
“I’d make an assumption, but I’m not quite sure how to make one out of that kind of reaction.” Bob continues trying to clear his throat by coughing, but Harry waits.
“No”, he chokes, “She uh- she won’t be coming by anytime.” Harry hums to himself as he turns back to the bubble wrap.
“That’s too bad. She was quick, I liked her.” Me too, Bob thinks to himself. He just gives him a slight frown at the news. “Seemed like you were pretty fond of her, too.” Bob’s cheeks heat up at his insinuation, and he tries to make a run for it.
“Ok! I should probably go help-”
“Sit back down”, Harry groans. Bob begrudgingly does as the man says as he begins to toy with the condensation forming on his glass. “All I’m saying is, you both obviously like each other. What gives?” All he can do is shake his head at the thought. There’s too much, but maybe he’ll understand.
“There’s just a lot of other stuff involved.”
“Oh yeah, like what?”
“Well, for starters her title isn’t ‘Miss’... it’s Lieutenant.” Bob’s gaze flicks over to watch Harry’s eyes widen in realization.
“Shit. Is she a WSO, too?”
“Nah, she’s a pilot”, he smiles, “A damn good one.” Harry chuckles as he crosses his arms.
“I shoulda known.” Bob furrows his brows, silently asking him to explain. “She just had this look in her eye…Can’t really explain it.” Bob knows the one. The silent determination he sees whenever you climb into the cockpit. No matter what happens on the ground, once you ascend that ladder… you’re focused. And no one can take that away from you.
“So that’s it then? You're just gonna let her go?” Harry probes as Bob shakes his head. He focuses on a grain of wood in the table, avoiding the man’s gaze.
“It’s against strict rules”, Bob shrugs, “I don’t want to be the reason she gets into trouble. It’s better if we just leave it.”
“Is it?” Bob grabs his glass of sweet tea and takes a sip before Harry leans forward in his seat, “If I know anything about you Bob, it’s that you’ve got a level head on those shoulders. And from what I can tell about Lieutenant Mitchell, it’s that she does, too. But you can’t forget underneath all of that, you have hearts. You can’t leave that out of the equation.” Bob stills as he taps his finger on the rim of his glass. Yeah, Bob has a heart, but you do, too. And who knows if deep down this is what you really want? If he’s what you really want.
His thoughts are interrupted by Harry once again, this time as he finishes wrapping up the last gnome.
“Mitchell, huh?” Bob mindlessly nods. “You don’t happen to know if she’s got any family who served, do ya?”
“Yeah, actually. Her dad just happens to be our captain. Pete Mitchell-”
“Maverick?!”, Harry all but yells. “That cocky motherfucker’s still in service?” The front door slams shut as Rich makes his way back inside.
“What cocky motherfucker are we talking about?”, he asks as if this is a normal topic of conversation for the two of them.
“Pete Mitchell”, Harry tells him as he stares at Bob in awe.
“Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time”, Rich replies as he grabs himself and Harry their own drinks. Bob pivots in his seat as Rich brings both glasses to the counter, eyes wide in shock. “Don’t tell me-” He’s obviously already made the connection as Harry nods at him. He simply shrugs and continues to pour their drinks, brushing off the fact that Harry seems to be stuck on. Something he thought Rich of all people would want to talk about.
“Did you fly with him?” Bob directs the question at Harry. He rolls his eyes.
“For a very brief time. He’s a few years younger than me, but always acted like he was the best of the best. Didn’t even win the goddamn Top Gun trophy.”
“Well”, Rich chimes in as he sets the glass in front of Harry, “That wasn’t entirely his fault.” Bob’s eyes unintentionally squint as he tries to think back on what he actually knows about your dad. There’s very limited information he sought after Hangman revealed he flew with Rooster’s dad, and- then it hits him.
“Wait”, he stops the two men, “Were you guys here when they had the accident?”
“I wasn’t”, Harry responds, “But Rich was. He was actually one of the-” Rich’s hand claps down on his husband’s shoulder, effectively stopping him from finishing the story. He grants Bob a forced smile.
“I was. It was a… a very sad day.” Rich keeps moving, leaving his glass of tea untouched as he moves the box of packed up gnomes to the living room. Bob leaves it at that. If there was more to the story he wouldn’t want to probe where he’s not welcome to.
After helping move the small outdoor coffee table into the garage, he insists on parking their cars himself. Just to make sure he did leave enough room for everything to fit. And with his many years experience with Tetris, he’s able to pack anything that the wind might sweep away into safe hiding spaces for the night.
-----------------------
If the puffy eyes that greet you in the mirror are any indication that you’d been crying, the wad of tissues scattered around your trash can would certainly do the trick. It was an ugly cry, one that you realized was futile to resist against the snot dripping down your nose. You’d cried more in the past couple months than you had in the past five years. Not to mention you haven’t cried to the point where you kept a roll of toilet paper to use as tissues next to your bed since you were a teenager. But even then you had mastered to cry in silence, to not alert anyone or “bother” someone with the noise of your anguish.
It wasn’t a question that was the reason for your headache. You even forgot you got hit in the face until you tried wiping the sleep from your eyes, only to pull your hand away as soon as it brushed near the red and purple bruise.
“Son of a bitch”, you muttered as you made your way to the bathroom. The wind howls outside your room as you splash your face with cold water, hoping to reduce the swelling before inevitably seeing your father. Gently, you wipe your face with a towel, taking a good hard look at the aftermath from the night before. You huff out a breath before tearing your gaze away from the mirror, gathering the tissues you’d thrown half-heartedly in the direction of the trash can the night before.
Your father is already up and moving as you descend the stairs. Granted, you did allow yourself to sleep in today. He’s sitting on the couch, slipping his shoes on when you make eye contact. He immediately smiles with a grimace upon seeing your face.
“Hey sweetheart”, he greets you, “How you feeling this morning?” You simply scoff and turn to the kitchen. The coffee machine is still warm, your dad already having at least his second cup of the day.
“Like I got hit in the face”, you respond. The machine hums while you let it work, and you grab an emblazoned Navy mug from the cabinet. You turn to lean on the counter, watching him finish lacing up his boots. “Where are you going?”
“Well, Penny’s moving everything at the bar and I figured since I took care of our stuff yesterday, I’d go help out. Plus it’ll be my last chance to take the bike for a spin this weekend.”
“And they say chivalry is dead”, you comment as the coffee seeps into your cup. He chuckles and makes his way over to you. You turn, mug in hand as he walks up. He grimaces again at your face, but his shoulders slump as he notes your puffy eyelids. “How’d you sleep”
“Alright”, you mumble.
“I can stay here if-”
“Dad”, you groan as you roll your eyes, “What am I, five?”
“No- but I’m just saying, if you need me I’ll be here for you.”
“I know, but I’ll be fine.” He seems unsure as he glances between you and the front door. “Go”, you urge him, “Be a knight in shining armor.” He laughs again as he bids you goodbye and leaves. The rumble of his motorcycle tapering off as he exits the neighborhood.
Truly, you are fine. You’re not great, but you’ve been worse. In fact, this is probably the most down time you’ve had in a while. If you were still talking to Bob you would probably text him and see what he was up to, but alas. There’s not much to do except waste away for the rest of the day. Which is exactly what you do. You turn the t.v. on and throw your feet up. They almost hit the large box Bradley left yesterday. You guess you could see what’s in there for you, but you’re already so comfortable and it's just so… far away. And soon enough, your eyes are drooping shut again.
-----------------------
The day passes by painlessly as you switch from folding laundry, to eating whatever is left in the fridge. Your headache slowly dissipates with every bite of food and drink of water, but as it gets closer to evening, the noises from outside get louder and louder. A leaf from a palm tree being ripped from its home and hitting the side of the house, ran pattering, and thunder booming in the distance.
Deciding you’ve had enough of scrolling aimlessly through your phone, you move back to the living room and turn on something you can watch without much thought. The cardboard box Bradley brought over still sits on the coffee table, and huffing out a breath you decide to take the lid off. There’s a bundle of old photos, a couple of dirtied up baseballs, and an old envelope you move to look at, but your phone rings before you can inspect it further. Your dad’s face appears on the screen and you swipe to answer.
“Hey dad, what’s up?”
“Hey kiddo, listen, there was a lot that needed to be boarded up and taken care of at the bar, I just barely got back to Penny’s. I know everything’s taken care of at the house, but the wind and rain are picking up. I don’t want to leave you alone, but it might be safer just to spend the night here. Are you gonna be ok?”
“Dad, I'll be fine. I’d feel better knowing you’re at Penny’s rather than driving your bike in the storm.” You can hear him sigh on the other end. Even with your permission you know he still feels guilty leaving you.
“Are you sure you’ll be alright?”
“I swear. I’ll be fine.”
“Ok sweetheart. Promise you’ll call me if anything happens or you need me, ok?”
“I promise”, you can’t help but smile through your words at his protectiveness.
“Alright, well I love you, and hopefully things will slow down and I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Love you, too, dad. Bye.” He bids you goodnight, even if it isn’t 8 o’clock yet, it feels like much later with the storm clouds covering up any chance of dying sunlight.
Turning back to the box you pick up the envelope, there’s an unexpected weight to it and you hold your breath at the sight of Carole’s handwriting. There’s one word on the front and it’s simply labeled “Bug”. Your once steady hands shake as you trace the folded edge that has been sealed for almost two decades. You can’t open it fast enough, but at the same time you’re hesitant to see quite possibly what her last words to you could be. Slipping your finger under the seal, you try to minimize the damage as it rips open. As if it were an extension of the woman herself.
Inside sits a lined piece of journal paper, folded neatly into thirds. But your eyes linger on the item weighing it down as you huff out a breath in disbelief. Your fingers reach inside, and once completely taken out of its hiding place, a silver chain with a butterfly pendant hangs from your hand.
With the necklace still wrapped around your fingers, your eyes water as you reach for the note, unfolding it. The paper shakes as your heartbeat quickens. And her voice fills your head while you trace the all familiar cursive with a featherlight touch.
My Darling Bug,
Did you really think I wasn’t going to notice this found its way back into my possession? I don’t know why or when you did this, but I thought I told you it wasn’t mine anymore. I gave this to you for a reason, Bug. I wanted you to know that Bradley, your dad, and I will always be with you. I think you might need it now more than ever. It might be a little different, but I don’t want you to look at it and be sad I’m not with you. I want you to look at it and be happy that I still am, no matter what.
I know I made you promise me to be brave. And you have kept that promise, so if you think you haven’t, you’re wrong. But maybe I should have worded it differently, because you don’t need to be brave like anybody else. I want you to continue being brave like you. Because I know you are. Even so, I want you to remember how I got this necklace in the first place. It all happened because Goose was brave enough to ask. He taught me that being brave doesn’t mean you’re not scared anymore. It means that even though you are scared, you do it anyway. You don’t run from it, you face it head on. He always told me I wasn’t born with the fear part of my brain intact, but he was wrong. When we lost him, I knew for a fact that part of my brain was there. I was so scared, but I knew I had to keep going. If not for me, then for Bradley and your dad. Heaven knows your dad was scared out of his mind, but that’s what makes him one of the bravest people I know. He kept flying, and then soon enough, you came along and changed our lives completely. And I know I’m rambling, but I just need you to know how much you mean to me- to all of us.
So I don’t want you to live your life in fear or with regrets, wondering the same things, so please; continue to be the brave girl I know you are. It’s hard to take those first steps. But it is so worth the risk, because you deserve everything good this world has to offer.
And this may or may not make it easier, but I just ask that you take this back and wear it with pride. I will always be with you, bug. And I can’t stand another moment having this sitting in my jewelry box, collecting dust when you can wear it and put it to much better use. You deserve it. I love you very much, don’t forget that.
P.S. I know Bradley’s a big boy and he acts like he can take care of himself, but I know he’ll need you just as much as you need him. Same with your dad. Be there for each other.
-Love, Carole
You move the letter away from under your face as you feel the tears start to fall. You’re just quick enough as they hit your lap instead. The necklace is now safely encased in your grip as you take in a ragged breath. All this time- You can’t stomach the thought. This entire time, these past 16 years you’ve been separated from this last piece of Carole you never even knew existed. And the necklace you thought was lost to time now sits in your palm. You hold on to it. Tight.
You still don’t let go as you gingerly place the letter back in the envelope. Deciding you need to put these two things in a safer spot than your living room, you walk up to your room and go to the shoebox above your closet. Inside, you move the velvet box with your Academy ring to the side, making room for the letter. You almost place the necklace in with it, but you’re not going to disobey Carole by not putting it on the next chance you get.
With the silver chain still wrapped in your hand, you put the shoebox back, just about tripping over your flight suit in the process. In everything that happened yesterday after therapy you must have forgotten to put it in your laundry basket, or hang it up at least. As you pick the jumbled green fabric up, your ears prick up at the sound of something hitting the floor. The gleam of a copper coin catches your eye and you drop your uniform altogether, opting to pick it up instead.
Carole’s words swirl through your head as your heart rate picks up. You stare at the penny in one hand, and open your other to reveal the silver butterfly. The memory of Bob’s crooked smile fills your senses and your heart beats faster again. There’s a phantom ache of his hand cradling yours, gently placing that first penny into your palm on the tiled floor of the locker room. Even before you kissed there was this urge to want to get to know him from deep inside the dark recesses of your heart. From places you thought you blocked off and boarded up after your last boyfriend. You left no room for weakness, no room for anyone to have the upper hand, but yet, you feel safe around Bob. You still do, even after it tore you to shreds resisting that same urge to talk to him, to look at him. It scares you, how after only meeting him a few months ago, it feels like he knows the darkest parts of you, and still wants to learn more. To care for you in a way that you haven’t let someone in a long time. And you want to do the same for him.
That urge sends chills up your spine as thunder booms in the distance, the once small patter of rain picking up as it hails on your roof. Clenching the penny in your fist, you delicately hold the necklace in the other, and you swear the lightning reflects off the silver butterfly, almost winking at you. In the glint, you hear Carole’s voice from when she first gave it to you, and again through her writing. “Be brave”, her whisper echoes. And in that moment, your heart beats louder, anticipating what you know you’re going to do next before your brain has the time to catch up. Placing the necklace on your side table next to your bed, your feet sprint down the stairs the moment the chain leaves your fingers.
You can hardly differentiate the thud of your feet from the thunder that is somehow getting closer by the second. Throwing on the nearest jacket and lacing up your shoes, you grab your keys and head to the garage. Your old faithful Toyota lays dormant as you jump in, and start the engine. Or at least try to. It sputters a couple times as you turn the key again, and again.
“No, no, no. Please”, you plead as you take a deep breath, holding out hope as you try one last time, “C’mon!” With a final twist, the engine roars to life. “Yes! Thank you!” The garage opens and closes with the click of a button as you peel out of the driveway, probably a little too fast, but who would be crazy enough to be on the streets in these conditions?
The rain doesn’t stop on your account, and both hands are white knuckling the steering wheel as you attempt to maintain the little control you have of your vehicle over mother nature. Your windshield wipers are moving as fast as they can, but it’s little to no good as you traverse the streets. You might have been better off with a canoe.
Nonetheless, you’re so close. Your destination is only a couple blocks away, practically in sight as your car lurches forward, sputtering, before ultimately slowing as you pull to the side of the road.
“No, no, no, are you kidding me?!”, you scream as you hit the steering wheel. She was doing so good! What happened? Placing the car in park, you remove the key and try again, but nothing. Squinting through the rain pattered window, you make out the street sign up ahead as it sways in the wind. This is ok. You can do this. Clenching your jaw and ensuring your phone is buried deep in one of your pockets along with your keys, you push against the gusts of wind and open the car door.
Your face is immediately pelted with ice-like bullets, raining down on you without mercy. Even with the hood of your jacket on, it does no good as you run across the sidewalk and turn down the street. A few house lights are on, but you can barely see as the rain washes over you in sheets. A gust of wind almost gets the better of you as you try your hardest to hold the hood to your head, creating any kind of cover you can. You are so close to throwing in the towel. So close to going back to your car and hiding away until the storm is over. But you didn’t come this far just to turn back. You will not give up.
Shining just a bit brighter than every other house on the street, your destination is in sight. Just one block and your feet make the decision for you to move faster. To run like you never have before, because this time you’re not running from anything. You’re running towards something. The rain hits you quicker, but it’s hard to feel it soak through your clothes as your feet pound against the pavement.
Your shoes slip on the step to the front door, and your fist meets the entrance much sooner than you were expecting. It creates a loud knock, but there’s no sign of life behind the door. Gaining your footing back, you knock once more. Nothing. You knock twice again. Damn it. He must not be able to hear you through the storm’s havoc. You don’t care anymore, you weren’t thinking when you hopped in your car, and you aren’t trying to stay out in the rain all night. Your knuckles are knocking repeatedly on the door, and that’s when you hear Sylvia bark. She’s getting louder as she moves closer to the door and you continue your knocking, hoping he’ll hear you over her.
“Please, c’mon”, you mutter to yourself as your teeth chatter against the words. Your knuckles are going raw from the sheer cold and the fact that you’ve been hitting them against the door for what feels like 20 minutes. The door opens with a rush of warm air and you’re greeted with the halo wrapped face of someone who only feels like warmness and comfort. The light shines around his features as they contort at what stands in front of him.
“Mantis, what the hell?!”, he yells through the wind while reaching forward to pull you inside. “Oh my god, are you crazy?!”, he exclaims as he holds your arms in place. Your teeth are chattering as he tells you to stay put before coming back with a towel that he promptly throws over your shoulders. It doesn’t do much good as you’re soaked to the bone, but he’s frantically looking for more before you reach out for him.
“Bob-”
“What are you doing here?!”
“I- I’m being brave”, you explain through the pounding rain and thunder. He pauses just for a moment, then shakes his head as he stares at you in utter confusion.
“Did you.. run here? Mantis, are you ok?”
“Bob I’m fine-”
“Do you know where you are? How did you get here?”
“Bob!”, you finally raise your voice and he meets your gaze instead of your rain-drenched form. “I will explain everything, but please just let me say what I came here to say”, you breathlessly supply. He looks back to you, hesitant, but nodding to let you continue.
“Ok”, he whispers. You can barely feel your fingers, or your toes for that matter, but your shaky hand reaches into your pocket and grasps onto the single penny you came here with. The only thing that you made sure to bring.
“What did you mean by this?”, you ask as you hold it out in front of him. “When you gave this to Phoenix, what did you want me to make of this?” His eyelashes flutter in a series of blinks as he silently takes in a breath. Without meaning to, the coin shakes in your hand, and he rushes an answer before you have to stand there any longer.
“It means what it’s always meant. I know I messed everything up, but I still want you to feel like you can trust me, and talk to me. Because you can. I know how scary it can be, and it’s…rare to find someone you feel so comfortable to be around and talk to about the nitty gritty parts of your life. And I like to believe I was that for you for a little bit, ‘cause… you were that for me.” Your heart melts at his sentiment as you continue to drench the walkway of his home.
“Now can you please tell me why you drove here in the middle of a hurricane?” You swallow, hoping whatever fears you have fall to the back of your throat to make room for what you need to tell him. Because, here you are: Soaking wet, standing in Bob’s home, with nothing but a penny and the knowledge that even if you’re scared, you can do this anyway.
“Bob”, you sigh, “You have not messed anything up. In fact, you did something I was too afraid to do.” Taking another deep breath, you ignore the lines riddled in his forehead and continue.
“I have been scared for most of my life. I know sometimes I act like I’m invincible, but I’m not. But I am also sick of being scared. I am sick of pretending. Life is too damn short, and for once instead of just acting like I am, I am trying to be brave. I can’t let this be another ‘what if’. I won’t let you be that. You deserve to at least know how I feel.”
