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live-laugh-lenney · 9 months ago

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a part two to this arthur blurb was asked for... and i've delivered... i hope so, anyway. let me know what you think! absolutely in my feels and pumping these out like there is no tomorrow so if you wanted to send in anything that we can discuss and chat about then feel free! i'm just gonna melt away in my arthur feels right now.

a knock on her door startles her.

the towel that was scrunched in her hand was thrown onto her bed, her clean clothes were laid out on her vanity unit and ready for when she came out from her bath, candles already lit and flickering in the corners of her bathtub and emitting smells of berries around the room. a chosen bath bomb sitting and waiting to be used - which would only have to wait a little longer until she got rid of whoever was at the door.

her guess was that it was chris on the other side.

with some sort of apology wracking his brain that he stumbles over when he comes face to face with her after she opened the door. his tongue fumbling the words with profanities leaving his mouth as he tried to form a sentence. because he didn't know his boundaries, at times, and he really didn't want to upset her or make her feel at all uncomfortable in certain situations.

or george.

who would simply pop by to check on her and to make sure that she wasn't actually upset. to inform her that they really weren't being mean or anything, they were just teasing and that they soon realised it was a sensitive subject once she'd left.

but it was neither.

it was arthur.

still looking sleepy with his eyes looking heavy, still dressed in the clothes he'd chosen to take a nap in - a oversized, black jumper and black football shorts, white socks pulled over his ankles and a pair of trainers on his feet which she'd seen before she left his flat - and he had a concerned look on his face that she couldn't tear her eyes from.

"hello, sleepyhead."

"you left," he frowns and she moves aside to let him into her flat; and, really, there was no different in how their flats were laid out. she still had the extra rooms which she managed to convert, with the help of the boys, into different rooms - a small studio, for her to practice her yoga and her at-home workouts in, and a home office for her to work in - and she still had the same looking open-plan floor that arthur was used to in his own home. "are you okay?"

"i'm fine, i was just messing with the boys," she informs him and he gives her a confused look as she closes the door behind him, "i came home for a bath, to be honest. they just gave me ammo to leave in a dramatic fashion."

"oh," he nods softly and, in his mind, he felt stupid. of course the boys would never say anything that would truly upset her... and if they did then she would have blown up in the middle of their flat instead of walking away, "well, now i feel silly."

"don't be," she smiles softly and his lips curl into a gentle smile, his cheeks pink and his eyes crinkling at the corners, "i was coming back tonight anyway. there's a new film on amazon prime that i wanted to make you lot watch."

she watches as he takes refuge on the arm-chair of her living room, kicking off of his trainers and sticking his feet up on her coffee table, ankles crossing. and he really makes himself at home, grabbing her tv remote and turning on her television, cosying down on the cushions as she saunters into her kitchen.

"do you want a drink?"

"if you have a beer, i'll take one," he looks over his shoulder and up and over the back of the arm-chair and she rummages through her fridge because she knows she had one can of moretti left over from their last gathering round her flat, "if not, i'll just take a wat-"

he's interrupted by the sound of the can hissing open and he grins.

"i'll just stay here until you're finished, if you want? we can go back to the flat together," he suggests and she blushes at the offer; and that would just really please george and chris, and she could hear every single sentence of the relentless teasing they would give to the two of them once they see them arrive together, "only if you want to? i can always give it five minutes and then head-"

"no, it's okay," she smiles and passes the can of beer over to him, "i'll just take a shower instead. baths tends to last until the water goes cold."

she walks back over to her bedroom, feeling his eyes lingering on her back as she walks away from him, her feet coming to a halt in her doorway.

"arthur?"

"yeah?"

"do you- uhm," she gulps thickly and she can feel nerves bubbling in her stomach as she turns around and she didn't want to dig herself into a hole that she couldn't climb out of and she didn't want to ruin something that they had going for them; a good friendship where she felt the happiest, "i, uhm, i think-"

"jeez, i thought i had a bad stutter," he laughs softly and she rolls her eyes in his direction, "you can talk to me without feeling nervous, you know?"

"do you, maybe, uhm- do you want to go and grab dinner sometime this week?"

his eyes widen and he almost chokes on the sip of beer he took from the can, leaning forward to place it on a coaster on her coffee table before coughing into his hand and clearing his throat. her own eyes widening because, for god sake, why did she say it to openly? with a nervous stutter? she should have just left it. carried on as if she had no sort of feelings towards him because he clearly didn't feel similar feelings towards her.

"you beat me to it," he murmurs softly, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "i was going to ask you."

"you were?"

he nods and she tries to stifle the grin that wants to burst open on her lips but she fails, teeth bearing and her cheeks stretching and she really can't contain the happiness she felt knowing that the feelings she felt towards him were reciprocated.

"well, i was going to text you and ask because asking you to your face was making me nervous but- yeah, i was going to ask you on a date," he slowly stands to his feet and she feels giddy as he makes his way over to her, a bob in each step that he took closer to her, "i've had chris in my ear for the last week telling me how i should just man-up and ask you out."

"oh, god. he brought it up with me earlier," she laughs softly and he stops in front of her, toe to toe, "i gave him the dramatics and walked out, that's why i left. no point denying it so i just never said anything."

she felt his fingertips brush over her hands and she welcomed his hands into hers, holding them tightly and squeezing them softly, feeling how soft and gentle the pads of his fingers were. how soft the entirety of his hands were. smooth and gentle, not a callous in sight.

"he's persistent. he's got george going on it, too," she adds, "but hey. he's my best friend. he's your best friend. i guess that's what they do."

"i guess without it, without them, i'd probably be back in my own flat and not standing right here, right now," he says softly and she's sure - no, she's 100% certain - that he's slowly leaning in a little closer with each passing second, "with you."

"they're never gonna live this down, are they?"

arthur shook his head and it was only in that moment did he realise just how much of a height advantage he had upon her. her whole stature coming to just below his neckline and he felt like a giant in front of her. but she didn't mind; heck, if she was being honest, the extra few inches he had on her made him all the more attractive.

"they'll absolutely bathe in the glory of thinking they set us up," he states and it's only a matter of seconds before he drops his forehead onto hers, "we know otherwise but we can let them think what they wish. if it makes them happy."

his warm breath washes over her face and it really takes everything within her to resist the urge of completely wrapping him up in her arms and delving into the deepest, most passionate kiss she could muster up to let him know just how much she wanted it to happen.

"i can't be annoyed with him though. knowing him got me knowing you," she whispers softly and his hands drop hers so he could cup her cheeks in the palms of his hands, "that is one he can have."

his thumbs rub over the tops of her cheeks, just below her eyes, and she wants to melt under his gentle touch.

"so, dinner?"

"you choose, surprise me," she grins and she pulls away from him, turning around and entering her bedroom, "give me fifteen minutes and i'll be ready. then we can go and deal with the two of them."

"how about we just, not tell them?"

"what? and carry on denying everything?" she wonders and he gives his shoulders a shrug, "i just want them to know, arthur."

"we can tell them, just- we can tell them after our date?"

she grabs her towel and walks into her bathroom, hanging it on the hook behind her door, blowing out the candles that were already lit and burning at the wick. she heard her bed springs creak under his weight and as she closed the door, she couldn't help but let out all of the giddiness that she had been feeling. pumping the air with her fist and using her other hand to cover her mouth as she whispers soft 'oh my god's out in the open.

that bath bomb was going to have to wait even longer now.

if you read this far then let me know what you think! thank you! xx

#arthurtv #arthur frederick #arthurtv imagines #arthur frederick imagines #arthurtv headcannons #arthur frederick headcannons #arthurtv fics #arthur frederick fics #chaos crew

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theinvisiblequestion · 3 months ago

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a duck story

it was crowdstrike day. i had come into the office at 7am with zero clairvoyance to find every single PC in the building had been bricked. we didn't know why, and we didn't know how to fix it. our IT department opens at 8am and my entire day explodes. i'm in the administration outbuilding getting instructions from an exhausted IT tech. no, i'm in the foyer directing another tech to our mission critical computers. no, i'm in the back updating my manager. i'm in the outbuilding. i'm in the foyer. i'm in my cubicle eating a snack before i pass out. i'm in the foyer. i'm in the clerical room. i'm in the foyer. i'm in the outbuilding. i'm in the hallway. room 5. room 10. room 60. room 12. room 54. our building is 500 feet long and everyone who needs me is always on the other end of it. my watch tells me i've done 4000 steps and it's 10:03am. i'm in the hallway. my water bottle is empty again.

i'm in the training room. time is an illusion, and these innocent new employees are still learning, because a single computer of 20 survived the destruction and someone scraped up pens and notebooks. the alternate trainer at the desk by the door gives me a smile. "we're alright. you look like you could use a duck." she holds out a bowl full of tiny, translucent plastic duck figurines.

i take the duck with gratitude and move on. i am everywhere and nowhere. there are 2 guys with the ability to fix our 300 bricked PCs. my manager petitions the IT manager to give me and my single coworker the ability. we have the training, we just need the permission for the day. the IT manager refuses, so i keep walking. i try to cheer up my frustrated coworkers with the duck. "the trainers gave him to me, but he doesn't have a name." i ask a coworker who i know is, as a trans woman and ttrpg player, an expert at naming creatures. the gal next to her names the duck "penelope" without hesitation, and everyone agrees. penelope and i move on.

the day ends, eventually. i'm 5'4" of pure ache and i sleep like the dead when i get home, but at least i have a cool story about how i helped save the agency from the big bad technology. this story is for sure going in my resume. plus, i have a tiny duck.

penelope sits on my desk for a few days, and then i get some e6000 epoxy in for another project and i realize that this is actually perfect. what better way to honor penelope than to take him with me wherever i go? so i glue him to the top of my water bottle. i now have the single coolest water bottle in the world: covered in stickers, and adorned with a tiny plastic duck.

fast forward a few weeks. it's my son's birthday and penelope and i are fast friends, because it's 105F and this birthday party is outside in my yard. i drink as much water as i possibly can, but by the end of the day it's not enough, and the hostess (that's me) is laid out in bed at 7:30pm with a migraine. the blackout curtains are drawn, the fan is up as high as i can stand the noise, and all the lights are off. i can't see anything but i'm still thirsty. i roll over to the nightstand, silently hoping i don't knock my water bottle onto the floor trying to fumble for it in the dark. and then, a pretty little miracle.

penelope glows in the dark

#ducks #writing #this was sort of a writing exercise yeah #i love penelope though truly #also it's low key a conversation starter #i have a tiny duck glued to the lid of my hydroflask

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fantasywriternimzy · 6 months ago

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The Dancing Lady (2. part)

The walk from the train stop to Arthur’s family house was long and painful. He was thankful that the only thing hardening his journey was the cold wind and not a snowstorm. He had to rely on his memory in some parts, where there were no lights to see.

“The small house on the corner is the bakery, three streets down I will have to turn left.” He mapped out the way home in his head.

Home. He didn't call that crumbling shoebox his home in a long time. A home is nice, a home is safe and full of warmth and love. That stone thing was anything but that.

As he turned left, he saw it. At the very end of the street, there was a house, surrounded by nothing but tall grass. His sister was nice enough to leave a little candle at the window for him to see.

With each step he took his feet felt heavier, and his lugadges wanted to fall out of his cold hands. He wanted to turn around and run somewhere else. He didn't have a home to run to anymore. He lost his fancy apartment and all of his furniture to the debt collectors, he had to move in with one of his business partners, William and his wife until he figured something out. And he has to figure something out because coming back here was not an option.

Miraculously he arrived at the door.

With the little spirit he had in himself, he swallowed his pride and knocked on the door with his knuckles that turned red from the cold. He heard some movement from inside before a tired-faced woman opened the door. Her copper hair was put up in a bun on the verge of falling apart, and her blue eyes looked sadly into Arthur’s. For a moment there was nothing. Not a single movement or sound.

“Come in, you will let out all the heat!” She urged him.

“It’s nice seeing you too, Lily.” Arthur smiled at his sister as he walked in.

As he stepped in he felt the warmth from the fireplace, it felt nice after so much walking outside. On the couch was his father, sleeping.

“He wanted to wait for you but you took so long,” Lily explained.

“I'm sure he did,” said Arthur with a hint of irony in his voice as he looked at the man, snoring in his sleep.

He looked around in the small house, his eyes fixated on the roof.

“Oliver came over and fixed it in the summer.”

“Nice job” Arthur nodded as he put down his two suitcases.

“Edith is asleep, she is still a little weak, but she couldn't wait to see you.”

“Good. I brought some things for her. I brought some things for all of you,” he corrected himself.

“You shouldn't have” Lily shook her head.

She hated receiving something without having anything to give.

“It’s a gift, not a debt, you don't have to repay me.”

“I was not going to,” she rolled her eyes. “Are you hungry? We have some leftover dinner.”

“Soup?” Arthur asked with dread in his voice.

“Very funny. It’s ham and some goat cheese.” Lily said proudly, Arthur’s eyes lit up.

“Where did you manage to get cheese from?”

“Lucy got some goats last year. Christmas gift, she called it.” she shook her head, thinking about how she was going to repay yet another person, while she took off the cloth from the plate the food was hidden under. Even in the dim light, Arthur could see how amazing the food looked. “Fancy some bread with that?” she asked playfully and gave a piece to him.

“We are eating like royalty tonight, I see,” Arthur said as he sat down at the small table.

“It’s probably not as good as the great foods you eat every day at overpriced restaurants, but it’s something,” she said mockingly.

“Well my dear sister,” he started with his mouth full of ham “Paris is not as great as people say. I mean yes, the lights are magical and everything seems like it came from the future, the people are nice and the houses are new. But compared to this,” he dramatically pointed around the small kitchen with his bread “it’s nothing.”

They both giggled at how stupid it sounded.

“That,” he pointed at the half-burned candle in the window “is just like the Eiffel Tower.”

Lily had to put her hands in front of her mouth to muffle her laughter.

“Stop it, we are going to wake everyone up,” she said, still laughing. “So, how’s work?”

Arthur stopped chewing for a moment before forcing the food down his throat.

“Not good,” he sighed.

Not good was an understatement, it fell apart like a house of cards in the storm. Turns out that selling expensive jewellery and dresses was not the best idea. Not even in Paris.

“But it will be okay, right?” Lily asked, worry filled her voice.

She didn't care about Arthur’s business, she just wanted to make sure that she didn't have another mouth to feed. She worked as a teacher at the local school but took some odd jobs whenever she could. Styling hair, tutoring kids with richer parents, you name it, she did it and hated every moment of it.

“Have you heard of The Dancing Lady?” Arthur changed the subject seamlessly.

“I see you met Alfred on the way,” she giggled. “He is in my class, very talkative, he loves that legend.”

“How come I never heard of it?”

“Only kids whose souls were not crushed care about fairytales.”

The room got quiet. For a moment only the fireplace cracking and their dad’s snores were heard. Arthur ran his fingers through his golden locks. The kids who didn't see their father breaking bottles when drunk, the kids who didn't have to go out in the cold in the middle of the night to get wood, and the kids who liked soup. Oh how much Arthur envied them.

“Is he still…you know,” Arthur gently nodded in their father’s direction.

“Not as bad, he is too sick for that kind of thing now.” Lily sighed, rubbing an old scar on her left arm.

“I brought some medicine. Mainly for you two but there is something for him too.”

“Thank you,” she said weakly from exhaustion. “I made your bed next to the fireplace, but you can sleep in the bedroom if you would like to.”

“The floor is fine, thank you,” Arthur said while yawning.

“Well then, good night,” Lily got up from the chair and walked to the bedroom door without a sound. “Arthur,” she turned back to look at him. “I am glad you are here, I missed you.” She faintly smiled at him, then went to bed.

Arthur was left at the dining table alone with his thoughts. He stared at the candle sitting on the windowsill. The flame danced around just like the woman he saw. He couldn't make sense of it. Did he see a ghost or was it just his mind playing with him?

But he was too tired to think about it more, so without washing himself he moved next to the couch, layed on the cold, hard floor, put his head on the uncomfortable pillow and did something, he hadn't done since he was a child, he prayed to God:

“My true Father, if you can hear me, please help us. We need you, more than ever.”

“Please” he whispered before falling asleep.

To Be Continued...

A/N: I have to be honest I don't know the last time I was this excited to write a story. I haven't stopped thinking about it since the moment it came to my mind. It feels like when I was 14 and started writing my first fanfiction. I feel like I was reborn or something, it's amazing :). The next part coming soon.

#thedancinglady #fanatsywritern1mzy #writing #writers on tumblr #writer stuff #writerscommunity #writer #creative writing #tumblr writers #writers of tumblr #fantasy writer #female writers #fiction writing #story writing

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dzpenumbra · 1 year ago

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7/14/23

Good lord, today has been a shitshow. Once again woken up at 8AM, dreams and creaking floorboards. I roll over and go back to sleep, then an hour later... I am woken up... I shit you not... to knocking and a fucking voice yelling out inside my apartment.

The maintenance guy showed up unannounced at 9AM on a Thursday. And he keyed his way into my apartment. I'm hoping him seeing my shoes on the floor was the reason he actually said anything. I honestly don't know.

Looks like those self-protective instincts telling me to be vigilant for intruders in my home... turned out to be spot on. Great. Now this hypervigilance will never go away. I could feel it once I verified the sound was actually maintenance in my unit, it was just yelling "see?! see?! I fucking told you! I was warning you! I was RIGHT!" Even a broken clock is right twice a day, gotta keep remembering that.

I scrambled to put on clothes and get downstairs. The guy had an extra fan blade he wanted to size, to see if it would work as a replacement. It did not. So... he turned around and went to leave. Yep, woke me up for that. Now, this is me on about 5 hours of sleep, which normally isn't that bad... but this the fourth consecutive night of 4-6 hours of sleep. That shit accrues. It stacks. I feel straight up fucking drunk right now, I'm legit delirious.

So... he said he was going to look around for a replacement fan, or maybe order one. I asked when to expect that, he said he'd send an email. After he left, my heart was still going and my eyes were barely open. I was unsure what to do. I just kinda paced around a bit and oriented myself with the waking world. I don't entirely remember what I did. But not too much later, he started knocking on my door again. He found a fan, and I said... okay, we're on. Let's get this shit over with. He had to get a ladder that actually... worked... so he left and I put on a pot of coffee. He got the new fan put on, it's set and running now. Finally. It's been like 4 days.

But something weird happened. I mean... the whole situation was insanely weird, in hindsight. The dude shows up at my door after saying he's going to order a part and get back to me... he doesn't order the part or get back to me... he shows up with a salvaged piece from a different model of fan... three days later. I specifically asked in the email I sent to the manager that he drop by after 3pm since I'm on a weird schedule. The first time, he did that. Then... this time, he just shows up at 9AM for no reason at all. Which was insanely disruptive. But, me being the super nice pushover I am... I just got out of bed, made coffee and struck up a nice conversation about the crazy weather as I started working on my digital art project with him on a ladder next to me. Not telling him to fuck off and come back after 3, like I specifically asked in the email. Why? I'm scared of confrontation. I want to be nice. And I'm already fucking up. The damage is already done. He already keyed into my goddamn home, we're ending this now.

The weirder thing that happened? Like... every sentence I spoke? He couldn't hear me. He needed me to repeat literally everything I said. Again... because I am constantly tiptoeing around my apartment, and whispering. And I'm usually awake all night while everyone else is asleep and no one has complained yet, so... I'm guessing I'm pretty good at being quiet? I never speak loud. I never even really have opportunities to use my full voice. So... no shit? I guess? No shit my voice has disappeared?

It was a bit haunting though. Like I said last night, I used to be a goddamn singer. Not only that, a screamer. A metal vocalist. I used to sing full-bore in the shower every single morning. I got really good at singing from that. Now? Now, I'm talking at a comfortable volume to someone 10 feet away and he can't hear me.

So which came first? Did I end up in isolation because I wasn't seen or heard? Or am I not seen or heard because I'm in isolation? Chicken or the egg? In the end, it's just sad.

He finished, the fan is set up and running, that chapter is over. I played Hades for a while. It was actually a pretty nice day out. I was planning on taking a nap and then going skating. I was way too tired to just go skate then. I finished my pot of coffee, put a coat of oil on the beads... Honestly, I don't really fully remember much of the day, it's all been a blur. But around noon or one, I ended up eating a big bowl of Raisin Bran with almond milk (yep, I've become that guy) and passing out. Successfully.

I woke up to more creaking. It gets to the point where it's like a sick joke or something. I don't even bother with the headphones anymore, I feel like they might actually hurt unless I'm blasting something, because they neutralize the sound of the fan... which is covering up the creaks... and it ends up actually isolating the creaks... so... not a super effective solution unless I'm playing something loud directly in my ears that covers up those sounds. That option is still on the table.

I woke up and it was... a sickening yellowish grey out. I was a bit afraid I overslept until dusk... but I checked my phone and it was only mid-afternoon. I got another couple hours of sleep. It felt a bit cold... so I check the weather and... sure enough... there was a storm rolling in, and it was starting... 10 minutes from when I woke up. Like it was literally just starting. Crazy timing. So... I missed my window to skate.

But that turned out to be okay, because I had a lot of inspiration today for some reason. I finally conceptualized what I wanted to do for my griptape art... at least the start, and I'm going to work from there. Actually for a lot of my representative art.

First, for my trick board, I wanted to do a red-tailed hawk on the tail, and a raven on the nose. Their heads, in profile, likely looking the same direction, so that when you shove-it and the board fully rotates the birds are looking the same direction. And I want to paint those with acrylic in color and in detail. And in the center, I want a mandala radiating out to meet them. I think that's a solid design.

I really want to reconnect with animal spirits. I have the owl here, and my other animal I've had representing me has been the chipmunk. And, as much as the chipmunk is very innocent and playful and loveable... I'm afraid I'm identifying too much with it. The timid skittishness and hiding and all that. The Red-tail has been one of my strongest animal connections in my life, I'd like to rekindle that connection. No offense, blue jay. Maybe I'll save a pant-drawing for the blue jay, so it has its special spot.

And the raven? I pulled a tarot card before going to the event in the parking lot yesterday. God that feels like days ago, my sense of time is so fucked. The tarot card I pulled was Six of Swords, which in my deck is an illustration of a woman holding her child, riding a raven over turbulent waters. And... the river yesterday... So... the literal symbolism was a part of wanting to connect there. I've connected with the crow plenty, but have always neglected the raven. I figured it's time. The card is supposed to represent... carrying your conviction through adversity, towards a better future... "a change of mind leading to a brighter future" is what I wrote in my study doc. It was pretty dead on. And the raven is a symbol of wild wisdom. Where I've always seen the hawk as... a scout of sorts, a sentry; precision, vigilance and solitude.

My electric hybrid board, it's a bit more general but I wanted to do the dog god (Anubis) on the tail, and I think I'm going to go with a deer god on top. I'm really feeling pulled towards the deer right now. I've also felt pretty compelled to put a dear head on my beige cargo shorts, the color is right. It's a thought, I think it'd be cool. And I was tempted to put a symbol that represents ahimsa on my green cargo shorts, but... it's a symbol used in the Jain faith, which I'm not fully familiar with... but what I have studied of it was... a bit too much for me. I love the sentiment, but it goes a bit farther than I think I'd comfortably be able to live. Like... I can do vegetarian, but I don't know if I can go vegan... that kinda step a little too far for me. So... yeah, still on the fence with that one.

I did yoga super late, but I did one for my neck and I swear to god every time I do that one it is very humbling but it makes my neck and shoulders feel so much better. That's the one that introduced me to Locust, which I have a very love-hate relationship with. I guess I don't really do enough regular neck stretches, and I'm constantly craning it, doing art and looking at monitors and such. I did my yoga right around when the storm was picking up. It was nice.

After the storm, I was doing all sorts of stuff... but I ended up gathering some books from my bookshelf. I figured it was time to study meditation. So I got my book on modern Druidry that I was studying last summer right until I got to the meditation chapter... because I read a passage where they said you can "suffer neurological damage" if you meditate while inebriated? Like... even on alcohol? Which... I could see as a... deterrent to try to make it clear that young party kids are not welcome... I guess? But like... you have wine and meditation as part of most of your rituals... Just sayin... It felt like fear-mongering. It did not feel like something rooted in truth, it felt like a propaganda statement stated as fact as a way of showing disapproval towards certain forms of practice. And this guy and his school are absolutely entitled to those restrictions, I mean Jains don't even eat eggs, but they consume milk? For some reason? I mean... we all have our reasons. And I get it, and I have my own too, and I respect those deeply. They're part of what make us... us. But for the love of god, don't go around saying "if you meditate when you're drunk you're going to get brain damage". That sounds like the same paranoid shit people in the suburbs were spouting about "don't take apples from your neighbors on Halloween because they might have slipped razor blades in them!" Or "don't let those kids skateboard here, if they fall and hurt themselves they're going to sue you." It really turned me off, so much that I stopped reading the book entirely at that point.

