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ac3ofspad3 · 7 months ago

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note: so hi :) I’m ace and I love pjo! I recently got back into writing so I apologize in advance if it’s bad ✨ I’m just writing to write right now and I’ll be going back to edit later. This takes place after the blood of Olympus, kind of, I will admit I haven’t read the complete series for Apollo yet that’s why it won’t be mentioned. It takes places like a few months after BoO.

note 2: endgame is Clarisse x Aurelia as I love Clarisse and have since I was first introduced to her. For her character I’ll be using the book and tv show combined in a way if that makes sense? From what I got timeline wise and wiki Clarisse is at the University of Arizona and I’m assuming a freshman there???? Correct me if I’m wrong please 🙏🏼 I’m also guessing she’s around nineteen so that’s the age I’m going to be working with for Clarisse.

Word count: 1.8K :) for some reason this amount makes me proud ✨😎

“The first time you caught my eye it was not love at first sight. Instead, a quite curiosity was planted in my chest, and I knew it was only a matter of time before you sunk beneath my bones and nurtured this deep-seated familiarity into a love so fierce that I would question if I had ever been in love before.”

— Lyra

Scents of lavender, honey, and vanilla filled the room. A room filled with Polaroids that hung on fairy lights, shelves drilled into the wall with books and figurines to line it, and random pieces of art that range from abstract colors to scenes from a battle won but lost. The photos were of tweens laughing in orange shirts and jean shorts with worn-out shoes. One had a scene of a large campfire with large groups of kids surrounding it all talking or singing, another was of a girl taller than the other girl standing next to her with an arm slung around her and spear in the other hand, both were smiling.

The fairy lights shone dimly in the room and lazily blinked once in a while, but it didn’t seem to bother the girl who laid on the bed that was pushed up against the farthest wall from the door. The bedsheets were a sage green with random stuffed animals lining the bed, like a little army of fluff. The girl had her head buried in the pillows while kicking her feet wildly in the air, a small scream left her lips that was muffled by a beige pillow.

“Aurelia?” A soft knock followed before the door opened to show a tall man with dark brown floofy hair, fair skin with little facial blemishes, and glasses that sat crooked on his nose. He was lanky and dressed in slacks, a purple polo, and house shoes. “They won’t leave.”

“What?” The girl looked up with squinted eyes. Her eyebrows raised in confusion and looked over her dad's appearance, he just got home. She slowly sat up her crop top wrinkled, pajama shorts with a random purple stain on the side, and one sock missing. “Who? My friends don’t come over until tomorrow.”

They locked eyes for a good moment while his held urgency hers showed nothing but confusion. The contact was quickly lost when a black and tan corgi broke between the man’s legs and jump onto the bed. His little legs scrambling to find purchase on the sheets as Aurelia quickly helped him. “Cebby!” Glee filled the teens face as she scooped up the furbaby into her arms and rocked back and forth with him. “My baby.”

“Aurelia,” her father urged. He moved out the doorway and tilted his head towards the stairs down the hallways. “Living room, please.”

“Boo,” she mumbled but didn’t put down Cebby. Quickly adjusted her grip on the dog and slid on her fluffy house shoes. She passed her father and made her way down the dimly lit hallway to the spiral staircase that led straight into the living room. The living room housed a comfy oversized couch with pillows and two blankets, two separate loveseats, and a large ottoman in the center that acted as a storage space for movies and a few of Cebby’s toys. The only stand out was when Aurelia took her last step, she locked eyes with stormy grey eyes that she hadn’t seen in about a year and half, almost two. “Oh, shit.”

There were four teens, she recognized three of four. The other girl had choppy brown hair with small braids lining her face and a feather interwoven within her hair, her eyes were captivating with colors from browns to greens to blues, and her style of dress was tomboyish. Aurelia had to blink several times before looking away from the girl. She’s so pretty. “Percy, Annabeth, Will, and strangely beautiful girl,” She spoke with confusion laced in her voice. She careful set Cebby down who ran towards Will and laid on his feet. “Traitor.” She mumbled offhandedly at her dog.