“Mantis, you don’t have to-”
“No, but I want to”, you nod with authority, solidifying to Bob that this is a risk you want to take. You take in another deep breath as it fills you with courage. “Bob, it’s hard to explain, but- you make me feel brave. But at the same time you also scare the shit out of me”, you can’t help but laugh as the crease in his forward melts a little bit. “You scare me because you care so deeply for the people around you, and you’re so generous, and kind, and I can’t help but want to be around you all the time. And- and I’m rambling aren’t I?”, you ask as he breathes out a miniscule laugh. And then you’re gifted with the slightest uptick of his mouth. Just enough for you to know that he’s still listening. But when is he not?
“Anyway. I just- it kills me that you think so lowly of yourself, and I need you to know that I care about you. A lot. And if it hasn’t been blatantly obvious by how I’ve kissed you”, he blushes and looks down at his feet as if he didn’t kiss you with just as much passion, “I like you beyond the point of being friends. And- I feel like you see me. Not just as an aviator, not just as a woman, but as a person. But that’s also scary in itself because you’ve seen my flaws, and each time you didn’t look away. You stayed. You stayed and made sure I didn’t stay down.”
“You didn’t need me for that”, he shakes his head. And you smile through your shaky breath. “You don’t stay down long.”
“Maybe not, but it’s easier to get up when someone lends you a hand.” He stills at your words and your mind tracks back to find the courage you came here with. It’s not hard when Bob’s standing right in front of you with Carole’s voice running through the back of your mind.
“I’ve tried brushing these feelings off, and staying away from you, thinking I was doing what was best for the both of us. And… I don’t know about you, but it’s only been like two days without talking to you- and I miss being around you.” The tell you’re about to cry starts with your throat straining, and at this point you’re trying everything to talk through it. “I don’t want to mourn you while you’re still here-”, you choke out as you clench your jaw to stop your teeth from chattering any louder than they already are.
“Hey”, Bob whispers as he moves closer to you, “It’s ok-”
“I don’t want to lose you when I’ve never even had you”, you breathe a shaky breath as he places his hands on your shoulders, the warmth permeating through your jacket and towel.
“Whoa, where is all this coming from?” Your breathing is rapidly increasing, as he stares down into your eyes, concern painted through the way he looks at you. That and something else you’re too hyped up on adrenaline to identify at this moment.
“It’s ok, just breathe for me. Can you do that?” You nod as you stare back at him, his hands reaching out to grasp your own, placing one on his chest. Just like he did in the locker room. God, it feels like it was ages ago.
“Jesus Christ, you’re freezing”, he mutters as he puts both of his hands atop your own. Your fingers thrum over the soft cotton of his shirt, and you’re almost certain his heart is beating just as fast as your own.
“Your heart’s beating really fast”, you comment as you watch your fingers underneath his.
“Are you sure that’s not your own?” You exhale a laugh, but continue to feel that familiar thump from his chest.
“No, that’s definitely you.”
“Yeah”, he manages a nervous smile, “That usually happens when I’m around you.” Your hand is slowly gaining feeling back under the protection of his own, and your eyes meet his. He whispers your name softly, and this time you don’t flinch. You don’t break away, you don’t blink. Your teeth are still chattering, the noise distracting him from whatever he was going to say.
“Let’s get you into some dry clothes, yeah?” Silently you nod as he gives you a brief smile. He’s seemingly already accustomed to the idea of you staying the night, something you didn’t think of before running out of your own house. Taking your hand in his own, he leads you to the bottom of his stairs before jogging up to what you presume to be his bedroom. You wait as you attempt to clench your jaw to stop chattering your teeth, but that’s when you spot a shiny black nose poking out from the corner of the living room.
“Hey Syl”, you whisper while bending down. She retreats almost immediately at the sight of you, but reappears at the familiar voice. You realize you must look kind of scary with your jacket hood plastered to your face. In an attempt to get her to come closer, you peel your hood off of your head and tempt her again with your outreached hand. “It’s just me sweet girl”, you whisper as she moves forward to sniff your hand. Her tail starts a wag at the appearance of your face and you smile as she gets close enough for you to pet her head.
You’re scratching her ears as Bob returns from upstairs, now carrying clothes for you to change into.
“Ok, I’ve got some sweat pants and a t-shirt”, he explains as he sorts through them, “But I do have a sweatshirt in case you’re still cold.” He shifts his attention back to you as you stand and accept the clothes with a quiet ‘thank you’. Without the hood obstructing his view of your entire face, his brow immediately furrows at the shadow just to the side of your eye. He doesn’t get a good look at it before you’re turning to change in the bathroom. He must be seeing things. A shadow from your hair, the dim lighting, it just can’t be what he thinks it is.
Peeling your wet clothes off your body was something you didn’t think about while sprinting full speed down Bob’s street. But here you are, in his downstairs bathroom, admiring the softness of both the shirt and sweatpants he’s offered you. You’re soaked right down to your underwear, and rather than sitting uncomfortably in a wet bra and underpants, you decide to go commando. If you get cold enough Bob did offer you a sweatshirt. Tossing your wet clothes over the shower curtain, you slowly walk out of the bathroom. It’s quiet. Other than the occasional rumble of thunder, or whip of wind and rain against the windows, the only thing you’re aware of is your own breathing. Until you get into the living room and find Bob picking at his thumbs on the couch. He doesn’t notice you, and for the first time tonight, you hesitate. You run your fingers over the bottom of Bob’s shirt, holding it out slightly in front of your body. Just admiring how quickly he offered his own clothes to you. Your hair is slightly damp, but not dripping like it was moments ago, thanks to the towel he gave you when you first came in.
He must hear you shift on your feet, because soon enough his eyes follow your form in his clothes, the pants tight in some places, loose in others, but the large t-shirt does its job. He stops on your face as you give him a nervous smile and make your way over to the other end of the couch.
“Oh my god, what happened?”, he all but rushes out as you sit. His eyes are frantic with worry as you trace his concerned gaze to your cheek.
“Oh that”, you try to laugh, “It was an accident.” He swallows while he stiffens in his seat. Bridging the gap you left between the two of you, he catches your gaze as you look down at his hand.
“Mantis”, his voice darkens, “I need you to be completely honest with me.” He’s staring so intently into your eyes you feel like you’re center stage in a show you weren’t given the lines to. A kind of intensity you’ve never seen directed toward you from the man. “Did somebody hurt you?” You’re stuck in your spot, and without hesitating you answer him.
“No”, you breathe as you softly shake your head, “Bob, I promise you it was a complete accident. I was playing catch and wasn’t paying attention.” He eyes it one more time, and you see his hand twitch in his lap before it slowly makes its way to cup your face, turning it to take a better look. You hold your breath at the movement, but once his thumb strokes lightly over your skin you melt into his warmth.
“Well whoever you were playing catch with knows how to throw a pretty wicked fastball”, he mutters as he takes in the bruising along with the indent of the stitching.
“Yeah”, you sigh, not able to say much as he holds the weight of your face and much more in his gentle hand. “Rooster was a pitcher on his high school team.”
“You were playing catch with Rooster?” You let out a breathy laugh, knowing how confusing this must be.
“It’s a long story”, you tell him. “I just wasn’t paying attention.”
“And he still threw it at you?”
“I try not to make sense of Rooster’s actions anymore.”
“Next time you wanna play catch, you come to me. Ok?” His eyes are still on the bruise, analyzing it from every angle.
“Are you saying you won’t throw the ball at my face?”
“No. I’ll make sure you’re ready first.” His smile fades the tiniest bit, but his hand has yet to move. It’s quiet again until a particularly loud burst of thunder has him dropping his hold on you.
“Um, let me get you some ice.”
“I’m fine. My face, feet, and hands are pretty much still numb.”
“May I?”, he asks, reaching for your hands. You’re facing him now, and he turns to mirror your own crossed legs as his hands clasp your own. Slowly, without looking back at you, he brings them closer to his face and before you have the good sense to realize what’s going on, his warm breath fans over your dead fingers. Something flips in your stomach as he starts rubbing his thumbs over the back of your palms after each slow and agonizing breath.
The contrast in temperature hurts your fingers down to the bone, but you can’t seem to take them away from Bob. He stops the breaths just for a second as he rubs your hands in contemplation.
“Mantis… Why are you here?” You’re almost certain your swallow is audible as you stare down at your joint hands. He doesn’t push you when you don’t immediately answer. He only continues to soothe your aching extremities. But when he starts breathing on them again and his glasses fog up slightly, that’s when you truly start to feel the discomfort seep from your fingers. And that’s when you know you have your answer for him. Because he will truly put your needs before his own. His clothes on your back, his sight for your warmth, his happiness for your own. But he doesn’t quite know the true extent of your own unhappiness without him in your every day.
Your answer sits on the tip of your tongue, but truly, your brain speaks before you can formulate the words you need him to hear.
“I went to therapy”, you blurt out as you stare at him. God, why can’t your mouth just say what it needs to? Why is this so hard? Bob looks at your face at your admission, blinking away his shock at the volume at which you spoke them.
“That’s- that’s great.” He goes back to rubbing your fingers, ruminating on your words, then stopping suddenly. “It wasn’t ‘cause of me, was it?”
“No!”, you’re quick to correct him. “Not at all.. I mean it wasn’t your fault, but I did talk about you a little bit”, you admit bashfully. He nods, seemingly drawing his own conclusions. “It wasn’t anything bad. Just-”. You’re hesitant to tell him about your dreams, about why your dad called him that day. Why you were so fidgety and couldn’t even look him in the eye. But then you look back at him, and you know everything will be ok. He won’t run, or look at you with pity. He might be concerned, sure, but he’ll still be there for you.
“After Nat’s party, I had a nightmare. I haven’t had one in years, and it kind of rattled me. And then I had another one. They usually happen after I feel like I’ve done something I shouldn’t have. Something that would- make my mother mad at me.” He stiffens at your words, brows drawing up once more. He knows. And you don’t want him to blame himself. “But yeah, I got back in touch with my therapist. Gonna make it a regular thing now… but after my session she asked me to list three people who make me feel wanted. And it was very clear to me you’re on that list. And I hope I make you feel important, too. I know I haven’t this past week- and I’m sorry-”
“Hey”, he tugs your hands toward him just enough to get your attention, “You had enough going on, you don’t need to worry about me.”
“But I do. I can’t help it.” He whispers your name and averts his gaze from your face like he can't even bear to look at you right now. You didn’t think this was news, last time you were here he told you essentially the same thing.
“What?”, you whisper back.
-----------------------
Bob did not imagine even in his wildest dreams you would run to him in the middle of a storm. But here you are, pouring your heart out to him, your hands in his, his old t-shirt draped over your shivering body, but there’s still that tiny part of his brain telling him it’s too good to be true. And in reality, it is. Because what is he supposed to do now? What did you hope to achieve by coming over here? Your feelings don’t change the fact that this is still wildly against rules in place.
It might have been easier for him to deal with it on his own not knowing exactly how you felt, but now? He can’t put you in a position for someone to take your dream away from you. Especially after how much you’ve had to sacrifice to get to where you are. And there’s still so much for you to do.
“What do you want me to do with these feelings?” He finally asks and you’re caught off guard.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean- a few days ago when you came to me you were so sure this wasn’t a good idea. And now?” He searches your face for an answer in your silence. “What changed?”
“I found a letter from Carole. It was meant for 12-year-old me, " you can’t help but release a watery laugh, “but she just reminded me that some things are worth the risk.” You pause for a moment, squeezing his hands for reassurance before continuing.
“Our jobs are dangerous, and even if they weren’t, life is so precious. And I don’t want to continue breathing if I’m only half-living. I already did that, and I refuse to do it again. And I’m not asking you to do anything with what I’ve told you, I just had to let you know. And that might be selfish, but I know running from what I’m feeling isn’t fair. To you or me.”
It’s quiet again, you’re not sure if Bob is looking at you anymore, but your eyes are drawn back to his hands. One of the single greatest comforts you can’t help but indulge yourself in. A flash of lighting pierces the corner of your eye and the boom of thunder follows shortly after. It almost bleeds into the rasp in his voice as he speaks.
“Is it selfish if we both want it?”. Your eyes snap to meet his and you’re hit with that intensity again. It’s slightly masked by insecurity, but you can see how much this means to him. You’re so sure he can hear you release a sharp breath.
“What do you want-” Your thought is cut off by a deep rumble of thunder, almost shaking the structure of the house. You flinch as if the roof were about to collapse on the two of you, but you’re not catching a break as the remaining kitchen lights click off.
“Damn it”, he mutters under his breath. Bathing you and Bob in total darkness, you instinctively squeeze his hands and he squeezes right back.
“It’s ok”, his voice echoes as he tries to see anything around the darkened room. Sylvia whines from beneath her hiding spot as he blindly searches the coffee table for his phone, petting her in the process to calm her nerves. With his phone located, he turns the flashlight on and you wince at the harsh white light. Sylvia continues to whine even as she scurries out from under the table and runs up the stairs. He runs a hand through his hair as he stands and you’re left in his absence. Goosebumps crawling up your arms and legs force you to shiver and Bob sees it out of the corner of his eye.
“Here- you can take my bed. It’ll be way too cold down here.”
“Bob, no. I’ll crash on the couch”, his mouth opens to protest but you stop him before he even starts, “Plus, I think your daughter might need you up there.” He moves his hands to his hips, deliberating his choices until he eyes you.
“I mean- we could always, ya know…”
“What?”
“We could share my bed. It’s not like we haven’t already slept in the same bed together- Not that I’m assuming you want to! But it’ll keep you extra warm if we’re both there, and that way we’re in the same room and-” With a soft smile you cut off his rambling.
“I think that’s a great idea.” That crooked smile graces his face for the first time in what feels like forever, and your nerves are put at ease. You want to be the reason he smiles like that for as long as you’re able.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He silently leads you up the stairs and offers to let you use the bathroom first while he tries to tidy up the mess you hopefully didn’t see through the lens of your phone’s flashlight.
There’s not much, just a couple of dirty shirts he didn’t have the time or energy to throw into his laundry basket. And then there’s the laundry basket of clothes he was going to fold today, but got distracted at Rich and Harry’s. Shoving the basket in the corner of the room, his eyes catch on the rain-pattered window. Palm trees sway in the wind, and thanks to a flash of lightning, he watches the street run like a river. He squints, trying to find where you parked your car, hoping the damage won’t be too bad.
The click of the door opening has him turning to you, brows still furrowed.
“Hey, where’d you park your car?”
“Oh, that. Funny story”, you laugh, “It stopped running about a block that way-”, you point up the street, “And I kinda ran the rest of the way.” His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as you stand there chuckling.
“Mantis”, he sighs, “Why did you think any of this was a good idea?”
“I wasn’t really thinking, I just knew I had to talk to you”, you bashfully admit. A flash of lightning reflects in his glasses, and you’re brought back to your conversation downstairs. Your unfinished conversation. The hairs on your arms raise before Sylvia whines from underneath Bob’s bed.
The two of you glance back and spot her nose peeking out from under the frame. You’re on your knees, petting her head as Bob stands at the window.
“It’s ok sweet girl”, you coo. With the two of you distracted, he takes a minute to finish getting ready for bed. God, he just can’t believe you’re actually here. Granted, he wishes it was under better circumstances, but still. Stepping back into his bedroom, he’s pleased to find you already underneath the covers, your back facing him. His heart speeds up at you already so comfortable in his bed, but he gathers himself quickly before turning to close the door to the room. The bedroom the two of you are currently sharing… with his dog lying on his side of the bed.
“Before you say anything”, you rush out as you sit up, “She got up here all by herself, and I don’t have the heart to tell her to get down. So you’re just gonna have to look into those big brown eyes and be the bad guy here.” He bites down a smile as he pretends to deliberate on what he should do. Not giving in and telling you that she normally sleeps on the bed with him.
“Plus, I don’t think she’ll be as scared if she’s up here with us”, you add. With us. Yes, that word just came out of your mouth. And it might not be a big deal, but you just used that word and Bob is having a hard time not pinching himself to make sure this is all real and not another dream. Clearing his throat, he manages to cough out a “yeah”. Or something akin to agreement.
He starts to settle onto his side of the bed, and you scooch as far away from the middle as you can. Sylvia moves down the bed in between the two of you and you finally lie back on your respective pillows. You can hear his glasses hit his bedside table as his hand falls to Sylvia. There’s an unspoken tension in the room, and you’re not sure if you can wait until morning to break through it. But neither of you say anything. You just lie there like a lifeless body whose heart is also about to burst through her chest.
Another flash of lightning slices through the curtain, followed almost immediately by a horribly loud boom. Sylvia whines again and your hand falls to her. You knew his hand was there, but it doesn’t stop the shock at the feeling of your fingers brushing his. As your hand swoops over Sylvia’s fur he almost moves back as you stop. But that single touch in the dark makes you want more. So with a clear mission, you bring your hand back over her fur and start to slowly trace his knuckles and fingers. His hand turns over, inviting you to do the same to his palm before he halts your motions and instead intertwines your fingers. He’s still so much warmer than you are, and your hand melts in his. It makes you feel safe.
You don’t say anything as his thumb rubs your hand. The two of you lay in the backdrop of rain and thunder, staring at the ceiling as if it had some kind of hidden message you have to decode. Bob must find what his side says because he clears his throat before speaking.
“What you asked earlier, about what I want- I want you to be happy. Above anything else.” Your heart turns over as you face him.
“I want that for you, too… But you should know you make me really happy”, you whisper into the night. His hand flexes as his pillow rustles to your right.
“You mean that?”, his voice is clearer as he turns his head, and although you’re having a hard time seeing through the dark, you can imagine the look of fear and insecurity in his eyes.
“Of course I do.”
“Cause you make me happy, too”, he rasps, his voice somehow even deeper. And you just can’t help the way you move closer to him. Reaching with your free hand, you hold onto his bicep and rest your head on his shoulder. He welcomes it with a relaxed sigh as you get comfortable. Sylvia doesn’t seem to mind being squished in between your legs, and you’re happy for the warmth these two provide you.
There’s still a lot to talk about. A lot to figure out as to what happens next, but right now? You can’t seem to care what happens tomorrow because you’re content to hold onto Bob tonight. And as you feel him kiss the top of your head, you get that deep butterfly feeling in your stomach. The good kind this time. No overwhelming urge of anxiety or doom washes over you and you know everything is going to be ok. It has to be.
-----------------------
Hey Siri, play Fearless by Taylor Swift
Taglist:
@lemmons1998
@itsmytimetoodream
@theamuz
@harrysgothicbitch
@mygyn
@luckyladycreator2
@marve2014
@wretchedmo
@callsignwidow
@finnydraws
@melsunshine
@jostan456
@okiegirl24
@beebeechaos
@eclecticfashionbookszipper
@hunbomb
@nerdgirljen
@knight-of-the-doctor
@smoothdogsgirl
@planetaryempire-blog
@dumblani
#why me?#top gun maverick#bob floyd fanfiction#top gun fanfiction#bob floyd fic#bob floyd x reader#mavdad#robert bob floyd x female reader
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Always Read the Fine Print Chapter 12
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11
Who actually reads all the terms and conditions? After mindlessly checking a box years ago, our Reader unintentionally agrees to be part of a scientific study to create super soldier babies. To make matters worse, her fellow test subject is the brooding and intimidating Bucky Barnes.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: Reader struggles to accept this colder relationship with Bucky. Meanwhile's he's up to something...