I also grabbed a book by Chogyam Trungpa called Meditation in Action that found its way into my hands... and my copy of Ram Dass' Be Here Now which... I'm pretty sure has a dedicated section in the back about meditation. I don't know exactly what I'm looking for, but I'm sure I'll find it here somewhere. I started with Ram Dass, and started reading the introduction to get more familiar with his story, but I was getting too sucked in and had to go shower...

But first... I glanced at the sky. The storm had ended and it was peach and rose colored. It was gorgeous. I went to my big windows and looked in awe at the sky above. And I decided to draw a tarot card, because it felt like a moment of transition. My prompt being... just a general "what to look out for in the future". I pulled the inverted Seven of Wands. Seven of Wands represents standing in defense against overwhelming odds. And the inversion... a blockage, or difficulty, a disconnect, a dissonance. And that's sorta been weighing on me a bit, because it's true. I struggle with standing up for myself and my rights and my desires a lot, as it's rooted in confidence, and I think my confidence is pretty damn low lately. Mostly because... it's not being fed... it's entirely self-generated by a depressed person and my worst critic - me.

I showered and decided to sing in the shower. I couldn't bring myself to sing loudly, despite the people I would be disturbing being the same neighbors who have fucked up my entire life for four consecutive nights now. I just... held back.

And... I shit you not... I went to get a drink and there was a letter under the door. I couldn't fathom what it could be. My rent and bills were autopay, and they were payed up over a week ago. I... was just baffled. I opened it. It was a lease renewal form. They want me to renew my lease with them, if I want to, and it would have to be done by September. So... I have some time to think. They said they can put some of my deposit towards my first month of the new lease. But... what was really confusing me? There was a new number for the rent. There was my current rent... then my renewal rent which was... $60/month higher than my current rent if received before mid-September. And a renewal rent which is $95/month higher if I renew after that. So... no matter what, my rent is going up. And this is how I'm finding out about it.

It's weird. You'd think you'd like... want to reward people for being good tenants, and renewing their leases. Like... imagine if you were renting somewhere and were a perfect tenant and every year they just keep raising the rent. Like... nothing is changing... I guess it's inflation? Is this normal? I don't think my last house had a rent change in the like... 4-5 years I was there... I don't know.

So... that's confusing for a few reasons. And the worst part is, I don't have anyone to talk to. No one to try to work out my difficulty understanding this concept. Add in the fact that my neighbors have been affecting my sleep so severely that it's forced me to change my sleep schedule and is still affecting my physical health. Add in the fact that... I don't even really go out... I don't even really use the city. I just sorta... get stuff delivered, which I could do in the country... but I have to deal with the inconveniences of the city on top of that. The noise... the loud, oblivious, flat-footed city folk who slam doors and stomp around and scream while they have sex when they have neighbors on all sides. And the forest has been calling me. And I just don't know what the best idea for me right now is, or even what's available. I need to really think about it.

Here's another factor. I found that sustainable trail building certificate course again. It's a year-long thing, including an internship. The college it's at is about an hour drive away, each way. I don't have a car, so I'd have to do that rental shared car thing specifically for that. And it was listing the courses as... a full week... one week a month, in September and November, then a spring "field trip", then another week in april/may... then a May to August internship. $3.5k for the whole thing, full-year certificate program.

Bro, I don't know how to balance that. Where the fuck am I going to live? What do I do with the rest of my time? Am I driving to this college for one hour classes... 7 days a week... for one week... then waiting two months, then doing it again? Can't I just... apprentice under someone? Can't I just say "hey, I'm super interested in what you do and I'll literally uproot my life and devote every day to learning this. Full-time. All I ask is teach me what you know and help me get set up with a job after.

And... do I keep this in consideration for my lease renewal? Is this a real plan? This isn't even a job, this is just for a certificate. I'm just... I can feel the emotional wall, so I'm just gonna say it. I'm scared if I go through with this, I'm going to get fleeced again. Like the tattoo school thing. Where I go, and I'm the best student there, and I do amazing work, and then I go home and... I'm $5k lighter, no license, no connections and no future. And the Tower comes crumbling down.

And I've been a bit insecure about just... calling the college and asking them to do something non-traditional. Or calling people who do this type of work, and asking them for mentorship. I had it work one time in college, when my non-traditional approach of trying to get credits transferred, and having to make presentations to committees of teachers to justify the credits I had already fucking earned at other colleges and all that... that did work. But it's like ever since then, every single time has fallen flat. Every email I send is just... never responded to. Every call, not returned. Every heart-felt 2 page long letter pouring out my story and my soul-deep reasons for why I'm so passionate about this... it just... doesn't go anywhere. Because I'm a stranger. I'm just a random stranger, writing them on the internet. So... it just... feels pointless. I'd love to write like this to someone in the field. Or one of my mentors, my idols. "Hey, I absolutely love what you do. It inspires me every single day. I want nothing more than to do what you do, and I'm willing to uproot my entire life to immerse myself in it." And to not even get a call back... it's like... what's even the point?

So yeah, I'm struggling with all of that. But it's good to have more options, and more info. I just want to make sure I've given this area a fair chance before I pack my bags. Plus... I don't have a car... so how the fuck am I going to move anyway...

I even entertained the idea of asking the building manager to have me switch units. Ideally to one where there isn't someone pacing back and forth stomping on creaky floorboards at both 2AM and 8AM... somehow... I do like having the unit number 111, that's gonna be hard to give up... but the prospect of having a top-floor apartment that might even be cheaper than this one? That's pretty fucking tempting... But... ugh, moving already? I'm kinda attached to this place. I don't know.

Anyway. Big day again. God, I need a day where I just... chill. This is too much. I'm so deeply exhausted. And, because it's already late and I need to read this back... I'm going to stop writing now.

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of thoughts #stream of consciousness

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sinterblackwell · 5 years ago

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i just got fully caught up with the “brotherhood” series on wattpad....and now i’m sad.

#🧡#this series is fresh and exciting and absolutely heartbreaking; but it’s all worth it #it takes the harry potter universe and garners so many connections that help tie things together; all just to offer a new perspective #and it made me love the wizarding world and everything in it; there’s so much to discover and so much to learn #you think one thing and the writer manages to still knock you off your feet #don’t mind the fact that all of her characters have a sense of purpose; even those with minor roles; all through a clear show of care #and i love this so much #i can’t wait for the next update; especially because no matter how long it takes; i know how much this story means to her #so i want her to take her time with it; because as much as it sucks waiting for the next update #i know in my heart (yes sounds dramatic but it’s true) that she probably misses writing such an intricate story with so much detail #and there’s still much more to uncover so it’s quite a large task; and so yes it’s difficult #but i know it’ll be worth it in the end #this series has had me enraptured for days now and i enjoyed every single minute of it #i could only wonder how i’ll be able to focus on anything else for the timebeing #booklr

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wkemeup · 4 years ago

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Play Pretend

summary: When Bucky is injected with a substance that leaves him desperate for release, you offer your help. pairing: bucky x reader word count: 7.8k warnings: smut (18+), sex pollen (with as much consent as one can have in a dub/con trope)

“What in the—” you slammed an elbow to the nose of the assailant behind you, “holy,” a quick right jab to another coming up on your left, “godforsaken,” a knee plunged straight to your ribs and you kicked to the assailant who managed to get one up on you, “hell, Rogers!”

Another body fell to the ground and settled at the collection at your feet.

Dripping in sweat, heart pounding in your chest, and your body short of giving out completely, you slumped a shoulder against the cold frame of the wall. Down the hall, at least a dozen more Hydra agents were barreling towards you.

There was no response on the coms; not that you expected as much. The Hydra base in Munich you were tasked with rigging to blow was meant to be abandoned. Nothing left but a dozen empty cells and decades of barbaric research no one should ever lay eyes on again.

Seemed Captain Roger’s intel was just slightly off. Tell that to the series of bodies lying in your wake.

“You better send backup, Rogers, or I swear to God I’ll haunt your star-spangled ass for all eternity,” you grumbled to the broken transmission as you attempted to square up. Fists out ahead of you, swaying slightly on weakened legs, a dizziness in your vision making it hard to tell exactly how many men were charging straight at you.

“What? I’m not enough for you?” Bucky suddenly appeared on your right, chuckling to himself as he released the empty magazine from his weapon and quickly replaced it with a new one. Blood was soaked into his hair line, mixing with the sweat beaded on his forehead, and he brushed the back of his hand against his face to smear it back into his hair.

“About time you showed up. Making me do all the hard work myself,” you scoffed, shooting him a teasing smile as you eyed the hallway he came rushing in from.

He insisted you’d be out in time for movie night back home if the two of you split up, divided the C4 amongst you and met back at the quinjet in twenty. Not even his super soldier instincts could have predicted this place would be overrun with stray Hydra agents looking for a rematch.

One of the agents opposing you whipped out a handgun and Bucky jumped forward, using his left arm as a shield. The bullets ricocheted across the room, puncturing into another Hydra agent who collapsed to the ground clutching his knee.

You exhaled a heavy breath, the edges of your lips dipping down into a frown as you watched more agents stepping over the bodies of their colleagues and advancing down the hallway. You glanced up at Bucky, watching as he weighed the rifle in his hands, bouncing it lightly. It was running low on ammo.

“You get anyone on coms yet?”

“Nothing. We’re on our own.” Bucky gritted his teeth, firing a few rounds down at the mass of Hydra agents swarming their way towards you. It knocked a few of them down, at least.

You started to take a few steps in their direction, yanking a knife from the spine of an agent on the ground before you whipped it down at the ones ahead of you, knocking another to the ground. The echo of gunfire tore through the cramped hall again and it left a pile of men at the front lines.

Four left.

“That was my last round,” Bucky grunted, tossing the weapon to the floor as he tugged a small blade from the holster on his thigh. He smirked as he glanced over at you through the corner of his eye. “Who do you want?”

You shrugged, studying the four agents who came to a slow halt at the opposite end of the hallway. The two on the left looked about as you’d expected from Hydra agents; tall, dark haired, with shoulders twice as wide as their hips and a vicious kind of look in their eyes. Then, a blonde-haired woman who couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from Bucky, a hand resting impatiently on the knife against her hip. Last, a man who towered at least two feet above the others with a long, jagged scar covering most of his face.

“I’ll take the two on the right.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, glancing between you and your chosen assailants. The taller one cracked his neck to the side and bared his teeth.

“You’re sure?”

You feigned offense; a hand pressed your heart as you took a few steps forward, sliding the batons out from the holsters along your shoulder blades and twirling them between your fingers. “You underestimate me, Barnes. You think I’d let you have all the fun?”

Bucky laughed, shaking his head as he jogged to catch up with you, disregarding the battle cries of the Hydra agents as they advanced as if it was only ever the two of you in the room. “Not a chance in hell, sweetheart.”

The blonde woman stared to advance on Bucky, eyes trailing him up from his boots to the top of his head with a devilish kind of look in her stare. She licked at her lips hungrily, as if she was ready to take a bite into him, though he paid her no mind as he rushed at the two men to her right.

“Hey, Barbie!” you called, waving a baton in the air to grab her attention. “Looks like your stuck with me.”

She glared at you, pausing in her strut for only a minute, but it was all you needed. You sprinted towards her, using the wall as leverage as you jumped up against the frame to propel yourself into her. Baton at ready, you slammed down into her collarbone as she let out a yelp and fell down to the ground. It didn’t take her long to get back on her feet and when she did, her knife was nestled tight into her grip, a new kind of intrigue on her face as she stared you down.

“Need any help over here?” Bucky called out from the end of the hallway as he ducked under the right hook of one of his assailants. He clipped one in the knees, sending them spiraling to the floor with a pained shout, before he smirked over in your direction.

“Mind your business, Barnes!” You rolled your eyes as a smile crept up against your lips.

Barbie took a single glance back at Bucky before her eyes returned to you and there was something darker within her stare you didn’t quite notice, or perhaps you simply mistook it for enemy territory. Either way, when she raised her arm with knife in hand, you whipped around the baton in a backhanded strike, sending the knife flying down the hall. Unarmed, she stared at you with wide, fearful eyes, until you knocked her out with a final hit to the side of her. Nothing fatal, but it would keep her under until backup arrived to hull her in.

Bucky was still fighting off his second attacker as you approached the man leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest, patiently waiting. He pushed himself off the wall, cracked his knuckles between his palms with sharp snaps that echoed down into the hallway.

“Think you can take me, little girl?” he taunted, voice low and thick, like it had gone years in disuse. He made a show of the way he settled into his stance; fists held out in front of him, shadow boxing in an attempt to intimidate you. It seemed to catch him off guard when you rolled your eyes.

“It’s been a long day,” you shrugged, “and frankly, I’d like to go home. So, let’s make this quick.”

The arrogant smirk dropped from his face, replaced quickly with a wash of rage that a woman half his size would dare mock him in such a way. But he was clumsy in his stance and in his swings, so you saw each of his moves coming a mile ahead. With every right hook, you slid under his arm and stepped out behind him. In every jab, you side stepped out of reach. He exhausted himself while you made little effort in your defense. Without a single offensive throw, he was panting in a matter of minutes.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” he bellowed, loud enough to make Bucky pause for a moment and you winced as his assailant took advantage of the moment to get in a punch to his jawline. He recovered quickly, giving you the security to face your own attacker head on. The Hydra giant was dripping in sweat, red in the face, teeth bared and near feral. “Fight me!”

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

As he threw his next swing, you met it with the brunt of your baton, stilling him in his stance. He stared at you, wide eyes and jaw slacked, as you winked at him and dove under his legs. Before he could manage to turn around, you flicked at switch at the bottom of the batons which emitted an electrical pulse from the top edge and plunged it into the man's neck.

He convulsed, gargling out a few incoherent words, before he collapsed to the floor at your feet. You grinned, sliding the batons into the holsters at your shoulder blades.

“Alright, I take it all back,” Bucky’s voice chuckled from behind you. “You don’t need me at all.”

You laughed, shaking your head as several strands fell down into your face, lost to the bun at the top of your head in the struggle. As you turned to face Bucky, you found him standing with his hands planted on his hips and the brightest smile on his face, one that took him years to find again since you first met him and damn if it wasn’t one of the most beautiful sights you’d ever seen.

But then, there was a sudden rush of movement on the ground. One of the Hydra agents wrestled back up to his feet behind Bucky, a malice imbedded deep into his glare, a determination as he rushed forward.

There was little time to think as you lunged for the knife you broke free of the blonde agent’s hand and whipped it across the room. It plunged straight into the man’s jugular and he fell backwards, hands sliding out from around Bucky’s neck as blood coated the tile floors.

“Shit,” you panted, hands on your knees. “You okay?”

Bucky didn’t respond.

Slowly, heart pounding in your chest, you glanced up to find him pulling a syringe from his neck. He stared at it for a second, stunned as a few stray droplets dripped from the edge of the needle before he dropped it to the ground, letting it slip out from his fingers limply. The vile was empty as it rolled along the tile and settled against the dead body of its owner.

“Bucky?”

There was a sudden, paralyzing dread that swept over his features, one that seemed to worsen as his eyes fell upon yours. Then, his knees started to buckle, his stance falling unsteady and you rushed forward, darting under his arm to catch him before could lay amongst the bodies of Hydra agents. He was shaking, hands trembling, and you could feel the sharp rise and fall of his breath as you held him steady.

“We have to get you out of here,” you said, trying to push down the panic etching its way up your spine, but Bucky shook his head.

“No time.” It was all he could mutter out.

“Bucky, you've just been injected with God knows what and we need to get to you a medic or—”

“There,” he grunted, pointed to an open room at the end of the hallway. With a thick, metal door and dozen locks lining the outside, it was more of a cell than a room. You started to shake your head, but Bucky gripped tight to your arm. “Y/n, please.”

You watched him carefully, noticed how he couldn’t seem to meet your eye, how sweat was beading at his hairline more profusely than it was in the midst of a battle, how his breaths were broken and trembling on every exhale.

“Okay, okay. Hold on.” You slowly guided him to step over the bodies at your feet, most unconscious, others not as lucky, and swiftly led him into the cell. It seemed to put him at ease as you aided him to sit on one of the metal chairs at the center of the room. As you released your touch from his arm, a rush of what appeared to be pain twisted into his facial features though he tried to hide it.

“So, what do we do now?” you asked. “I could try to find the lab. They could have counteractants to whatever this is. Or I could try to fix the coms... but we all know Parker’s a lot better with that stuff than I am.”

You laughed, trying to ease the tension in the room, but it was so thick you could have cut through it with the blunt edge of your baton. Bucky’s eyes were glued to the floor, his hands curling around the undersides of the chair until the metal warped under his grip.

“You need to leave.”

Your smile dropped. “What? No, are you crazy? I’m not leaving you alone after—”

“Go!” His voice boomed against the walls and you tried not to let the shock startle you.

“Bucky, stop. That’s not happening.” You dug your fingers into your hips as you paced back over the door, stole a quick glance in both directions. It was still empty save for the bodies lying in your wake. It seemed you and Bucky were entirely alone. You pinched the bridge of your nose. “We’ll figure something out, okay? We always do. This can’t be worse than the time we were buried in that old chevy under twelve feet of snow in Alaska last year, can it?”

You shot him a grin, hoping to ease him, though it did little use. His face was red, jaw stoned. He looked like he was barely breathing.

“You’re not hearing me,” Bucky groaned, his voice molding into something darker. “You're not safe here. You need to leave. Now. Before I... Before I can’t control this. Before I hurt you.”

You paused, narrowing your eyes. “What are you talking about? Do you… Do you know what that stuff was?”

Bucky clenched his jaw, turning away from you the best he could. He let out a pained groan and kicked the chair out from under him. It slammed against the wall with a harsh clash and forced a skip in your heartbeat, a hand darting up to your chest. Bucky leaned over the table, trying to find support, but he ended up gripping onto the sides hard enough to dent imprints in the shape of his hands.

You rushed forward, desperate to help because you couldn’t stand to see him in so much pain, and placed a hand on his shoulder. It touched upon the thick straps of Kevlar for only a second, and still, it was enough to elicit a visceral reaction. He whined, something between a moan and cry, and he slumped down out of your reach.

“Don’t touch me,” Bucky warned, though his voice broke in the effort. His breaths were labored and heavy, and still it seemed as though he could barely get one in. “Please. You—You have to get away from me. I’m— I’m begging you.”

Bucky choked back a cry, biting down hard on his lower lip, and it was then you noticed his right hand palming at the hardened outline nestled tight against his thigh. He pressed the heel of his left into his eyes, shame burning hot against his ears and cheeks and trailing down in red patches along his neck. He tried to hide behind his hair, hide from you, but it was enough; you recognized what this was.

It was a serum created by Hydra in the seventies, meant to create inhumans of their own design when the clinical measures were proving unsuccessful. It was created to induce a euphoric state, a primal need beyond personal control, to put its host through hell until Hydra had what it wanted: a viable chance at an inhuman child.

“Bucky,” you called gently, though all you earned was a whimpered grunt in response. Slowly, you crossed the plane of the room to him and laid a hand against his collar. His eyes fluttered shut in response, his whole body keenly alert to every touch.

“You should leave,” he warned again, his gaze slowly drawing up to meet your own; a glossy shine shielded over a stunning ocean blue. “Let me... let me take care of this on my own. I’ll be f-fine.”

“It’ll be agonizing,” you told him, having remembered the speech Tony gave a few months back after the team first encountered the serum in Peru. “It won’t kill you, but it will feel pretty damn close. Nothing you do on your own will relieve it. It doesn't work like that. You need someone to help you through this.”

He shook his head. “No. I won’t-- I won’t ask you to do that.”

“You don’t have to,” you replied gingerly, drawing your hand up along his arm, tracing over swells of muscle as watching the way a shiver followed so tenderly in your wave. You rested your hand along his cheek, brushing your thumb under his eyes. He was scorching hot. You smiled at him, something soft and gentle, something sad. “I’m offering, Bucky.”

“No,” he grunted out. “I—I can’t. I won’t.”

You nodded, letting your hand fall to the side. It was remarkable he was able to hold himself back this long, let alone decline an offer when presented to him. You’d heard the stories of men to devolved to a near primal state, who attempted to jump the first person they saw and fought their way to release. Bucky was determined to spare you, even as you offered, even knowing that turning you down would put him through a world of pain.

“Okay,” you conceded. “Tell me what you need. Tell me something I can do, Buck, because I can’t just watch you in pain like this.”

Bucky stared at you, pupils blown wide, almost as if he could see right through you.

“Need to get this off,” he finally admitted, eyes drifting down to his suit.

“Okay,” you replied steadily. “Do you want help?”

He shook his head, his stare glued to the floor, but you could see the way his hands were reaching out for you, how he had to keep himself in check and hold them firmly at his sides. He tried to unfasten the buckle at his chest himself, but within seconds he let out a hallowed cry, dropping his head in defeat.

“Hurts,” he exhaled, and slowly his eyes came back up to yours. He forced out a halfhearted smile the best he could. “Can you...?”

You returned the nervous smile, as you took a cautious step forward. He followed your every move as your hands extended towards his chest, fingers clipping the buckles easily as they unsnapped down his jacket. Each one left a new breath of relief in its wake, like he was just on the edge of the surface, under only a few inches of water.

Your hands slid under the seams, helping to slip the sleeve down his right arm, and Bucky choked back a moan. His eyes fluttered shut, lips parted just slightly, and you jumped back.

“Sorry,” he muttered. His cheeks were near on fire.

“It’s alright, Buck. It’s not your fault.” You reached out for him again. “Here, let me help with your belt.”

“No, no, I’ve got it.” His hands were shaking as he started to fidget with the buckle. He swayed on his feet, trying to find some relief. As he unfastened the latch and unbuttoned the hem of his pants, his eyes flashed up to you. He exhaled a heavy breath. “Can you... Christ... can you turn around?”

The look on his face, the shame radiating from every ounce of him, shattered you right to your core. You nodded quickly, turning your back to him and making your way to the door. He needed privacy – of course, he did. He didn’t need you around to bear witness to the consequences of Hydra’s newest attempt to leave him powerless and vulnerable.

But just as you approached the door, Bucky called out quietly, “don’t go.”

You stilled in an instant, though you didn’t dare to turn around.

“It, um,” he cleared his throat awkwardly. “I think it helps if you’re here. If that’s alright.”

“Need something to look at, huh?” you laughed, trying to make light of the impossible position he was in, and you were thankful for the short chuckle you heard behind you.

“Don’t flatter yourself, doll. You’re the only one here,” he replied, a teasing back in his tone, and no matter how tense it was or how forced it felt, it made your heart skip a beat.

You smiled, shaking your head. Leave it to the two of you to find the humor in a situation like this. Biting down on your lip, you tried to suppress the grin, though it did little use.

Then, you heard the soft fall of his shirt to the floor. Quickly followed by the pants of his suit, dropping to the ground in a heap. He exhaled a breath that sounded as though he hadn’t done so in years and you found yourself wondering what he looked like standing there behind you, naked and aching, harder than he’d ever been in his life.

“Swear you won’t tell Sam about this.”

You shook your head, chewing on the inside of your cheek to hold back another laugh. “No promises.”

“Y/n.”

“You’ve got to be in crippling pain, Buck. You don’t have time to be embarrassed right now,” you shot back teasingly. “Stop edging.”

“Fine, okay,” he grumbled back, though you could hear the light in his voice, even if it was a little tense. “Just… give me a second.”

The room became impossibly quiet, painfully so, and you waited under bated breath for something to happen. The smile slowly left your lips, fading into a restless frown as you listened intently to his labored breathing, the tight groans of pain, until finally, his hand circled around the base of his cock.

The whine that left his lips was near sinful, and you felt your own breath hitch in your chest as you listened to soft whimpers parting his lips as he stroked himself, covering his length in the precum dropping at his tip. Heavy breaths and wet pumps of his closed hand around his cock, and you clenched your thighs together, wondering how his eyes might travel over your frame.

But God – those sounds he made were beautiful. You could picture him tugging his lower lip between his teeth, his eyes fluttering shut, his shoulders slacking, knees falling a little weak the harder he gripped at himself. Little murmurs of ‘oh god,’ and ‘fuck yes,’ and ‘please’ as he fucked his fist.

You didn’t know how much time had passed by, but your lip was nearly chewed raw, nails indented into the palms of your hands. You could hear how close he was, how his movements picked up in pace, how his breaths labored, how his moans filled the room higher and higher until – it stopped.