Warnings: arranged marriage, forced proximity, lots of angst, violence, PTSD/nightmares, panic attacks, language, SMUT 18+ only, oral fem receiving, unprotected sex, size kink, let me know if I'm missing anything
a/n: Hi friends, I'm sorry it's been so long. My depression came at me like a b*tch. But I'm here now and will hopefully be posting more regularly 💕
Every night, Bucky would hand you that stupid syringe. Your heart sunk a little each time he’d knock on the door. You were hoping he was coming to spend time with you, to tell you everything was going to be okay, to hold you. But instead, he would put the syringe in your hand, kiss your forehead, and leave the room. That was it.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, he was spending all his time with Steve - almost every day. You could hear them talking downstairs. You could never actually make out what they were saying, but you could hear their serious tones murmuring through the thin walls. You considered standing at the top of the stairs so you could eavesdrop, but you knew better than to spy on two super soldiers. So instead you paced around the bedroom–the one that you were supposed to be sharing with Bucky–and waited for Steve to leave. Although no one outright said it, you got the feeling that you weren’t invited to their little chats. One time, you went downstairs with the excuse of needing a snack. They immediately shifted the topic to Steve’s recent mission. Steve, ever the gentleman, would greet you with a warm smile and invite you to sit with them. He’d ask you how you’re feeling, how your day was going, if you’ve read any good books lately. You appreciated his kindness but felt a little awkward – surely they were itching for you to leave so they could return to their conversation. Once the small talk became unbearable, you’d fake a headache and excuse yourself. You claimed you were going to go lie down, but they could hear your faint footsteps pacing on the hardwood above them.
~
Bucky was completely and utterly miserable. He was still fuming about the sensors they implanted in you. You were his wife, and he couldn’t protect you. It made him feel powerless. He couldn’t stop thinking about how panicked you were the last time you had sex. He could feel your anxiety. He couldn’t help but think he violated you in some way. This prevented him from giving you any affection; he was terrified of crossing a boundary with you. The forehead kisses were as far as he dared to go. Deep down, he knew he should sit down and have a conversation with you about it. But if he heard you say outright that you don’t want to be intimate with him anymore, he would be devastated.
~
After three weeks of doing this ridiculous syringe routine, you couldn’t take it anymore. He handed you the syringe, kissed your forehead, and turned to leave. Just like every other night. But this time, you reached out to grab his hand.
“Please don’t go,” you whispered, tears already welling up in your eyes. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so desperate for his attention.
“Oh, doll…” Bucky wasn’t sure what to say. His heart was breaking, seeing you like this.
“Please, just stay the night. We don’t even have to talk. Just spend the night with me,” you begged, tears freely falling down your cheeks. “I miss you.” Your confession was all it took for Bucky to realize what an idiot he was. He was so desperate to protect you, he didn’t even occur to him that he might be hurting you.
“Of course, sweetheart. I’m right here. I’m sorry I left you alone so much,” Bucky admitted, pulling you into a tight hug. “I was so scared I’d upset you, but I seriously screwed up.” He rubbed your back as you let all your tears fall. All those weeks of feeling so alone, but you finally had your Bucky back. You wanted to smack him and kiss him at the same time.
He helped you with the syringe, which was oddly romantic. He was very gentle. Once that was over with, he pulled you into his chest, running his hands through your hair and down your back. You let out a long sigh – you had missed this so much. You forgot how your head felt resting on his toned muscles, how warm his chest was, how safe you felt. It was like a dream. A wonderful, euphoric dream.
“Do you trust me?” Bucky asked softly. The question caught you so off guard, your finger paused before it could finish tracing the scars on his chest. Propping yourself up, you looked at him quizzically. “Of course I do. What kind of question is that?” you replied. You were trying not to be offended that he would doubt you.
“All I’ve wanted to do is protect you,” he began, sitting up to fully face you. He took your hands in his, mindlessly fidgeting with the diamond ring on your left hand. “But I’ve failed every time.”
“Bucky–“ you tried to cut him off, but he continued.
“No matter how hard I try, you end up getting hurt. I hope you can forgive me. Some days I can barely live with myself, knowing how much pain I’ve caused you.”
“Bucky, for Christ’s sake. This is NOT your fault!” you interjected, hating to see him beat himself up like this.
“Doll, please just let me explain. It’s important,” he said, giving your hands a small squeeze. You nodded slowly and stayed silent, letting him continue. The urgency in his voice was scaring you. “You deserve better than to stay here and pay for my sins. I can’t stand to watch you suffer like this. Okay? I need you to understand.” His pleading eyes looked deep into yours. The more he talked, the more fearful you became. “I’ve told you some of the atrocities I’ve committed as HYDRA’s assassin. The things I’ve done to further their agenda, to get them in power,” he sighed deeply before continuing. “With the number of times they scrambled my brain, they assumed I couldn’t remember anything. That I wouldn’t recognize faces. But I do. I remember all of them.”
Your heart was breaking for the man in front of you. All those people he killed and all the ones that made him do it. They all take up space in his mind. No wonder he never sleeps.
“The HYDRA members they arrested when I was freed…that was only a small fraction of them. HYRDRA is everywhere. If I break you out, there’s nowhere we could go that would be safe. I can’t rescue you until I dismantle HYDRA.” He paused and waited for your reaction. He wasn’t sure how you’d respond to all this.
“Wait a second…are you saying HYDRA is behind all this? I mean that would make sense, this whole reproducing super soldiers thing is messed up, and they’re not exactly known for being ethical. But HYDRA working inside SHIELD? All this time? That’s…” You wanted to say impossible, but ever since your world got turned upside down, you don’t know what to expect anymore. You’ve completely lost sense of what’s normal. “So what do we do? If it’s as big as you say, there’s no way you can take them down alone.”
Bucky let out a deep sigh, looking around the room as if the words he’s trying to find will reveal themselves in the wallpaper. His gaze meets yours, but he won’t find the answer in your eyes either. He held your hands in his and took a deep breath.
“Steve and I have a plan. But we’re gonna need your help.”
Taglist 💛
@kandis-mom @learisa @pono-pura-vida @smile1318 @stinkerbelle007 @glitterydeputyshepherdwagon @wonderland2425 @lowkeysebby @cookiie-c @mrsevans90 @touchit-pcy @vicmc624 @mrsbarnes32557038 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @wonderland2425 @tsofo26 @missing-loki @aesthetic0cherryblossom @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @ladyvenera @buggy14 @emmsybucky @crist1216 @jessicaloons @vrittivsanghavi @avenirectioner @nancymcl @kenzs-world @reguluscrystals @cjand10 @coldheartedmar @browneyedgirl22 @globetrotter28 @abbyyourlocalmilf @danadinosaur3 @raven-red10 @angrykitsune01 @thebuckybarnesvault @castlesandarrows @literaryavenger @wintrsoldrluvr @fleureeee
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Hello! I was just babysitting a friends toddler a while ago. He was four and already LOVED transformers. He expecially loved Bumblebee, and got this mini figure of a Bumblebee (I forgot what version unfortunately) that he thinks is like a guardian angel that can chase away nightmares and monsters and even turn him into a transformer one day as well! And this was SOO cute! So may I request a scenario of G1, TFP, TFA, as well as ROTB Bumblebee meeting a human equivalent of a sparkling that absolutely ADORED him and think he can do anything? Who even claims when he grows up he wants to be a transformer too just like Bee and fight alongside him one day?
All of this... so CUTE! First time I'm doing a multi version of the same character, so hopefully this turns out good! If this isn't what you wanted please let me know!
Hope you enjoy!
Human Buddy the Toddler wanting to be like Bumblebee
SFW, Platonic, Human reader
G1, TFP, TFA, ROTB
G1
Bumblebee is flustered by the toddler wanting to be just like him when they grow up.
He makes them an honorary Autobot.
He chuckles to himself when they tell him about their dream of actually becoming a Cybertronain like him.
“Is that what you really want?”--Bumblebee
“Yeah! You’re so cool and, and you transforming is cool!”--Buddy
“Well, just don’t let Wheeljack or Grampa Sparkplug find out.”--Bumblebee
“Why?”--Buddy
Flashbacks to Autobot Spike incident.
“Trust me, you’re much better off being yourself.”--Bumblebee
“Really?”--Buddy
“Of course! Now let’s go see what the others are doing.”--Bumblebee
When he hears them talking about fighting alongside him, he tries to distract them with telling them about all the better ways of fighting the Decepitcons as a human.
This usually works and they get fixated on other things for the time being.
He does keep a close eye on the toddler in case they do try and go outside of the base or near Wheeljacks lab.
Gets Chip, Carly, Spike and Sparkplug to help better understand the dangers of being a bot and being out in the field.
Occasionally bringing in a guest bot… that’s fit to tell things to them.
“That should be that last speaker. Thanks again Blaster.”--Bumblebee
“No probs Bee! It was fun to talk to the little one.”--Blaster
“Yeah—wait why is the door still closed? I thought that was the last speaker.”--Bumblebee
“Oh, yeah I let Red in there. He said he wanted to have a short talk with Tiny.”--Spike
“Red… Red who—”--Blaster
“Spike, did you let Red Alert in the room?”--Bumblebee
“Yeah?”--Spike
“Oh Primus!”--Blaster
Blaster trying to open the door.
“Red! They’re too young! Open the door!”--Blaster
“You can’t make me! They are never too young to learn about safety protocols.”—Red Alert
“But not ALL of them!”--Bumblebee
“I will call Inferno if you don’t open the door in the next 10 seconds.”--Blaster
“Its okay Mr. Bumblebee! Mr. Blaster! Mr. Red Alert is teaching me how to lock a lock! It’s so cool! It’s like I’m in a spy movie!”--Buddy
“No, not cool, not cool! Someone get Inferno!”--Bumblebee
TFP
Bee, like G1, is a bit flustered that they want to be just like him when they grow up.
When they mention about actually wanting to be a bot, he humors them a bit.
“Beep bop bep? (So you think you got what it talks to be a big bot?)”--Bumblebee
“Yes!”--Buddy
“Bop boop bep beep bep bop.(But being a big bot means that you can’t help Miko color anymore.)”--Bumblebee
“… I’ll think about it.”--Buddy
But he is immediately against them going out to fight.
He’ll highlight all the things they can do that he can’t do, that he needs their help to be able to do it. Buddy changes their mind… for now.
Bumblebee needs their help, so they are going to help him!
He is now on the lookout in case tiny decides to pull a Miko.
Teams up with Raf to explain why they can’t run head first into danger.
Bumblebee looking over to see Buddy and Miko ‘playing’ a video game with Raf and Jack.
“Hey Bee! Mind giving me a help with the cart for a second? I forgot to attached the cart but I’m already in vehicle form…”--Bulkhead
“Beep! (sure!)”--Bumblebee
Bumblebee attaches a cart to Bulkhead.
“Thanks!”--Bulkhead
Bulkhead driving with the cart into the groundbridge.
Bee waving goodbye before looking back at the kids.
Miko and Buddy are nowhere to be seen.
“Bop, bep beep bep? (Raf, where’s Miko and Buddy?)”--Bumblebee
“Oh, they went to get some soda’s in the other room.”--Raf
Bee’s com link sounds.
“Bep? (Hello?)”--Bumblebee
“I am so sorry…”--Bulkhead
“Bep? (what?)”--Bumbleee
“Hi Mr. Bumblebee! I’m with Mr. Bulkhead and Miko! The caves are so pretty here!”--Buddy
“…”--Bumblebee
“Bee?”--Bulkhead
Sports car transforming noises intensifies.
TFA
Bumblebee lives for the attention and absolutely hypes them up too.
They want to be like him when they grow up. Of course, who else wouldn’t want to be this? The fastest thing on 4 wheels is a great honor.
They actually want to be a bot? Okay, maybe not bot bot but technorganic is still new.
Maybe Buddy might be one too, there is only one way to find out!
“Bumblebee did you bring the circuit—What in the Allspark are you doing!”--Ratchet
Buddy on a high shelf with a helmet on while Bumblebee is at the bottom of the shelf with a pillow.
“Hi Mr. Ratchet! I’m gonna try and fly like Sari! Bumblebee is helping me!”--Buddy
“Oh, is that right? Well as soon as you’re on the ground I need to have a word with Bumblebee.”--Ratchet
“Why?”--Buddy
“Because… the grownups need to talk.”--Ratchet
Ratchet looking at Bumblebee with the ‘I will throw my wrenches at you when they are gone’.
Actually, fight by his side? He puts a stop there.
He tries to reason with them a little bit, mainly pointing out that they could get really hurt and then he would be very sad.
He is surprised that this has worked for a long time.
Teams up with the rest of the team and Sari to explain to Buddy about not going out into dangerous places yet.
Yet.
“C’mon you two it’s time to show everyone your costume!”--Ratchet
“… You promise not to laugh?”--Buddy
“Of course, not now come out we got some trick or treating to get too! You don’t want to best candy to get eaten.”--Bumblebee
“It’s okay I’ll come out with Buddy.”--Sari
“Okay on the count of three… two… one… go!”--Optimus
Sari coming out in her modified Optimus Prime costume with Buddy holding her hand with a homemade Bumblebee costume.
“Aww! Look at that love the color you two! Hey Bumblebee, what do—”--Bulkhead
Bumblebee trying so hard not to cry.
“Are you crying?”--Bulkhead
“N—no”--Bumblebee
“I did after my hero Bumblebee!”--Buddy
Bumblebee is now trying to hold back a full-on sob.
“You sure you’re not crying?”--Prowl
ROTB
Bee is warmed when he hears that the little one looks up to him like that.
It is nice to hear someone say that.
“Bumblebee! Bumblebee!”--Buddy
Bumblebee looking at them waving.
“Look what I drew today!”--Buddy
Bumblebee looking at a picture of him and Buddy holding hands with ‘My Hero!’ written in blue crayon.
“Do you like it? It’s yours!”--Buddy
Bumblebee gently holding Buddy in his servo giving a hug while whirling happy tunes.
When Buddy talks about wanting to be a real bot, he explains as simply as he can that right now it isn’t possible.
Yet there is still hope.
Fighting by his side is completely out of the question. He is not letting them anywhere near the fight if he can help it.
Will have a spark attack if he sees that they stowed away.
Bumblebee has to get help from Noah and Kris so Buddy can understand why it’s dangerous to stowaway.
“But I want to go too!”--Buddy
“So do I Buddy but things can get really bad out there.”--Kris
“And you can’t stowaway in cars. That’s a bad thing to do.”--Noah
“But Mirage said that you tried to carjack him when you two met. I’m pretty sure that that’s even more illegal.”--Buddy
Bee laughing through his radio with Mirage while Kirs is trying to hold it in.
“… Mirage you’re not babysitting them for the next month.”--Noah
#transformers x reader#maccadam#tfp#tfp x reader#transformers g1#g1 x platonic reader#human buddy#tfa x platonic reader#tfa x reader#transformers rotb#g1 bumblebee#tfp bumblebee x platonic reader#tfa bumblebee#rotb bumblebee
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good riddance - m.verstappen
part one (the story of us)
masterlist
warnings: angst
a/n: oh I’m so sorry… but Taylor swift doesn’t always have happy endings!
—
the cameras, the microphones, the tape recorders, the iPhones, and many other devices were shoved in your face the second you stepped into the paddock. nobody seemed to care about Charles red pants or that Lewis was shirtless, everyone cared about you and max.
it’d been a week since your first win, and exactly two days since the article was released. you’d have a lot to talk about in your drivers meetings, and you dreaded that moment more than the cameras in your face.
an audible groan escapes your lips as fans and interviewers trip over your feet, you’re so lucky the Red Bull hospitality is just feet away from you. home sweet home, you could relax and watch them all flock around other drivers in the comfort of your inn.
however, you see those blond little hairs in the window. they seep out from under his hat, he’s throwing his head back most likely in laughter, and it pisses you off. how can he be laughing in such a serious time? why couldn’t he have just called instead of trying to turn your life into a nightmare.
walking up those steps you’re thankful the cameras don’t follow, because when you whip open that door a very noticeable silence falls to the room. suddenly, you don’t feel at home anymore.
you watch the eyes all fall on you, it’s like a slow motion scene from a movie. where the camera pans to the disgusted looks, and the new girl at school nervously looks around for a place to sit in the lunch room. that’s how it feels right now.
his eyes are the only ones that don’t move. they are glued to the Aussie in front of him who’s a good distraction.
you find an open table and take the seat throwing your things into the chair opposite of where you’re seated. the noise seems to pick up again, and your eyes search everywhere for a comforting face, maybe someone who will talk to you, but nobody budges. everyone must be on his side.
and it’s easy to figure why they are. he’s a two time world champion, and he’s a man. everyone you ever knew had turned against you in the matter of a week. well fuck that, you think to yourself, two can play this game.
you pick up your bags and storm out the hospitality going to a place you never thought you’d be.
“y/n?” he looks up from his computer, dark eyebrows furrowed with confusion, “darling, what can I do for you?”
“I want work with you,” you pause watching him cross his arms over his chest, he leans back into his chair nodding for you to continue, “I want to drive for Mercedes.”
—
no contracts were worked out just yet, things were still very under the radar with frequent texts and calls between Toto Wolff and others, but the head master of Red Bull, Christian Horner, had all of no clue. not until this morning.
“so can you confirm y/n is not staying with Red Bull?”
Christian’s face contorts, he laughs a little shaking his head, “no, we plan to keep y/n. we just told max he needs to get over himself and hopefully they will work things out. I know they will.”
Toto laughs into his microphone, “maybe if you had taken better care of y/n there wouldn’t be rumors of her departure.”
the room falls utterly silent. the other team principals are no longer of interest when the interviewer turns to the head hunch of Mercedes, “do you care to elaborate, Toto?”
“I think what I’m saying is obvious. we hope things work out, but if not? we’ll be waiting in the wings.”
—
the drivers conference is awfully uncomfortable. you’d found a seat in the corner of the room towards the back. yuki tsunoda is seated two seats away, his legs barely touching are an awful nice distraction to the world around you.
he’s seated with Charles and checo, his rumored new teammate. when he walked into the room, all the drivers congratulated him on his successful previous weekend, and not a soul even acknowledged your presence. this would be your falling out of formula one, all because max verstappen took everyone you ever loved and turned them against you.
why did he get to win? why did he force you into the corner? none of it was fair.
the room clears after the two hour long meeting. every inch of you is sore from the uncomfortable chairs as you stand up waiting to be the last one out.
“hey,” Charles moves from the line out of the building to where you stand, “congratulations on last weekend, you put a good fight.” he taps your arm gently and adds one more thing before he goes, “Mercedes is lucky to have you.”
the words perk his ears up. you can see the heat against the nape of his neck rise as he stops in his tracks and turns to face you, it’s the first time in two weeks since he’s looked you in the eyes.
you can feel all the words and air be lifted right out of you. his eyes are like title waves ready to meet land, and somehow it still makes your chest warm. he still makes your heart swell about ten sizes even if you haven’t spoken in what feels to be years.
“Mercedes?” he asks. the words feel so foreign and unfamiliar to his lips.
“well I’m not wanted at Red Bull anymore, so what’s the waste?”
he snorts out a laugh shaking his head. there you go again, he thinks to himself, trying to make him feel pitty towards you. well it certainly won’t work this time.
“well then go to Mercedes. I don’t want you as a teammate anymore if you’re just going to bail after one bad night.”
his bitterness was like a slap to the face. you can feel your heart ache, the pit of your stomach twisting as you swallow back the tears attempting to break through.
“then I don’t want you as a boyfriend anymore, because you can’t seem to apologize.”
“fine,” he says making his way to the door of the conference room, his hand rests on the handle just about to leave before he adds one more thing, “I never loved you in the first place, and I did want you gone so look at that, I guess I do win after all.”