Sudden and aching, he lost it before the fall and your heart broke as you heard him cry out in pain.

“Bucky?” you called softly, not daring to turn around to face him after he asked you not to. Your heart was pounding in your chest, hands clenched tight, and you swore your knees would buckle out from under you if you unlocked them for even a second.

“Fuck, I… I can’t...”

“Bucky, are you okay?” you tried again, worried. There was a panic in his voice that wasn’t there before, a desperate longing etched into every syllable, and it scared you.

“I can smell you,” he said simply, achingly.

Your breath hitched and you squeezed your legs together. There was a throbbing there, an emptiness you couldn’t quite shake. “Do you... Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” he replied quickly and you could tell he was contemplating his options. He was growing desperate and that lingering sense of control he maintained was slipping through his fingers. “No, I— You were right. I can’t do it on my own. I need—fuck. I need…”

“Just ask,” you offered again, head tilting just enough to the side that he could see your face but you kept your stare to the wall. “I’m here. I’m saying yes. Just tell me what you need.”

“You.”

It surprised you as he said it; a little lower, a little darker, but certain.

Slowly, you turned to face him.

Sculpted by Michelangelo himself, Bucky carried the most beautiful lines across his body; divots along muscles and carvings of delicate design. You could tell he expected your eyes to fall straight to his shoulder, to the mess of scars and metal he loathed, or to the vulnerability standing hard in his grasp, but instead, you kept your gaze focused on his eyes.

Bucky stood completely naked before you, his right hand still pumping slowly around his cock as you edged forward. He watched you, biting at his lip as he flicked his thumb over his tip. Eyes trailed down over your frame greedily, hungrily, as if the act of simply looking was enough to draw a twitch from his cock. He tugged his lip between his teeth, tightening his grip around himself.

As you came up beside him, you reached up and sat your hand against his right shoulder, watching how he closed his eyes in response, how his jaw slacked. His lazy thrusts evened out, slowing down, as you traced your hand down his arm, simply lost in your touch. Your hand slid down his bicep, over raised muscle, along his forearm to his wrist, and then, you gently nudged his hand from his cock and replaced it with your own.

His lips fell open, a slight tremble in his breath as you gripped him. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, leaning against you as he caged you to what appeared to be an interrogation table. You felt the warped metal against your thighs from where he’d clutched at it just moments earlier.

Steadily, you began to pump him in your hand, careful to spread the wet of his precum down his shaft. He was hard within your grasp, painfully so, enough that you could feel the crystal outline of a vein running up along the underside. You pressed your thumb against it as you slid your hand up to his tip and brushed it over his slit. The whine he released against your neck was the most beautiful sound you ever heard.

“This okay?”

“S’good.” He nodded meekly against your collar but you could feel the strain in his shoulders, the restraint that left his jaw wired shut and breaths tight.

“It’s not enough, though. Is it?” you asked gently, though you knew the answer. You knew what he needed and your hand, or even your mouth, would not be enough. The Hydra scientists knew what they were doing when they designed this. It had a very specific purpose and it would not yield for anything less.

“You don’t have to, Y/n,” he said, stronger than you’d heard his voice since he was injected. It took nearly all his strength.

You smiled, letting your free hand cup at the side of his face. He leaned into the touch, seeking more, almost instinctively. Bucky was a complicated man; capable of light-hearted jokes in the middle of a warzone and an immeasurable guilt and shame that had not left him in his years since he was freed from Hydra. He was your closest friend, your partner in the field, a man that you trusted above all others, a man you cared for in ways he would never quite understand.

“I’m here, Bucky. I’ve got you,” you whispered sweetly, but you could still feel his hesitance. “Listen to me, I’ll leave if you really want me to. I’ll stop if this isn’t what you want. But please, don’t send me away and leave you suffer through this alone because you think I don’t want you. I do, Buck. I want you. I want to make you feel good. I want to take away your pain. Let me.”

He stared at you for a moment, a strange mixture of disbelief and longing upon his features. Slowly his hands lifted from the table and felt for the clasp at the back of your suit. You nodded at him, and slid the zipper down your spine, exposing perfect, untouched skin. He pealed it down along your shoulders, over your chest and down your waist. You helped him remove it down to your feet and kicked it off to the floor beside his own.

His eyes drifted to your chest, hands itching to reach out, but he held them firm at his sides.

“It’s okay, Buck. You can touch me,” you told him, reaching behind your back and releasing the clasp of your bra. The straps fell down your shoulders and you let the fabric slip from you. Bucky swallowed, his eyes drifting to your exposed chest. A smile started to curve upon your lips the longer he stared at you, like you were something to revere.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured quietly, almost to himself, as if saying it purely for the state of fact.

Your heart skipped a beat, lips parting in a slight shock, and you wondered if this was what it was like for the women he brought home on cold, lonely nights from the bar. You’d seen the content smiles on their faces in the morning as they sauntered out of his room with messy hair and a blissful kind of look in their eyes.

Bucky wasn’t the cold, calculating man the papers made him out to be. He was kind, exceptionally sweet, and a selfless to a fault. You didn’t suspect he was any different in a bedroom.

He shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “I never thought this would be how—"

But then— his face started to contort and suddenly Bucky was keening over. He clutched at his stomach, digging his nails deep into the muscle and he nearly collapsed to his knees.

“Bucky!”

You grabbed a firm hold of his right arm, just enough to keep him steady, and even the smallest of touches alone seemed to ignite something in him. Goosebumps littered his skin and a sweet kind of whine escaped past his lips as you ran a hand soothingly along his spine.

“Come on, we don’t have a lot of time,” you warned gently. It was a miracle within itself he was still on his feet. This serum had put ordinary men into shock within minutes if they didn’t find release. Never enough to kill them, but just enough to make them wish it would.

Bucky followed you back to the table at the center of the room, his hand clasped tightly in your own. It was the most physical affection you’d shown for one another, a tenderness outside of the rush of foreign chemicals in his veins, and you tried not to think about the fallout you were bound to find after.

He helped to guide you onto the table, resting your back against the cool, metal surface. Then, slowly, he crawled on top of you. His eyes drifted down to your panties and you lifted your hips for him, giving him the permission he needed to pull them down your legs.

His hand slid down along your curves, drawing goosebumps in his wake, until he swiftly slid his fingers between your thighs. Dipping into the wetness at your core, he spread his fingers around, lubricating himself until he slid two easily inside of you.

“Oh, Bucky,” you moaned, back arching as he pumped them against your walls. “God, that feels—so good.”

His left hand was curled tightly into a fist near you head as he propped his body weight up against the arm; gears whirring, the scars at the base of his shoulder red in the strain of it. One quick glance at the tension coating his muscles, the sharp breaths in his chest, the whine as his cock touched your thigh, and you were pulled swiftly from the clouds, a startling reminder why you were doing this in the first place.

“Hey, don’t worry about me,” you told him, a little breathless as he added the third finger. “I’m fine, Buck. You need to come. This isn’t about me.”

He shook his head, determined. “You’re not ready yet.”

You chuckled, a heat of embarrassment washing over you, even as he scissored his fingers, stretching your walls. You had to choke back a moan and the urge to clamp your thighs together around his wrist.

“I’m more than ready,” you said, voice a little higher, hands clenching at the sides of the table as you felt your walls tightening around his fingers. “Trust me, Buck. Just listening to you touch yourself was enough.”

You laughed again but the room was thick in tension, almost unbearably so. Bucky could hardly hear you. His hair had fallen down to shield his face, his gaze focused on where his fingers were lost to the most intimate parts of you; determined.

“It has to be good for you,” he muttered out slowly. You narrowed your eyes on him, growing worried as he seemed to retreat within himself. He was distant, his mind far away from his body. “It has to be good… it has to be good for you otherwise… otherwise I’m… I’m...”

He wouldn’t say it but you knew what he meant.

“Bucky, come back to me.” You reach up and grabbed a firm hold of his cheeks, thumbs at his jawline, and drew his attention to your eyes. It took him a moment to get there, but you found ocean blue again, even if it was clouded in dark, stormy skies. “I’m okay. Don’t worry about how I feel, alright? Just do what you need to, I’ll be fi—”

“I won’t use you like that!” Bucky snapped defiantly, startling you. “I don’t care that it feels like my skin is on fire and there’s knives carving through my body. I don’t care that I feel like I’m going to pass out and everything in me is fighting to force my way onto you and take what I want regardless of what it does to you! I don’t care! You’re my best friend and I… I…” He was panting, red in the face, and he couldn’t seem to find his words. He swallowed, though it looked as though it burned. “It has to be good for you, okay?”

You nodded, running your hands gently along his arms; his left, solid metal, unwavering, and his right trembled deep within the tissue – the gentle movements of his forearm pressed up against your stomach, his fingers searching out a pleasure he so desperately needed you to feel.

“I…” he started before he clenched his jaw. A heavy exhale followed, a drop of his gaze, and he muttered out weakly, “I need to pretend this is real.”

Your lips parted in shock; heart stammering so painful in your chest you wondered if he could hear it. Before you could say anything, before you could ask him what he meant by that, Bucky let his fingers slip out from between your legs, resting slicked against your thigh. The emptiness was startling.

“I think you’re ready for me now.”

Bucky nestled himself between your legs, lined his length your entrance with a gentle sweep of his top through your folds. He shivered, something near violent as it shook through his spine, and you were reminded again that Bucky was suffering, that he had a foreign chemical in his veins that ripped away his control and left him powerless to Hydra.

His skin was flushed red, sweat beading on his forehead and down his neck. There were sharp marks in the palm of his right hand where he dug his own nails into his skin. His breaths were coming in quickly and uneven.

“Look at me,” you ordered, stern enough to draw his attention. “Don’t hold back. You need to get this out, okay? I will tell you if it’s too much.”

It took him a moment, a breath of contemplation, before he nodded; slow and hesitant. You could see the strain in his jawline, the tension in his shoulders from how much he was restraining himself. It must have been agonizing, but Bucky had been through worse in his life. You supposed pain had become a familiar friend, one he learned to tame and control, even when it ripped him apart.

The moment he pressed his tip past your entrance, as he bottomed out in one thrust, as he felt your walls squeeze tightly around him for the first time, Bucky nearly came on the spot. He gasped into your shoulder, sucking marks against your skin as he rolled his hips against you. Slow and steady at first, reveling in the feel of being consumed whole, of being taken so well, of a rush of endorphins and pleasure he’d never felt even in the peak of sex. Everything was heightened, every touch was immaculate; he could feel your heartbeat through the walls squeezing at his cock.

“Oh, f-fuck,” he moaned against your ear, breath hot, voice dangerously low. “Fuck you feel so good, sweetheart. So fucking good. Goddamn perfect.”

You nodded, arms circling up around his shoulders as you rolled your hips to meet his own. You could still feel the stone carved tension in his muscle, how much he was holding back from what he needed. He was trying to be gentle with you, loving in a way the serum was not designed for, but it was testing him. He wouldn’t give into it, not in the way you asked him to, because Bucky had already lost so much to Hydra, already lost pieces of his mind and body, he would not let them take his soul, too.

“Just for you.” The words passed through your lips before you could quite catch onto their meaning. Your hands slipped down his chest as you brushed your thumbs against his nipples. He moaned, hips picking up in pace. He needed the encouragement, you realized. It was the only way he’d allow himself the release he needed to free his body of that serum.

He needed to pretend it was real.

He needed to pretend that you weren’t laying upon a cold, unforgiving table in an old Hydra base, that maybe this was something more than the consequences of a vile he didn’t ask for.

The line between the fantasy and reality was painfully thin.

“F-fuck, you’re so tight,” he mumbled breathily. The table began to squeak with every snap of his hips, with every drag of his cock at your core, the brush of his tip to the sweetest spot. It was easy to lose yourself in him, to forget that you were in an abandoned Hydra cell, that he had a foreign chemical in his veins determined to destroy him. He felt like heaven.

“S’all yours,” you whispered, drawing your hands down along his waist, slipping over his hips and gripping into the soft flesh of his ass. You pulled him deeper into you, daring him to go further. His pupils were blown so wide, you could barely see the blue in his eyes. He was slipping, barely holding into the restraint he so desperately clung to, and you rolled your hips at just the right angle, squeezed him enough to draw a mangled cry from his lips.

You kissed at the dip of his collar, sucking sweetly as he all but purred in response. Your lips mapped a path up his neck, along his jaw line, over cheekbones and at the tip of his nose, until you paused at his mouth. His heart was pounding, thunderous in his chest, and his hips seemed to pick up in pace with every kiss.

It wasn’t until you captured his lips against your own that Bucky lost the last ounce of control he had been clinging onto.

Something like a growl purred against your lips, a sound near feral, and the gentle push of his hips like ocean waves against you turned into quick, harsh snaps. He pulled his lips from you, trailing hot, wet kisses down your neck, until he found the place he was looking for and sunk his teeth to the crook of your shoulder.

“Ah, Bucky!”

All consuming. Feverish. A man untamed and he did not relent, not as your walls tightened around him like the twist of a coil, or as the sound of skin and wetness between your legs echoed high into the room, or when his fingers touched at your clit and rubbed harsh, quick and pressured circles until you were crying out so loudly, it must have carried through the whole base.

“Fuck! Ah, God, Bucky, don’t stop!”

Bucky groaned against you, sucking a mark where his teeth had met your flesh. You could feel the vibration of his voice against your skin, the pulse of his cock in your cunt, the thick vein that ran along his underside as it added so sweetly to the pressure at your entrance. It was wild and unhinged, but God – it was good.

“Y-yeah, baby, right there,” Bucky moaned, his thrusts falling uneven, haphazard, needy. “F-fuck, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna—ah, ah, f-fuck—”

The heat of him, the way he filled you so perfectly, the rush, and it pushed you over the edge. White hot and intoxicating, the wash of it broke open in floodgates and swept through you. His fingers did not let up on your clit as you squirmed and withered below him, his thrusts falling lazy as he chased the end of his release.

Breathless and a little dizzy as you came down from your high, you felt his heartbeat inside of you; quick, but even. The serum had done its work. It released him from its hold.

Bucky was panting, the full of his weight having fallen onto you. His hair was wet with sweat, messy and untamed, and the room smelled distinctly of sex. But more than that, it was unbearably silent.

Slowly, Bucky began to pry himself off of you, allowing his softened cock to slip from between your legs, slick and satisfied. He swallowed, a blush creeping onto his cheek as he pushed his hair behind his ear.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

You chuckled, propping yourself up on your elbows as you watched him quickly tug his pants back on before he bent down and picked up your suit for you, handing it gingerly to you upon the table with a shy sort of smile.

“Alright? I’m great.” You grinned over at him, glowing in the aftermath of your release. “You feel okay now?”

He nodded, a nervous smile tugging on his lips as he watched you jump down from the table and step into your suit. His eyes must have lingered on your thighs where his cum was still slick along the skin from his release because his smile began to fall, his jaw tightly clenched.

“SHEILD has me on birth control, Buck. Don’t worry about that,” you told him softly. You tugged the sleeves back up your arms, though it proved difficult with the lingering sweat on your skin. You flipped your hair over your shoulder and turned your back to him. “Do you mind?”

He cleared his throat awkwardly, shuffling forward to zip up the back of your suit. He brushed a few stray strands of hair over your shoulder, the gentle sweep of cool metal a relief against the hot flush of your skin; impossibly tender for a man capable of the things he was.

“So,” he started, a nervous chuckle in his voice as he grasped hold of the zipper, “should we talk about this or—”

“Bucky? Y/n? You guys read me?”

Steve.

“Seems the coms are back on,” you sighed, stepping to the side after Bucky finished zipping your suit. He was still holding his tactical vest in his hand, along with the one-armed jacket. His hair was untamed, cheeks flushed, and you imagined you looked of the same.

“We got you, Steve,” Bucky replied, though it seemed rather reluctant. “Where you been, man? You dropped us in a warzone.”

“Yeah, I figured that out,” Steve grumbled back. “Get to the jet. We’ll debrief on the way back. Don’t forget to rig the place to blow on your way out.”

“Right,” you rolled your eyes, grinning at Bucky as he slipped his jacket on. “Certainly, can’t forget the one thing you sent us here to do.”

“Unless you’ve got more Hydra agents hiding in the wings?” Bucky added on and you could practically see Steve deadpan from the cockpit.

“Just get out of there before I come get you myself.”

You laughed as you slid the batons back into the holsters at your shoulder blades.

It was strange, how quickly it felt as if nothing had changed at all. Maybe it hadn’t. Maybe it was a quick release and you were simply helping a friend. Maybe it was something neither of you would speak of again and you’d go right back to being partners, friends, as if it never happened.

But as you turned around at the edge of the room, a smile wide upon your face, you found Bucky watching you with a kind of look in his eye you couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t one you recognized, wasn’t one you’d seen in him before. It was something new.

His eyes flickered to your collarbone where a mark upon your skin was growing discolored; bite marks and bruising where his mouth had been. A strange mixture of remorse and longing, affection and need, all rolled into one.

“You ready, Buck?”

He nodded quickly, snapping himself from his gaze with a pressed smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, though he tried. He met you at the edge of the room, trailing a few steps behind you, and you turned around to find him staring back into the cell, like he was trying to preserve a memory of some kind.

You realized as you watched Bucky clear his throat awkwardly, turning back to you with a gentle blush of pink in his cheeks, that there was no pretending you hadn’t crossed a line together. There was no going back.

---

part 2

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes X you #bucky x reader #sex pollen #bucky barnes smut #tw dubcon

13K notes · View notes

forever-rogue · 4 years ago

Text

His + Hers

Summary | You didn’t want a bodyguard and certainly didn’t need one. Bucky didn’t want the job. But as soon as the two of you meet, all bets are off.

Pairing | Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 4.2k

Warnings | language (including light degradation, possessive!Bucky, smut (oral - f receiving, piv) - minors dni or you will be blocked

Masterlists | Bucky, Main

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“I don’t need anyone to watch over me,” rolled eyes and loudly snapped gum. Crossed legs and an anxiously jiggling foot. The aging clock ticked loudly as your gaze burned into the giant dual monitors that shielded the man on the other side. He had just oh so casually dropped some horrible news to you.

What was his name? Jeff? Jeffrey? Jefferson? It didn’t matter. Funny. For a man that you’d seen more often than your father in recent years, you’d think you might have remembered his name. Despite all that you still hadn’t seen him more than four, save five, times.

“Those are your father’s wishes.”

“Then why isn’t he here telling me this?”

“He’s a very busy man.”

“A man too busy to see own daughter, his own child, always work, work, working,” you spat, “what he could be doing that’s so important that he couldn’t even spare me fifteen minutes of his time?”

“He’s-”

“It was a rhetorical question,” you stood up and grabbed your bag, “sometimes it still shocks me that a man that claims he loves me so much he barely speaks to me, sees me. I don’t want this bodyguard - if you send them to me I will simply send them away. Don’t waste my time or theirs.”

“Your father is going to send someone regardless of your wishes, you must know this by now.”

“Tell him if he’s so insistent upon me being chaperoned like a puppy that he can come and talk to me himself,” you threw your shoulders back as you tried to chase away emotions or feelings. This was not the time or place for them, “see you in another six months for so.”

“Miss -”

You slammed the door shut before he could say anything else.

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“This is fuckin’ ridiculous,” Bucky’s groan was heavy - irritated - as he trudged up the stairs to the ninth freaking floor. Of course you couldn’t live somewhere near the bottom. Of course the elevator was broken, “I’m gonna murder you, Wilson.”

Inhaling and exhaling slowly, he calmed himself with every single step. Left foot, right foot, and repeat. Before he knew it, he arrived on your floor, less angry but still annoyed.

Bucky looked around for your apartment number, finding it quickly but wishing he hadn't. It was supposed to be a simple job - hang around you for a little while until things calmed down around your father. There was never any huge threat to you, but you were to be kept safe anyway. Typical rich people, he practically rolled his eyes. Complete idiot, he sighed at himself. He could have walked away from the gig easily, but things had been quiet after everything in New York and he needed something fresh. Naturally he’d say yes to this when Sam mentioned the job to him.

Once he found your apartment he slowly trudged through the hall, his mind all but made up about you already. You were going to be nothing more than a spoiled little brat. He looked at the golden number above your door and sighed heavily before knocking loudly.

For a few moments, nothing but silence met his ears before he finally heard what he was sure was annoyed grumbling inside accompanied by soft footsteps. The door was whipped open and Bucky came face to face with you.

Your brows knitted together as you studied him before crossing your arms over your chest, “can I help you?”

“James Barnes,” his name practically came out as a sigh. You raised your eyebrows at him but remained silent.

“And?” you asked as you moved to close the door, “I’m in the middle of my fifth zoom meeting of the day and annoyed and hungry. Thanks for wasting my time. Have a fantastic day.”

Before you could slam the door in his face, Bucky stuck his foot in the doorway and prevented you from closing it. A huff escaped your lips as you glared at him through the crack, “your father sent me. I’m supposed to look after you.”

“Ahh yes,” you rolled your eyes and frowned, “the baby-sitter my father hired. I told him and his assistant that I don’t want - or need - anything to watch me. I’m fine. So if you don’t mind you can leave. I’m busy and don’t have time to deal with you.”

“You don’t pay me sweetheart,” he scoffed lightly as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. You wanted a challenge? He’d give you one, “and as long as that’s the case, I stay.”

“I’ll double whatever he paid you.”

“Oh honey, I doubt you could ever afford that.”

“What can I do to get you to leave?”

“Nothing.”

“It really doesn’t seem like you want to be here either so why don’t we both do ourselves a favor and cut the shit?”

“Not until your father tells me it’s okay to leave,” he smirked, “I don’t take orders from little girls, sweetheart. Nor do you pay my bills.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“And you’re a bitch,” your mouth opened into a little pout as you attempted to shut the door on his foot, “you can shut the door, it won’t hurt me. I’ll just tear it down if I have to.”

“Are you serious?!”

“Want to find out?” he asked as you threw your head back and sighed at the ceiling. Yes and no. You wanted to push his buttons and see how far you could press. But you also didn’t have the energy to deal with it. Instead you slowly, ever so reluctantly opened the door, refusing to move but motioning for him to come in. He practically sauntered in with a victorious little smirk on his lips, “good girl.”

You were to let him have it when he turned around to face you and finally got the chance to study him. And your jaw almost hit the floor. Fuck.

He was handsome - dark hair and the bluest eyes you’d ever seen with a five o’clock shadow. He was dressed in very well fitting jeans, along with a henley and leather jacket. So casual but he managed to make it look so good. For a moment you thought he looked familiar but you couldn’t quite place. Maybe you’d seen him around somewhere.

Well, this presented a whole new predicament. This would have been so much easier if he hadn’t been one of the most gorgeous men you’d laid eyes on.

“Like what you see?”

“I’m not into old men,” you cocked your head to the side and watched him with a smirk. Bucky almost tripped up and let an emotion slip but instead he remained pointedly neutral as he looked you up and down.

It would have been easier to dislike and hate you entirely if you weren’t so damn cute. You were dressed in a comfy, oversized sweater and joggers and big fuzzy socks - casual and cute but effortlessly so. It was a challenge not to stare.

“Whatever you say,” he held up his hands in mock defeat as you became momentarily placated, “what’s the plan for today?”

“I have a job and things to do,” you huffed as you pushed past him, “so just do something or whatever and stay out of my way. If you insist on being here.”

“I do.”

“This is going to be fucking hell, isn’t it?”

“It can be whatever you want, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart!”

“Sure thing, doll.”

"I hate you already.”

“The feelings’ mutual, honey.”

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Hating Bucky was a full time job. Bucky having to chaperone you through all of your shenanigans was a full time job. Both of you were incredibly stubborn and damn near made the job impossible.

You'd be lying if it said he wasn't attractive and that you hadn't thought about him. Especially late at night. Alone in bed. But you'd rather die than admit that to him.

Bucky had a feeling he'd break you down eventually; not that he expected anything to come of it. He enjoyed flirting with you and watching you get frazzled and nervous. But you weren't his type. Nuh uh - Bucky Barnes wasn't into pretty little spoiled brats. Even if they weren't attractive and smart and genuinely kind underneath it all.

That wasn't part of the job. Which was why he never let it go past anything that could be deemed as flirtatious.

Just as he vowed to break you down and just admit you liked him, you might have had a little goal of your own…

"Come on," Bucky sighed as he paced around your living room, waiting for you to come out of the bedroom so you could pizza and watch movies. It had become somewhat of a Friday night tradition, reluctantly so. It was hard to get out and have a lot of fun when you had a silent, intimidating brooding man following you around, "how long does it take to change?"

"Shut up," you rolled your eyes as you opened your bedroom door and stepped out, slipping on your heels, "I'm ready."

Bucky's eyes widened as he looked you over. You were wearing a little black dress and fuck me heels along with ruby red lips and a full face of makeup. He fought back a little growl as you smirked at him, "what the fuck are you wearing?"

"Its called a dress, genius."

"To get pizza so we can come back and watch movies?"

"That's not the plan," you straightened up and walked past him, grabbing your purse and jacket.

"You said-"

"I lied," you stated the obvious, "I'm going out to finally have some fun. Without you."

"I'm coming with you," he crossed his arms over his broad chest as you tried not to stare, "that's the job, sweetheart."

"And I'd like to actually have fun and get laid," you threw your hands up, "its hard to do that with you breathing down my neck constantly! If you insist, can you at least like stay ten feet away. Give me a fucking break."

His breath had hitched in his throat as soon as he heard the words get laid and he worked to keep it together. He sighed as he forced himself not to imagine you underneath, naked and begging for more.

"Fine," he agreed reluctantly, "ten feet only."

"Thank fuck."

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One drink had turned into two which easily turned into three and after that you’d both lost count. Bucky had been sitting at the bar, a singular, but arbitrary drink in his hand as he watched you get progressively looser as the evening wore on. His steely gaze almost never left yours as he watched you chat up people around you. You were naturally extroverted, and definitely a flirt - but then again maybe that was the alcohol - and it wore Bucky out trying to keep an eye on you. He wasn’t terribly concerned about what was going on, but still, he was a man that took his job seriously.

It wasn’t until he decided that it was fine to let you out of his sight for a few moments only to turn back and found you missing. A growl bubbled up in his throat as he scanned the tightly packed pace and found you in the middle of the dance floor. You were pressed against a man that had been eyeing you up since you’d gotten there, mouths smashed together as you kissed him like your life depended on it. Your arms were wrapped around his neck and his hands were on your ass the entire time.

As soon as you ground up against him, something in Bucky snapped. He threw back the rest of his drink and quickly made his way over to you. The people in his path parted like the seas when they noticed the predatory expression in his eyes. Before you could even realize what had happened, you felt a hand tightly squeeze your shoulder. A gasp left your lips as Bucky pulled you away from your newfound friend.

“What the fuck!” you glared at him as the man that just had his hands all over you grew visibly nervous. Bucky grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him close, “Bucky!”

“Keep your filthy fuckin’ hands off of her, you understand?” he growled at the man as he just nodded, “I ever see you near her again and you’re dead. You leave my girl alone.”

Bucky shoved him away and the man practically skittered across the bar and out the door without so much as a single glance back. Breathing angrily, he turned around to find you staring at him in awe, arms over your chest. You were suddenly incredibly sober, “what the hell was that? I’m not your fucking girl, Bucky.”

“We’re going home. Now,” he reached for your hand and held your wrist in a tight grip as he dragged you without another word. You wanted to argue with him and fight back, but there was something about his possessive nature that had sent a shiver down your spine and a rush of warmth to your core as you let him pull you along like a ragdoll.

Maybe your dangerous little plan was finally going to turn into reality.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Are you going to finally tell me what’s going on?” you asked as you walked back into your apartment, trailing after Bucky and slamming the door shut, “you chased off my only chance of-”

Before you could say anything else, Bucky’s hands found your waist and he crashed his lips onto yours in a bruising tangle of tongue and teeth. You responded with a surprised moan as he backed you up against the wall, making sure you didn’t hit your head.

“He’s a fuckin’ boy,” he insisted as he lightly gripped your throat, causing you to part your lips as you fought back a moan, “he wouldn’t have made you cum. Probably doesn’t even know where your pretty little clit is.”

“And you would?” you challenged, already knowing exactly where this was leading. Something in your mind told you that this was wrong and you should have stopped it, but the larger part of you really just wanted him. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it for weeks and weeks now, touching yourself late at night to the thought of him. Bucky smiled at you - a dangerous, toothy, wicked thing causing you to swallow thickly, “I don’t think you could. You’re all talk, Bucky. Probably haven’t even been laid since the 40s.”

“Don’t act like you don’t want this too, sweetheart,” he whispered in your ear before trailing kisses along your jaw and down your neck, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin, making it a point to mark you up. That way everyone would know you were his. He rutted his lips lightly against yours, and you could already feel how hard he was, “I see the way you look at me - I know you’ve thought about me. Probably touched that pretty pussy of yours and wished it was my cock, huh little girl?”

“Bucky,” his name was nothing more than a whimper of your lips as you tried to reach down and touch yourself. He was quick to grab your hand and pull it away. You whimpered as he just chuckled darkly. Oh, how easily he could break you down with just a few words, “please. Need you.”

“I’ll give you what you need,” he swore as he watched you with hungry eyes. He shimmied up your dress and moved to touch you. His smirk only grew when he noticed you’d forgone panties, “look at you, such a little slut. You didn’t even put on panties? You really wanted this, didn’t you? Were you just hoping I’d touch you? I bet you had this whole thing planned out - just wanted me to fuck you, didn’t you?”

You looked at him with wide doe eyes but remained silent as you tried to play coy. But he was having none of it, and grabbing your jaw, “answer me.”

“Mhmm..,just want you,” you admitted as he slowly let go before grabbing both of your wrists in his vibranium hand and pinning them above your head, “just touch me.”

And he did - slowly, he dragged his fingers through your folds, smirking at how wet you already were, “oh honey, you’re practically dripping. So wet already, and I’ve barely even touched you. Such a good little slut.”

Your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of him circling your clit slowly before feeling your soaked folds and sliding a thick finger inside. A small sound of surprise reached his ears as you almost rutted into his hand and he easily slid another finger in. The stretch from his fingers was enough to spark the warmth in your belly as you bit your lip to keep from whining.

“Look at you, such a needy little thing,” you could hear the smirk in his voice as he fucked with his fingers, “but you’re not going to cum on my fingers. I’m going to see if you taste as sweet as you look. Gonna make ruin that pussy for anyone else. You’re mine - you understand?”

“‘m yours,” you whimpered as he let go of your hands and slowly sank to his knees in front of you. His large hands, a contrast of warm and cool, splayed on your thighs before slowly traveling up to your hips and grabbing them in a bruising grasp. This man was really working to make sure he would remain all over you. He pressed a few kisses to your thighs before stopping at your mound, and you could feel his warm breath fanning across on your pussy, “please.”

“That’s right, you can be a good girl,” he didn’t even hesitate for a moment before diving in and licking a stripe up your folds, causing sparks to shoot throughout your spine. You could feel him smirking against you at the immediate effect he had as he ate you out like a man starving.

Bucky Barnes was not a shy man when it came to eating pussy. He licked and suckled on your clit as he let two of his cool vibranium fingers slide into your pussy. He crooked them just right, effortlessly finding your g-spot as your knees threatened to buckle. No one man had ever made you feel this good before, nor so easily.

“F-fuck,” you hissed as he pulled back and look at the blissed out expression on your face, “more please.”

“Look at you pretty little thing,” he grinned as he pressed a few wet, sloppy kisses to your mound. He pulled his fingers from you before reaching up and practically ripping your dress off. If you’d hadn’t been so close to cumming, you would have yelled at him, but in the moment you didn’t care. Especially not as his hands found your breasts and massaged them before he played with your pert nipples, causing you to arch into his touch, “not wearing a bra either. You are bad.”

“‘m so close,” you whined as he just smirked at you. Before you could say anything else he slapped your pussy, causing you to jump slightly before you keened into his touch, silently asking for more.

“You like that, honey?” he teased as you nodded with closed eyes, your mouth forming a small o. He repeated the motion before he grabbed your ass and buried his face back into your pussy. You moaned into his touch, bucking your hips against his mouth as he made all the most sinful noises as he ate you out like his life depended it on. He worked pure magic with only his tongue and he soon had you seeing stars as your legs started to shake around him. He anchored you to him and kept you from falling down as he brought on your orgasm, “that’s it honey. You’re going to cum all over my face, going to taste all that pretty pussy has to offer.”

“F-f-fuck,” you reached down and carded a hand through his dark hair as you held him against you, “jesus.”

“Cum for me,” he commanded and you did just as you were told, crying out his name like a prayer as you felt your release wash over you. Bucky stayed between your legs as you came all over him, cleaning up every little bit you had, not stopping until you were begging him to stop from the over stimulation, “tastes like fuckin’ candy. Best pussy I ever tasted.”

“Jesus,” your chest was heaving as he kissed his way up your body. He stopped at your lips and offered you a victorious little smirk, “you’re an asshole but at least you know how to eat pussy.”

He grabbed your chin in his hand and forced you to look at him, “you’re mine - this pussy is mine and no one else’s, you understand, little brat?”

“Ruin me then,” you raised your eyebrows before you kissed him again, trying to beat him at his own little game. But it was no use - he was easily more dominant and held control over you, “make me yours.”

“Turn around,” he growled as he flipped you in his arms and pressed you against the wall. You moaned as his hands mapped out every curve of your body before you felt the sharp sting of his hand on your ass. Just to spur him on a little more, you bounced your ass and he slapped you a few more times before massaging your skin to soothe the pain, “you like it when it hurts. God, you’re perfect. My little slut.”

“Please fuck me. Need you so bad,” you practically whined but quickly grinned when you heard him undo his belt and pants before he pulled his cock out. He groaned in your ear as you heard him stroke himself a few times.

“‘m so fucking hard, baby,” he ran the tip of his cock through your folds and you could already feel how big he was, “got me leakin’ already. Thought about you and that smart little mouth so many times. Always cum so hard when I think about you. Can’t wait to see how good this pussy feels squeezing my cock. You’re going to take all of me, little thing.”

He coated his length with your arousal - you were already so wet again - before slapping his cock against your ass. You tried to reach around so you could touch him but he slapped your hand out of the way.

“Put your cock in me,” you practically begged and before you could say anything else, he plunged into you, causing you to practically scream in surprise. He didn’t stop until he was fully sheathed inside of you, feeling like he was practically splitting you apart. The burn quickly faded away as you moaned and clenched your walls around him, “fuck, you’re so big.”

“Did you expect anything else, pretty baby?” he whispered in your ear before grabbing your hips again. He slowly pulled out almost all the way before thrusting back into you with no warning. You clawed at the wall as he set a brutal pace, slamming his hips into yours over and over again, letting you have almost no room to breath. The only sounds that left your lips were small whimpers and mewls he fucked you to an inch of your life.

You felt the coolness of the vibranium snake around your body before he found your clit. You let him press you against the wall as he pounded into you, and you quickly left your second orgasm start to bubble up in your tummy.

“Taking my cock so well,” he praised as he slowly played with your clit. He was not shy about being loud and moaning, all while murmuring filthy praise into your ear, “so tight - so perfect. This pussy was made for me.”

“More,” you begged in between breaths, “harder, please.”

“You want it harder, pretty baby? You’re not gonna be walkin’ after this,” he smirked before he picked the pace and fucked you even harder than before, which you hadn’t even thought possible, “good girl. Good fuckin’ girl. Gonna cum all over my cock?”

“Mhmm,” you agreed with a wistful smile, a fucked out expression on your face as you felt his cock twitch inside of you as your walls started to clench around him, “please, please, please.”

“Gonna fill you up,” he said through gritted teeth as he slowed his thrusts, making them slower and deeper than before, “gonna make sure you know who you belong to.”

It was a few more thrusts before you came again, crying out as the pleasure rippled through your body. Bucky came quickly after, grunting as he came inside of you, filling you up with hot ropes of his cum. He fucked you through it all, not stopping until you were feeling boneless and he had filled you with every last drop.

He easily caught you just as you were about to collapse in his arms and pulled you against his chest as he pressed a few kisses to your shoulder. You reached behind you and carded a hand through his arm, scratched at his scalp as he continued to kiss your neck and shoulder.

“Fuck, Bucky,” you said as you tried to catch your breath, “that was incredible.”

“I told you I’d ruin every other man for you,” he slowly pulled out and turned you around so you were facing him. You put a hand under your chin and turned your face up to his, “you’re mine.”

“I’m your girl,” it was like music to his ears as you reached between your thighs and swiped his cum mixed with your arousal up and sucked it clean off your finger, “my pussy is yours and your cock is mine.”

“Good girl, “ he praised with a wicked smile, “now get on your knees and put that pretty mouth to use.”

“Yes sir.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Marvel Taglist (add yourself to a taglist here!)(strike-through means I couldn’t tag you - please check your settings)

@qhbr2013 @greeneyedblondie44 @april-showers-and-flowers @softboiipascal @im-an-adult-ish @patzammit @niki-xie @xxlovingfandomsxx @startrekkingaroundasgard @welcometothepedroverse @actual-spawn-of-satan @punkerthanpascal @lazybeeches @someday-when-you-leave-me @justgivemethekeys @salome-c @rosiefridayrogersunday @neptunesglow @artsymaddie @haildoodles @amneris21 @star017 @irepostthingsiwanttoseelater @its–fandom–darling @ayamenimthiriel @alyispunk @djarinbarnes @edencherries @ashamed23 @sunsetskywalkerr @nikkixostan @spookispunk @cable-kenobi @hrtsgetbrkn @ironicfoxes @iilwjbb @cc13723things @thenormreedus @gooddaykate @natthebattygeologist @sociallyantisocialbutterfly @n3ssm0nique @daughterofthenight117 @riddikulus-obsessions @imaginelover88 @saint-bvcky @banana-cheese-cake @sleep-tight1 @missstef23 @moonlacebeam @asylummara @wakandabiitch2 @hoodedbirdie @mysweetlittledesire

@lunaserenade @reallyloudstarlight @jettia

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you

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storiesforallfandoms · 4 years ago

Text

backstage ~ pete davidson

word count: 1960

request?: yes!

“Can you do a Pete Davidson smut on the set of SNL”

description: in which a backstage tour turns into something a little more

pairing: pete davidson x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut

masterlist (one, two)

“And this is the writer’s room,” Pete said as he led me into a room with a large desk surrounded by multiple chairs. “This is where we come up with the skits and the jokes. There’s John, being the loner he is.”

“You say that like it’s a joke but you’re my best friend so what does that say about you?” John asked, not looking up from his laptop.

Pete chuckled and wrapped an arm around my waist. “Moving on - ”

“Hold on!” I cut him off. “We are not just sweeping past John Mulaney like that. You know how much I love him.”

This made the older comedian look up from his laptop and smile at me. “Oh, I like this girl. She’s got good taste.”

Pete rolled his eyes at the two of us. “You can come back and talk to John before we start filming. This is a big set and I told you I’d show you all of it.”

I playfully pouted at him before waving goodbye to John and continuing to follow Pete through the unfamiliar building.

Pete had been dying to give me a tour of the SNL backstage basically since we had started dating. Our schedules never lined up enough to be able to, but I had finally managed to get a full weekend off and Pete decided to take advantage of that.

The set was much larger than I thought, with every castmate having their own dressing rooms, plus special rooms for the hosts and musical guests. So many rooms for writing and editing, and the massive set where everything was filmed, usually in front of an audience. I didn’t understand how Pete didn’t get lost every day, even if he was familiar with the place.

“And finally,” he said once we neared the end of his tour, “my home away from home.”

He pushed open the door with his name written on a wooden plaque. The room definitely screamed “Pete”. Besides the smell of weed smoke that seemed to linger no matter how long Pete wasn’t there, the room was also littered with little things he liked to have with him at all times: pictures of his dad, his mom, the two of us, little gifts I had always given him for every season premiere, little things from his other friends.

There was a comfortable looking couch along the wall that was begging for me to lay down on it. I sighed in relief the moment my back touched the couch, my legs and feet aching from the heels I decided to wear.

Pete chuckled at my reaction. “I told you to wear something comfortable.”

“And I told you I wanted to make a good impression on your co-stars, which includes a nice outfit.”

I had decided on a long sleeved white shirt and a short, plaid skirt to wear on set, with a pair of black booties that were nice when I put them on, but now that I had been walking around in them for almost an hour I was regretting my wardrobe choices.

Pete smiled and came to lay down on the couch on top of me, his legs between mine and his hands on either side of my head. “Baby, you could wear a garbage bag and everyone here would still be impressed by you.”

“Well, I’ll do that next time then.”

He chuckled and lowered himself so he was kissing me. It was a quick kiss on my lips before he dipped his head to kiss my neck. I giggled as the slight stubble he was starting to grow tickled my neck, followed by a moan as he found the spot on my neck that always drove me wild.

“The skirt does give me some easy access, though,” he mumbled against my neck as one of his hands traced up my bare leg and dipped under my skirt. I gasped as he ran a finger over my clothed clit - or, just barley clothed as I was wearing a G-string. “God, baby, I’ve barley touched you and you’re already soaking wet.”

I moaned as his finger slipped under my G-string and inside of me. He was quick to cover my mouth, a cheeky grin on his face at my reaction.

“You have to be quiet, baby,” he said. “Anyone could come catch us at any time.”

I bit my lip to try and keep quiet as his finger slid in and out of me, first at a slow pace. My moans came out as squeaks and whimpers of pleasure as his pace began to pick up and he slipped another finger into me. I was basically writhing underneath him, which I could tell he was taking a lot of pleasure in.

With two of his fingers in me, he pressed his thumb against my clit and began to rub painfully slow circles, causing my body to arch against him. It was becoming harder to hold back my moans and I had to cover my own mouth with my hand.

“God, this is so fucking dirty,” Pete commented. “Finger fucking my beautiful girl on the couch of my dressing room? Where all my co-workers come in and hang out with me? Man, I’ll never be able to look at this couch the same.”

“It’ll be a nice memory of me,” I said, trying my best to smile up at him but another whimper being let out instead.

“I’ll never not think of you when I’m in this room again,” he confirmed, lowering himself to kiss my neck again.

I was already nearing my climax when Pete’s fingers were removed from my wet core. I looked up at him with puppy dog eyes and my lips pouting. He brought his wet fingers to his lips and took them in his mouth.

“Fuck,” I breathed. I didn’t think it were possible, but I managed to become even more wet at the sight.

“Flip over on your hands and knees baby,” he told me.

I excitedly did as he told me, spinning to be back on to him on my hands and knees. I started reaching for my panties to take them off, but his hand caught hold of my wrists before I could.

“Leave them on,” he said. “I think it’ll be extra hot to fuck you with your skirt and panties still on.”

I nodded excitedly and got back into my position. Pete stood for just a moment, long enough to undo his jeans and let them, and his underwear, fall to the floor. My heart was racing as I felt the couch dip behind me again and Pete pulling my panties to the side as he lined his head up with my entrance.

As he pushed himself inside of me ever so slowly, his other hand came to rest on my back, pushing me down till my head was buried in the couch cushions.

“Best way to keep you quiet,” he said. “I don’t intend to go easy on you.”

“I don’t want you to go easy on me,” I responded.

I looked over my shoulder to see the smile on Pete’s face. He took hold of my waist with both hands and started to thrust slow at first, making sure I was comfortable and fully stretched around him. Once he was sure I was okay, his thrusts gradually got quicker and rougher until he was pounding me so hard that the only sounds in the room were that of skin slapping against skin.

I buried my face in the couch again, trying my best the muffle the moans that were basically turning to screams of pleasure. However this process was basically moot as the sound of our skin slapping against each other and Pete’s own moans and groans of pleasure would definitely alert any passersby of our activities.

Being adventurous with our sex was definitely nothing new to Pete and I. Whenever one of us was in the mood, we’d initiate it wherever we wanted. In bathrooms, fitting rooms, in the back of his car, wherever we could get some form of privacy while also being a little too out in public.

But there was just something different about having him rail me in his dressing room mere minutes before he was set to go live. At any moment someone could walk past, or one of the producers could come knock on the door. Or, heaven forbid if he didn’t lock the door, someone could just walk in and catch the two of us. All of that just made our secret rendezvous a little more naughty and sexy. While I didn’t want to be caught by any means, the thought that it would be so easy to be caught drove me wild.

Pete’s thrusts became so rough that I could hear the couch legs scraping across the floor as it moved. My legs were already feeling like jelly and I had a feeling I was going to have trouble walking to set with Pete when this was over.

His hand ran up my back and through my hair before giving my head a rough tug back. I yelped at the sudden pain that I felt in my head before it dissolved into a moan. Pete pulled me back till my back was against his chest and leaned in close to my ear.

“You feel so good,” he breathed into my ear. “God, even after all this time, you’re still so tight around me.”

“You keep talking like that and I’ll cum around your cock in no time.”

The hand in my hair crept around my front to grab me by the throat. “You say that as if it’s not what I wanted.”

His other hand slipped between my legs and began rubbing at my clit, causing all sorts of pleasure to run through me. My body started to tremble as I felt myself nearing my climax. The hand around my throat squeezed slightly as I let out a cry of pleasure, my walls tightening around him.

Pete grunted in my ear a few more times before I felt him filling me up as well. I took a deep breath in when he let go of my throat, although my head was still spinning.

Pete pulled out of me just in time for a knock to come on his door. “Give me a second!”

He quickly pulled his pants and boxers back on as I adjusted my skirt and panties. Although I was sure whoever was at the door wouldn’t notice the wet spot that had suddenly appeared on the couch, I still decided to cover it with a pillow just in case.

One of the producers was stood at the door. “Hey, I just wanted to let you know that we’re starting in roughly five minutes!”

“Thanks, I’ll be there soon,” Pete responded. He shut the door and looked back at me. His eyes travelled down to my legs as an amused look crossed his face. “You got something on your leg there hun.”

I looked down to see a single string of warm liquid running down my inner thigh. “Oh fuck.”

I reached for a tissue but Pete stopped me. “Wait, don’t clean it yet. I’d love to know you’re in the audience watching me with my cum running down your legs.”

“Okay, that’s hot, but I don’t want your co-workers thinking I peed myself or something.”

“I’ll tell them the truth if you want.”

I rolled my eyes and shoved him towards the door. “Go to set! Let me clean up. I’m sure there’s more there that can fulfil this fantasy you have.”

Pete smiled down and gave me one last kiss before rushing to set.

#pete davidson #pete davidson imagine #peter parker x reader #pete davidson smut #imagine #one shot #request #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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raggaraddy · 3 years ago

Text

Intruders.

Request from @dramaclub-thin: Mafia BTS where the reader is shot for/because of them.

A/N: Another long one. This one doesn't have so much of the worried reaction, cause I wrote it to fit the Mafia! Jungkook character. It's still fun though ^-^ Thanks again for the request. 💜💜💜

If anyone else wants to request, you can here.

Other parts:

Namjoon

Yoongi

Jimin

Taehyung

Summary: When a loose end breaks into Jungkooks house with guns drawn, you get a first-hand lesson that maybe Jungkook isn't as invulnerable as you had thought.

Trigger Warnings: Graphic violence, gun usage, blood, murder.

Jungkook

Mafia! Jungkook

Fighting to get free, you're kicking your legs. Squirming. Squealing as you shove your hands against Jungkook's chest, pushing him back as hard as you can. Tears starting to fill your eye line.

"Stop, stop, stop," you shout, with no effect. Struggling harder.

"Admit it!" He yells back, a smile on his face.

"Never," You scream. Not able to hold it back anymore. Your screech morphs into forceful laughter as Jungkook continues to tickle you. Your cheeks aching from how widely you're smiling. Your sides hurting as you keep thrashing for release.

"Admit I could beat up the Hulk, and I'll let you go." He insists again, pressing you down with a massive grin.

"Okay, okay!" You squeal, finally conceding. Groaning in relief, when his fingers stop tickling your stomach. Your limbs dropping down to rest. "You could totally kick the Hulk's ass." You chuckle, rolling your eyes.

"Damn right I could!" He bursts into laughter also. Easing back with a sigh now that he no longer has to hold you still. Neither of you phased by the movie that started the debate still blaring in the background.

Roughly you punch your fist into his chest, intentionally knocking the air out of him. Taking advantage while he is caught off guard to push him flat onto the carpet beside you. Straddling his lap, you lean over him pinning his arms to the floor before he has a chance to argue. Not that you think he would. The fun-filled smile doesn't leave his face for a moment. Completely amused by you, while you try your best to put on an intimidating act. Trying to stop yourself from smiling again.

"Jeon Jungkook. You cheated." You playfully scold, "And if you can't have a grown-up discussion, then you can't do other grown-up things either." You accentuate your point by grinding down. Feeling his hips push up as you tease him. Lifting up right away, shaking your head as you remove the contact. "Nah uh. Cheaters don't get that." You smirk.

"Don't be mean just cause I won." He runs his tongue inside his cheek. His gaze showing desire and a want for you to continue. But you're not done toying with him.