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Shadows of the Past
Chapter 11: Fate's Folly
Summary: After a year of blissful cohabitation, Astarion disappears without a trace, leaving behind a heartfelt letter explaining his departure. Determined to find him, you traverse Faerûn in search of your lost love, only to realize that some absences are meant to be permanent.
Returning to Waterdeep, you find solace in the company of Gale as you come to terms with Astarion's absence. But just as you begin to heal, Astarion reappears, begging for a second chance at love.
The question looms: can you forgive his abandonment and trust him once more? As you grapple with your emotions and trauma, a sinister force lurks in the shadows, targeting you for unknown reasons.
With danger closing in, you must navigate the treacherous waters of trust, love, and betrayal to uncover the truth behind the mysterious entity's motives. Will you be able to reunite with Astarion while facing the demons of your past? Can you unravel the secrets that threaten your very existence?
Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.
Word Count: 6.4K
Content: Explicit 18+ - intended for mature audiences.
Warnings: [Additional tags will be added, but expect mature content / read at your own risk.]
Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Sexual Assault [Implied/attempted sexual assault: Chapter 7]. Past Trauma. Murder. Death. Longing. Sexual themes. Smut. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions. Panic attacks. Anxiety.
Winter has gripped Faerûn in a deadlock. The trees have long since shed their leaves, and the bare limbs reach for the sky like bony fingers trying to scratch the heavens. The winter sun is dipping below the horizon, leaving the land stark and frigid. The wind whistles over the plains and whips your hair, churning it wildly around your face. You can’t even pick your feet up anymore, so your boots scuff across the hard earth.
How long have you been walking this road without stopping to eat or sleep? Your feet ache, your eyelids feel like lead weights, and your mind urges you to make camp for the night to allow yourself to slip into your trance, but you dare not. You don’t want to be assaulted by your nightmares any longer as they feed off sorrow and torment you. They pain you more than this exhaustion ever could.
Your fingers are frozen and numb. Lifting your hand, you try to summon fire, but you’re so tired even the Weave has abandoned you until you rest. With a defeated sigh, you pull your hood up and wrap your arms around yourself, shivering so hard your muscles cramp painfully, and your jaw chatters, clicking your teeth together.
If I can keep walking, at least I am advancing toward him.
… Hopefully.
As you continue your sluggish walk, your eyes begin to drift closed of their own volition. You’ve pushed your body too far, and it’s succumbing to exhaustion. You trip, sending yourself sprawling, and pebbles, twigs and gravel bite into your palms and knees. With no energy left in your reserves to push yourself up, you can do nothing but slump over on the cold earth and curl up.
If you do not trance, it will force itself upon you, and you quickly fade into a half-conscious state. You can feel the ground sap your body heat and infuse you with a raw, frigid sting that balls up your muscles and lances your skin as it permeates your robe. Your head hits and cracks the thin layer of ice atop a muddy puddle, splashing and submerging your hair in the slush. The murky liquid is piercing on your forehead and scalp, but you don’t have the energy to move. Unable to keep your eyes open, you drift and see Astarion in your mind’s eye.
Astarion relaxed at home, reading to you, cuddled up in bed while you giggle at his theatrical character voices. He only does these for you. He would never do such a thing in front of anyone else.
Astarion and you drinking his favourite wine by the fire all day, laughing, and dancing.
Astarion and you jump into a cold lake in the dead of night because he challenged you to see who would get out first. He won, of course.
Astarion walks through the rabble of taverns, playing your little game with a mischievous glimmer in his beautiful eyes, and he winks at you when he catches your glance.
Astarion and you making love. Your ears twitch, and you can almost hear his voice panting, “I love you, Kamena, my only one.”
Astarion humming a soothing tune because you were having trouble sleeping while you lay on his chest.
A wolf howls somewhere in the distance. When your eyes finally allow you to open them, your eyelashes are burdened with frozen teardrops, an icy stage for your woe. Your hair is an icicle of mud rooted to the ground. The first snowflakes drift from the sky, kissing your cheeks. You don’t have any strength left to rise, so you lay there as the snow starts to form a blanket akin to a death shroud on your body. You can’t even weep. You lay and wonder if this is it. Is this the end of your story? A powerful, fierce sorceress, torn asunder, doomed and destroyed by true love?
Why did you leave me, Astarion? What did I do?
You wake with a start, lunging upright and taking deep breaths. Your bones still ache from the cold, the remnant of your dream still evoking shivers. You flex your fingers, forcing them to release the bed linen balled in your fists. Nightmares still plague your meditation, but at least this one didn’t wake you up screaming. You glance at Astarion’s side of the bed, letting your hand slip over the silk sheets. He must still be out hunting. Every time he leaves, you worry that this time is the time he does not return.
Will I ever be able to trust him again?
Winter is starting to settle over the land, and the nights have become far too cold for your liking. There is no way you’ll be able to fall back into your trance. Flicking your wrist, a fire roars to life out of thin air, and you push it to burn unnaturally hot. Slipping Astarion’s shirt on, you sit on the floor before the fire and hold your fingers close to the flame, hoping the heat might blow away the remains of the dream gripping you. It doesn’t work. Your fingers still tremble with that panging soreness that will not relent.
Intense shivers run up and down your spine, making your body tremble with the same verve it did on that rigid, icebound earth. A cutting, frigid cold settles over your body as if you’ve been plunged into a crevice and fallen to the very depths of Cania. The flames of the fire start to turn a frightening blueish-white. Yet, no matter how hot you push it to burn, you cannot get the gnawing ache to abate.
You don’t hear Astarion enter, and you jump when he sits in the plush chair behind you, with you between his legs. He drapes a blanket over your shoulders, rubbing your arms, “You are up late or early, depending on how you view it. Nightmares again?”
“Yes,” you sigh as you pull the blanket around you. Your teeth continue to chatter despite the sweat sheening your skin.
Astarion kisses the top of your head, “I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
What does he expect you to say? The year you spent without him by your side still haunts your dreams and thoughts. Lately, it has been all-consuming, and it’s absorbing your happiness. You can feel yourself slipping, and no matter how hard you try, the slipping never seems to stop. Anything you say will hurt him, and he’s had enough pain in his life. He does not need to bear your misery.
“We used to talk about everything and anything. I told you all about my…,” Astarion’s jaw clenches. He’s uncomfortable talking about that night he cried in your arms for hours, but he pushes himself to continue, “My feelings and fears. It’s not easy for me either, you know. I am unaccustomed to sharing my weaknesses. Hells, I’m not even used to feeling it. I spent so many years feeling only hatred, disgust and loathing, and then you came along and ruined it all,” he smirks, trying to lighten the gloomy mood.
“We used to before you left me,” you whisper. There’s a hint of irritation in your voice. Being pushed to share your pathetic moments and weakness grates at you, but then again, maybe you need someone to drag it out of you. You’ve been keeping this woe bottled inside you for so fucking long, “I’m not sure what you want me to say, Astarion. Whatever I tell you will be painful to hear, and I don’t want to do that to you because it’s not your fault.”
Astarion bursts out of his chair. He shouts with an inflection rough as gravel, “It is my fault! Stop making excuses for me because there is no excuse for what I did. I am not a fool, and I am not fragile. What did you ask of me? The truth even when it hurts? Do I not deserve the same courtesy?”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” you whimper, hand covering your mouth and blinking away tears.
“I deserve the hurt, and I can handle it. Let me bear it with you.”
“No,” you shake your head, eyes fixed on him, “You don’t deserve it.”
Astarion wracks his fingers through his hair and over the frustration that darkens the planes of his face, making him look severe, “Stop being so bloody pig-headed!”
You’re swayed in a sudden grip of outrage. It festers in your veins, heating your skin and palms. The fire leaps wildly as if pure alcohol were poured onto it as you jump to your feet. You can’t help yourself, and you pace as you scream at him, “What do you want me to say, Astarion?! You want me to tell you that I walked for days at a time. All day and all night! I never stopped to eat or rest because if I did, I didn’t know if I would have the strength to get back up!”
Good Gods. You’re so fucking livid that flames are starting to writhe over your skin like snakes in a pit. That draconic fire is hard to control when your emotions are high. All the feelings you’ve been tampering start to spew out of your mouth spitefully, and you can’t stop the avalanche.
“You want the fucking truth?” You roar, unable to stop the emotion seeping from your pores, “I walked until my feet and legs were numb from pain. I walked until I was so exhausted that my eyes closed without consent, the Weave, even fire abandoned me, and my pathetic body forced me to stop. Do you know what happened when I stopped? Exactly what I feared would. I had to relive memories of when I was happy, memories of us, as the cold earth sapped the rest of my strength. When I came to, I did not have the strength to continue, so I lay there while snow blanketed me and considered letting death have me because I was so godsdamned miserable without you!”
Tears stream down your face, dripping from your chin. When you look at Astarion, his cheeks are as wet as yours, scarlet eyes ashine behind sorrow. This is what you did not want to do. You don’t want to hurt him. Astarion told you he left you because he was afraid, and at the time, it felt like the best option available. That need to run, ignore, and flee your problems is an old friend now, and you can’t blame him. It’s what you did for a year and are continuing to do.
Instead of facing the fact that he was gone and he did not want to be found, you kept pushing your body to its limits and putting yourself into stupid situations because you could not accept the fact that maybe he did not want you any longer. Your heart is hammering as you choke and suffocate on all the memories you’ve been repressing. Days and nights of walking or running as far as your feet could take you until you were senseless. Battles with brigands, ne’er-do-wells, and all manner of beasts. The boiling heat of summer and the glacial cold of winter. Staring at the moon while you wept because your soul could practically feel the distance between you enlarging.
The fact he’s made you upset him stokes those embers of anger further. You rasp low, wiping your eyes, “There. Now you know how pathetic I am. I am not a fearless leader or a fucking hero. I am just a broken, foolishly weak woman who could not even take care of herself and could not accept that you left me. Is that what you want to hear? Are you happy now that my fragility and broken pieces are displayed for you to gawk at and judge? Go ahead, Astarion. Tell me how objectively stupid I am.”
Astarion’s brows furrow as tears tiptoe from the corners of his eyes, gliding down his cheeks. Astarion’s voice is gruff, a woven lace between anger and anguish. “By the Gods. Why would you do that to yourself? For me, of all people?!”
Good Gods, is he truly so blind?
“Because I love you! The way I fell for you was as effortless as breathing. When you left, the moon split, and the stars fell from the sky into the sea I was endlessly suffocating in. I watched my whole world crumble.” Splaying your hand on your chest, you try to halt the ever-increasing tightness constricting your lungs. You laugh sarcastically at yourself, “And it’s all my damn fault. You are not accountable for my happiness or lack thereof, or how I handled you leaving, or what I did after the fact. It’s all on me.”
It’s an epiphany of sorts. All that anger, fear, and hurt you’re holding onto, repressing, and running from is not his doing - it’s yours. You cannot blame Astarion for how you reacted to his leaving, regardless of how he handled it. You’ve been smothering yourself, and your anger is entirely misplaced. You are angry at yourself, and you have been for some time.
The silhouette standing in the road, blocking you from happiness, is yours.
You need air and space to think, and you dress quickly while Astarion begs you to stop and talk to him. Gods, you’re going to asphyxiate if you stay in this house. Your chest heaves in short, quick breaths that only make you dizzier. Your heart is thudding in your ears. Your muscles tremble with the urge to run, and you lunge toward the door.
Run.
Astarion steps in front of it quickly, “No,” His voice shakes, tears streaking down his cheeks as he blocks your path.
“Get out of my way, Astarion,” you snap at him sharply. “Get out of my way, or I will move you out of my way.”
Please don’t make me move you.
“Then move me,” he challenges with a scowl.
With a grimace, you cast Telekinesis and glide Astarion across the floor to the other end of the room gently. His eyes round, shocked. You’ve never cast against him in anger before. Guilt devours you, consuming whatever was left of your rationality.
Once again, panic takes the wheel, and you run.
I’m sorry, Astarion. I’m so sorry.
He watches the slow rise and fall of her chest and listens to the somnolent beating of her heart as she trances by the fire to keep warm. He only needs a taste, a nibble, to test how far this newfound freedom truly spans. He can walk in the sun, and so far, Cazador has not been able to control him, but is he still bound by the rules Cazador planted in his mind?
If he’s quiet enough, he should be able to… Her eyes snap open, and she jumps to her feet with a scowl.
“…Shit.” He puts his hands up and backs away slowly, watching her intently to see if she reaches for a weapon or if magic starts to dance on her fingers, “No, no - it’s not what it looks like, I swear!”
Shit. Shit. Shit. He’s got to recover from this. Quickly, or she might try and stake him, “I wasn’t going to hurt you. I just needed - well, blood.”
“How long since you killed someone? Days? Hours?”
“I’ve never killed anyone! Well… not for food,” He glances at the ground. How much should he reveal? It’s a fine line to tread. He needs to tell enough of the truth to earn trust but not enough to unveil his “little plan.”
She is not wholly soft-hearted and pure, but he’s spent two hundred years manipulating people. He can surely get her to spread her legs for him, to fall for him, and ensure his safety. The living are as much of a slave to their more animalistic desires as he is to bloodlust. It makes them simple prey.
“I feed on animals. Boars, deer… Kobolds. Whatever I can get. But it’s not enough. Not if I have to fight! I feel so... weak. If I just had a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better.” He slips on his expert manipulative demeanour and intonation, ”Please.”
He feels an odd pinch in his mind as it half unfolds for her. Gods. She has access to his memories and thoughts. Will she intrude into his mind unapologetically and violate him as so many have in the past? More than likely. He sighs, resigns himself and awaits the transgression.
Her brow quirks up, and her defensive stance relaxes slightly as she shakes her head to rid herself of the unfamiliar sensation of the tadpole writhing behind her eye. Her voice is gentle, almost hurt, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She… she didn’t force herself upon him? She didn’t take the bait and play his mind like an instrument, plucking the strings of his memories?
“At best, I was sure you’d say no. More likely, you’d ram a stake through my ribs. No, I needed you to trust me. And you can trust me.”
She scrutinizes him in a way that makes him feel like he’s been stripped of his clothes and naked. “I do. I believe you.”
“Thank you.” he sighs, relieved. She trusts him? Objectively stupid, but he will take it. “Do you think you could trust me just a little further? I only need a taste, I swear.”
She nods, “Fine. But not a drop more than you need.”
His brows shoot up his forehead. Is she really just going to allow him to bite her? Stupid woman. “Really? I - of course. Not one drop more. Let’s make ourselves comfortable, shall we?”
“Wait!” She halts him, pushing him back by the shoulders.
He recoils, a little aggravated at her blockage. He was so, so deliciously close. “What is it, Sorceress? Don’t tell me you’ve chickened out already. I’ll be gentle, I swear. It will only hurt for a moment.”
“No, Rogue,” she frowns at him. She is cute when she’s angry. Her fingers hover by his lips, “Pain does not frighten me. Open your mouth.”
“Open my mouth?” He arches a brow at her, “Why?”
“I’ve noticed your fangs, but I’ve never paid them much thought,” she muses with a wily grin. “I would like to see what you’re about to plunge into my neck.”
He scoffs, “I am not an exhibition for your eyes to feast upon.”
“Do you want to eat or not?” She smirks, “I believe it’s a simple request.”
“You’re very strange,” he clicks his tongue but opens his mouth for her with a roll of his eyes. It is a small price to pay if this works.
She pricks her finger against his fang, “Ouch! Sharp!”
“No, shit.” He chuckles with a scoff, “Have you finished examining me now? Shall we continue?”
She scoffs back at him, “You’re very impatient. Very well. You may continue with your supper.”
She lolls her head to the side. His fangs break her supple flesh, and her blood flows freely into his mouth. Cazador’s rules do not bind him any longer. Gods, she tastes like clouds parted, heaven is stroking his tongue, and angel wings flutter through his veins. She leans into him with a sigh. Her body shakes, excited. Excited? An odd reaction, but alas, who is he to complain? He can feel her inside of him. Her essence fills him, and his nerves hum a sonnet he’s never heard or felt. He loses himself in her.
She pushes against him feebly as her body starts to grow cold, “Stop! It’s too much.”
Reluctantly, he removes his fangs, cleaning his lips, and licking his fingers. He will not waste a drop of that liquid bliss, “Ah! Of course. I was just swept up in the moment. But it worked. I feel good. Strong. Happy.”
He got carried away. He will have to watch himself more carefully if she ever allows him near her again.
She wavers on her feet, hand coming to her forehead and eyes glossy. She groans, and he expects her to chastise him. Instead, she steadies herself and chimes resolutely, “I’m looking forward to seeing you fight.”
That’s it? No beating? No flaying? No putrid rats? Not so much as a “bad vampire!” Just... looking forward to seeing him fight. What in the Hells?
He hides his surprise behind that practice veneer of confidence, “Shouldn’t take long. So many people need killing. Now if you’ll excuse me, you’re invigorating, but I need something more filling,” he lies. He’s full, happy, but inexplicably highly aroused.
Is this something that always happens with thinking creatures? Is it simply a natural response because she’s his first? He has nothing and no one to compare this experience to.
“This is a gift, you know.” She might be a gift from the Gods after they’ve ignored him for centuries. He is no longer bound by his puppet master or the rules rooted in his brain. He has broken his chains. He purrs, “I won’t forget it.”
She stops him, giggling lightheaded and ethereal, “The boar was you, wasn’t it?”
She is clever, isn’t she? He chuckles, “Yes, my dear. I said a vampire killed it, did I not?”
She plops down on her bedroll, “You conveniently left out that you were that vampire. Very clever, Astarion,” she smirks. “I’ll watch you and the pretty words that leave your beautiful mouth more closely from now on. Happy hunting.”
She thinks his mouth is beautiful?
The door slams hard enough to cause the tower to shake, and she’s gone. Kamena had always been the unshakable light of their group of misfits. She took everything in stride.
Gale’s orb might explode and kill them all? No problem, we will find magical items for him to consume.
Sharran Cleric? No sweat. Your beliefs are your own.
Warlock bound to his contract? Easy. We will find a way to break that.
Murderous Gith with a superiority complex that could rip out her spine? Tell me more about you and your people.
Tiefling spewing Hellfire from her body with an infernal engine for a heart? Welcome aboard. Now, let’s find a way to fix that heart of yours.
Vampire spawn who tries to bite her while she tranced one night? No matter. I trust you. While we are at it, let's make a pit stop and kill your master so you can be free.
She never flinched when confronted that they might all burst into Mind Flayers any second. She always kept the group moving forward toward their goals while taking the time to sort out everyone’s problems. His stomach sinks. It’s nearly dawn, but he can catch her before the sun rises… probably. He sprints out of the room and down the stairs.
“Let her go, Astarion,” Gale grips his arm and shakes his head.
“Are you mad?” He pulls his arm away. “Don’t touch me.”
“You look lost,” Gale pats his shoulder. “Despite our differences, we do share one thing in common. Our love for her.” Astarion’s jaw tightens. “Purely platonic on my end, of course,” Gale assures with a genial smile. “If you need to speak to a trusted… friend. Well, I do hope you might consider me one such friend.”
“Are we,” he quirks his brow at the wizard and grimaces, “… friends?”
“Perhaps friends is a little superfluous,” Gale chuckles. “But I am here for you if you need a friendly ear or advice. I have navigated the waters she’s currently treading. It can be a dark path.”
“Ugh,” he scoffs, crossing his arms. The wizard always likes to beat around the bush. He prefers someone to speak their mind, “Just speak plainly.”