"You didn't win." You poke your tongue out, rocking your hips a single time more, "Confessions under duress are not admissible anyway."

"No, but it's good leverage to have." He answers a little too honestly and without thinking. Not entirely talking about your play fight anymore.

Chuckling awkwardly, you shake off the train of thought that wants to evaluate what he just said. Not wanting to let your mind remember that part of him right now. Trying instead, to return to your spirited banter. But he gets in before you.

"Nope," He easily breaks out and overpowers your hold wrapping his arm around your waist, carrying you as he stands up. "you admitted I'm stronger than the Hulk, and I'm never gonna let that go." Bending down, he throws you over his shoulder, slapping your ass to tease you back.

His shoulder digging into your gut stops you from taking a full breath or making a snippy comeback. So you slap his ass in retaliation instead.

"Come on Kitten, you have to give me a prize for winning." He purs suggestively, carrying you out of the living room into the foyer.

He's going to take you upstairs, but you don't make it to them before both of your heads snap towards the entrance. A flurry of gunshots exploding just beyond the front door. The commotion silencing as quickly as it started.

Jungkook slings you off his shoulder. Becoming another person in an instant. Purely focused. Opening the coat closet, he pulls a Glock from his jacket.

"Get upstairs, now." He barks.

You don't have to be asked twice, running to the stairs. Gasping as the garage door next to the steps opens, two hooded men storming in with guns drawn. Jungkook reacts quickly, firing past you. Shooting one of them, missing the second who ducks instead of firing back.

At the same time, blowing open to the left of you, the front door is kicked in. Swinging wide, four more masked men rush the house. Firing rapidly and wildly. Scarcely missing Jungkook who is moving preemptively and is 3 steps ahead. Running forward he shoots the second man in front of you. Grabbing your arm, dragging you over their dead bodies into the garage with him.

Shutting you in just as bullets explode through the wood door at your back.

Jungkook forces you to keep up, throwing you behind the car. The automatic shots continuing to decimate. The four-wheel-drive being the only thing that keeps either of you from getting shot.

Panting and on the verge of tears, you're crouched beside Jungkook. Watching him, waiting to react to anything he says. Knowing he is all that stands between you and death. But also knowing that with him in this mindset he could do just as much damage to you as one of those other men might.

The gunfire stops. Distorted voices shouting behind the door's remains. Jungkook cautiously raises up, leaning over the hood. He lines up a shot as the door opens warily, taking down another of them. Slouching behind the car as a new wave of bullets comes in response.

In front of you, the shelves covered in storage boxes and the workbench full of tools is ripped to shreds. Things erupting in every direction. Covering you in debris.

Pulling his phone from his pocket he shoves it in your lap.

"Call the first number!"

Your brain is stalling, your hands are shaking, but you follow the order as best as you can. The way your fingers are vibrating making it so much harder.

"What's up Boss?" You can hear the faint sound of his first lieutenant, as the firing ceasing again. Jungkook snatches the phone, speaking lowly and calmly.

"My house is breached and we're under fire. At least 3 guys. Semi-autos. We're held up in the garage and I've got maybe 15 rounds left." He passes the information over precisely. Remaining organized and in control.

"We're 10 out," the first confirms back, yelling orders to people on his end of the phone.

Your head jolts towards the garage door as it heavily clunks, starting to lift along the tracks. Exposing you on two sides.

"Fuck," Jungkook exclaims. "We don't have 10 minutes."

He stands, staying low. Opening the car door, tossing the phone in, followed by you. Your limbs hitting everything as you try to keep up with his pace. Making it onto the seat in an awkward heap.

"Stay down," he growls, slamming it, sealing you in. You're ahead of him this time, already kneeling under the steering wheel. Pressing your chest and head into the seat as flat as possible.

Inside the car, you can only hear the sounds of blasts for a few moments. Heavy things being thrown in every direction amid tense silences.

Outside the car, Jungkook fires off 3 shots, aiming for the legs he sees as the garage opens. The angle is wrong, and he doesn't hit them. Having to retreat back. Throwing the workbench down, using it as a meagre form of barricade. Blocking himself into the corner, hunched behind it. It's barely wide enough to protect him at the front and on the side. The height of the desk only just covering his head. He aims over the bench, hoping to keep the front two from coming in with suppression fire.

However, his attempt is unsuccessful. As he raises up, a bullet wings his right arm. Involuntarily dropping his gun, he shouts in pain. The Glock falling on the wrong side of the table.

It only takes him a second to compose himself, lunging over to pick up the weapon. But it's a second too late.

One of the men charges from inside the house. Booting the table into Jungkook, throwing him off balance. Holding him at gunpoint as he hits the floor.

Briefly, you see the other two men through the window as they pass the car. You're too terrified to move. Your hand cupped over your mouth, muffling the panicked breathes and whimpers that you can't hold in.

Working as a unit, one of the men clears the table out of the way, another picks up Jungkook's gun, while the third ushers him out of the corner and onto his feet, keeping the sights tightly fixed on him.

Getting in his face, the lead man removes his balaclava. Seething hate filling his expression. "You remember me?"

While he isn't going to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, Jungkook is certainly perturbed by the reveal.

It was nearly 5 months ago that he had ordered this man and his family killed. It drew far too much attention when he refused a deal Jungkook made him. So an example has to be set. The man's wife, two children and his visiting brother were murdered in the gruesome display. And Jungkook was told that the man standing in front of him now was also killed. But it seems the men charged with the hit got complacent. They didn't confirm the kill.

Mentally, Jungkook was already recalling the four men on task. If he made it out of this they were going to suffer greatly for their mistake.

Seeming infuriated by Jungkook's lack of fear and stoic glowering, the unmasked man slams his fist into the Mafia King's face. Shouting as he does.

Methodically, the three intruders begin to tear Jungkook apart. He put's up a fight as best as he can, but the men are trained and three against one isn't fair odds in this situation. Knocking him between them, they strike with their knees, fists, feet, hurting him in any way they can manage. Beating him into the ground. Pulling him back onto his knees whenever he drops back or falls forward.

Biting your palm you're trying to stop yourself from crying out as you sob into your hand. You can hear the hits. The thumps from him being tossed around. His groans of pain. The slough of abuse they spit at him while they work him over. Cursing him. Mocking him.

Suddenly, the car door jerks open. One of the masked men dragging you out by your hair. Making you produce an ear-shattering scream. One he silences with a fist to the face. Your body collapsing, slapping into the concrete.

Groaning in pain, your sobs can no longer be restrained. Loudly bawling, tear stream your face, hardly able to breathe as you panic.

Your heart aching as you see Jungkook across from you. Hunched over on his knees, he's gushing blood. It's running down his face. Matting his hair to his forehead with the sheer volume of it. He's splitting it up, his mouth dripping with it. His shirt soaked in it. Flowing down his arm from the bullet wound also.

You'd never have thought you would see your Boyfriend in such a state. You've witnessed first-hand the power he has when he's the one responsible for this kind of damage. In your mind, you saw him as invincible. Unbeatable. A cruel monster driven by hubris that could never be stopped.

The times you'd seen him beat people like this, the times he hit you like this, you had privately desired for him to suffer the same fate one day. For karma to return everything he had dished out.

But now that he was, now that he was the one being treated without mercy, even with it being justified, you can't feel anything but fear and sadness. Regretting ever having wished this upon him.

"Jungkook," you gently call.

He's disoriented. Too many headshots having made him dizzy and unfocused. But your soft voice cuts through all of that. Looking up from the ground to you, his eyes go wide seeing you in harm's way again.

"Y/-" he starts to get up, only to be interrupted and held down. The unmasked man's hand coming down on his shoulder. The barrel of Jungkook's own gun being aimed at his chest as the man hovers over him.

"You know, your guys didn't kill my wife right away." He digs the gun tip into the bullet wound on his arm. Twisting and stabbing into the raw flesh making him grit his teeth to bear the pain. "They shot her where he knew it wouldn't kill her. Then they let her bleed out. While I could only watch. While my kids watched." The pure rage in the man's voice is finally softened. Instead, sounding horribly grieved and agonized over the memory. "Someone like you, you're probably not capable of love," he spits, pushing off Jungkook to stand straight. "But whether you love her or not, I still want you to watch her die."

The words register, but you can't absorb them. You can't react.

"Wait. Wait!" Jungkook yells after him.

Your body is throbbing in terror. Watching him advance on you. Watching him raise the gun at you.

The shot hits you in the stomach.

"No!" Jungkook howls. The two men punting him back down as he climbs to his feet. Extending the barrage of hits to impress upon him that he shouldn't try to get up again.

In shock, you delicately dab at the hole in your side. Blood pulsing out of you. The pain is more than you could have imagined. You can't pull in a full breath. Short gasps are all you can manage. Doubling over onto your hands and knees, you weakly shriek unable to deliver a solid scream.

They drag you by your arm, hurling you at Jungkook, your torso landing in his lap. He clings to you, drawing you in tight. His face twisted in anger.

"Y/n." He growls. "Don't you dare-" he can't bring himself to finish that thought.

"Don't worry darling. It won't take long." The leader says above you, sounding genuinely sympathetic. "You though," he redirects, snarling at Jungkook. "you're gonna die slow."

Not able to breathe and the blood loss is making your head light. The room feels like it's spinning. Your eyes rolling back as they close. The reprieve of rest calling you into unconsciousness. And you can't resist.

With his hand held to your heart and his chest tight, Jungkook feels for a beat. The irregular rhythm assuring him you're still alive at least.

"I hope you really did love her. Like how I loved my girl and my boy. My wife. I hope you can feel that type of pain."

Jungkook is shaking. Unfiltered loathing ravaging his thoughts. A murderous expression concealing his heartache as he feels your pulse gradually start to slow.

Moving begrudgingly like it's his duty, the leader pulls one of the few remaining tools from its place on the wall. Wringing the handle of a large Philips Head screwdriver.

Working together, the three of them rip your unconscious body apart from Jungkook. His efforts to keep you close having little impact. Numerous injuries having sapped his strength.

Stretching him out, holding him down, they pin him with their weight. One of them securing his legs. Another holding his arm and torso, the majority of his heft used to force Jungkook's face into the cement. The leader kneeling all of his weight on his left arm to keep it flat.

As the tip of the screwdriver is pressed into his palm, Jungkook grapples to keep his hand closed to no avail. The shank piercing the meat of his palm. Screaming as the length is stabbed in and yanked out. Hissing through his teeth while the sharp point trails up. Reaching about halfway up his forearm it digs into the muscle. The blade slowly forcing its way into the skin, causing him to roar again.

All at once, a shot rings out. One of the intruders taking a bullet in the back. An assault of gunfire spreading across the height of the garage, sending the other two into a panic. Scrambling for their guns. Releasing Jungkook in the frenzy, who cradles his wounded hand for a moment before jumping on the attack. Finally having sufficient reinforcement to fight back.

Picking up the screwdriver with his good hand, he lunges at the surviving masked man. Dragging him off balance. Straddling his side. Stabbing down and around to drive the tool into his chest over and over. Burying the metal in the man's throat as a final strike. His damaged hand slamming down on the top of the screwdriver, forcing it through the other side of the man's neck.

Some of Jungkook's rage having been vented, he falls away panting watching the man, satisfied as he quickly bleeds to death.

The leader of the assailants, the source of all of this woe, is completely unmatched by the dozen men who suddenly surround him. They don't grant him the opportunity to even raise his weapon, shooting him in the shoulder, knocking him down. Incapacitating him and restraining him swiftly as he tries desperately to get loose.

There are a few seconds when the dust settles, where everything is quiet again. Only the sounds of wheezed breathing and footsteps taking any space.

Apart from the few men busy with securing the house and the area, all of them are at attention looking to assist their battered leader. Wanting to help. Waiting on an order.

"Her," he signals in your direction. "Get her to a hospital."

"You too, Boss." His second lieutenant leans down, helping Jungkook stand. Getting him to solid footing.

"I'm not dying in the next 20 minutes. Let's wrap this shit up first." He dismisses the gesture. Shirking off the pain at risk of appearing weak.

"And this one?" His first aims a gun at the intruders head.

"Patch him up. He's gonna die slowly," Jungkook's voice deepens as he repeats the man's own threat back at him.

His eyes following as he gets picked up and thrown into the trunk of one of the cars. The Mafia leader in him already, concocting ruthless plans in specific detail over all the ways he is going to torture him. And how he's going to silence any doubts about his strength that this attack may have caused.

Carried in another man's arms, you're taken to the back seat of a car. The movement string you awake. The pain keeping you immobilized and dazed.

Jungkook limping slightly follows after you. He presses his hand to your chest again, relieved as he feels your heart still beating, as he sees your eyes fluttering.

Your head laying on the seat, he leans over resting his forehead upside down on yours. "I'm so sorry baby." He whispers. His hands bunch tightly around your arms, pulling at your skin. The war of both sides of him crashing together. His eyes going cold, his breath becoming ragged.

Struggling to remain conscious, your eyes close again. Jungkook's bloody hand slapping down on your face, shocking your eyes back open. Tears instantly returning to your cheeks.

"Don't you dare die!" He hisses. His hand curls around your jaw, his fingers digging into your cheeks. "I'm not going to let other people think they can come at me. Take my things. Try to hurt me." He growls, speaking just loud enough for only you and him. "So you're gonna keep living Y/n. Cause until I give you permission, you don't have the right to die."

#bts fan fiction #bts reactions #bts fanfic #bts jung jungkook #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #mafia jungkook #yandere jungkook #yandere bts #yandere bangtan #bts #bangtan #bangtan fanfic #yandere #jungkook

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koqabear · 3 years ago

Text

hit me with your killshot, baby (C.YJ)

Summary:

It was a small, quiet town you had decided to move into. One that you could help with any healing or magical needs. What you didn’t expect, however, was to face a demon too powerful for your own good. The worst part? Seems like he’s gotten attached.

Yeonjun x reader/ demon!yeonjun x witch!reader

Genre: fantasy, enemies to ?? thriller(?), angst if you squint me thinks

Word count: 3.0K

Warnings: general physical fighting/violence, mentions of scars, burns, bones breaking, knives, blood, fire, descriptions of pain (let me know if I should add anything!)

a/n: This might get another part if it gets a good response <3 Writing fantasy is rlly fun for me as well, I’m so glad that this is the story that got me out of my writers block lmao

comments and reblogs are always welcome and much appreciated, hope you guys enjoy! <3

Disclaimer!! Absolutely nothing about this story is accurate or real, anything and everything that mc the witch does is made up!

It was about three in the morning when you got the call.

“Hello?” You said, eyes squinted as you had just been woken up from your sleep. The line remained silent for a moment, leaving you to wonder if this was a scam caller. You spoke again, only to hear hasty footsteps becoming louder, presumably running towards the phone.

“Hello?!” The voice called out, the loud exclamation causing you to jolt awake. “Oh my god, oh my god!” Their exasperated voice rang through your line, and you stood to get properly dressed, already anticipating their request.

“Where do you live?” You asked sharply, grabbing the keys to your car and waiting for their answer. They stuttered out their address, the sounds of the rain coming into your ear. They were now outside.

“Please come quick, this spirit has been bothering me for weeks now, I could have sworn they were harmless-“ they cried into the phone, only to get cut off by your stern command.

“Leave your home. I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

They agreed, their voice quiet and shaky, and you hung up, beginning to drive to your new task.

It was no secret your town had a problem with the supernatural. That was the whole reason you lived here.

‘The town witch’ was what they called you. You remember moving to this small town the moment you turned eighteen, the rumors of the paranormal town beckoning you to help. With potions and incantations by your side, you were the best damn thing this place had ever gotten. But that was six years ago, and you were young and naive. The scars and burns that riddled your body only served to prove your progress, marking your place in this town permanently.

You sighed, your grip on your steering wheel weak. You were, after all, the only help these people had. Late night calls like this were beginning to become much too common recently, leading you to wonder if something, or someone, new was beginning to pester this poor town.

You arrived at the house, the thunderstorm only helping to provide a stereotypical atmosphere for you to work in. You got out your car, pulling your coat tightly against your body, the wind around you strong enough to hinder your footsteps.

The two story home before you rattled in protest, the front door swinging open the moment you got close enough. You felt your heart begin to race, beginning to question if this was truly worth it. It seems that whatever had been pestering the homeowner was no small ghost. Walking inside, you were met with the dark and empty home, the hardwood floor beneath you creaking in protest as you carefully walked around, the house seemingly calming the moment you entered.

You breathed in slowly, attempting to steady your mind as you surveyed the house, recalling what the homeowner told you before hanging up. This had been going on for a while, but it seems that it only recently became too much for them. Whatever was in this home really liked the attention.

Before you were able to take another step forward, you were thrown off your feet, slamming into the wall to your left, the many picture frames and decorations falling before you with a loud crash. The door slammed shut, and you covered your head, bracing yourself as you felt the glass shards begin to be directed towards you.

It’s here, and it’s angry.

Just as the chaos around you finally dulled down, you were met with the sight of the trophy shelf in front of you beginning to shake, your eyes widening as you began to run. You muttered a quick incantation to help shield you, the dull sounds of impact that began to pound against your shield only serving to make you run faster.

The hallway in front of you suddenly seemed never-ending, it’s violet wallpaper becoming harder to see the more you ran. Was the house layout always like this? The hallway suddenly ended, leading you to an open room, quickly recognizing it as the living room. The lights suddenly flickered on, disturbing your concentration as you noticed a shadow walk past one of the doorways.

Seemingly knowing you perfectly, the spirit took this small wavering to throw a book in your direction, narrowly missing your face as you ducked to the side, only to get knocked to your knees as you felt a kick to your back, your disturbed concentration causing your spell to be broken.

You turned around in a haste, summoning your shield once more as you unsheathed the knife you had in your coat pockets.

“Show yourself!” You barked out, standing up as you surveyed the room. “I know you’re here.”

Silence.

The howling wind outside stopped, the flickering lights suddenly still at the sound of your voice. You gripped the handle of the knife harder, trying to not let the exhaustion seep into you. The lights began to slowly dim, a lit ember flickering in front of you, only to be followed by many more, swirling into a raging fire directly in front of you. You jumped back at the heat, the familiar sight making you frown in anticipation.

“You look tired,” the voice said, as smooth and elegant as you first remembered it, “Maybe I could fix that.”

Standing in front of you was no other than Yeonjun. Clad in black, his dark eyes stared into yours as he towered over you, his platform boots shining underneath the dull lights, his hair slicked back and pushed away from his face save for a few strands that hung to frame his face.

“Yeonjun.” You said, a feeling of anger stirring inside you the longer you stared at him

“It’s so nice to hear my name come from you again,” he sighed, taking a step toward you, only for you to step back in retaliation.

Yeonjun was none other than the first demon you tried to expel when you first came here. You had fought with every single potion and spell you spent years perfecting, only to leave hospitalized and unsure that he would return. However, as the years passed and no sign of him appeared, you had assumed that you had succeeded in your battle against him, any signs of hauntings or poltergeists disappearing after that day.

“You,” you snapped, everything finally piecing everything together. “You’re behind everything that’s been happening recently, aren’t you?” You took another step back as he began to laugh, throwing his head back as if you had just told him the funniest thing in the world. Slowly, he calmed himself down, his eyes playful as he took his sweet time responding to you.

“Maybe, why?” He said, beginning to walk towards you slowly. You held your ground, concentrating on keeping your shield steady, they grip on your knife tightening. He stopped centimeters away from it, the aura of the shield humming as his clothes grazed the perimeter, shocks emitting on impact.

“I missed you, you know,” He muttered, head leaning towards you teasingly as he stood just far enough to not be blasted away from your shield. “It wasn’t fun hopping from town to town, trying to mess with other witches that resided there. They were just too…”

“Weak.”

You were barely given a moment before the sight of Yeonjun’s bright eyes filled your vision, the feeling of a scorching heat overtaking your senses.

Yeonjun had trapped you in a ring of fire.

A pretty small one, too.

Slightly panicked, you looked around for any place you could escape, the memories of the last time you got so close to Yeonjun warning you to get as far from him as you could, only to find that it was just you and him, trapped in a space that wouldn’t even allow you to shift backwards.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his voice taunting as he waited for your next move, “Claustrophobic?”

The weapon in your hand began to heat up, your mind working its hardest to form a plan that would work and let you come out alive. You already knew what this fire around you would do; It wasn’t a simple flame, and the scar on your chest that throbbed painfully in this demonic presence was enough proof of that.

The moment you had healed from your first encounter with Yeonjun, you had put all of the knowledge you had acquired from experience and older, more experienced witches into putting a weapon that would help you with violent demonic problems like him. It had taken you weeks of pure isolation and meditation to engrave the correct energy into the weapon, afraid to make any mistake that could lead to something drastic. By the time you were finished putting the last few touches on the weapon, (a protective incation; the words engraving themselves in fine print letter by letter as you poured the last of your energy into it,) you could barely stand, landing yourself at the house of a medic that specialized with witches.

“You’re lucky that you managed to come out of this with just drained energy,” He had told you one day, standing next to your cot and handing you a homemade medicine; its taste was horrendous, but it did the job.

“I’ve dealt with witches, succeeding or not, that had come out in a much worse condition. You’re very powerful, that much I can tell.” He confessed, his face sobering as he remembered why it was that you were there, “Whatever it is that you’re dealing with, I wish you luck.”

And now here you stand, the results of all your hard work and patience vibrating the more you concentrate on defeating the demon in front of you.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to try and hurt me with that,” Yeonjun laughed, watching the way your grip tightened the moment he landed his eyes on it, your knuckles turning white with the force, “You know your little knife can’t hurt me, right?”

While it was true that regular knives were nothing more but toys to him, you knew that what you were holding was not a regular knife.

But he didn’t.

You remained silent as you stared at him, quirking a brow to silently challenge him. He scoffed, rolling his eyes at your demeanor.

“Giving me the silent treatment now?” He said, pausing for a moment before looking back at you, “Fine. You think you can hurt me with that little kitchen knife?” With a single movement of his hands, the fire dwindled, going down until it was no more,

“Go ahead. Give it your best shot.”

You suppressed a smile.

Yeonjun was a lot of things. Strong, powerful, smart, hell, he was a bit attractive too.

But above all, he was cocky.

Slowly, and as subtly as you could, you adjusted your stance, your eyes never leaving his, ready to let your shield down to attack him.

“No games?”

His lips quirked up, his hands coming up to his sides to show you his full vulnerability.

“Fair and square. Here, I’ll even let you make the first move.” His pitch black eyes twinkled with his signature playfulness, his thoughts displaying to you loud and clear;

I thought you were smarter than this.

You fought the urge to scoff, and instead surveyed him for a moment, stepping back to give yourself a bit more room. He watched intently, his body language open and relaxed, clearly not threatened by you.

You lunged forward.

Before Yeonjun could move away, you swung your knife towards him, your stomach sinking as you missed your target, his neck, and sliced at his face instead. His head turned to the side, a hiss emitting from him as he turned back to you, the slash on his cheek burning into his skin, going deeper into his face as he began to bleed.

Except that wasn’t blood that came out of his face.

A thin liquid, pure black and mixed with the poison of your blade, trickled down his face. Slowly, he brought up a hand to his cheek, touching tentatively at his wound, observing the black substance that poured out of him, before turning back to you.

“Come on, you little vixen,” he groaned, the nickname that he called you from your first meeting rolling off his tongue smoothly, “Not the face!”

Cocky bastard.

But now that your first move was over, Yeonjun took a minute to crack his neck, the black liquid trailing down to his neck as he slowly rolled his head back, pausing for a second before straightening up, smiling at you sweetly.

“My turn.”

Right as you were going to activate your shield once more, Yeonjun ran to you, landing a solid punch to your stomach, sending you flying to the wall behind you, the wind being knocked out of you on impact as you crumbled to the floor. Looking up, you saw him lunge at you once more, mumbling your incantation for your shield, successfully knocking him back at the last second. Tumbling backward, Yeonjun layed on the floor as you slowly got back up, using the wall behind you as support, the wild and unhinged sound of Yeonjun’s laugh echoing off the walls.

“Oh, my little vixen,” he began, sitting up as he watched you regain your composure. “I missed this. I must admit, you have gotten stronger.” Standing back up slowly, you felt the room slowly heat up. You shifted, knowing what it was that he was about to do next.

“It’s exciting.”

Running towards him, you did your best to avoid the trail of fire that was now after you, ready to swing your knife at him as you got closer. Just as you were close enough to him, you swung towards his neck once more, the predictable movement allowing Yeonjun to step aside, only to get a kick to his chest, successfully knocking him down and allowing you to dive down, the fire that was about to pierce the center of your back flying instead to the wall in front of you, the loud boom barely covering Yeonjun’s scream as you dug your knife into his shoulder.