“Come, my friend,” Gale gestures toward the sitting room, “Let’s sit. I would offer you some tea, but… I know that doesn’t fit your particular dietary needs.”
Astarion groans, relinquishing his hold on the door handle. He looks longingly, willing it to open and for her to rush back into his arms. He sits on the sofa and lets his head fall into his hands. His fingers splayed into his hair.
“Do you want to be with her, Astarion?” Gale begins.
“What are you getting at, Gale?” He mutters annoyance weaved in the deep baritone of his voice that he can’t hide, “Get to the point.”
Gale’s voice loses the honeyed intonation, “Do you want to spend your life with her until hers ends, or will you run again when it gets hard? There is an imbalance in your relationship. You are immortal. She is not.”
“You know as well as I that there are ways to extend life - beyond my… condition,” Astarion drags his hand through his hair.
“There are, but nothing is assured,” Gale retorts, “If she cannot extend her life or find a cure for you, are you willing to stay with her when she gets old, and you remain forever young? It’s an eventually you must consider.”
Can he do it? Is he capable of spending the next 800 years with her only to have her age and die, leaving him alone again? Gods. A world void of her fire? Perish the thought.
Astarion cants a brow at him and scoffs, “If this is your attempt at a pep talk, you’re failing abysmally.”
“You have enough pep,” Gale chuckles, rubbing his hands together. “No, I am trying to have a real discussion with you, and you are making it exceedingly gruelling.”
“Yes,” he answers truthfully. Astarion swallows hard, trying to dissuade the ball in his throat to ease, “I want to be with her. More than anything.”
“Good,” Gale’s hand comes to his chin as he contemplates. “Then you must keep fighting for her. Every day, you must treasure her. When the days are cold, warm her. When the shadows disturb her rest, hold her tight. When she needs space, let her go. Show her you can handle the storm, and be prepared to weather it with her.”
“I am trying,” he sighs, leaning back in his chair. His brows furrow as he eyes Gale with palpable caution. Gale is still in love with her, and he knows. It makes him wary to have these conversations with him, “I have never done this - a real relationship. Love. It’s all new to me, and I have no idea how to navigate it.”
Gale’s bourbon brown eyes reflect the firelight as he examines Astarion with a probing case that makes him uncomfortable, though his expression remains nearly blank. Is there empathy in his eyes? Delight? Pain?
“You hurt her deeply, but I don’t need to tell you that,” Gale finally says and leans forward. “You, of all people, should know that pain leaves scars, whether visible on the skin or unseen on the heart. Remember, Astarion. When you’re speaking to her, you are touching her scars.”
Hells below. He had not thought of it like that before.
Gale smiles, “Now, that awkwardness is over. Tell me, Astarion. What do you know of the Wish spell?
Astarion balks at the quick change in subject, although he’s happy about it, “Wish? I know it’s a powerful spell, but not much else. Spells are not my expertise, Gale. You know this. I leave magic up to you and Kamena - much more so Kamena.”
“Kamena is a substantially powerful sorceress. We have not seen the like of her kind for some time,” Gale smirks with an amused chuckle. “She gave up sparing with me because I could not keep up. Can you believe that - an archmage unable to keep up with a sorceress? I often wonder if her ancestor is Tiamat herself.”
“I am well aware of how powerful she is,” Astarion snickers, “But you’re getting off-topic. What of this Wish spell?”
Gale’s eyes brighten, and he beams. “Kamena never stopped looking for it, you know. Even when you left, she continued and persuaded me to continue as well. I have a lead - an excellent lead.”
“Is Kamena capable of casting it?” Astarion mouth drops. “Could she actually use it?”
“She is more than powerful enough to cast it,” Gale nods, but his expression turns sullen. “Though spells of this power often have a cost and can be rather… finicky. It could be dangerous - for you and her. I have not found it yet, but I believe we are getting close. In theory, she could use it to cure you, but it might go awry. We cannot be sure of the consequences, though. We have not found any documentation on such.”
“Can it kill her?” Astarion asks bluntly. Spells of such power often have unforeseen consequences. You cannot evoke such power without cost. Sometimes, it is minimal. Other times, it is life itself. He’s read enough books to know this much.
“Possibly,” Gale concludes with a grim look. His jaw clenches, setting his lips in a thin line.
“Stop looking for it, Gale.” Astarion shakes his head. His heart sinks a little. This would be the closest thing he could get to a cure since he didn’t complete the Rite, but he cannot justify the payment, “Her possible death is not worth my possible life.”
“My friend, you will have to speak to her about that,” Gale chuckles with a sullen shrug. “She has already been appraised of my objections.”
“Ugh,” Astarion scoffs, tousling his hair, “Let me guess. She said, and I quote, “Your objections have been noted.”
Gale’s laugh booms through the halls, “Yes, precisely. She is stubborn, and that silver tongue of hers is dangerous. Sometimes, she persuades me to do things I was adamant I didn’t want to do! Are all Elves like that, or is she just special?”
“Gale,” Astarion smirks, “I think we have much to discuss. I do not indulge in tea, but do you have something harder?”
Gale’s fingers come to his chin, “Like wine?”
“No,” Astarion tuts, clicking his tongue with a scoff. “Much harder.”
Gale grins widely, “Oh, now you’re speaking my language, my sharp-toothed friend! Join me in my cellar, and pick what you like best!”
You close the bedroom door softly behind you and lean on it. Astarion is sitting before the fire in one of the chairs. He does not even twist to look at you, but he would have heard and smelt you coming even before you reached the manor. He sits with his head in his hand, propped up by his arm.
You take a deep breath and force the fire to take the shape of a dragon, fly out of the fireplace, around him and to you before you make it land on the log and continue burning in its natural state. Astarion does not flinch at your display. He barely seems to blink as the dragon gambles around him, driving and twirling. It’s a sure sign that he’s angry, which is precisely what you wanted to know.
You have been caught in a stormy ocean of despair. You’re being tossed like a ship on rough waves. Some days, the waves calm, and you feel like yourself again. On other days, the waves are agitated, and you toss, just trying to stay afloat, but sometimes you get dragged under the surface and start drowning again. It does not matter how hard you kick or fight to break the barrier. An anchor on your legs and arms that drags you down into the depths.
Perhaps it’s time to stop fighting the storm and weather it instead. Emotions are messy, and you are not well acquainted with these. You’ve never been in love before this. You spent most of your adult life alone, hunting down the wizard who purchased you and tortured you for your childhood in the name of “teaching you to master your talents.”
“I’m sorry, Astarion,” you murmur from the door, not daring to get closer to him. “I should not have cast on you. It was uncalled for.”
“You shuffled me across the floor,” he chuckles, twisting in his chair with an amused smile. “That hardly requires an apology. I am impressed with your control. However, I would prefer it if you don’t use magic when we argue. Otherwise, think nothing of it. I should not have pushed you. I was too harsh... I’m sorry.”
“I need to be pushed, I think,” you sigh, combing your fingers through your hair. “I keep trying to calm myself, but I just need to weather it as it comes. Sometimes... I get swept away, and there’s nothing I can do. I think... I need to stop trying to stop it and try to survive it instead.”
“Come,” Astarion taps his lap with an affectionate smile and empathy shining in his eyes. “Sit with me, and we can talk.”
Walking over, you discard your robe and are left in your underclothes. Astarion’s arms wrap around you as you ease down onto his lap, and he pulls you close to him. He kisses your temple, his cheek on your forehead.
Astarion takes your hand, interlocking your fingers with his and squeezing slightly. He asks blatantly, “Do you want to be with me, or is my presence here just hurting you further?”
“What?” You cup his cheek with your palm, and he nuzzles your hand. Astarion’s silken lips ghost over it, and he kisses it before resting on it, “I want to be with you more than anymore, but I need time. I told you. I am broken. I mentioned I was drowning when you left, but I am coming up for air now. I’m fighting to keep my head above the waves, but sometimes I fall below them…. I don’t want you to leave. Please, stay with me. You are all I need.“
He nods. Astarion’s scarlet eyes swallow you, and empathy and understanding wash over you. “You are not broken, sweetheart.” Astarion places a soft kiss on your lips. “You are healing, and sometimes healing is messy. I know that better than most.” Astarion pauses and nuzzles your cheek, “Stop running from me and start running to me, Kamena. I can be strong when you feel weak, just as you are for me. We do not walk these roads alone any longer. We walk them together, my Solicallor, my only one.”
Solicallor… His Elven nickname for you means “Warm light of the sun.”
What did I ever do to deserve someone so understanding?
That’s it, that breaks you, tearing you apart and rending you inside out. Your breaths come in rapid heaves, and your heart feels like it might fly out of your throat onto the ground before you. You clutch at your chest, and you start to tremble. Your eyes swarm with tears. You slip your hands down the back of Astarion’s shirt, needing to feel the cool chill of his skin, but are careful not to touch his scars. He doesn’t appear to notice when your fingertips accidentally brush the raised edges.
Astarion purrs, crushing you against him, “Breath with me, my love. Deep breaths. In” he counts to 30, “and out,” he counts to 30. You try to synchronize your breaths to his as best you can.
“You have not called me Solicallor in some time,” you shake while forcing a fireball to circle you as if you’re the gravity keeping it in place. You push all your hurt, fear and anger into that fireball, making it double in size and burn white-hot. “I can be your sun, Astarion. For now, at least.”
“Yes,” he chuckles, but there’s an edge to his voice that you didn’t expect. “Gale and I had an interesting chat today, but we shall discuss that later.”
“He told you of the Wish spell.” It’s not a question. You knew Gale was going to out you eventually. You’re going to have to scold him later for it. You were not going to tell Astarion until you had the damn spell in hand and were sure you could cast it.
“He did,” Astarion nods, rubbing your back and weaving his fingers into your hair. “But that’s a conversation for another time. Let’s focus on us for tonight.”
“I am going to have to chastise Gale,” you frown. You cannot help the anticipation dripping from your voice, “Us?”
“Don’t chastise him too hard, darling. He is rather insecure, but who wouldn’t be with me around?” he chuckles with an arrogant smirk. “Yes. Us. Whatever that may be right now. We can stay in this limbo of indecision as long as you need. But to me, we are still us. You are only mine, yes? Or do I have people I need to murder?”
“We are us.” You agree with a broad smile. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull yourself close, “And I am yours.”
“Only mine?” He sounds agog as if he cannot imagine you would be wholly his.
Does he still not believe he deserves me?
“Only yours, Aerasumé,” you kiss his cheek, calling him the nickname you gave him in private derived from your language. It means “Silvermoon of the Evening.” You’re reluctant to say it, but it’s been on your mind since you met him, “I think I was born to be yours, thiramin.”
Astarion stiffens at your mention of “thiramin.” It is your Elven word for what is basically a soulmate. His clutch on you strengthens, and his fingers start running through your hair, but he doesn’t say anything, and his jaw is tight. Your heart sinks into your stomach. Have you gone too far? Have you frightened him? Will he run?
“You don’t have to say it back, Astarion,” you encourage in a honeyed intonation, running your fingers comfortingly up and down his neck. “I do not expect you to feel that same. I just… I guess I just wanted you to know how I truly felt.”
Astarion’s mouth opens and closes, but no words come out. He swallows hard, making his Adam's apple bob. It’s one of his tells when he’s uncomfortable. He kisses you intimately, but his reluctance to answer causes your heart to spasm, clench and descend into your stomach. Are you more in love with him than he is with you? Is that why you were so incapable of letting him go, but he so easily ran from you?
“I think... I need some space,” Astarion murmurs. “I’m sorry, I-”
You cut him off, slipping off his lap and shaking your head. You remain stoic, forcing tears to stay behind your eyes, “It’s okay. I understand. Goodnight, Astarion."
I went too far.
Thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. I'm forever thankful for the support.
Chapters Master List - Shadows of the Past
AO3: Crossposted
If you're interested, I also write fanfic for Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav - Fangs and Fractured Hearts
Small Notes:
I just wanna hug Kamena.
Also Astarion
And Gale too for good measure.
#astarion x tav#astarion x you#bg3 astarion#astarion x reader#astarion#astarion romance#astarion x mc#astarion ancunin#astarion smut#baldurs gate astarion#astarion/oc#astarion x oc#astarion x named tav#baldurs gate 3#baldurs gate#shadows of the past#astarion spawn#spawn astarion
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May Prompts (20) Do-Over
The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter 20)
Summary: Rosie comes home in the middle of the night, and realises that her parents have kept a horrible secret from her.
Twenty Years Old
I tried my best to be quiet when I locked myself in at three in the morning. The intended sleepover at Clare’s had ended abruptly, when her brother had stumbled in around midnight and broken two of his fingers when he tried to find his way in the dark. Being familiar with injuries of all kinds, I insisted on accompany him and a rather hysterical Clare to the closest A&E. That sorted, I decided to go home. Clare’s parents, who had attended a party, were summoned to the hospital as well, and my services weren’t needed anymore.
When I heard muffled sounds from the living room, I was puzzled. I couldn’t quite discern if one of my parents was talking on the phone, or if they were talking to each other. And then I heard sobbing. Dad. I froze and all kinds of thoughts soared around in my mind.
Had anyone died? Nana? Pops or Granny?
I didn’t even dare thinking about uncle Myc or Molly. Papa’s words stopped me from opening the door and inquire. His voice was thick with emotions, clearly crying himself.
“I’m sorry, John. I wish she’d never been born!”
The last sentence was delivered with passion and venom.
Who the hell was he talking about?
“It’s not your fault, my love,” Dad croaked. “You didn’t remember her. She knew what she was doing. Stop blaming yourself.”
“But you’re still suffering, and it’s been years,” Papa protested, the devastation pouring out of his voice.
“Only a vicious nightmare because of the events earlier today, Sherlock. She can’t harm us anymore now,” Dad soothed. “Let’s go back to bed.”
I exhaled shakily, only then realising I’d been holding my breath for too long. Slowly, I ascended to my room, knowing that sleep wouldn’t grace me with its presence tonight. Only one option, then.
Are you available? Need to talk. I’m home.
A car will pick you up in twenty minutes. UM
***
No sounds were coming from Dad and Papa’s bedroom when I snuck down the stairs twenty minutes later. A nondescript driver nodded at me when I slid into the back seat of one of my uncle’s cars. I was surprised to see that the car stopped outside uncle Myc’s house and not the Diogenes Club. I suddenly felt bad for interrupting his sleep.
“No need to apologise, Rosamund,” uncle Myc assured me before I’d even said a word. “We had just woken up. Gregory was called away to a crime scene.”
“Right. Perhaps for the best,” I said hesitantly, while I curled up in one of the comfortable armchairs.
“Your parents don’t know you’re here,” he stated.
“No. Hopefully I managed to sneak out soundlessly. I…overheard something when I came home. Unexpectedly. I was supposed to spend the night at Clare’s, but a trip to the A&E put a stop to that,” I sighed.
Uncle Myc cocked an eyebrow at the mentioning of the hospital.
“Clare’s brother. Broken fingers. She went hysterical, so I…”
“You took it upon yourself to accompany them. Being a comforting presence. Just like your father,” he summarised.
Despite my distress, I had to chuckle a bit. I wondered if he was aware of how much he reminded me of Papa in such moments. Probably, I concluded.
I gave him a clinical summary of what I’d heard back at 221B. He inhaled sharply and clenched the armrests so hard his knuckles whitened. His eyes closed and a pained expression manifested on his face. Years of practise paid off because when he opened his eyes again, he was his normal calm self.
He told me about his and Papa’s sister Eurus and what she’d done as a child and that she’d been locked up at a place called Sherrinford. I was shocked beyond belief, and braced myself when uncle’s look got even more sombre, after he’d uttered the words: “and then she managed to escape.”
“Dad was trapped in that well, and Papa…”
I had a hard time grasping all this mind-blowing and horrific information.
“Yes,” uncle interrupted.
There was no need to tell that tale one more time.
“So, why now, do you think? Dad’s nightmare, I mean.”
“Ah, yes. I got a call from Sherrinford yesterday. Eurus fell into a coma. She never woke and died a few hours later. We all went there yesterday to confirm and bury her,” he told me and clenched his jaw tight.
She was his little sister, I thought, and tears started to stream down my cheeks.
“Don’t,” he said fiercely when I was about to rise and go over to hug him.
“But, uncle Myc, she was your…”
“She was a predator, a manipulator, a cold-blooded killer. Eurus stopped being my baby sister long ago, Rosamund, and I’m glad she’s dead. It means that one of the heavier burdens I’ve been forced to bear, is finally lifted off my shoulders.”
“I still want to hug you,” I whispered. “We could both need one, I think.”
Uncle Myc stood and opened his arms. He held me tight, and I buried my nose in his chest and inhaled the familiar scent of his luxurious aftershave.
“Thank you for keeping us safe,” I murmured and rubbed his back.
“A privilege, my dear,” he assured me with a steady voice. “The guest room is ready for you. No need to go back to Baker Street at this hour.”
“How can anyone think of you as a heartless person, Mycroft Holmes?” I asked fondly and stroked his cheek.
His blush and muteness spoke volumes. He was just as sentimental as his younger brother.
(Canon do-over)
Also available on AO3
@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @helloliriels @raina-at
More tags in the replies
#may prompts 2024#may 20: do-over#sherlock fandom#rosie watson#sherlock#john watson#mycroft holmes#johnlock#bbc sherlock#sherlock fanfic#ao3 fanfic
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would you be willing to do a sad nat one shot? sorry I just need to feel something 💀
Punishment
Natasha Romanoff x reader
Summary: you are dead (sorry) and nat has to live with that 😞 (most of this takes place inside of a dream hopefully it’s not too confusing)
Word Count: 1.2k
Warnings: death,, referenced torture
Author’s Note: sorry this is on the shorter side! tysm for requesting ☺️ i also use fanfiction to feel so hopefully it’s sad enough for you
It’s a nightmare, like always. You’re there, like always.
“Nat!” your voice rings out, light and sweet in the hazy morning light, and Natasha rolls over, burying her face in your side of the bed. It’s still warm. “Nat!”
“Five more minutes,” she grumbles back.
Your footsteps come to a stop next to the bed. “I made cinnamon rolls, you know.”
Natasha smiles to herself. It all feels so, so real. The sheets smell like your lotion, and the sun is pale through the curtains, just like it always is in winter. How it was the last winter you were with her.
You poke her shoulder. “Aren’t you supposed to be a superspy? Get up.”
“I’m off the clock,” she says, sitting up anyways. The glimmer in your eyes looks so real. Her lungs tighten at that, and she wraps her arms around your waist, hugging you tight.
You laugh and run your fingers through her hair. “Missed me that much, huh?”
She closes her eyes and sinks deeper into you, praying as hard as she ever has. Begging for just one more life with you. She remembers how to breathe again as you scratch her scalp gently and lean into her embrace, and she inhales you again.
After far too little time passes, you rest your hands on her shoulders. “Come on, baby. They’re gonna get cold.”
She lets you lead her out of the bedroom, hands intertwined. The apartment looks just how you left it. Because it’s so easy to, she slips back into routine. Like you’re there every day when she wakes up. She tugs open the blinds over the sink and waters the plants on the windowsill; you pour two cups of coffee. You sit down at the table together like it’s any old Saturday.
“What’s with you today?” you ask with a slight smile, immediately pulling a cinnamon roll from the pan.
“Me?” Natasha replies.
“No, the milkman.”
She grins, shaking her head. “Sorry. I don’t know, I’m just out of it.”
“Well, you’re not too out of it to talk crossword, right?”
God, she had forgotten about that. You’ve been on a crossword kick lately, though you heavily rely on Natasha’s knowledge bank of language and policy and science. Really, you mostly cover the pop culture clues. “Never.”