“Fuck!”

You towered over him, straddling his waist and putting as much weight as you could to keep him down. His hands immediately reached up to clasp over yours, attempting to pull the weapon out, only to have you retaliate by digging it into his skin more, his cursing filling up your ears as he struggled against you.

Your jaw clenched and you felt yourself begin to sweat, the same ring of fire from before beginning to enclose around you slowly with no signs of stopping. Your hands began to burn underneath Yeonjun’s touch, obviously his doing as he seemed to concentrate on attempting to scare you off with the same fire that landed you on the brink of death from your first encounter.

But you refused.

You refused to allow the demon to live any longer, to continue to terrorize innocent and defenseless people in your town, or in this world at all. And now that you had him under your grip, your hands struggling to successfully behead him, you weren’t going to let a little bit of pain scare you away.

Your hands began to numb under the heat of his skin, popping noises emitting from under his iron grip. He was attempting to break your hands, to render them useless, but with the adrenaline coursing through your veins, you pushed on, biting back your own groans of pain and trying to concentrate on your current task, and nothing else.

“Come on my vixen, give it up,” he said, his voice laced with pain and false confidence that he attempted to use in order to make you believe that he remained unaffected. But as your knife inched towards his neck, piercing through his skin and emitting a loud sizzling sound, you knew that it was all a bluff by the way he winced, a low grunt of pain escaping him.

“I really don’t want to hurt you, you know,” he confessed, the ring of fire snapping angrily at your legs, the heat making you want to faint from overexertion. But you continued to push on, much to Yeonjun’s annoyance. “Fine, you asked for it.”

He screwed his eyes shut, the ring of fire slightly calming down, along with his iron grip on your hands. Just as you were about to take this chance and behead him, you felt something coming.

You turned around.

A ball of pitch black fire, resembling a pure void, flew towards you.

It all happened so fast. Throwing you off of him, Yeonjun staggered away from you, watching silently as the void of black washed over you, your screams of agony causing him to look away, the slightest bit of pity washing over him.

This was it, wasn’t it?

You couldn’t move as this void of fire washed over you, a feeling as though every bone in your body was being broken and you were being turned inside out coarsed through your system, your screams ripping through your throat, the wish for death appearing in your heart.

But right as you felt as though you were going to black out, it stopped.

And Yeonjun stood over you.

He watched as you lay there, completely paralyzed with pain. It took a bit before you began to breathe again, your chest barely rising, the air flowing into you causing you pain. Slowly, you opened your eyes, Yeonjun’s face inches from yours, the dark liquid from his wounds dripping onto you.

“I almost feel sorry,” he whispered, his lips grazing yours. You tried to hold on, to finish your job, but the very effort of having to breathe exhausted you beyond belief. Slowly, he pressed his lips to yours, the kiss more of a half hearted apology as he lingered there for a second, his lips still against yours. His mind reeled at the feeling, and he pulled away, a soft smile on his face as he slowly brought his hand down, hesitating before caressing your exhausted face slowly, spreading his own blood on your face.

He grinned.

“I look forward to our next battle.”

And he was gone.

Tears pricked at your eyes, and you collapsed.

#txt fanfic #txt imagines #txt ff #txt fanfiction #tomorrow x together #yeonjun fanfic #yeonjun imagines #txt reader #txt x reader #txt x you #txt x y/n #yeonjun ff #yeonjun x you #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun x y/n #fanfic #reader insert #txt oneshots #yeonjun oneshot

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titularkilljoy · 4 years ago

Text

sometimes and always

//a love story in five acts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: It's hard to resist falling into bed with a cute neighbour, but it turns out it's even harder to resist falling for him. (alternatively- Spencer Reid and the reader struggle to resolve their feelings but make valiant attempts to do so while lying horizontally in each other's beds.)

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, strong language, decidedly non-American spelling conventions

Author's Note: SO. This fic was originally part of a fic swap for the wickedly talented @imagining-in-the-margins, but it is now over six months too late. Thankfully, patience apparently springs eternal in her?? besides all the other amazing things?? Unfair, but good for me. So, Pom, this one is for you. Thanks for being the absolute best and putting up with my rants and not judging me for mocking everything and everyone all the time. Love, Perpetually Tardy.

(i)

This is how it happened the first time.

I was frowning at the pitiful stack of mail in my hands, wondering if the conspicuously missing letters and subscriptions would ever be returned to me. Ever since moving to my new apartment, I had been at the mercy of the Postal System and that was never a good situation to be in. I’d resigned myself to having to take an extra trip back to my old building and do some investigating, when the elevator dinged and I stepped in. Just as the doors slid closed, there was the frantic rumble of footsteps and a hand slipping into the narrowing gap.

The doors sprang apart to let in the harried owner of the appendage, who barely spared me a glance before turning to face the front, eyes briefly darting to the buttons. It took me a second to recognise him. It was the guy from the apartment opposite to mine, although so far that seemed to be only a nominal living arrangement; in my two weeks there, I’d seen him exactly once, merely in passing, and we had exchanged a sum total of zero words.

I followed his lead and stopped blatantly staring at him, though I continued studying him covertly through my peripheral vision. He looked—well, his jawline looked like it could cut glass effortlessly and he had the soft chestnut hair of a male model and I knew I was probably going to develop a very embarrassing crush on him at some point— but besides that, he looked browbeaten, his whole posture seeming to buckle under the invisible weight of the world.

There was an awkward moment when he realised we were both heading in the same direction, and I took it upon myself to break the ice.

“Hi,” I greeted, introducing myself, “I just moved in. I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” I gave him my warmest smile.

His swift assessing glance would have escaped my notice if I hadn’t been paying such close attention; his expression was still shuttered off, but he offered an endearing little quirk of his lips and an introduction. “Spencer Reid. I’ve-uh, I’ve been away on a work thing.”

“Oh? What do you do?” I asked, beginning a leisurely walk down the hallway and fishing my keys out of my bag. I immediately regretted the query when, impossibly, his eyes became even more guarded.

“I’m an FBI agent.”

Well, that clipped admission would have given anyone pause. “Oh, wow. That’s really impressive, dude.”

“Thanks.” He hesitated before adding, “I’m part of the Behavioural Analysis Unit.”

“So, you’re like a psychologist?”

“I catch serial killers.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable so much as it was brimming with my insecurities. The alcohol in my blood helped with that, though; the next words were out of my mouth before I even registered the thought.

“Do you want to come in?”

“Oh, uh—”

He was going to say no.

“It’s just that you look like you could use some company. And I think it’s absolutely criminal that we haven’t gotten to know each other yet.”

“It’s really late.”

But he was rocking forwards on his toes just the tiniest bit, leading me to believe that some part of him did want to take me up on my offer that night.

“So it is. Come on, Agent Reid. Be a good neighbour.”

“It’s Doctor, actually,” he corrected. “Doctor Reid. I have Ph.Ds. Three of them.”

My eyebrows had risen to my hairline and, sensing the change in the air, he hurried to put me at ease. “But you can just call me Spencer.”

“Huh. You don’t hear that every day.” I chuckled sheepishly. “Well, come on in, Doctor.”

There was a moment when his whole body leaned towards me and his face looked conflicted but slightly enthusiastic, and I was convinced I could turn the night into a very pleasant one for both of us. Then, with a loud clatter, my keys slipped from my hands, startling us. The moment was broken, and I sighed in resignation.

“Let me guess, you’ve decided I’m too drunk and we’re going to go our separate ways.”

At least he had the good grace to look apologetic. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea right now,” he told me slowly as he bent down to pick up my keys and pressed them securely into my outstretched hand, “It’s late and I’ve had a long day. I’ll...see you around?”

“Sure,” I managed to say with a regretful smile, “I’m holding you to that.”

*~*

That, however, turned out to be easier said than done, for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was the Herculean feat of unpacking and organising my new place with a mild hangover and a tinge of frustration over lost opportunities looming over me. Once that was dealt with, the bigger challenge turned out to be actually locating the man in question. I knocked on his door a few times, but when the responding silence continued to persist for over a week, I began to think he’d just been a drunken hallucination in the first place. And the longer I went without any follow-up interactions, the more intensely I started overthinking the slightly fuzzy memory of our brief conversation.

Of course I’d managed to make a fool of myself in front of a really cute guy. That was absolutely in character for me. Every time I passed by his door, I convinced myself a little more that I owed him a sincere apology for my poor, inconsiderate conduct.

Beyond the embarrassment, however, work didn’t leave me much time to think about it, and by the time I was trudging to my apartment the next Saturday, the whole encounter had been relegated firmly to the back burner. Naturally, that was when the faint glow of light under his door distracted me from the very passive-aggressive email I was composing. I hesitated.

The deep breaths I sucked in didn’t serve much more purpose than to make me somewhat lightheaded, but I forged on anyway. I knocked on the door, and waited.

There was silence, followed by the sound of reluctantly shuffling feet, and then, finally, I was face to face with Spencer Reid once again.

“Um,” I started, “hi.”

He stared at me wordlessly for a beat, during which I started to wonder if he’d actually forgotten me already.

“So, we met the other day, and I just want to apologise. I didn’t mean to come on to you so strongly, and I get that you weren’t int-”

“Do you want to come inside?”

“..What?”

“Do you want to come inside?” he repeated, enunciating clearly. That didn’t clear up my confusion, though.

“Um. Yes? Sure. I mean, no, shouldn’t we talk about this a bit?”

He let out a tired laugh. “I don’t want to talk right now.”

“Alright,” I said, biting my lip. I followed him inside, and pushed the door closed behind me; it emitted an innocuous little click as it fell shut.

There was something about the weariness behind his eyes and the careful set of his jaw that made me want to study him and understand what was going through his head, but all I could glean that night was that Spencer didn’t seem amenable to much time spent on documentation.

“So,” I began unsurely, shedding my jacket and scanning the contents of the room, the piles upon piles of books and the distinct lack of much else, “tell me about yourself.”

“Didn’t I already do that?”

“Hmm, that’s not the whole story,” I mumbled, running my fingers over a broken-spined, wrinkled copy of Paradise Lost laid open on a heavy wooden desk. A single smudge of blue ink stood out against the yellowing page, and beside it, the print read: This horror will grow mild, this darkness light. “You’re not just an FBI agent.”

“That’s all that’s important,” he asserted, taking a step towards me. He had one eye on my curiously wandering fingers and, sensing that it was making him more antsy than he needed to be, I tucked my hands into my back pockets, facing him with a grin of false bravado. I really wished I was drunk. That would have made things infinitely easier.

“Besides,” he continued, this time meeting my eyes directly, “I don’t know anything about you either.”

“Fair enough,” I conceded, stepping closer to him.

His eyes didn’t leave mine, until my own strayed to the bobbing curve of his throat and the tantalising motion of his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. Not for the first time that week, I wondered how terrible of an idea it would be to try to kiss my attractive neighbour. I could see my own apprehensions mirrored in his stance, and I saw the exact moment when he identified the focus of my gaze.

I didn’t have to spend much time contemplating. He decided, just as I did, that any consequences of this impulsive decision could be dealt with later.. I lunged for him just as he closed the distance in one long stride, grasping my jaw in both his hands. Then we were firmly attached at the lips, and his arms wrapped around my waist and dragged me closer, seemingly intent on devouring my mouth. Gradually, our actions slowed a bit, the kiss turning softer and more exploratory, our tongues winding around each other gently, my lungs readily accepting his deep, nasal sigh.

His arms around my waist were a steadily spreading band of warmth, and I could feel the growing evidence of his arousal against my thigh. I found myself thinking I could be very happy with just kissing him like this, feeling his breaths tickle my face, letting my hands suffer minute pinpricks from the stubble littering his jaw. But then his grip shifted to my hips and tightened ever so slightly, and it was like I’d been doused with fuel and set alight. My fingers struggled to unbutton his shirt as he pressed distracting kisses along my neck, my soft whimpers breaking the relative silence of the room.

All of a sudden, the ground shifted and my stomach swooped, and it took a second or two before I realised I was now in his arms, being carried towards, presumably, his bedroom. Content, I got to work on undoing the last button and trying to slip the shirt down his arms entirely. He granted me a chuckle for my troubles before laying me down gently on our destination and taking it off himself.

He didn’t waste any time in sinking his knees into the soft mattress on either side of my legs, helping me out of my own clothes and methodically kissing every bit of newly exposed skin, until finally, I was clad only in flimsy cotton and he was nosing at my aching core. With two fingers, he deftly removed the last of my defences and pressed his mouth against me. I moaned, my hands flying to his hair and trying to keep from pulling too hard as he used his tongue to examine every inch of my arousal, evidently experimenting based on the sounds he managed to elicit from me.

“Oh, my God,” I babbled, hips bucking wildly under the iron grip holding them down.

“Tell me,” he demanded, pulling away slightly, “tell me how much you like it.”

“Spencer,” I breathed desperately, “Please. I need- I need more.”

He hummed leisurely against me, frustrating me to no end. My grip in his hair tightened at last, guiding him where I needed him most, and I swear I felt his lips stretch into a smile.

It went on for what felt like hours, but there was no earthly way I could have lasted that long. He took mercy on me eventually, plunging two long fingers deep inside me, closing his lips around the bundle of nerves that, predictably, sent me into a violent, shaking climax. He nursed me patiently through the aftershocks, waiting till my legs had stilled before rising to undo his belt and rid himself of his pants. I was already mourning the loss of his closeness, and I pulled him back on top of me the moment he was within reach.

“Come on, Doctor,” I taunted, “It’s time you made good on your promise and got to the main event.”

“I never promised anything,” he retorted, but the playful glint in his eyes excited me, and while he reached over beside us to the nightstand, I rose to the occasion.

“Oh? Well, if you don’t want to, I guess I’ll just head out, then,” I teased, going so far as to attempt to sit up from underneath him. I felt a low, threatening sound begin in his chest and make its way up his throat as his hands gripped my wrists and brought them down to my sides, pinning me in place.

It was my turn to chuckle at his eagerness, lifting my head to briefly peck him on his lips.

“Don’t worry, Spencer,” I cooed, “I’m not going anywhere. Now fuck me already.”

“With pleasure,” came the response, and while I wondered idly how a smirk could simultaneously be sinister and bashful, there was the sharp sound of crinkling foil, and then he cut off my thoughts by entering me in one fluid motion.

“Fuck!” I cried out, holding him around the shoulders, bringing him impossibly closer.

“That’s it,” he groaned in my ear, “let me hear you.”

He set a torturous rhythm, thrusting into me harshly before pulling out slowly, carefully, making me relish the sensation, anticipation building steadily in the pit of my stomach and spreading until it engulfed me. A ceaseless litany of moans and whimpers filled the air around us, the source of each barely discernible. At last, I could feel myself riding the very precipice, and his name began to fall from my lips like a prayer.

“Spencer,” I called, “Spenc-”

He swallowed the rest of my inconsequential cries, bringing his thumb to where we were joined to guide me over the edge, and as I convulsed around him soundlessly, he reached his own climax, blunt fingernails leaving crescent marks on my hips, his heavy panting breaths stuttering, once, against my clavicle, before calming and slowly evening out.

We stayed that way for a few minutes, my hand combing lightly through his hair, his closed-mouth kisses pressing against my neck like a balm. Eventually, though, we had to move, and it was he who did first. He pulled out and walked away from the bed without looking at me, tossing the tied-up condom in the trash. I sat up, cross-legged, watching him for a bit, pursing my lips when I noticed he was actively avoiding my gaze.

I cleared my throat. “Where’s your bathroom?”

He pointed in a general direction and mumbled something incoherent; sighing in disappointment, I stood up gingerly and went to clean myself up. When I returned, the room still smelled like sex, and Spencer was still evasive, but he was sitting on the edge of the bed now. He looked up when I entered, watching me pick up my clothes.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

I glanced over at him. “Yeah, I’m good. You?”

Nodding, he watched me get dressed, then followed me into the living room and watched me drape my jacket over my arm. Then he watched me walk to the door, all the while not saying a word.

The cool steel of the doorknob in my hand, I looked over my shoulder one more time.

“Well, Spencer. You know where to find me, I guess,” I muttered, shaking my head slightly. Then I left his apartment, and despite the enormity of what had transpired during my visit, the click of the door closing sounded exactly the same.

(ii)

Of course, after that, I resolved it would never happen again. The man next door clearly had some issues with what we had done, and I couldn’t be bothered to solve them. It was, frankly, idiotic to jeopardise the prospect of good neighbours in favour of sex, however great it might have been.

It was embarrassing how quickly my resolution packed its bags and jumped out of my third-storey window.

I was awoken the next morning by three firm raps on my door. I think I knew, somehow, who was trying to get my attention, so I took my time, but the reveal of Spencer’s regretful face didn’t surprise me any less. I was wary as I stared at him wordlessly, cycling through all the possible reasons for his visit, and his eyes dropped to the way my arms tightly hugged my midsection. He winced then, meeting my eyes.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted,” he blurted, and it sounded so rehearsed that I had to stifle a guffaw. There was a flicker of something in his eyes that could have been frustration, but he powered through. “I’ve had a pretty terrible week at work and I think I was trying to get something out of my head. But I was awful to you, and it was completely my fault. I’m sorry if I offended you. I had...a great time.”

I’d been watching him carefully throughout his speech, and if he was faking the earnestness in those last couple of lines, he was an extraordinary actor. I concluded, as I studied the apologetic slump of his shoulders and the dark bags into which his eyes had sunken, that I didn’t need to worry about the veracity of his words.

“It’s okay,” I said hesitantly. “I mean, no, it’s not okay, it felt really awful, but thanks for explaining. I get it now.”

“Oh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking off to the side, “that’s great. Thank you.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

“Problem?” I was bemused.

“No!” He was looking back at me, now. “I- well, to be honest, I wasn’t expecting it to be this easy. I thought I’d have to convince you.”

“Huh. Well, you can still convince me, Doctor. Give me a second to get ready. You’re buying me breakfast.”

I quite liked the shy smile that graced his face in response.

*~*

It kept happening. There was no way I could have stopped it, and there was no reason I would have wanted to.

We quickly grew into a familiar rhythm. Each time, it started with one of us having a particularly stressful day. Each time, it started with a knock on the door and some perfunctory shuffling around. Before wasn’t the time for talking. Each time, we’d stumble into whichever surface was closest, and every time it wasn’t the bed, Spencer would make some halfhearted protests about germs and hygiene, before I shut him up very effectively with a manicured hand on his dick. Each time, in the During, I marvelled at how well we fit together, how quickly we’d learned each other’s bodies, and each time, I saw more of him than I had the last.

And I loved every bit of it.

Spencer no longer retreated into his shell in the After. He’d try sometimes, but I knew how to coax him out, now. I’d slip my hand into his, ever so gently, and wait. Or I’d sling one arm around his waist until he returned the embrace. I was getting scarily good at reading him. It was like working on an intricate puzzle, and every new achievement was rewarded with a deeper, longer look into his mind.

I carefully stored away every casual anecdote about someone from work or his godson or his mother, and I loved to watch the life burn bright in his eyes. Of course, they were all happy stories. I could sense the bittersweet aftertaste they left in his mouth, but he never let me inspect it too closely. In turn, I regaled him with tales of my own, of my sister and my parents, of my cat that was perpetually falling asleep on top of me. I told him all the easy, palatable things, holding back just as much as he did, always careful to maintain the wall of superficiality.

But things did slip through the cracks every once in a while, from both of us-- they were bound to, what with the sheer amount of time we spent together in various states of undress. Things that made me burn with curiosity that couldn’t be sated without jeopardising the very foundation of our arrangement. So I turned a blind eye to the jagged scars on his thigh and neck when he failed to maneuver to hide them; in return, he kept mum when I walked into his apartment, on the day of my worst professional disaster, with runny makeup and bloodshot eyes, shivering all over.

If he noticed that I kissed the skin over his scars a little more tenderly, lavishing attention on him the first time I saw them, he didn’t show it. If he liked the way I always nuzzled my face into the one on his neck when we were done, he didn’t show it.

For my part, I tried very hard not to read into the slow, shallow thrusts or the almost reverent way he handled me when my tears still hadn’t dried. I definitely did not read into the arm over my shoulder or the slightly baffled crease in his brow while we sat on his couch with a random episode of The Office.

And if, maybe, the frequency of his visits increased as the months went by, who could blame him? He was an FBI agent. He probably had a lot of bad days.

Sometimes, though, I’d go over when I’d had a good day and I felt like celebrating. Sometimes, I’d knock on his door just because I was bored and I wanted to see him. It wasn’t as if he would know the difference. Our bodies knew how to be around each other, and that was all that mattered.

This was just stress relief, after all.

(“Have you ever been in love?” I asked him once, abruptly, my heart still pounding as the sweat cooled on our skins.

He glanced at me warily, but he must have detected only honest curiosity on my face, not lovesickness or anything else that would have had him running for the hills.

He chewed on his lip for a moment. “Once.”

“What happened?” My finger traced an aimless pattern on his chest.

“She loves me,” he said, “but she isn’t in love with me.”)

We never articulated any feelings we may or may not have about each other or our situation. We dodged sincere conversation like it would kill us. So all the pieces we owned of each other were ones that we had been remiss in guarding diligently. That only made them all the more precious.

But on the heels of every stolen glance, there was a moment where he looked right through me, where I felt blank and insubstantial, like I was a placeholder for something or someone, and that would be enough for the wall to be between us again, rigid and unrelenting.

It was a shame that I was stupid enough to hold on to the scraps that fell through anyway.

(iii)

I was an immensely stupid person.

That was the only explanation for why I was leaning against the outer wall of our apartment building at three in the morning, desperately shoving my hands into my coat pockets to brace against the cold.

“You don’t have to be here.”

Can he read minds now? I wondered sullenly. Spencer was sitting on the front steps, with his head in his hands. His hair was dishevelled, and his eyes were the picture of torment. I would have loved to console him, but every attempt so far had been firmly rebuffed.

He had knocked on my door an hour ago and silenced my greeting with a bruising kiss. Of course, I knew how to do that dance, but Spencer had been off his rhythm tonight. When I’d reached for his shirt, he’d pushed my arms away. When I had kissed his jaw, he'd flinched. When I’d finally retreated in concern to ask him what was wrong, he had huffed out that he was perfectly fine, before trying to lift my shirt over my head.

I’d pushed him onto the bed and tried to distract him, and he had responded by clenching the sheets in his fists instead of grabbing my hips. I’d whispered his name in his ear the way he usually loved, and he’d climbed out from under me, sitting up on the bed with his chest heaving. At that point, I’d given up. What had followed was an exercise in patience.

(“Spencer, what’s wrong?” I’d asked again, to no avail.

“It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about it,” he’d gritted out, glaring at me.

I’d sighed. “Okay, which is it? Nothing, or that you don’t want to talk about it?”

Silence.

“Well something is clearly bothering you. Am I just supposed to ignore that?”

“We don’t need to talk about anything.” He’d tried to kiss me again. That time, I was the one who pushed him away.

“No, Spencer, this isn’t working. I don’t think we should do this tonight.”

The glare had intensified. “Fine.” He’d gotten up and tried to put his shirt back on, but his hands were shaking.

Cursing my investment in this man, I’d helped him while he stared daggers at me. When he’d hunted down his shoes and made his way out of my apartment, I’d pulled on my coat and followed, petting my cat briefly when he tried to follow us.)

So now we were outside, experiencing the most awkward silence ever known to man. Every time I attempted to put a hand on his shoulder or sit beside him, he would tense up yet again.

“Yes, Spencer,” I replied at length, “I do. You look like you might accidentally walk into traffic. I’m not leaving.”

“It’s not your problem.” The petulance was beginning to get on my nerves. I hadn’t signed up for sleepless weeknights.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I told him, shrugging.

I pulled out my phone to distract myself with the cute animals in my game. Spencer was still worryingly silent. But if he didn’t want to talk to me and he wouldn’t let me near him, there was little I could do but stand there.

Every now and then, his breathing would hitch, and I would study him out of the corner of my eye. Whether he fully registered my presence or not, I was unsure, but he seemed to be calming down. He looked less on edge, his eyes less wild, and I was about to approach him and try again, when a black car pulled up just ahead of us.

Both our heads jerked to attention, but the petite blonde who exited the car only had eyes for Spencer.

“Spence!” She rushed to him, pulling him into a hug that he slowly reciprocated. “Your phone is off. After what happened, I was so worried,” she murmured into his hair, her eyes shut in relief.

And Spencer-- Spencer��s face was something to behold. His eyes were tightly closed, his lips turned down unhappily, and his face was so naked and open that I almost looked away. Almost. The pain that shone there riveted me. I felt as if I could see every wound he had ever suffered, in that instant. He’d never shown me that before. And he still hadn’t-- this wasn’t for me. The embrace broke, but his face stayed the same while the woman fussed over him.