You spread the newspaper out between the both of you and drop a pencil in front of her. “I’ll start with down, you’ll start with across?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
You scribble down some answers, eyebrows furrowed.
Natasha stands up for a moment, just to get the cream, but when she turns back around she’s not in the kitchen anymore. She’s strapped to that chair, staring at you in that cell. Your eyes are bloodshot. The dreams always wind up here, no matter how innocently they start, and Natasha’s stomach churns.
“Nat,” you croak, and her heart shatters for the millionth time.
She thrashes against her restraints, but they must be made of fucking vibranium because they cut into her wrists without budging. She doesn’t have any tricks up her sleeve — she’s in her pajamas, for God’s sake. No widow’s bite or portable EMP. Not even a way to signal Clint.
“Nat, please,” you beg, your voice as raw as the bruises on your face.
“I’m going to-” she says, struggling against the restraints again. “I’m going to get you out.”
But of course, she can’t. She might as well be a bronze statue in that chair. They’re going to make her watch you die again.
She racks her brain for as long as she can, fights the excruciating dejá vu. Maybe something will be different this time. Maybe she can get someone’s attention, some lackey she can convince to let her out. She’ll murder them all, then. Murder them and take you home.
A vent catches her eye, in the corner of your cell. You don’t have much at your disposal, but there’s a food tray on the floor that might work. She has to say your name three times before you recognize it.
“What?” you ask suddenly, eyes wide.
“I need you to try something, okay?”
You’re weak. You’ve been there for days at the minimum, been under intense interrogation lights and an array of torture methods. Natasha was the one trained for that, not you. “I don’t know…”
“Please.”
You swallow iron-tinged spit.
“Can you break that in half?” Natasha whispers, flicking her eyes to the tray. She doesn’t remember if you’re under surveillance or not. She figures you must be.
Your hands shake as you reach for it. It must be tin, that’s how flimsy and light it is, but you know you don’t have the strength to break it by hand. That ship sailed about three gut punches ago. You’d vomited out everything but your will to live, though that was fading fast too.
“Use your legs,” Natasha hisses like she can read your mind. “Stick it under something, get leverage.”
The sight of you stumbling to the bunk sends fire up her throat. She’s going to burn them all alive.
You wedge the tray under one of the bunk’s legs and pull up on the other side before stepping down on it as hard as you can. All it does is fold in half.
“Fuck,” Natasha mutters. “Can you rip it? With your teeth or something?”
You’re pretty sure your teeth would fall out if you so much as bite an apple, so you drive the tray down on the sharpest edge you can find: the corner of the tiny sink. Later, Natasha will think about how strange it was that the cell had so many amenities. She’ll come up with triple the ways to escape. All too late.
The corner pierces it, and you claw at the hole until the tray is split in half. It slices your fingers in more places than you can count.
“Use it on the vent,” Natasha says. Despite herself, she feels an ember of hope in her chest. You’d never gotten this close before. She can barely watch as you balance on top of the sink, trying to shove the sharp little metal sheet into the seam between the vent and wall. It’s slippery with blood.
A door in the cell she hadn’t even noticed swings open. A man in black storms in. Before she can get a word out, he grabs you, throws you to the ground.
Natasha recoils, forcing her eyes back open as quickly as possible. He kicks you, over and over, and you cry for mercy.
Her restraints seem to tighten. They cut off her circulation, so that not even dislocating her wrists would let her save you. She’s absolutely helpless. You sob and curl into yourself, and she’s sure she’s never felt such anguish before. But she has, and she certainly will again.
Her eyes shoot open to dark ceiling. She’s in the living room, using the couch like a cot. She still hasn’t brought herself to touch the bed you made. She probably never will.
She drags herself to her feet and shuffles to the kitchen counter, turning on the electric kettle. Only chamomile helps her breathe now.
All those people she’d managed to kill. All those missions she’d executed to perfection, for the Red Room and HYDRA and Fury. All of the people caught in the crossfire of her tunnel vision. And yet, in the single most important moment of her life, she had failed. Failed.
She figures it could’ve been karma. A cosmic punishment for the arrogance of trying to wipe her slate clean. With that much sin to atone for, she shouldn’t be able to live happily. That’s what the universe seems to think, at least.
#angst#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff#marvel#mcu#natasha x reader#black widow#black widow x reader
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All is Well Part 2
Summary- Daisy and the men are still getting used to their newest houseguest.
Pairings- Steve Rogers(Nomad) x Daisy!Reader, Bucky Barnes x Daisy!Reader, Jefferson x Daisy!Reader (implied), Ransom x Daisy!Reader (implied).
Rating- Explicit, 18+
Warnings- polyamorous relationships, sex (PiV), Oral (f receiving), Double penetration, slight choking, cream pie, teased MxM but doesn’t actually happen, I’m sure I forgot something. 18+ only!!
Word count- 6.2k
Authors notes- This ties into It’s Cold, by @rainydayandmondays so please read that wonderful chapter! I haven’t posted my writing on Tumblr so here goes nothing, hopefully you all like it!
Dividers by @firefly-graphics
Previous
Warmth. A soft, gentle warmth washes over him. “Mmhmm,” he hums as he opens his eyes. Looking down at you as your head is buried against his chest and dreaming away, a soft smile breaks over his face.
Cold. Bone-chilling cold grips his chest as he shoots awake. He is looking around and gasping for air, looking for you, his Daisy. You’re asleep in the arms of the other while one leg is entangled with his own and your hand clasped with his, Grounding him.
Love. Unmatched and all-consuming, as you sleep between your two men. You hum as you start to stir, feeling eyes on you, and then the bed shakes as one sits up, started awake.
“Buck- hey Bucky, you’re safe.” Steve’s voice is what pulls you from your sleep. Bucky’s gasping for air scares you as you wipe the sleep out of your eyes.
“Bucky? Baby, what is it?” You sit up, still holding his metal hand in yours and moving closer to him as he moves to the edge of the bed. Kissing his shoulders and rubbing his back, you try to bring him out of his dream.
“I’m- I’m okay- I…” you look at Steve, who is already sitting up and switching on the lamp. Glancing at the clock, it reads 2 am. “I’m sorry- I’ll try to go back to sleep- I just.” still trying to catch his breath, he stumbles over his words. Bucky hasn’t had nightmares in about nine months, not since you got into a routine. Nine months ago, He moved into the room you shared with Steve. He sleeps on your right, and Steve sleeps on your left. Every other morning, he gets up and runs; the mornings he doesn’t, Steve does. They never want to leave you alone. And the mornings neither get up; well, those mornings usually end up with a late start for all three of you as soft kisses turn into hands roaming each other’s bodies, which leads to you spread out above or below one of them. Bucky makes breakfast for everyone in the house and eats with you either on his lap or admiring you sitting in Steve’s. It’s a solid routine that has worked for the past nine months and one day… no nightmares for nine months and one day until tonight. Feeling the tightness in his chest finally subside, he allows you to move him back on the bed and lean back against the headboard. You settle between him and Steve, laying your head on his shoulder and taking Steve’s hand to your left.
“Talk to me, Baby.” You rub Bucky’s leg, coaxing him to open up, “What’s going on?”
Bucky lets out a heavy sigh. “You’re gonna laugh at me.” You shake your head no, and Steve voices what you’re thinking.
“Whatever it is, it’s big enough to cause your nightmares to return. Just talk to us, Buck.” Steve reaches over and squeezes his shoulder. Bucky sighs again.
“That little prick coming in and messing up our lives,” Bucky grumbles. “We all had a great system! Sleep together, workout, I cook, Stevie cleans, Daisy sits there and looks pretty-“Bucky crosses his arms. “Now I’m having to share my women-” Steve clears his throat, “Our women, Sorry Stevie.” He reaches over and ruffles Steve’s bedhead. “There is never any hot water cause he is always taking damn baths, I have to cook more food, so it’s taking even longer, and I’m not even getting to eat with you two anymore because I always serve you first-” Bucky looks down at you, and you are smiling a little. “See! I knew you’d laugh!” You smile and look at Steve, who nods. You move to straddle Bucky’s lap and wrap your arms around his neck.
“I’m not laughing, Bucky. I think you’re a little jealous of our new housemate-”
“I’m not jealous- I just hate change! You know me, I don’t do change well!” You rub down his chest.
“James Buchanan Barnes, don’t raise your voice at me.” You say in the sweetest, softest voice that all Bucky can do is smile at your request. He grumbles an apology. You giggle and kiss his nose as you say a thank you back. “Fine, you’re not jealous, but I sense you feel left out.” He nods, and you rub his chest again. “A bit… underappreciated.” He nods again, and you reach down to the hem of your shirt and lift it off in one motion. Bucky stares at your breast and licks his lips. You tilt his chin up to look at you, and you smile. “I’m sorry you have felt unseen these past few days… he can be-”
“An ass,” Steve says.
“A prick,” Bucky grumbles
“A handful,” you correct both of them. “Ransom is new; remember what it was like when we brought the last new guy in?” Bucky sighs and nods. The last new guy was a man named Frank. He had no last name, and he had a bad smoking habit. You took care of that pretty quickly. He was sweet but took some training; learning to share can be challenging for little kids, let alone grown men. He finally settled in, and the boys really like him now. He gets along with Jefferson well and keeps to himself except when asked to join everyone. He took some getting used to. Now, he comes and goes as he pleases.
“That first week, he was needy, and you both HATED him for it. Turns out he was just in need of a family, of somewhere to belong. We gave that to him. Ransom has some similar needs. His family was… well, a shit show, and he was never disciplined. Ever. Precious, Dutchess and I must correct that, and there will be some natural pushback. Trust me, it won’t be like this forever.” You lean forward and press your chest against Bucky’s. “And if anyone can show him how to behave, it’s my two Super Soldiers.” You lean in and kiss Steve and then turn to kiss Bucky. Bucky smiles and seems to relax a little. You meet Steve’s gaze, and he nods, clearing his throat and furrowing his brow; he brings up a topic that he knows could be touchy.
“Buck, this actually comes at a perfect time. Bucky looks at Steve and then at you. “The routine you-” Steve gestures to all three of you, “we- have is great, but I think we could ease up on it a bit.” Bucky goes stiff and looks at you. “We are only suggesting this because,” Steve shifts around, “well,” Still feeling like he might be walking into a dangerous conversation, “we’ve noticed how the changes have slowly been affecting you. We think it would help if you weren’t so tied to a routine that you can’t deviate from. Life is full of changes, and we have to be able to adapt to them. This is proof that maybe- just maybe your coping skills aren’t the best solution.” You lean forward and hug him tight, looking up at him with your sweet, puppy eyes, as Steve and Bucky like to call them. “You haven’t had your exact routine for eight days now, and you’ve gotten grumpy, and now you’re having nightmares,” Steve continues. “And don’t get us wrong, we LOVE grumpy you,” you giggle and kiss his chest, and Steve ruffles his hair. “But the nightmares… you’ve come so far, Buck, we don’t want you to lose all your progress.” Bucky looks at Steve and then down at you. He nods and kisses your head.
“Okay, well then, what do you two suggest? Bucky asks, actually curious how two people with no experience in PTSD therapy or counseling are going to help him overcome this.
“Well, for starters,” you smile as you sit up, drawing squiggles down his chest with your fingers. “A good night’s rest will help. And I know you’re not tired now, but,” you look at Steve and smirk. “I can change that,” Steve smirks back and pulls you into a kiss.
“I’m still pretty tired from earlier,” he winks at you as you blush, “but you two go ahead.”
That night, you tire Bucky out, and you pass out next to Steve. All three of you blissed out and incredibly happier than you were an hour ago. You and Steve make it a point to change Bucky’s schedule gradually. If he wakes up late, you encourage him to skip the run and do it at another time that day. If he cooks breakfast, he does it all at once, and it’s not made to order like he used to do. That way, if Ransom wants to be an hour late for breakfast, Bucky isn’t thrown off by that. Ransom gets cold eggs and bacon, and Bucky doesn’t miss his morning snuggles with you. Little by little, Bucky lets go of the reigns and allows the little bumps in his schedule to test his flexibility. And pretty soon, the nightmares stop, too; it’s a strange thing the mind. When every second of Bucky’s day wasn’t taken up with some task or job, it would wander to the horrors of his past life. The things he did, the people he killed, that’s why he wanted to be constantly busy. It took one prick waltzing into his home to show him that he needed to let go so he could heal and move on. He doesn’t care for Ransom, but he can’t say he hates him anymore.
***5 months later- November***
Bucky is making French toast when he hears someone come walking into the kitchen. He looks over his shoulder, “morning,” he offers, and Jake smiles and pats his shoulder as he walks by. Fixing his coffee and sitting down at the table, Bucky can tell Jake isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. “Ransom?” Bucky asks, and Jake nods.
“With precious now, and that’s why I’m here with you.” Bucky laughs and nods. “So tell me, how does one make French toast?” Jake asks, and Bucky kindly obliges him, going over each step in detail and offering to let him make a few. Bucky likes Jake; he is a little eccentric, but Bucky doesn’t mind that; it makes for good story times at the dinner table. The only thing Bucky could do without is Jake’s need to introduce him to new music; if Bucky has to hear Don’t Stop Believin’ one more time, he might just snap and beat the shit out of Ransom and blame it on music rage. He smiles to himself at the thought. That’s when the bedroom door starts to open.
“That’s my cue,” Jake smiles and excuses himself. Bucky looks over his shoulder, and he sees a half-naked Ransom walking down the hall to the bathroom, as smug as can be. Bucky sighs and shakes his head as he finishes breakfast.
The sun streams in and shines in your eyes, pulling you from your blissful sleep. You’re blissful yet cold sleep. You reach out on both sides and feel icy sheets under your fingertips. Pouting and staring at the ceiling, you grumble about waking up alone. Steve went for a run right after Bucky got up to start breakfast. You stayed tucked in bed, hoping they’d both be back by now, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. You are still lost in your pouting thoughts when there is a knock on the bedroom door. You forgo your slippers and regret it when the hardwood floor sends shivers up your spine. You tie your silk robe around you before opening the door and seeing who it is, except all you see is a giant bouquet of daisies. You’re eyes light up, and a small giggle escapes your lips. “Steve Grant Rogers, what on earth?!” Steve drops them and places the bouquet by the door before scooping you up into his arms. He tickles your sides, and a laugh escapes your lips as you wrap your legs around his waist.
“I just wanted to treat you, that’s all.” He kisses you as he kicks the door closed behind him. Steve crosses the room to the king-sized bed in the middle of the back wall. The pillows are haphazardly thrown on either side, and the dark green comforter is a little twisted, but that doesn’t stop Steve from laying you down. As you have two men permanently in your bedroom, you have the large master suite with a joined bathroom. Dutchess has a room at the very end of the hall, and it has a joined bathroom as well. Precious (as Jake likes to call her) has the room down the hall, and their bathroom is across from your bedroom. Each room is exceptionally spacious, and you’ve even drawn up plans to add a bathroom to Jake and Precious’ room. It’s only fair that they have the same privacy as you and Dutchess. Also, it would keep Ransom from giving you, Steve, and Bucky a free show whenever he can’t be bothered to close the door. And it would decrease his opportunity to eavesdrop on your private time with your boys. You can count on one hand the number of times Bucky and Steve have stayed and joined in on your time with Ransom… there’s a reason that number doesn’t go past 5.
Lost in the eyes of your husband and the feel of his lips on your skin, you don’t hear the door open. You don’t hear the clearing of his throat, and you don’t hear him call out your name; you don’t hear him at all, but you see him. Opening your eyes when Steve leaves a particularly hard love bite on your neck. There’s Ransom, bedroom door kicked back open, leaning against the doorframe. Ransom has taken your bouquet, and he’s picking the petals off the Daisies. Steve had taken the time from his run to buy you your favorite flower; it’s where your nickname comes from, and here Ransom is just ripping it apart. His smirk tells you everything you need to know; he’s looking for a reaction. Ransom knows those were special for you. He wants Steve or even you to get angry; you won’t give him that. You know he’s acting out for attention; Steve and Bucky would say he’s just being a little prick. You look away, pull Steve’s face close to yours, and whisper, “Next time, take an extra second to lock the door.” Steve scrunches his brow, and his eyes get slightly sad, thinking he messed up somehow. Looking over his shoulder, he sees Ransom’s smug face and rolls his eyes. Noticing how Ransom’s eyes rake over your body, shielded by this sheer silk robe and Steve, it sends Steve into protective mode. He starts to get up and lecture Ransom about respecting people’s privacy and how Daisy is HIS wife, and HE decides who sees her and when. All that would have done is cause Ransom to laugh in Steve’s face. Steve may be the husband, and he may have some control over Daisy, but everyone knows that the women in this house have 100% autonomy, and no one’s husband can say differently. Well, that’s what they let Ransom think, no one’s had the heart to give him the cold, hard truth about these relationships… yet. Steve just might though. Ransom stares Steve down, almost begging him to let go and yell. Ransom doesn’t rightfully fear Steve, at least not yet. You three ladies allow the men to handle their differences however they see fit. As long as no one is seriously hurt, they can duke it out. That rule was put on pause once Ransom arrived because, well, the boys would have permanently damaged his face and their hands with the amount of times they’ve had disagreements with him. So, if Steve had chosen to tell him off like he so desperately wanted to do, Ransom would have answered with a literal laugh in Steve’s face. And Steve would have had no choice but to show Ransom why he should fear him. But Bucky saves the day and the peace. Bucky always saves the day.
“Beat it.” Bucky walks up beside Ransom and stands in the doorway to block his view. Not before he glances at you himself; he definitely likes what he sees, and you bite your lip when you catch his gaze. He turns back around and looks Ransom up and down. “You’re not supposed to have a foot in this room until tomorrow.” Ransom scoffs at Bucky. “Breakfast is ready in the kitchen; go now.” Bucky stands up straighter, towering over Ransom; he’s only one or two inches taller, but still, with Bucky’s muscles, it's intimidating. Bucky gives Ransom’s shoulder a little push, moving him out of the doorway, and Bucky shuts and locks the door on him.
“I’m sorry he ruined your flowers.” Steve opens your robe and kisses your chest. You hum at the feeling of his beard creating delicious friction along your soft skin.
“It’s okay, Stevie. Bucky? Could you gather the petals? If Ransom wants to ruin my flowers, then he will have to bathe with the petals his next bath.” You smile, and Bucky lightly laughs and nods.
“He’s gonna hate and love that simultaneously,” Bucky says as he gathers the petals and places them on the dresser. One hand plays in Steve’s hair as he continues to kiss your chest, and the other reaches out to Bucky. He stands at the end of the bed watching you and Steve; he sees how you melt in Steve’s arms and soften at the feel of his lips along your breast. You make a grabby motion, and he teases you by doing it back. You pout, and a light laugh escapes Bucky’s lips before he gives in and walks over.
“You two left me in a cold bed this morning, all alone,” You tighten your grip on Steve’s hair, and you squeeze Bucky’s hand a little harder. They look at each other.
“I was making breakfast-“
“I needed to run- I haven’t been running in- “
“Yeah, but it was your first morning with alone time since the- “
“I had promised Sam-“
“Boys, boys, boys.” You say, and they stop talking over one another. “I’m not mad,” you smile up at them; you’re still on your back with Steve on top of you. You run your hands up and down their chests, feeling the muscles move and tense under your fingers. “I just need you two to warm me up.” You smile, and Steve gives you a deep kiss, and then so does Bucky.
“I’ve got just the thing. Buck?” Steve says.
“High or low?” Bucky asks, and Steve thinks for a minute.
“High, I haven’t spent enough time up high.” Bucky nods, and then they are both moving you around the bed. Steve lays next to you and opens your robe as Bucky lays between your legs and rubs up and down your thighs.
“Mhmm, my boys,” You hum as Bucky kisses you along your center. He whispered against your skin.
“All yours, Doll.” Bucky gives a love bite to your inner thigh and then sets in to devour you.
“Sweet, perfect Daisy,” Steve says against your lips as he kisses you.
Soon Bucky has you arching off the bed and clinging to Steve as you reach your high. “Atta girl, just like that,” Steve whispers in your ear while playing with Bucky’s hair as he cleans you up and gets more than his fair share of you. You pull Bucky up, and he settles between your legs as he kisses you, shoving his tongue in your mouth as you moan around it. Pulling away to fill your screaming lungs,
“Now it’s your turn,” you say breathlessly. You look at Steve. “Yours too, Stevie.” You smirk and move them around. Bucky settles behind you while you straddle Steve’s lap, already guiding him inside. You moan at the stretch while Bucky kisses your neck, his hands drifting down your body and between your breasts.
“Where do you want me, baby girl? In this sweet ass,” he squeezes it, “in that sweet pussy with Stevie,” He guides you up and down to start riding slowly. “or in Stevie?” He pinches Steve’s thigh, and that has you all laughing a little, and you turn and kiss Bucky.
“I’d never choose that FOR Stevie.” You wink.
“You choose everything else for him.” Bucky retorts, and Steve laughs loudly. Steve gives your ass a smack on one side with one hand and the he reaches up and smacks the side of Bucky’s ass with the other. Almost like a reprimand to you both, you can’t help but giggle and Bucky laughs.
“This is why you have neighbors like Peter assuming we are fucking.” Steve responds with a bit of light in his eyes. Bucky smirks and slowly pushes in alongside Steve.
“I mean, that’s kinda what we’re doing now, isn’t it?” Bucky says, trying not to sound affected by how you are squeezing him. You and Steve moan loudly, and you collapse on Steve’s chest. Bucky beams at the reaction he pulled out of both of you. Steve catches his breath, and a small smile escapes as he lets out a breathy laugh.
“True, but Daisy’s pussy and my ass are two very different things.” Steve struggles to get out. Bucky smirks as he slowly moves in and out, torturing you and Steve.
“Now Stevie-“Bucky starts, but you and Steve cut him off.
“Just fuck us!” You scream, tired of his games.
“My god, Bucky- just move!” Steve screams and emphasizes it with another smack to the side of Bucky’s ass.
Bucky bites his lip and pulls back before slamming back in hard and fast.
“Ffffuuu“ you stammer out. Bucky’s metal hand wraps around the back of your neck, and Steve sits up and wraps his hand around the front.
“You know how we feel about that, Daisy girl,” Steve whispers against your lips.
“Yeah, it’s the only thing we ask of you, Doll.” Bucky coos in your ear. You smile as they squeeze a little and then let go. Bucky slams back in.
“FUCK!!!” You scream as he hits that sweet spot inside you. Bucky smirks and slaps your ass, and Steve kisses you hard.
“Thatta girl.” Steve praises.
“Love that dirty mouth! Gotta fully commit.” Bucky grabs your hips and sets a brutal pace as he chases his high, bringing you and Steve over the edge.
“Squeezin’ us so good, baby girl!” Bucky moans as he cums deep inside you.
“So good, my sweet Daisy!!” Steve cums alongside Bucky and fills you to the brim.
You lay there wrapped in their arms for a good 10 minutes, unable to move or even speak. You play with Bucky’s hair as Steve kisses your neck, and you thread your hand in his. “I guess we should get up, shower, and join the rest of the world,” Steve says; he stands up to head to the shower. “And you, my wife,” you smile proudly. “are coming with me!” Steve lifts you into his arms and throws you over his shoulder. You laugh and smack his ass. He looks at Bucky and winks. “You comin’?” Steve says as he walks off to the bathroom. Lifting your head, you make grabby hands again, and Bucky can’t resist your grabby hands and pouty face.
“Fine, you’ve convinced me!” Bucky teases and runs after you two. After a long, hot shower and an orgasm each, you finally get out and get ready for the day.
“Any plans today?” You ask Steve and Bucky as you gather the daisy petals into a bag for later.
“I’m going to spend some time with Cap. See if I can get through to him.” Bucky kisses your cheek. “We are almost on the road to almost having a breakthrough!” He smiles proudly. Steve laughs and pats his back before leaning over and kissing your cheek.
“I am helping Bucky for a bit later, but first, I’m making a grocery run or else Jake, Cap, and Winter will eat us out of house and home.” He grabs his wallet and heads to the door.
“To be fair, Cap and Winter can finally have seconds without punishment. So I get it. Jake? That you’ll have to talk to Precious about.” Steve waves it off and heads out the door. Once you have a moment, Bucky pulls you close and kisses you sweetly.
“I love you, and I’ll see you later. Hopefully, Cap doesn’t kill me,” he teases you. “I’d like my last night with just my Wife before I have to share you with others again.” You blush and pull him close. Three weeks ago, in a private ceremony with just the house members, you and Steve added Bucky to your marriage. It’s not conventional, but nothing about this situation is. Bucky has always been a part of your lives, and that one day, when he expressed his love for you, it felt right. Even Steve knew and felt the same way. Bucky moved in about four years ago, and three weeks ago, it was made official, as official as this can be. Out of respect for the new “marriage,” everyone except Steve had to be hands-off with you for three weeks; today is your last day. Well, that rule only applied to Ransom; you could hold yourself back from sleeping with any of the other men, and they could hold back from you. Random needed strict rules.
“If he hurts a hair on your pretty head, then he will have to answer to me.” You kiss Bucky and rub up and down his back.
“I’ll tell him he will be in big trouble with my Doll.” He says sweetly and kisses you again before finally slipping out of the room.
You are getting dressed when you hear the bedroom door creak open, but no footsteps approaching. You knowing very well who likes to stand in doorways, observing and taking it all in, you turn around and smile at a happy Jefferson. “And why are you so happy this morning?” You tease. Jefferson smiles and glances down at his feet before looking back up at you and questioning what kind of morning you two will have. He knows this is the last day of your three weeks, but a man can hope, can’t he? You smile and hold out your hand, allowing him to come to you. A gentle smile breaks his smirk, and he walks over to you. You pull him into a hug and give him a sweet kiss on his jawline. Regardless of the hands off rule, Jefferson doesn’t enter your bedroom unless you invite him in. And if there is an invite, he knows it will be a sweet, platonic relationship-type day. If you come to him, step into his basement room where he designs and lets his imagination run free, he has his way with you.
See, Jefferson likes to play this game; he lives off the chase and honestly can’t get it up without the excitement of it. Cat and mouse, hunter and hunted. If you draw him in, then there is no fun, no chase, no sex, just sweet head scratches, fuzzy pajamas, and cuddles, which he loves. If you approach him, all bets are off. It’s his crazed form of consent, and once you got the safe words and hard stops in place, you two have had tons of fun, even involving Steve and Bucky once in a while. If Sex is involved, then Jefferson needs you to approach him with an “I want this; don’t hold back.” He can get intense, so he won’t chase you unless you initiate it. It’s how he keeps himself in check. It keeps the madness from breaking free. You hold out a hand and invite him into your warm embrace; he knows you’re not in the headspace for his games, and that’s okay. Jefferson rubs up and down your back.
“I am Happy, my little Bunny because I just got word that I have a hearing about getting my visitation reinstated.” You could scream, you do!
“Jefferson!!!” You hug him tight, and he lifts you off the ground in excitement. “When?!”
“Later this week, Ari got the call from Andy this morning and told me over breakfast.” He smiles, and tears well up in his eyes. “I could see her soon!” His tears break free, and you give him a gentle kiss on the lips.
“Let me know the exact day and time, and I will be there; we all will!” Jefferson laughs a little.
“Well, we could leave Ransom here, and I wouldn’t care.” You smile and roll your eyes.
“He will be there too. Besides, we can’t trust him to be left alone, at least not yet, so he has to come.” Jefferson laughs again and gives you a sweet kiss on the forehead before he lets you go. He walks to the door and then looks back at you, smirking slightly,
“Will I see you tomorrow?” He asks as he bites his lip. “It’s been too long, Bunny.” You blush as you answer.
“Maybe. It will depend on how exhausting my day is. If not tomorrow, then definitely the next.” Jefferson nods and watches as you walk over to him. “I’ve missed my little Kitten too.” You smirk up at him, and he leans in, kissing you and leaving you breathless.
“Be good, my little Bunny. I’d hate for the Wolves to have to join us.” Jefferson says as he leaves the room winking; you stand there a little dazed and happy.
“Mom! It’s not- No- I am fine-“Ransom rolls his eyes. You laugh to yourself as you walk into the living room. Ransom paces around, having a lovely conversation with his mom on the phone. You come to stand beside a tall beast of a man, his hair long and almost down to his shoulders, a full beard, and muscles so big it’s a shame they are covered with a shirt. He turns and sees you walking in; a small smile breaks across his face as he opens his arms and puts one around your shoulder.
“Hey, Daze.” He kisses the top of your head, and you hug him tight. “Long morning?” He looks down at you, and you laugh and nod.
“You could say that. Hey! Jefferson told me that you got word from Andy about his visitation!” You say excitedly. Ari nods as he smiles.
“Yeah, Andy has a good feeling about it.” You can’t contain your excitement, and you lean up and kiss Ari’s cheek, “Ha! I’m just the messenger! But I’ll take a sweet kiss if I have to!” You tease,
“in your dreams.” Ari laughs loudly, and you smile up at him. You fully believe in platonic soulmates, and Ari is yours. You’ve had moments and still do from time to time where it gets physical, and boy, is it amazing, he is an excellent shoulder to lean on, and he knows you about as well as Steve and Bucky. He’s just the best. “What’s all this about? Linda not happy about the arrangement, again?!” You ask, and Ari nods.
“Oh, you know Linda, Daze. Nothing will ever be good enough for her boy.” You sigh and look at Ransom. “This has been going on for 20 minutes,” Ari says. He nods his head in Ransom's direction and then nudges you. You shoo Ari away, and with a kiss on your cheek, he is gone.
Ransom paces the room while still on the phone with Linda. “Mom, if you would listen-“she cuts him off for the hundredth time. Ransom sees you walking closer, and you take the phone from his hand.
“Linda! Hey, I am so sorry, but Ransom is due for a therapy session. He’s gonna have to call you back. Bye!” You hang up the phone and lock it before sliding it into Ransom’s back pocket. “Now that she’s quiet for a bit… you wanna tell me what that was about earlier?” You ask as you cross your arms and look up at Ransom. He smiles and looks you up and down.
“I was just enjoying the view.” He bites his lip, and you lightly laugh.
“Well, I’ll let Steve know that you enjoyed the sight of his ass.” You pat the side of Ransom’s face before you walk away. He grabs your hand and pulls you back into his arms. He kisses you hard, and you let him have control for a moment. One little moment, and he thinks he got you. Taking his face in your hands and pulling back, you smile.
“Do you not know the meaning of hands-off, Ransom?” You say as you walk away.
“I do, but I’d much rather put my hands all over your body. Even if G.I. Joe and his handler come for me.” Random calls after you.
“Who is the Handler, and who is G.I. Joe?” You ask.
“It’s pretty obvious. Which ones the machine?” Ransom says, trying to get under your skin. Your face doesn’t change, all you say is,
“That was mean, Ransom. And here I was about to tell you to come by my room tomorrow morning, and I’d draw you a nice bath. But I don’t give treats to mean boys.” You turn to walk out of the room. Ransom realizes he messed up.
“Wait, Daze- I-” you turn around to face him. He is conflicted, his brow furrowed, and he seems tongue-tied, like apologizing is entirely new to him cause it is.
“If you can hold your tongue the rest of the day, no mean words, no angry outbursts, and no making fun of the others, then the bedroom door will be unlocked at 8 am. You can come in then. Understand?”
“You got it, Daisy Mae .” He says, trying to regain his sass as he turns and leaves you alone in the living room. He has no idea what’s in store for him tomorrow morning; you thought it all up while cleaning up the flower petals. You can’t wait, and you know he will love it too.
Bucky stands at the basement door and takes a deep breath before twisting the knob and pulling the door open. At the sound of the creaking hinges, Bucky hears chains rattle and scrap along the floor. ‘He’s awake,’ Bucky says to himself as he descends the stairs. He usually sleeps at odd hours, and Bucky can sneak in and be ready and waiting when he wakes.
“Here he comes, the reformed assassin. The Soldier is gone, and here stands the Wolf.” His voice is deep and dark; Bucky can hear the hatred laced in the sound. “Or is the Soldier just hiding in the back of your mind, waiting for the right moment to break free?” A dark laugh slips through the darkness. He walks forward into the dim light hanging from the ceiling. His sick smile is the only thing Bucky can see, “Funny that the Soldier has more teeth than the Wolf.” Bucky flips on the rest of the lights. “Why so many lights, Buck?” He lunges forward, pulling on the chains. “Scared of the darkness?” He laughs and moves back to the wall, and sits down. Bucky doesn’t say a word. “I’m not talking, so if you want to stare at one another all day, that’s fine.” He laughs; it’s tight and sounds mechanical, evil. “I can learn a lot by just observing.” He narrows his gaze and looks over Bucky.
“You don’t have to talk, Cap. I can learn a lot by observing, too.” Bucky sits down and stares at his friend, this alternate version caught by Hydra and twisted into this monster before him. “You can refuse to talk, and you can hurl insults at me, but I’m not giving up on you, Steve,” Bucky says, and Cap laughs again. This time, it’s sad and broken; it actually sounds human.
“Well, you really should.” Cap looks up at the wall across from him; there is a little rectangular window at the very top. He can see red, yellow, and orange leaves on the ground. Cap may detest most things, but he always did have a liking for Autumn. He takes a deep breath; he can almost smell the crisp fall air through the basement walls. He turns his gaze down again and settles on Bucky. “Just like you should give up the hope of getting rid of Winter.” He looks down at his shackled feet, special chains that will hold him. He scoffs to himself and then meets Bucky’s gaze again. “He will always be a part of you.” Bucky doesn’t blink, he doesn’t move, all he does is nod and smile.
“And that’s okay-“
“Yeah yeah yeah…. All is well.” Cap sighs, cutting Bucky off before he can start in on his rousing speech. “Wake me when it’s lunchtime.” Cap closes his eyes and repeats the phrase that has been a constant in his life for the past six months: All is well. He wishes he could believe it, and that thought, that want that he has actually to believe in something? That scares him more than Hydra ever did. Because believing that he is okay and that All is well? Well, that means he has to have hope, and all hope has ever given him is the reality of failure and the bitter taste of blood because someone has to be punished. Hope can kiss his formerly star-spangled ass.
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Taglist: @rainydayandmondays @theinheriteddutchess @hisredheadedgoddess28 @cjand10 @janineb86
#steve rogers#steve rogers smut#steve rogers x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x reader#ransom drysdale#ransom drysdale x reader#jefferson ouat#ari levinson#jake jensen#hydra cap#andy barber#found family#chris evans#sebastian stan
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"I think... I'm in love with (Name)" || "Congrats on being the last one to find out" jj is talking to kate who says that^^^. (Meaning jj thinks she may be in love with reader.)
Deal With It
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: JJ x Fem!Reader
Genre: smut & fluff
Words: 4.1k+
Summary: JJ sees you flirting with someone else and she makes a plan. Little did she know you had one yourself.
Warnings: Jealous JJ, top!JJ, bottom!reader, oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), lots of overstimulation, kind of rough sex, semi-public spicy moment…
A/N: a little late but happy pride 🌈 here’s a lil something to celebrate. Also slightly different than what the prompt called for but… I think y’all will like it either way.
“You’re holding onto that drink tight, huh?” Kate came up behind JJ. “Afraid it’ll disappear?” JJ looked down at the drink in her hand, noticing her knuckles had turned white from her grip. She just couldn’t help it. It was either that or she would toss what’s left of it into someone’s face. And she had a specific target in mind.
“Is it because of that over there?” Kate nodded her head to the scene in front of JJ. There you were, chatting up some random man, totally oblivious to the fuming blonde in the other corner of the bar. You smiled at him in the same way you smiled at JJ. Shy, but sweet. She wanted that smile to only be for her. It drove her crazy that it so clearly wasn’t.
“I think I’m in love with (Y/N).” JJ heard the words before she even realized what was coming out of her mouth. Damn how many drinks has she had? Not enough to just blurt out life altering realizations. She wasn’t drunk, barely tipsy even. No, she was just blindly jealous of the way you laughed at whatever weak joke the man was making. JJ seethed at the way he put his hand on your arm for a moment, lingering way too long for her liking. Her heart ached at the way you didn’t recoil, it didn’t even seem to phase you. When she did it to you, it was like a little endearing game she had. She would touch your arm, watch you smile at her with just a hint of a blush. She could swear she saw the same twinkle in your eye that she was sure she also got when looking at you. Maybe she just read into things too much. Although, she hadn’t seen the telltale blush you got from her when he stepped closer. The adorable smile might be there, and maybe it was the few drinks or her jealousy talking, but she thought your smile didn’t quite meet your eyes. Hopefully.
“Congratulations,” Kate chuckled, breaking JJ from her intense glaring. “You’re officially the last to know.”
“I have to deal with this,” JJ grumbled as her eyes moved back to where you stood. Whatever comment Kate might have had on her big realization could wait. That man was getting too bold and JJ had bigger fish to fry. He was closing in on you, he was two seconds from making his move and she knew it.
If JJ’s grip on her drink tightened anymore, the glass would shatter in her hands. She slammed the drink on the table next to her, a bit too loudly, but she didn’t care. Her eyes narrowed at the man who was absolutely oblivious to her newfound hatred of him. “I’ll be right back,” JJ said without even taking her eyes off the two of you for a second. She heard Kate sigh an exaggerated “finally” as she stepped away.
JJ didn’t know what her next move was going to be as she stormed towards you. She was angry, she was jealous, she was going to be irrational. You had no reason to even know why JJ would be in such a sour mood, at least not in her mind. As far as JJ knew you were oblivious to her feelings for you. However, Kate’s words did help. If JJ was really the last to know, does that mean you did too? JJ didn’t have answers to that, she didn’t have time to even question Kate’s choice of words. Right now, her emotions were overflowing as her worst nightmare played out before her eyes. She thought she had time to play the long game, waiting for you to come to her with feelings she had hoped you’d develop. But here this random man was, swooping in on the thing she wanted most. JJ couldn’t have that. She wouldn’t.
“Excuse me.” JJ practically shoved the man as she got face to face with you. He didn’t even have time to say a single word before JJ had your hand in hers and was tugging you away. “Come with me for a second,” she said as she practically dragged you through the bar to the bathroom.
You honestly were a little bit shocked, but not completely. The satisfied grin on your face was definitely noticed by Kate as she stayed in the corner of the bar and watched the scene unfold. You knew what you were doing tonight. Everyone else knew what you were doing tonight. JJ was the only one who was totally blind to your little scheme.
If you were being honest, maybe you pushed it a little too far. That man genuinely thought you were interested in him, but all you wanted was to make JJ jealous so she would finally act. It just took a little more pushing than you expected. She could be so infuriatingly stubborn sometimes, but when you watched from the corner of your eye as she practically stomped over to you in a jealous rage, you knew you succeeded with your little plan.