Something came back to me, a fragment of a memory. She loves me but she isn’t in love with me. Unbidden, a sound of realisation escaped my throat, drawing two pairs of eyes to the dark corner in which I had been so far obscured.

Spencer schooled his face back to some semblance of normalcy, and ran a hand through his hair.

“Uh, JJ, this is--”

“Leaving,” I blurted out, then cleared my throat. “I was just leaving. Work in the morning. Nice to meet you.” I tried to smile at her, but it felt more like a pained grimace.

I brushed past both of them, but hesitated on the top step. “Spencer…”

His gaze was inscrutable, and I was too tired to try to decipher it.

“Feel better,” I mumbled, and then I left them there.

*~*

I was not sulking.

I told myself this as I lounged on the couch in my most comfortable pyjamas, stuffing my face with junk food and watching Michael Scott lament his foot injury.

So what if Spencer was in love with a beautiful blonde while getting him to talk to me was like pulling teeth? It wasn’t like I’d been carrying a torch for him. We were just extremely compatible sexually. And in very close proximity to each other. That put us in the ideal position to hook up whenever we needed it. That was the extent of our relationship. For all I knew, he’d been sleeping with other people this whole time. I hardly had the right to protest it if he had. We hadn’t set up rules. We just fell into bed together as and when we liked.

It was a good, uncomplicated thing.

So I needed to make sense of whatever needless jealousy I was feeling, before I ruined it. I couldn’t sit around being pathetic. I had a life.

There was a knock on the door.

Sighing, I turned off the TV and put the snacks away. Spencer was quiet as I let him in. His eyes roamed the small living room as if he didn’t know his way around my place as well as he did his own. I perched on the arm of the couch and stared at him, hoping my face didn’t betray the rollercoaster of emotions I’d experienced over the last forty-eight hours.

“So,” I started, “you okay?”

He looked a bit startled, as if he hadn’t expected me to address it at all. I tried not to roll my eyes.

“Yeah. I’m alright.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” I prompted, “It was pretty intense.”

“It-uh, it was a work thing. JJ helped me out.”

Of course she did. “Great,” I said aloud.

We looked at each other for a beat. “She’s the one, isn’t she?” I blurted before I could stop myself.

“What?”

“The one you’re in love with?”

There was a telltale spot of red high on his cheeks, even as he sputtered. “That’s not-- I mean, yes, but that was--”

“It’s fine,” I said cheerily. “I was just curious.”

He frowned at me. “She’s my best friend, it’s not--”

“No, I get it.” My stomach was somewhere near my feet. “So, do you wanna fuck?”

Again, he seemed taken aback. “What?”

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” I directed my gaze at his meticulously polished shoes.

“No.” A pause. “I just wanted to say-- would you look at me for a second?”

I forced myself to comply.

“I, uh, I wanted to thank you. For staying with me the other night.” The sincerity in his eyes was a bit too much to bear at the moment.

I hadn’t done anything, and I told him as much.

“You didn’t have to. Just being there was more than enough.”

“Right,” I said hollowly. “So is that it?”

“Yeah.” He seemed very lost. “Um, are you okay?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re acting kind of strange.”

“That’s because there isn’t usually this much talking,” I snapped.

I longed to smooth out the lines on his face and make him feel at ease again. This was supposed to be the good, uncomplicated thing. He was apparently making an effort. I could return the favour.

“I’m sorry,” I said, letting out a deep breath and rubbing a hand over my face. “Can I get you something to drink? We can talk about it if you want. Or just hang out.” I tried to squash down the hope that bloomed in my chest.

“Oh. Sure, if that’s okay.” He was chewing on his lip again, and it was unfairly appealing.

And so he stayed. I got two mugs of coffee, and when I came back, he was on my couch reading a well-worn paperback, as if he belonged there. I had to agree with the thought. When he heard me enter the room, he looked up with a smile.

When he left three hours later, I couldn’t remember what we’d talked about or the name of the book he’d abandoned within minutes, but I remembered the way he’d leaned close to me while gesturing wildly with his hands, and I remembered that we hadn’t touched beyond accidental brushes of our fingers the entire time.

He still hadn’t revealed the source of his despair, and I knew there was someone he loved. I knew whatever this was, it would be temporary.

But the smile on my face as I closed the door was real.

(v)

Spencer kept coming over. I was never given the chance to initiate contact because it seemed like he was always at my place. Whenever he was in the city, he would be with me. I started to worry about his apartment gathering cobwebs from the disuse. But I couldn’t honestly complain about this new development.

Sometimes we had sex, and sometimes we didn’t. Sometimes he came in sore and tired, other times he was brimming with excitement with a playful grin. Sometimes he was angry at the world and I was allowed to coax him down from his rage. Those nights were in turn infuriating and thrilling.

(“What happened?”

“Work.”

“That’s really helpful, Spencer, care to elucidate?”

“No.”

“Okay, caveman.”

“Shut up and take off your clothes.”

I’d rolled my eyes and complied.)

I enjoyed every bit of him. I wanted to observe and chart every one of his moods and his little quirks. I loved the small pile of his books that had found their way onto the coffee table. I loved introducing him to pop culture that he approached with the same diligence as he would a textbook of quantum physics. He was an eager student, and I attempted to return the favour whenever he launched into his obscure tirades.

Some nights I would drowsily let him in and he would crawl into bed with me, fully clothed. The following mornings, I would wake up with a silly grin on my face, seeing him utterly relaxed and at peace. We’d have breakfast in my kitchen and slowly come awake together over our steaming mugs of coffee.

It was fun, learning him.

In the dead of night, as I was drifting off to sleep, he would tell me bits and pieces of horrible things he’d had to see. All I could offer him then was a tight, protective embrace and a steady gaze as the words clawed their way out of his reluctant throat. It felt like he was giving me some sort of twisted boon, these revelations of his pain. I collected them just as carefully as I did everything else. If it was a part of him that was freely given, I knew I wanted it.

At intervals, I would have to remind myself that he wasn’t truly emotionally available. It wasn’t hard. I only had to picture JJ’s relieved smile and the raw uncloaked expression on his face that I had never seen again. He mentioned her every now and then, and I’d discovered that his godson was her child. He never seemed upset, talking about her family, but he wasn’t the kind of man who would resent another’s happiness, even if it was at the expense of his own. I knew that now. I still remembered the way he would pull away from me and flinch at my touch, and I knew I was playing a losing game. There was no way out of this where I didn’t get hurt. All I could do was try to control it.

Three months after that night outside our building, I knew I’d fallen for him.

I was in trouble and I needed to do something about it, quickly. So I stopped preemptively cancelling plans with my friends and coworkers. I joined a book club. I called in a guy to loudly fix my bathroom sink the day I knew Spencer would be getting home. I even got a gym membership. I tried to be away from home as much as I could.

Whenever Spencer texted me, I would let him know I was unavailable. His texts got progressively more frustrated. Watching the excitement on his face dim when I turned him away at my door was painful. But it was necessary. I convinced myself that when Spencer and I stopped existing in this vacuum without other people, my feelings would weaken and I would be able to get him out of my head.

It didn’t work, of course, and I spent every day missing him. I tried to distract myself with work and my suddenly-full schedule, but the feelings were still there. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop thinking of him every morning and every night, and every time I passed his door and every time I walked by a bookstore.

So when Neil from work asked me out a week later, I said yes.

I wore a nice dress and heels, and he picked me up. We went to a midscale restaurant and talked about boring first-date things, and I knew within the first fifteen minutes that I didn’t want to see him again. I went through the motions, smiled pleasantly at him, and told him I would take a cab home. When I walked dejectedly up to my apartment, it took me a second to realise what I was looking at. My heart leapt and I dropped my keys.

Spencer was sitting on the floor outside my door, and he looked tireder and older than I’d ever seen him. He had looked up at my approach. I froze.

“Spencer.” I hadn’t seen him in a month.

He looked me up and down, and there was an unhappy tilt to his mouth. I wanted to kiss it away. He reached for the keys and rose to his feet.

“Hi.” He held them out to me, and I wanted to laugh and the eerie reflection of our first meeting.

“Hi,” I echoed.

“Were you on a date?”

There was no point in lying to him. “Yes.”

He looked away, his jaw clenching.

Silently, I unlocked the door and held it open. After a moment’s hesitation, he walked in.

He paced the floor of my living room. I took off my shoes and put my keys on the table, waiting for him to speak. I felt out of sorts and unprepared for what was to come. Even when I heard him come to a halt, I didn’t lift my gaze to meet his.

“Why would you-- I thought we had something.” His tone was heavy with accusation.

I stared back at him in challenge. “Sure. We had something. But I didn’t want to fool myself into thinking it was more than it was.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Us! You. You send me all these mixed signals, and I know you’re still hung up on someone else but I let myself get in too deep anyway. I had to protect myself.”

“I’m not hung up on someone else,” he shouted, raising his hands in frustration.

“Of course you are!” I matched his volume. “You told me so yourself.”

“When did I do that?” He sounded honestly bewildered.

“A few months ago. You said you were in love with someone but she didn’t love you back. And then I saw you with JJ that day. I know it’s her. It’s okay. You didn’t promise me anything.”

Feeling drained, I wrapped my hands around my middle. The tears were threatening to fall, but I tried to hold them at bay. This would be over soon. It all would.

“JJ--” he barked out a laugh, surprising me.

“What about this situation is funny to you?” I demanded.

“No, listen--”

“You’re hot and you’re cold. You kick me out right after our first time and then you’re sweet the next day. How do you want me to feel about that?”

“I’m sorry about-”

“Trying to talk to you is impossible! I want to help you. But you clearly don’t want to talk to me!”

“That’s not--”

“And then you’re over here all the time, and I get that it’s because you want to distract yourself, but you have to know how it would con--”

“God, would you just shut up and listen to me for once?”

I glared up at him. He was undeterred, a strange glint in his eyes.

“I love you,” he informed me, striking me dumb. “It took me a while to realise it, but it’s true. I love you.”

All I could do was gape at him as he walked closer to me and took my tightly clenched fists in his hands. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was holding back. I’m trying to be better. And I don’t know what you thought you saw between me and JJ,” he said very slowly, stroking his thumbs gently over my palms, “but all that’s there is a lot of trauma and shared experiences. Yes, I thought I loved her once, but that was a long time ago. We’ve never-- she’s not you.”

Traitorously, that tendril of hope began to coil around my heart again as I searched his face, looking for a trace of a lie.

I found none.

I surged forward, crashing my lips to his with no finesse and too much force, but he was ready for me, releasing my hands and cradling my waist instead. I gripped his hair, letting the tears spill at last, an overjoyed laugh bubbling out of my throat and into his mouth. I let my hands roam the hard plane of his body, the delicious ripple of wiry muscle beneath his shirt, the hidden softness that only I could feel.

“I love you,” I told him when we broke apart for air. “I’m glad I can tell you, I love you, I fucking love you.” Spencer grinned down at me, and the look was so fond I had to kiss him again.

The rest was a blur of hastily discarded clothes and the steadfastly ignored pain of knocking into furniture before we finally found my bed and tumbled into it.

(“All this time, I could have had you,” I groaned into his ear while he thrust his fingers into me, mouthing along my jaw.

“You have me,” he promised into my skin an eternity later, when he was inside me and my nails were scrambling for purchase along his back, my vision going white.)

That night, there were no painful confessions or taunting insecurities. There were just the two of us, blissfully entwined together, and the deepest of dreamless sleeps. Somewhere in the middle of falling out and falling back together, we had found our new rhythm.

.fin.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut #mgg #matthew gray gubler

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the-storming-sea · 3 years ago

Note

For prompts: Todoroki using every single Toshi-Izuku interaction to add to his "Izuku is All Might's secret love child' conspiracy board

Tfw its been like two to three days but Many Things have happened in that time. Oops

Uh, anyways–

"Dude. What. The. Fuck."

Sero, Kirishima, and Yaoyorozu stared, wide-eyed and nearly slack-jawed from the futon they currently sat at. Across from them, hanging off the wall was a large pinboard, polaroid pictures and newspapers articles with certain words and pictures circled in with bright red marker tacked onto different places, red string connecting each and every single one of those pictures together.

And in front of that pinboard stood Todoroki Shouto, one of the most powerful students at UA, son of the current Number One Hero, wide-eyed and wild-haired and probably, by definition, out of his fucking mind.

"Listen. I'm not crazy–"

"Literally everything that's happening now is providing evidence to the contrary."

"–but All Might is Midoriya's father."

"That's." Kirishima blinked, once, his brain attempting to process what his classmate was saying. "What?"

"All Might. Is. Midoriya's. Father," Todoroki said, slower, like he was trying to explain quantum physics to a toddler. Or to anyone.

"Todoroki, All Might's never been in a public relationship before," Yaoyorozu replied, slower. Of all of Todoroki's eccentricities, this had to be the weirdest one yet. "Not to mention, all of All Might's speculated relationships have been with men."

"Then at least one of his partners is trans, or he's trans!"

"They don't even look the same!"

"Then Midoriya gets his looks from his mother! They have the same quirk! They practically act the same!" Todoroki threw his hands up in exasperation, frost creeping on the side of his fingers. "I'm still right!"

"Bro, you've met Midoriya's mother."

"Artificial insemination! Adoption! Again, secret love child!"

Todoroki slapped his hand on the board, slightly burning the edges of one of the newspaper clippings. "Look, see here," he said, pointing to the clipping. Kirishima tentatively walked up, squinting at the headline. "Read this."

"'Mystery Samaritans Found Cleaning Up Takoba Beach.'" Kirishima frowned. "So?"

Sero's eyes brightened. "Oh, I remember that! I used to go to the beach all the time with my family," he said. "What's that gotta do with anything?"

"Look at this photo!"

Kirishima turned his eyes towards the photo, frowning. His eyes widened in shock.

"Holy shit, is that Midoriya?"

"Huh, so it is," Yaoyorozu said. "And...is that...?"

"YES!" Todoroki exclaimed, once again slapping his hand on the pinboard and startling his friends. "All Might, as he currently looks now, and Midoriya found at Takoba beach a full year before the school year starts. That means they knew each other before the school year started!"

"You repeated yourself."

"I know I know I know but why," Todoroki pressed, taking a deep breath, "why would All Might, in his weakened state before Kamino, be seen with Midoriya unless...unless that was his secret son."

He clapped his hands together just as he was finishing his point, clearly pleased by his argument. The three stared back at him, slightly alarmed.

"Or...maybe he just met him recently and they decided to clean the beach together," Yaoyorozu said tentatively. "It could happen."

"Or, or they decided to train for Midoriya's UA Exam together by lifting appliances at the beach! Or working out around the beach a year before!" he protested. "My father used to make me train by lifting up heavy objects ten times my size and pushing my quirk before the UA exam too!"

Sero frowned. "Todo, I know good parenting is a foreign concept to you, but comparing your relationship with your dad to Midoriya and All Might maybe isn't the best of ideas."

"I'm pretty sure Iida used to train with his hero brother in a very normal way," Todoroki nearly fucking pouted. The guy was really fired up– metaphorically and a little bit literally, judging by his floor. "But, but anyway, what I'm trying to say was that All Might, trying to make sure Midoriya would be strong enough for the entrance exam, made him clean up the beach because he was helping to train his son!"

Kirishima stared at him. "Bro."

"I'm right! Not to mention, why would he be in his thinner state around Midoriya if he wasn't his son?!"

"Maybe he told him about the weakened form back then by accident?" Sero said. "Todoroki, seriously. You're looking too deep into this."

"I agree," Yaoyorozu said. She loved her friend, truly, but as good as it was for Todoroki to exhibit any other emotion besides confusion and rage, this couldn't be healthy for him.

Todoroki groaned. "Okay, okay, fine. Exhibit B!" He pointed to a picture of All Might and Midoriya walking into All Might's office. "They eat lunch together! Who does that with a teacher?!"

Kirishima hummed. "Okay, I'll give you that one," he said, looking back at the others. "You gotta admit, that is a little suspicious."

"You forget, Midoriya broke his bones a lot at the beginning of the year just by activating his quirk," Yaoyorozu said, calmly. "As the Heroics teacher, All Might would want to make sure they can find a way for Midoriya to improve his quirk use without breaking his bones, so it would make sense for All Might to meet up with Midoriya out of class."

"But why continuously?!" Todoroki pressed. "Even after Midoriya got a handle of his quirk?!"

Yaoyorozu frowned. "Well, Bakugo meets with them now. Is Bakugo All Might's son too?"

"Details, details," Todoroki said with a wave of his hand. "Bakugo's practically Midoirya's boyfriend anyways. All Might probably wants to vet him or something."

"Somehow I believe that less than your 'All Might is Midoriya's dad' theory."

"They're going to get together, just you wait," Todoroki said. "Anyways, back to business. It's not just at school too! Even now that we're in the dorms, lately All Might will eat with Midoriya, alone, just the two of them!"

He pointed to another picture of Midoriya and All Might eating meat buns on a bench, no one else in sight, lightly chatting. "See! It would make sense if All Might ate with any one of us, or if there was a bigger crowd, but it's just those two! That's a normal parenting thing, right?"

"Dude how did you even get that picture."

"Irrelevant."

Yaoyorozu ran her eyes over the full board again, wincing internally. As...off-putting as her friend's efforts were, he did have a point. All Might's actions towards Midoriya were unprecedented of a teacher, Aizawa would certainly never be caught dead with any of them. And sure, they simply could be good friends who met a little before the Takoba news article picture, friends could be of all ages after all, but with the way All Might treated Midoriya daily, it was getting more and more likely that Todoroki's theory was correct. Which had some very interesting implications and also a media shitstorm on its way if it was true.

"And," Todoroki continued, now rambling as fast as Midoriya was, "did you know that All Might visited the Midoriya's to talk about the dorm system alone?"

Kirishima's mouth dropped. "Seriously?"

Todoroki nodded, eyes wide and a small smile on his face. "Aizawa-sensei told us himself back when he asked my father if I could stay in the dorms! My father asked where All Might was and Aizawa-sensei told him that they split up right before the Midoriya's!"

Sero's eyes widened. "Okay, I will admit that that's weird."

"I know right?!" Todoroki exclaimed, out of breath and restlessly pacing the floor. "Not only that, but All Might was one of the first people Midoriya texted right after he got his hero license. And Midoriya ended up interning with a hero who All Might knows directly and worked with Nighteye during his work-study who's All Might's only sidekick! And then Midoriya was invited personally to I-Island by All Might! And–"

Knock knock.

The group froze.

"Young Todoroki? Can I speak with you?"

Fuck.

Todoroki tentatively walked over to his door, opening it just enough to find All Might standing behind it, a worried expression on his face. "Are you all alright? The kids downstairs reported a lot of yelling, and I think you may have frozen and burnt through your floor?"

Todoroki looked back at his floor, which now looked slightly more like the training room back home than it did his dorm room. "Right. I can pay for that."

"No need my boy, just make sure it doesn't happen again or I think Aizawa'll have all of our heads," All Might chuckled. He then frowned, slightly opening the door more. "What on Earth is that?"

His eyes were pointed directly behind Todoroki, to the pinboard the high schooler had been deliriously gesturing towards for the past few minutes. Kirishima, Sero, and Yaoyorozu stared at each other awkwardly, shuffling their feet.

"Um...well, y'see–"

"All Might, is Midoriya your illegitimate child?"

The air paused. Everyone turned their eyes to the teen.

All Might blinked. "I'm sorry...what?"

WHAT THE FUCK, TODOROKI?!

"Todoroki, bro, you can't just ask shit like that!" Kirishima exclaimed, who now, like the many people around him, was going through all the stages of grief. "That's not one of those things you can just ask people!"

Todoroki tilted his head. "I asked Midoriya."

"YOU ASKED MIDORIYA?!"

"I–"

The kids now directed their attention back to All Might, who had managed to shake himself out of his stupor and somehow made his way to the pinboard. "I'm not...young Todoroki, believe me when I say I'm 100% sure I'm not Midoriya's biological father," he said, rapidly glancing back and forth from the board to Todoroki. "As...creepily impressive as this is," he continued, gesturing to the entirety of the board, "I've never had a child, and besides, young Midoriya's biological father works overseas, in America."

He pointed to the slightly burnt newspaper clipping of Takoba beach, looking back at Todoroki. "Is this about the Takoba beach cleaning?"

Todoroki nodded.

"Huh." All Might turned to the clipping, a strange, soft, thoughtful look on his face. "I didn't know they did a report about it." He turned back to Todoroki. "May I keep this?"

Todoroki nodded again, even slower, and a delighted smile appeared on All Might's face. The four students watched with wide eyes as he took the newspaper clipping in one hand and the pin in between his other fingers, gently lifting the pin from where it had been embedded in the pin board, lifting the newspaper clipping from its place, and placing the pin back where he had found it. Seconds passed. All Might rubbing his thumb over the picture in the newspaper with a soft chuckle. He then gently folded it, each crease careful not to tear the newspaper apart, before placing it in the pocket of his tracksuit.

Then, as if he remembered that there were other people in the room, he turned to Todoroki. "Ah, Aizawa-kun said that you had redecorated your room yourself, yes?"

Todoroki nodded, still stunned. "Perfect! The bots will be up here in a few minutes or so to repair your floor, and then refurbish your room any way you see fit." All Might clapped his hands together, a bright smile on his face. "Just try not to do it as much, alright? And please stop stalking young Midoriya and I. I don't know how many times I can catch you in the act before telling him that one of his best friend's have been stalking us to obtain proof of our non-existant biological relationship."

"You saw me?"

"Young Todoroki, I've been the number one hero for three and a half decades."

"Oh." Todoroki frowned. "Sorry."

"Just don't let it happen again, please." All Might took a heavy sigh before finally addressing the others in the room. "Young Kirishima, Yaoyorozu, and Sero, I'll be seeing you in class tomorrow. Plus Ultra!"

"See you!"

"See you tomorrow All Might!"

All Might left the room, closing the door behind him, leaving Todoroki, Kirishima, Sero, and Yaoyorozu in the room, waiting for the repair bots to arrive, silent and bewildered with what had just transpired in the past ten minutes. The four of them couldn't move, only the sound of breathing being proof that any of them were even alive. After what felt like several, long, painstaking seconds, Todoroki turned to his friends.

"Y'know, All Might worked in America for a while."

"FOR GOD'S SAKE, TODOROKI."

#thestormingsea posts #yagi toshinori #toshinori yagi #all might #bnha #todoroki shouto #shouto todoroki #dad might #mentioned midoriya izuku #mentioned izuku midoriya #mentioned deku #he doesn't take a part in this story but just in case ig #and then kirishima sero and yaoyorozu are here but they don't do much

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cherrycheridarling · 3 years ago

Text

happier | t.h.

tom holland x singer!reader

warnings: swearing and sad. fluff if you squint

summary: you wish tom the best with his new relationship in your new song. {listen to happier by olivia rodrigo (if you want)}

wc: 3.6k

'We broke up a month ago,'

"I've been thinking," your heart sunk at his words, "I'm always working." he grabbed both of your hands.

You locked your gaze in his. Sat in the living room of his shared flat. Inches apart yet you could already feel the separation between the two of you growing.

He avoided your eye contact, "I-I can't be in a relationship unless I can give one hundred percent of myself to the other person. A-and I know I haven't been doing that to you, which is c-completely unfair." he wiped away a tear from your cheek that you didn't know had fell, "You've been so, so good to me. I'm sorry I wasn't better, but I can't keep putting you through this." his voice was barely audible.

You finally tore your eyes away from his face. His tear soaked face. Choosing to stare at a spot over his shoulder instead. You took three deep breaths. In and out. Something about his words made you confused, but your pain overpowered it.

"Please say something. Anything." he whispered against your knuckles. Holding your hands to his lips.

You gently removed your hands from his grip, "Thank you for being mature and honest with me." you started with a sniffle, "Thank you for all of our memories and for showing me what love is," you cupped his face, "Thank you for everything, loser." your light laugh lacked any humour, but it still brought a slight smile to his face.

He held your hand that was resting on his jaw, "I love you more than life itself, darling." he kissed your palm and you felt your heart shatter. "Never hesitate to call, dummy."

You nodded with a sad smile. "I love you, too." You stood up and made your way out of the door. A year and a half down the drain within ten minutes.

'Your friends are mine, you know I know you moved on. Found someone new.'

"Do you guys wanna do something on Saturday? I don't have work. Maybe karaoke?" you asked the group without looking up from your phone.

Harrison made a confused noise, "Did you forget? We have Nadia's birthday par—" you heard a loud smack, "—Ow! What? Oh, shit."