JJ on the other hand had no plan. Take you away from the man hitting on you was as far as she got. So far that part is done. Now what? If she dragged you away she could talk to you, but what would she say? She was two steps away from the bathroom and then she’d have to come up with some sort of explanation. If she was honest and pinned it on jealousy, would you understand? It wasn’t like you were her girlfriend, she had no reason to be so angry.
But then there you two were. She had burst into the bathroom to find it totally empty. She didn’t know if that was a blessing or a curse. Her grip on your hand slipped as she tried to calm down. She took a few deep breaths, practically winded from how fast she pulled you to the bathroom with her. You looked at her expectantly. JJ noticed you didn’t look mad, at least that was a relief. You just stood there, head tilted to the side, a curious smile tugging on your lips that you were trying so hard to hide. She was really struggling with what to do next, what to say, and you found it a little cute. It wasn’t often when you saw Jennifer Jareau at a loss for words and unsure of what to do next. Maybe you should give her another push?
“JJ, what’s up?” She was silent. Honestly, she looked at you like a deer caught in the headlights. “You interrupted a conversation, you know? If you don’t have anything to say then I’ll go return to-”
And then JJ finally responded, but not with words or honestly much thought even. JJ practically lunged for you in a split second decision to keep you from going back to that guy. Her lips connected with yours in an instance and the power behind her kiss had you stumbling back until the small of your back hit the counter. Her hands immediately flew to tangle in your hair as her lips pressed harder to yours for a moment.
Honestly, the moment this idea popped into her head, JJ ran with it. Did she think it out? Absolutely not. If words aren't working then she just thought she would deal with this by using her lips. So she did. Was it a great plan? No. Was it working? To her utter surprise and relief, yes it really was. You were kissing her back. Your arms went to wrap around her neck and when she kissed you even deeper, your lips parted eagerly.
JJ was absolutely floored. When she felt your tongue trace the bottom of hers, her hands fell from your hair to pull on the belt loops of your jeans and press your body closer to her own. This was intoxicating, the feeling of kissing you. JJ didn’t want to stop, she didn’t know if she honestly could stop. If just kissing you was this good, she couldn’t begin to imagine how amazing it would feel to go even further.
But after a while of just kissing you, you both had to come up for air. JJ also thought maybe some words were necessary after she just dragged you away like that.
“Woah,” you whispered when she pulled back.
“Yeah woah,” JJ echoed breathlessly.
“I have been waiting for you to do that for forever,” you chuckled before leaning forward to press a brief kiss to JJ’s lips.
JJ chased your lips when you started to pull back, pressing her own more firmly to yours again. She was absolutely lost in your touch and how close she finally had you and she wasn’t ready to let there be space between you two yet. “Then why didn’t you do it yourself?” JJ mumbled against your lips.
“Hm,” you hummed against her lips, “maybe because I like seeing you a little jealous.” Or maybe it was because the team had some bets on how long it would take and you didn’t want any of them to win… but what you said wasn’t a lie either. You just didn’t want to admit to that part. Sometimes you’d catch JJ getting jealous if you were a little too close to other members of the team. That look she got was fun to see if you were being honest. Plus, you were getting impatient too. So, this plan you had really worked in your favor.
Before JJ could really reply to that you pressed your lips fully against hers again, pulling her body closer by the hold you still had on her. JJ gladly let you, her hands that were once resting on your waist, gripping a little tighter now. When she felt your tongue swipe against her lips, hers immediately peaked out to meet yours and the feeling had both of you groan into the kiss. You had wanted JJ for so long and JJ had wanted you for probably quite a bit longer. Both of you were impatient. That’s why you made your plan, that’s why she acted so rashly.
When JJ’s lips moved from your own and connected with your neck, you were already squirming where you stood. Who knew her lips could feel so damn good? Who knew you could want someone so bad you were two seconds away from begging? Meanwhile, JJ hands had a mind of their own, one of them moving to the front of your pants and popping open the button before sliding right in. Her lips were currently attached to where your shoulder met your neck, no doubt leaving a mark behind. Your teeth were sinking into your own bottom lip to keep from moaning the minute you felt JJ’s finger tips graze your clit over the thin cloth of your underwear.
A pathetic whine left your lips as she pressed down and you felt the friction of her touch through the fabric. Her fingers pressed more firmly but your hand flew to her wrist, effectively stopping her. It wasn’t that you didn’t want this. God, you really did. But you didn’t want it here. In a bar bathroom, where anyone could barge in.
“JJ, let’s- let’s get out of here.” Your voice was shaky, but still filled with need. “Take me to your place.”
JJ’s hand slipped out from inside your pants. Wiith a nod she pulled away, gently taking your hand in hers. Kate didn’t miss the way you both left that bar, hand in hand.
—————————————————————
Your back immediately hit the bed the second you stepped into JJ’s bedroom. You didn’t even get one second to take it all in, to finally appreciate that you were in her room, about to be with the girl you’ve been waiting for. No, instead the instant your back hit the mattress, JJ was tugging at your pants, fighting to pull them off. When she did finally manage to peel them off your body, her hands flew to her own, unbuttoning them and kicking them off with a determination you don’t think you’ve even seen from her when she was on a case. But fuck was it hot.
JJ was ready to have you. Any longer and she felt like she was going to combust. The ride home was already hard enough. She ordered an uber since you both had had a couple drinks, but still not enough to compromise your decision making. However, she didn’t know if it was the moment you shared in the bathroom or the few drinks she did have that made her self control almost nonexistent. It was entirely way too hard to keep her hands off you in that car. Especially when you kept looking over at her, your lip between your teeth and a slight blush on your cheeks. It was adorable and all too tempting at the same time.
The moment she had you on her bed, it was like her brain short circuited and any thoughts of holding back went right out the window. She was ready to dive in. When you were finally naked on her bed, having helped her get your own shirt and bra off, she fully stripped too before climbing onto the bed. The only thing she did slowly was pull your panties down your legs, placing kisses on your thighs as she went. Then finally, you were completely naked on her bed and she thought this day would never come.
Without much hesitation, she placed her hands under your knees and pushed your legs apart so you were spread open in front of her as she knelt on the mattress before you. You were absolutely captivated by the hungry look in her eye, letting her do just about anything she wanted to you without a second thought. Should you have felt a little shy about being so open and vulnerable beneath her? Maybe, but you had wanted this just as badly as she did and if she didn’t touch you soon, you were about ready to beg. Lucky for you, it was like JJ read your mind at that moment.
Without much warning, with her hold on your legs, JJ pulled them over her shoulders and leaned down, angling you in just the right way for her to dive in. And dive in she did. You both moaned the minute you felt her tongue on you. Her from the taste, and you from the feeling of her tongue taking a long, deep lick between your folds. She repeated that action again and again and you felt the muscles in your abdomen tense with each time the tip of her tongue ran over your clit. It was almost too much already and you did feel slightly embarrassed by the sounds that were coming out of you. But then she took your clit into her mouth and began to suck. The speed in which your hand flew to your mouth was shocking. Your teeth san into your knuckles to keep from crying out. JJ didn’t even seem to notice, she just kept going, absolutely lost in the taste of you. She could do this for hours, she thought. Not only did you taste amazing, but the way you were squirming in her hold and letting out so many tiny, tantalizing moans. JJ wasn’t drunk from the very few drinks she had tonight. No, she was drunk off of you.
Her lips left your clit with a quiet pop and her tongue went back to exploring your folds. Your hand dropped from your mouth and you took deep breaths, your legs beginning to tremble around JJ’s head. You could swear JJ was teasing you at this point, given the fact that the way she was using her tongue to play with your clit had you approaching that edge, only for her to stop and go back to drinking in your pussy the way she currently was. But then, you felt JJ’s tongue go lower, tracing your entrance for a second before sliding in and the gasp that left your lips echoed through the room. She lapped at you like that, her tongue dipping in and out slowly, but in a way that had your whole body shaking now. Then her tongue left you again and moved back to your clit.
The way she paid attention to your clit before was nothing compared to now. Her tongue was circling your clit in a way that had you whining and gripping at her sheets. It only took a few more seconds before you were cumming all over her mouth with a pathetic moan falling from your lips. JJ didn’t even waste time from that, letting go of her hold on your legs, crawling up your body in a way that had you both feeling each other’s bare skin against one another. Her lips connected with yours in a heated kiss that was all tongue and teeth. You were still breathless, panting against her lips as you tried to keep up. JJ on the other hand was not done with you. You would’ve thought that she would slow down after making you cum once but then you felt her hand slink down between your bare bodies until it reached between your legs. Without any sort of warning, suddenly, you felt two of her fingers slip inside you with ease.
Gasping against her lips, your hands moved from the sheets to fly to her shoulders. Nails digging into her skin, it only spurred on her actions more as she started pumping into you at a steady pace. Your hips moved with her own, and having still not recovered from your first orgasm, you were already extra sensitive and approaching another quicker than either of you wanted.
JJ’s fingers curled inside you at the same time as her teeth sunk down slightly and tugged on your lip. You knew at this point that your nails were definitely leaving marks in her skin. She didn’t seem to care or even notice though, letting go of your lip to move her lips down your neck, teeth grazing against your skin. Your head fell back onto the pillow as one of her hands moved back down your body to take your leg and hook it over her hip, allowing her to push her fingers inside you even deeper. It took two more pumps of her fingers before you were coming all over them with a cry of her name. However, JJ didn’t stop there. She still wasn’t done with you, absolutely lost in the way you felt and sounded. She wanted to keep making you cum for her over and over again and that’s what she was going to try to do.
Without even slowing down, she kept pumping her fingers into you. Your whole body was trembling and you were lucky you had enough control and thought to release her shoulders and move one hand to the sheets to grip them even harder. The other one moved to tangle in her hair, your hold tight. She pressed her forehead to yours as she kept fucking into you, whispering praises and filthy things you never thought you’d hear from her as she continued. The hand that held your leg over her waist was gripping tightly and her fingers picked up the pace even more, again hitting that spot that had you easily approach that edge. With each pump of her fingers, JJ’s eyes were locked on your every reaction. You were too seconds from coming and with another particularly hard thrust of her fingers, you fell apart again. But she didn’t stop there, she only slowed for just a moment until suddenly you felt her add a third finger with ease.
“Jesus fuck!” You cried once you felt the stretch of her fingers inside you, pumping even faster somehow as you tightened around her yet again.
“God, you feel so good,” JJ said in a gravelly voice. “I love the way you cum for me. Love the way you feel. Fuck, baby, moan for me just like that.” JJ was half aware of what she was saying, having completely given into the feeling of having you literally wrapped around her fingers. With each time you came for her, she was getting more lost. There was no longer a filter, no longer control. She was indulging in everything she was holding back before and she wasn’t ready to stop yet.
The burn of the way her fingers stretched your pussy lasted only a brief moment before the increased pleasure hit you even harder. Your eyes were rolled back and it felt like every muscle was tensed in your body when she finally dragged out a surprising third orgasm for you. You thought surely this would be the last time, she had to be losing some of her stamina, but when her fingers didn’t slow you were suddenly very aware of your every nerve.
“JJ I- fuck… I can’t,” you pleaded. It wasn’t that it didn’t feel good. God, even if you were feeling spent it still felt so fucking good. But your body was wearing out and the way your legs were trembling around her told you that you would be incredibly sore the next time you tried to walk.
“One more,” JJ begged. “Give me one more. You can do it, baby.” And the way her voice sounded so desperate absolutely broke you. You nodded your head and JJ moved to bury hers in your shoulder, her teeth sinking into your skin, any thought of trying to hide the marks she was leaving were non-existent. Her fingers pounded into you and at this point you could feel your own cum dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets as she kept going. Any attempt to muffle the way you were moaning and whining for her had completely failed at this point. The room was filled with your cries as her three fingers curved inside you and constantly hit just the right spot that had your whole body shuddering. Again, you were quickly approaching that edge and with how worked up your body was at this point there was no stopping yourself from cumming again. With the way JJ was fucking you now, she was putting full force into it. You could imagine your thighs might have bruises in the morning. With every thrust of her fingers inside you, she put more power into it with the movement of her hips. You were trying your hardest to match her pace, but at this point you were too fucked out to even slightly follow up, But with each time her three fingers fucked into you deeper, you cried out her name and it only took a matter of moments before you were cumming yet again all over her hand.
Your body finally relaxed when JJ slowed her pace. Your back hit the mattress after it arched from the final mindblowing orgasm she gave you. Your chest was heaving as you laid beneath JJ. She held herself up for a moment, taking in your current state. You looked so beautiful this way, JJ thought. Your body still trembling from how good she was making you feel, cum dripping from your thighs down onto her sheets, your face flushed from the intensity of orgasm after orgasm that she was able to pull from you. In time, she thought, she’d get you used to lasting even longer. JJ already decided she was absolutely addicted to the way it felt when she made you cum. She knew she was going to need more than a few long nights of doing just that in the future.
Finally, gently JJ laid herself on top of you. You hummed at the feeling of both your bodies pressed together. It was strangely comforting to feel her body wait on top of yours. She placed a gentle kiss on your forehead and then each of your cheeks before pressing her own forehead to yours again. This time a small smile tugged on her lips, one hand reached to your face. Her fingers trailed your cheek for a moment and neither of you needed to say anything to know how the other was feeling.
But finally, JJ broke the silence, the high of having you the way that she did, fading into a comfortable feeling of warmth. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” JJ whispered as her finger tips continued to trace across your cheek.
You placed a gentle kiss to the tip of JJ’s fingers when they went to trace your lips. “You have no idea how long I’ve had to deal with waiting for you.” JJ chuckled at that before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. Who knew all it would take to deal with her feelings for you was a poorly made plan to deal with her jealousy on her part, and a well made plan to make her jealous on yours.
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hi i love your blog, your writing is so good! may i request what type of arguments the ‘03 boys would have with their s/o? like what would the argument be about? are they upset for a long or short amt of time? how do they make up with their s/o? hopefully that makes sense, thank you!
Arguments w/the boys ‘03
All 4!
Summary: what I think the boys are like during arguments with their favorite girl.
Hi friend! Thank you for your request and the super sweet words! Sorry for the long wait, love you!
Michelangelo;
Mikey definitely isn’t one to start or enjoy fighting with you… with his brothers, duh! But not with you.
The fights he starts -if one could even call them fights, are small, light-hearted and innocent. He is essentially just pulling your leg and trying to be a pain.
“Y/n! You can’t just walk past the t.v mid play! You made me lose the game!”
“I think you lost the game because you chose to focus on throwing pillows at me instead of playing your stupid game!”
Those fights don’t last long as the moment he thinks it’s actually stressing you out, he stops.
“I’m kidding angel! I’m kidding!”
He makes up for it every time with a kiss on the cheek too.
Generally, you’re the one who has to start the fights with him - even if he’s the one with a problem.
And trust me, he may not flat out say he has a problem with you but he sure can’t hide it.
Que the slight pouting and undeniable tension on his part. He can’t fake his feelings ever.
And don’t forget all the passive aggressive, smart ass remarks he makes under his breath when he’s annoyed.
Fights with Mikey are rare but when they do happen there is a common theme, a need for your attention.
Remember, Mikey is a needy boyfriend. It has pros and cons.
Pros - he’s doting, always makes sure you know just how much he cares, always makes time for you, remembers important dates and puts in all the effort a boyfriend should.
Cons - a bit too clingy.
“I feel like you don’t ever want to see me anymore, like you just come around to make me happy.”
“Why do you even think that, Mikey?”
“Because! I wish you wanted to see me as much as I want to see you!”
Fights with him never last long, ever! He’s the kinda guy that refuses to go to bed knowing you’re sad.
He also spoils you rotten after :) Gifts, food, foot rubs, everything!
Raphael;
Raph is a nightmare to fight with and we all know on some level, he loves to fight. More with Leo than anyone but still.
In regards to arguing with you, it definitely lies in a strange grey zone for him. He hates making you upset but also has a bad habit of enjoying a good conflict.
He hates that about himself.
Not to mention how bad he is at holding his tongue.
“I’m pissed, okay? I’m mad and I need to get away from you before I say stuff I don’t mean!”
“I don’t want you to go out there and get hurt!”
“You don’t get it! I’m not like you! I’ve been fighting my whole life and it’s hard for me to just stop!”
In the midst or after every fight, he disappears for a couple of hours. Cooling off is essential for you two to figure out the problem.
Surprisingly, fights between you and Raph are rare. Partially because he’s working on anger management but mostly because he tends to lock his emotions inside before having a massive blow up.
Once he’s calmed down, he always goes straight to you, full of shame.
“Hey baby.”
“Hey.”
One of the best parts about Raph as a boyfriend is how self perceptive he is, he always apologizes for what he did wrong and fully understands why it was wrong.
“I promise I’ll be better to you, and that I learned from my fuck ups, y/n/n.”
After fights, he’s a lot more affectionate with you and uncharacteristically, even keeps that energy in front of his brother.
Donatello;
Donnie and fighting really doesn’t mix well, it’s rare but when it does happen it’s always over dumb stuff.
The arguments start more like debates, his nerdy side comes straight to the forefront as he feels the need to correct you on everything.
“Y/n! I’m proofreading the piece you wrote and look! Are you sure this is really the angle you wanna argue your point from, beautiful?”
Now that sounds pretty innocent but if Don is one thing, it’s a little bit condescending - not on purpose or with malicious intent but nonetheless, condescending he can be.
Things that may seem like no big deal can turn into tension and fighting for hours very quickly.
Typically, you are the one that starts the fight but usually because Don accidentally did something to start the fight.
“I feel like you’re nitpicking to make yourself feel so much better than me, Don. It’s so frustrating!”
“Look doll, I’m just trying to make sure your don’t come off a little bit… foolish.”
Donnie is definitely book smart, but emotionally smart, not so much.
He has a bad habit of saying mean stuff he doesn’t think is mean that ends up hurting your feelings.
And sometimes it takes awhile for him to notice.
“Y/n?… y/n?… hellooo y/n! Are you giving me the silent treatment? Why?!”
He is kinda clueless about this stuff.
But when he does catch on, he’ll do the most mature thing and approach you to hear you out.
He’ll be engaged and ask all the important questions so he knows how he hurt your feelings and can properly apologize.
“You’re the smartest girl I know! I misspoke, I just wanted to be useful to you, sweet girl.”
Leonardo;
Okay hear me out on this one!! And don’t ever make any assumptions about thee Leonardo.
This man is whipped and it pretty much makes him incapable of starting a fight with you ever.
He will let you get away with just about anything and approaches any and all rough topics with you so gently.
“You don’t seem entirely like yourself, angel. Are you feeling okay?”
Even if your response is snappy, he is always gentle in his language and tone.
“Can I do something to help you, y/n/n?”
Fights between the two of you need to be started by you but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll fight back much.
Everything you would expect to happen, expect the opposite.
You give him the silent treatment, he’ll give you some space and come around later to talk it out.
You full on snap and scream at him, he’ll let you take out all your anger on him and tell you he understands why you are mad.
Complete princess treatment with him.
But don’t think he’ll always agree with you, absolutely not. He’s just patient and explains his point of view rationally.
“I really do love and understand you, y/n, but you have to learn to express yourself with me better. I don’t want to fight with you, because baby, I’m always on your side anyway.”
Sometimes fights with Leo can last pretty long, at least in comparison to Mikey and Don - but only because he backs off and gives you space.
When the arguments finally subside, Leo continues his princess treatment for you.
He just becomes even more affectionate than he usually is.
Missed you guys, hope you are all good!
#tmnt#tmnt 2003#tmnt x reader#teenage mutant ninja turtles imagines#teenage mutant ninja turtles x reader#tmnt raphael x reader#tmnt headcanons#tmnt michelangelo#tmnt donatello#tmnt imagine
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