You looked up to see Zendaya, Jacob, Harry, Sam and Tuwaine all glaring at Harrison.

"Absolute div." Tuwaine muttered.

You furrowed your eyebrows, "Who's Nadia?" you looked at all of them as they avoided eye contact. "Daya?"

She let out a long sigh before clearing her throat, "Um, Nadia is- Well she's kind of- you know, um—"

"—Tom's new girlfriend." Sam finished for her.

Your mouth formed an 'o' shape as you processed the information. His new girlfriend. It'd been a month and four days since he ended your relationship. And he had a new girlfriend.

It took him a month to move on. A month to be able to give a hundred percent of himself to someone.

You couldn't tell if you were more angry or sad. Maybe a mixture of both. Angry that your friends were hiding information from you, but at the same time you understood their intentions. Sad and upset because the boy who told you he wasn't ready to give a hundred percent of himself was already with someone new.

You slowly nodded, "Oh, okay. Well, I hope you guys have fun." you gave a tight lipped smile before looking back at your phone.

Everyone glanced at each other worriedly before allowing their gazes to fall on you again.

"How do you feel?" Jacob asked cautiously.

You locked your phone and set it on your lap, "I'm fine." you faked a smile, "I think I'm gonna head home, though. It's getting late and I have an early studio session. Bye." you quickly grabbed your purse and left with a small wave.

"Y/N! Wait—" the slamming of the front door cut Tuwaine off.

It was three p.m. and you weren't supposed to be in the studio until noon.

'One more girl who brings out the better in you,'

"Y/N/N. You need to talk about it sooner or later." Zendaya reminded you as she sat at the end of your bed with Harrison beside her.

You removed the covers from your face, revealing your tear stained cheeks, "Does she make him happy?"

There was silence from your two friends before they hesitantly nodded. Both weren't completely sure, but they assumed she did.

"Does she bring out the best version of him? Does she stroke his hair while they cuddle? Does she cook with him? Does she walk Tessa with him?"

Harrison sighed, "Y/N/N, we—"

"—Because that's what I did. I brought out the best side of him. I stroked his hair while we cuddled. I cooked with him. I walked Tessa with him. I did it all. Every single thing." your voice broke towards the end as you let the sobs rack through your body.

Harrison and Zendaya went to either side of you and held you. They just held you. Because even they didn't know what to do.

'And I thought my heart was detached from all the sunlight of our past,'

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Zendaya asked as you walked towards Tom's front door.

You nodded and smoothed down your sundress, "Yeah. We ended on good terms. It's been two months or so. We're friends. Plus, I miss hanging out with all of us." you assured her.

She sighed before knocking on the door, "Alright."

A few moments later the door swung open revealing Tom. Dressed in black jeans and a white button-up. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Curls dangling over his forehead. A sweet smile on his lips.

You felt your stomach lurch. Air leaving your lungs involuntarily. Heart rate quickening. You could smell his cologne and every single memory with him clouded your mind.

"Hey! It's great to see you guys—"

"—Sorry. I-I think I left something in the car. One second." you rushed out the words before turning on your heel.

Zendaya let out a long sigh, "Fuck."

Tom frowned, "Did I do something wrong?"

'But she's so sweet, she's so pretty. Does she mean you forgot about me?'

"Y/N!" an unfamiliar voice called out to you from somewhere in the boys' backyard.

It was Harrison's annual barbecue get together. Nearly three months since your break up with Tom.

You turned towards the source of the noise and found a girl walking towards you. Brunette. Tight black dress with black heels. Body and face of a model.

"I've been dying to meet you! I'm such a huge fan. I basically live off of your music." she giggled as she hugged you.

You smiled, "Aw! Thank you! That means so much to me. You look amazing, by the way."

She laughed, "Thank you! But you're absolutely gorgeous! Sorry, I completely forgot to introduce myself. I'm Nadia, Tom's girlfriend."

Of fucking course.

You raised your eyebrows, but managed to keep a smile on your face, "Oh! I've heard so much about you! Well, Tom's one lucky guy," you chuckled, "I'd love to chat some more, but I need to use the washroom. Excuse me. It was a pleasure meeting you." you gave her a hoaxed smile before quickly walking away.

You were two feet away from the washroom when Zendaya grabbed your arm, "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost or something."

Your breaths were coming out in short puffs, "I just met Nadia?"

Her eyes widened before she dragged you towards Tuwaine's room, "Okay. Let's sit down."

'Oh, I hope you're happy, but not like how you were with me. I'm selfish, I know. I can't let you go,'

"You should move in here." Tom mumbled against your shirt.

You let out a small laugh, "You already have four roommates, love. One more might turn this into a barn."

He lifted his head off of your chest, "I'm serious. Driving from Manchester to Kingston all the time is such a hassle for you. We have recording studios here and it would make me the happiest man in the world if I could wake up to your gorgeousness everyday." he planted kisses on your forehead, nose and lips.

You chuckled at his boyish grin, "It's only a three hour drive and I'm sure the boys don't want me imposing on your time with them."

He quickly shook his head, "I already talked to them about it and they want you here, too."

You raised your eyebrows, "Well, if you're sure it'll make you the happiest man in the world, I'll think about it."

"You already make me the happiest man in the world, but I needed something to convince you." he rested his head on your chest again as you laughed.

'So find someone great, but don't find no one better. I hope you're happy, but don't be happier.'

"Are we ordering pizza?" Harrison yawned from beside you on the couch.

"Sushi?" you grinned hopefully.

Tuwaine shook his head, "We had sushi last night."

"Tom and I are making dinner for you guys!" Nadia reminded you from the kitchen.

Her arms wrapped around Tom's waist as he stirred whatever was in the pan he had on the stove.

You really hated their open floor layout at that moment since there wasn't a wall to block them from your view.

"Oh, yeah. What're you making?" Sam asked.

"Salmon with rice and steamed veggies." Tom answered without looking up from the pan.

Everyone made noises of realization as you turned to Harry, "Aliens or a tiger. Which do you think you could beat in a fight?" he asked.

You laughed before replying, "Hmm, depends. Are the aliens small or—"

"Tommy!" you heard a girly giggle and turned to see Tom with Nadia over his shoulder as they laughed and ran around the kitchen.

You quickly diverted your gaze to the coffee table. Forgetting about Harry's absurd question. All eyes were on you.

"What?" you asked when you finally looked up at your friends.

"Are you okay?" Harrison frowned from beside you before resting his head on your shoulder.

You let out a dry, quiet laugh, "Of course. As long as he's happy."

The looks of pity you received were almost as painful as the scene you witnessed moments ago.

'And do you tell her she's the most beautiful girl you've ever seen? An eternal love bullshit you know you'll never mean,'

"Premiere day!" Zendaya walked into your shared hotel room with a bright smile, Nadia following behind her.

You faked a smile as you applied another coat of mascara, "You girls look gorgeous."

Zendaya was in a red and black sequin gown. Hair down and heels on. Nadia was dressed in a maroon silk dress with a slit on the side. Black heels dawning her feet. Both had makeup and accessories on matching their attire.

You were in an emerald green gown with a slit running down your left leg. Silver heels and silver jewellery to match.

"So do you!" Nadia exclaimed as she sat on Zendaya's bed.

"Are the boys coming soo—" Zendaya got cut off by three loud knocks on the door.

"I'll get it!" Nadia jumped up and opened the door.

Tom was stood before her in a maroon suit. Matching her dress. Black dress shoes. Matching her heels. Glasses on and a bright smile.

You watched as Tom ran his eyes down Nadia's outfit, "Well, aren't you just the most beautiful girl in the world?" he planted a kiss on her lips as you witnessed with envy.

"Aw, Tommy. I love you."

"I love you more, darling." he grinned before looking behind her.

Heart wrenching pain struck you again.

You watched as his mouth fell open by the slightest bit. Eyes growing wider.

He quickly snapped out of his daze, placing a pearly white smile on, "You two look absolutely stunning."

You acknowledged his compliment with a curt nod.

Zendaya let out a laugh, "Yup. About to out do you at your own premiere."

'Remember when I believed you meant it when you said it first to me?'

"Green or white?" you held up both dresses against your body.

Tom looked up from his phone, "Both of them will look amazing on you, love."

You sighed, "I appreciate the compliment, but I am meeting Sebastian Stan tonight. Now is not the time for indecisiveness. One of them will make me look bad and I need to know which one."

The Infinity War premiere was in two hours and your anxiety was growing by the minute.

"C'mere." he motioned you towards him with a 'come hither' gesture as he sat on the edge of the hotel bed. You made your way towards him. Standing in between his legs as he wrapped his arms around your waist, "You are the most beautiful girl in the world. Absolutely gorgeous. You could make the ugliest dress look like something from a fairytale."

Your smile grew as he kissed your stomach, "Thank you, mi amor." you bent down and placed a peck on his forehead, leaning your head against his, you whispered, "Now, green or white?"

He chuckled and pecked your lips, "White."

You smiled before making your way to put on the white dress, "I love you."

"I love you more, darling."

'And now I'm picking her apart. Like cutting her down will make you miss my wretched heart. But she's beautiful, she looks kind. She probably gives you butterflies.'

"I don't like her." you murmured.

Zendaya chuckled, "Nadia? You barely know the girl."

You nodded, "And I don't like her. I don't like her giggles and her nickname for him. I don't like her hair."

You knew you were looking for things to dislike, but there weren't any. She was a fan of your music, she complimented you all the time. She was genuinely a great person.

She sighed, "No, you don't like the fact that she's dating Tom. If she wasn't, you wouldn't be saying any of this."

You rolled your eyes and glared at her, "Can you let me be angry?"

She laid herself down on your mattress, "Nope. If you wanna be angry, be angry at Tom. Nadia hasn't done anything to you. You're better than this."

"God, I hate your optimistic side sometimes." you threw a pillow at her.

She laughed, "One of us needs to be the optimist."

You sighed, "Do you think he misses me?"

"Yes." she replied without hesitation.

You sat up and furrowed your eyebrows, "What makes you say that?"

She let out a long breath, "You need to talk to him about that."

'I hope you're happy. I wish you all the best, really. Say you love her, baby. Just not like you loved me. And think of me fondly when your hands are on her. I hope you're happy, but don't be happier.'

"And you're dead." you dropped the controller on your lap as you defeated Harrison in Super Smash Bros again.

He huffed like a child, "Unfair. I taught you how to play, how'd you get better than me?"

"Actually, I taught her how to play. And I am ten times better than you." Tuwaine corrected him.

Harrison scoffed, "Whatever. Sweaty nerds, the both of you."

Nadia spoke up from Tom's lap, "Can I try?"

You nodded, "Who do you wanna go against?"

She chuckled, "I think I'll verse Harrison. Seeing as how Y/N just kicked your ass, I wanna at least have a chance."

Her comment made you laugh as you handed her the controller and watched them pick their characters. You watched as Tom set his phone down and focused on the screen where his girlfriend chose Pichu.

"Choose Kirby." Tom told her.

She furrowed her eyebrows, "Why? Pichu is so cute."

"Y/N always plays as Kirby and she always wins. With that stupid power absorbing ability." he chuckled as his eyes landed on you.

You felt your heart skip a beat at the small detail he remembered before you played it off with a light laugh, "Not my fault you thought Luigi could beat Kirby everytime we played."

'Ooo-ooo, ooo-ooo, ooo-ooo,'

You pressed on the keys of the piano in the boys' home. Singing your heart out. You still had your spare key and Harrison told you no one was home.

You were waiting for them to return from golfing so you could have your Sunday night dinners. It's been nearly four months since your breakup with Tom. Your album was due to be released on May twenty-first and you were letting the still evident pain fuel your lyrics.

"I hope you're happy, just not like how you were with me. I'm selfish, I know. I can't let you go. So find someone great, but don't find no one better. I hope you're happy, but don't be happier." you faded out the piano and pressed stop on the recording on your phone.

Writing down small notes about the song and things to tweak, your thoughts were quickly interrupted.

"I'm not."

Your head snapped up. Tom was leaning against the doorframe behind you. Tears escaping his eyes.

"T-Tom. I'm sorry. Haz told me the house was empty and I just started playing and- Wait. What did you say?" realization dawned on you.

He stepped closer and sat beside you on the piano bench, "I'm not happier. Hell, I'm not even happy." he gave a pathetic attempt at a laugh, staring straight at the black and white keys.

Your mind was trying to catch up with everything happening, trying to register his words, the state he was in. Grey sweats, black tee. Messy hair and red eyes.

"Why?"

He released a heavy sigh, "There's so many things you could be asking 'why' about. Why did I break up with you? Why am I with Nadia? Why am I not happy? Why the hell am I crying? Which one is it, Y/L/N?"

You blinked a few times, "All of them."

He sniffled and rubbed his face, "I felt like I was holding you back." he started, catching a glimpse of your confused expression, he continued, "You hadn't released any music in over year. There were so many articles saying that I was the reason that the biggest pop star in the world was quitting music. I didn't want to be the reason for that."

"You weren't and you aren't." you assured him.

He shrugged, "I just felt like you would do a lot better without me. And you are. Look at you, your fifth album is coming out next month." he nudged you with his shoulder, "I'm proud of you," he smiled.

"T-thank you."

He nodded, "Anyways, why am I with Nadia? Um, a few days after we broke up, I went to a friend's place to distract myself, as one does. She was there. She was a distraction. I never meant for it to get this far. You know, she actually asked me to be her boyfriend." he chuckled dryly to himself as you listened intently. "I guess, I thought it'd be easier to move on if I had something else to pour my love into?"

You nodded slowly, "Okay, I somewhat get that. So you really do love her?"

He quickly shook his head, "No, no, I don't. I mean, I can't. No one can truly love two people at once. And I think that answers the question of why I'm not happy." he paused and faced you completely, "I'm crying because hearing that song and hearing how evident your pain in it is, that will make anyone cry. I'm crying because I miss you and I miss us. I-I miss what we had and what we were. I miss your kisses and your stupid jokes that only you laugh at. I miss going on walks with you and Tess. I just miss you."

There was a long period of silence after his confession. You were trying to process all the information he was giving. He was cursing himself for being so straightforward. The longer it went without a response from you, the more anxious he got. He grabbed your hands, holding them to his lips.

"Please say something. Anything."

Déjà vu.

You swallowed, "You want honesty?" he nodded, "Okay, I was so mad at you. I-I was infuriated. Y-you told me you weren't ready to give a hundred percent of yourself and that you couldn't be in a relationship until you could give all of yourself to that person. Then a month later, you're with her. Making me feel like you just couldn't give yourself to me." you paused and shook your head, "You could've told me the truth. You should've told me the truth. We could've talked about it. We could've avoided months of awkward run ins and no communication." he nodded, still holding your hands in his, "I'm not gonna lie and say I don't miss you because I do, I miss you more than anything, but we shouldn't be doing this or saying these things while you're with her." you removed your hands from his.

He spent a moment looking down at his fingers. Releasing short breaths. "I don't want to be with her."

"But you are. And I don't want you to break up with her for me. Because that's not how things work, Tom. But you shouldn't stay with her either. Especially if this is how you're feeling. That's just unfair to her." you shook your head and felt your mind clear.

He nodded and met your gaze, "This is the end of us, huh?"

You shook your head, "I don't think there will ever be an end to us." you laughed dryly.

He agreed with a smile, "For forever and a day, remember?"

You nodded, "For forever and a day."

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wizkiddx · 3 years ago

Text

living and reviving II

yep when I said three parts I think I meant 4 oops

summary: an overdue conversation that has to happen - like it or not

warnings: cheating, swearing, pregnancy talk, lots more angst, think thats it?

tomhollandxreader

/////////////////////// prev

So with a new sense of dread and fear and complete and total isolation you uttered three single words before hysterically running away.

“Don’t follow me.”

Not now, not ever.

That had been three weeks ago.

And it still fucking hurt like hell.

It had ended up that Yamna had taken you back to hers, where you had stayed for a couple nights. During that couple of days, Tom had tried. He had tried to apologise, tried to explain, tried to fix things. But it just wasn’t that easy.

Whatever he said, it didn’t take back from the fact that he had in that moment meant it. So no amount of sorrys could ever take that back.

After everyone had realised just how serious their situation was, Tom had moved out of your shared flat - so you could at least be in the place you were comfortable. Afterall the nursery was built in your flat and clearly it was you doing all the baby stuff for the moment. Thankfully Yamna, having been cut loose so without job, offered to move in with you. Which was probably the only thing keeping you going.

Well, that and ben and jerrys ‘phish food’. Honestly the shop must think you’re running some sort of ice cream black market at the rate you’re getting through their tubs.

Everyone kept parroting that it wasn’t good for the baby. Too much ice cream . Too much heavy lifting. Too much stress.

And yes, it probably was. But that was out of your control . The stress and lack of man in the household meant you had to do the heavy lifting of shopping from the car up the stairs. Shopping meaning ice cream, which you only depended on so much because of the stress.

It was a vicious cycle of hell.

Even Yamna, the person you were relying on keeping you sane had started walking on eggshells. It was as though you were literally about to pop, she always had to have at least half an eye on you. You were even banned from locking the toilet door - just in case.

It felt like you were a captive animal, people kept coming to observe you, giving sad looks before gleeing the scene.

You hadn’t been sleeping well either. Of course, being 3 weeks of your due date didn’t help - but neither did the lack of Tom. In fact, for the first time since shit had hit the fan, you had actually been managing to get some decent sleep when Yamna knocked on your bedroom door, quietly calling your name.

“I’m asleep” Groaning, you pulled the covers further over your head, praying to god that she’d leave you alone. But of course that wasn’t happening, she just lightly chuckled before you felt the bed dip - she had perched on the edge… Toms side.

“You never normally sleep talk.”

“I’m never normally this sleep deprived.” She sighed, whilst you still stubbornly kept your eyes closed.

“I’m sorry I woke you…. but this is important.”

“What?” Almost grunting, you threw the covers down looking up at her in anticipation. That was another thing about pregnancy - you were always on high alert, always worried.

“Toms here.”

“Tell him to f off.” Quickly you stopped caring about what your bestmate had to say.

“He’s saying that he’s the little ones dad and that he deserves to be involved and…. and I think I might agree.”

“I deserve a boyfriend who stays loyal to me so clearly neither of us are getting what we want.” You weren’t angry at Yamna and snapping at her wasn’t the answer. And yet you still did it.

“Y/n….I love you and I am completely on your side. I just think that maybe, perhaps, you should at least manage to be civil before baby arrives. Otherwise… thats going to be a lot to deal with all at once.”

It was your turn to sigh, deep and heavy (or at least as deep as the baby let). Most infuriatingly she was right. The conversation had to happen at some point. With a baby there too it would only be even more traumatic.

“He’s here now?” It only dawned on you how broken you actually sounded when the words croaked out of you.

“Yeh hunny… I didn’t let him inside so he’s standing outside the door looking like a dickhead right now.” The image cheered you up a little, enough to sit up in bed and be wrapped in Yamna’s arms. Her actions said it all, she really only meant the best for you and knew how hard this would be. After a moment she leant back. “I almost considered calling the paps so they could get a picture and label him as a groveling dick.”

“You should of.” Of course you didn’t mean it, but the answer had you both laughing. It took a minute to calm down before she changed subject slightly.

“You want me to make myself scarce? I can hide in my room or go to the shops or-“

“Text the guy from the bar - you deserve a night off ‘babysitting Y/n’ duties.”

“I’m not babys-“

“Yes you are. Go out with him and have some fun, I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeh”

That was a bare face lie - but Yamna had been almost too good to you. She really really needed a break. Especially as the current plan was she’d be helping with the newborn too. Right now you wouldn’t have wished a baby on yourself - never mind your best mate.

“Okay, get ready then babe - but do it slowly, leave him waiting outside in the cold for as long as possible.”

“Obviously.” You laughed, hauling yourself out of bed, where she gave you one more encouraging hug before leaving.

After hearing Yamna leave, and brushing your hair and throwing on a new pair of trakkies and hoodie, you slowly walked towards the door. It felt as though impending doom were on the other side and every fibre of you wanted to scream and run the other way. But it just had to happen at some point. Why not now?

With a final sharp exhale, attempting to pull yourself together, you opened the door. Immediately your heart sank, seeing nothing. Had you really been that long? And even so, was a 10 minute wait enough for him to give up? You could already feel the hormonal pregnancy tears starting to spring, when a grunt drew your attention.

What you hadn’t considered was the fact Tom was ready to camp out, sitting on the floor beside your door. Springing to his feet, he seemed shocked you’d actually opened the door - makes two of you. When Yamna left she had told him you were coming, but seeing really is believing.

“Y/n! I-I… I wasn’t sure you were ever going to answer.”

“You and me both.” You replied dryly, still leaning on the door. “Do you er…. do you want to come in?” Again he seemed shocked, as though he wasn’t sure you meant it.

“Is that-that okay?” Shrugging you just nodded, stepping back so he could get in. He did pay half the mortgage afterall.

“You want a drink?” He quickly declined your offer, not vocally but instead rushing past you to the kitchen and turning the kettle on himself.

“Your the pregnant one. Go chill on the sofa, I’ll bring you a cuppa.”

And a bit taken a back by his forcefulness you followed instructions, from the sofa watching how effortlessly he danced round the kitchen. It wasn’t shocking, it was technically his kitchen too. But seeing him there felt so alien, almost transporting you back to much much simpler times. Seemed a lifetime ago.

After a couple of minutes, he rounded the sofa with a hot chocolate in one hand for you (because caffiene is bad for the baby) and a cup of Yorkshire tea in the other.

“So… how have you been?”

“Ate a lot of ben and jerrys” You answered without really answering, except he knew you all too well.

“That bad?” He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his brow “how about the baby?”

“I don’t tend to carry an ultrasound on me but she’s been keeping me up all night kicking - so normal I guess.”

“Thats good” He spoke before realising what he said. “Sorry no I um-I don’t mean it like that!” You all but laughed in the face of his flusteredness, only making the tips of his ears go pinker.

“I assume you had something to say and that you came here for a reason rather than just pity me?”

“I want to make things right Y/n - I-I mean your having my kid.”

“OUR kid”

“ Exactly! And-and I love you too and-“

“Bullshit” You may have murmured it under your breath but you had intended for him to hear.

“Oh come one Y/n, you know that!”

It was like the man was asking to be yelled at.

“Don’t sit there trying to patronise me! I THOUGHT i knew it but then I saw you all over another girl. So yes, I’m calling bullshit.”

“Ugh I… If your not going to even try to hear me out then…”

“Then what Tom? You gonna kick me out. I mean this is your flat after all! Maybe you’d like to dump the mother of your unborn child homeless on the street and forget about us - how’d that sound? I’m sure your fans would blindly applaud you.”

“Listen! Please would you just listen to me.” His voice was loud and tone harsh, making you flinch a little. Not because you were ever worried he’d hurt you - but how this wave of uncomfort shuddered through your body, baby even squirming in discontent. So focused on that you just nodded, shifting back into the sofa.

Tom had noticed your reaction and seeing you seemingly scared of him like that, well it broke his heart. Even more.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to shout, I just…. I really need to try and fix this.” He leaned closer, letting out a thankful breath when you just nodded, as if to say go on.

“I’ve really really missed you… these past couple of weeks I’ve never felt so gulity in my life. Not because of what I did! Well yeh that but-but more how much it hurt you and-“

“Fuck.”

You couldn’t help but let out that little curse of pain as a new wave of pain, which seemed to originate from your lower back, shuddered through you. Tom looked up from where his eyes had been nervously wringing his palms whilst he spoke. Rubbing a hand over your belly you shook your head and motioned for him to continue.

She was just kicking really really hard. Right?

“Uhm yeh so I just wanted to properly tell you everything that happened that night so at least we are on the same page? A-And I’m not going to try and use this an excuse but I had been drinking so-“

Seemingly baby disliked the end of that sentence too, causing another rippling wave to echo through your body, feeling as though a band was pressing tightly round your stomach. With another small curse it forced you to stand up, in the hope that’d ease her. Clearly she was as done with his shit as you were.

“Need a water.” You muttered, already waddling to the kitchen, where you heard Tom follow you immediately - like an inpatient dog.

“Y/n sit down I can-“

He was silenced by you freezing and grabbing his arm tightly - a physical contact he hadn’t been expecting from you.

“Tom… get your phone.” You spoke slowly, still not having dared to have moved an inch - fingers almost white from how tightly you were squeezing his forearm.

“Wha-are you-are you okay?”

“I think my waters just broke. Get the phone. Now.”

~~~ feedback is really appreciated + would love to know what u think as still in the process of writing so can be guided / helped by asks !!! ~~~

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