“Piper McLean,” strangely beautiful girl introduced with a smile. Aurelia looked between them all and nodded. Her father appeared at her side shortly after with a frown on his face. Standing side by side it was obvious that Aurelia favored looks from her mother’s side while she got her skin and hair color from her father.

“Cool so names yay, uh why are you here? How did you find me? Also, Will if my dog loves you more than me, I’ll cry,” Will chuckled in reply while he reached down to scratch the dog's head. They had been close friends when she still attended camp, but she hadn’t spoken with him since she left. She only kept in contact with one person, and they haven’t spoken in a few weeks. He shrugged. Percy looked towards Annabeth as if waiting for her to say something and also bent down to pet the dog. “Jackson, touch my dog and you’ll lose the hand. No touchy.”

Percy frowned in disbelief but didn’t touch the dog. He crossed his arms over his chest and sank into the loveseat he sat in with Annabeth. Will sat on the large couch with Piper who rubbed Cebby’s head lightly while sneaking a side glance at Aurelia. Aurelia didn’t mind she just wasn’t that fond of Percy. She will admit on closer inspection of Annabeth and Percy they look tired. Bags under their eyes, fresh scars on the legs and arms from what she could see, and Annabeth’s signature dagger wasn’t on her waist.

“So, Chiron tasked us with coming to get you,” The blonde started off with, a glance towards Aurelia’s father and then to Aurelia. “He wants you to come back to camp. Temporally, I think. He didn’t really elaborate.”

“No.” The tall man answered. His voice was firm as he took a step in front of Aurelia. The room’s atmosphere changed drastically as he stared down at the teens in his living room. “No, she won’t be going with you.”

Anton wouldn’t allow his only daughter who he almost lost go back to Camp Half-Blood, that is a hill he will die on. He wouldn’t be able to take it. He remembered every scream he heard in the night from Aurelia when she had gotten back, every nightmare, and every flinch. He had searched everywhere for a therapist, a demigod therapist, and finally found one in Portland, Oregon. Weirdly enough Tyche had been helpful in that matter as Anton would bother her daily in small prayers or burn food, he knew she disliked. Anything for Aurelia. So, he moved them from Houston to Portland, made a new life and cut off communication with camp. He knew she kept in contact with a girl from there but he didn’t say anything about it, that girl was the reason he would hear his daughter laugh sometimes.

“Sir,” Piper tired but he shot a harsh glare towards her that made her blink in surprise. She looked over at the teenager, but she was hidden behind the older male, and didn’t seem to make a move either. She was hiding Piper realized. Hiding from them. She didn’t say anything else.

“Cebby, come.” The corgi perked up at the firm tone his owner gave a quickly ran from Will’s feet and towards Aurelia. Will looked sad for a moment but then quickly turned to look at Aurelia who had bent down to scoop up the pup. She turned her back to the group and quickly escaped back up the stairs to the safety of her room. The door gave a soft click and the lock slid into place. Anton ushered the group outside and harshly closed the door. They weren’t welcomed there.

“Chiron, her father was firm in the no,” Percy spoke to the Iris message of the camp director. The centaur sighed softly but didn’t look surprised. He expected this. “She didn’t say anything either. Just stood there.”

“She was scared,” Will mumbled. He knew her, and he knew that look. The quick escape was something Aurelia had perfected back at camp when things became to much for her to handle. She would run back to the Hermes cabin or run to the Ares cabin to hide. Will remembered one time Aurelia was confronted by two Hermes kids about something going missing in the cabin and she just stood there. She didn’t get defensive but once they raised their voices she fled. She fled to Clarisse but Clarisse wasn’t here, maybe she wouldn’t have run to her room if she were. “She doesn’t do her own confrontation. She deals with everyone else though.”

Piper looked between her friends with slight confusion. “Why do we need her at camp? No ones really mentioned Aurelia before.” Chiron chuckled and shook his head.

“Oh, they do mention her, but not by name,” he shook his head lightly. “Rabbit’s Foot is what they call her. She’s the camps good luck charm so to speak, she was there during the battle of manhattan and helped turn the odds with her tychokinesis.”

“She can manipulate the fields of chance,” Annabeth said when Piper blinked a few times. “Basically, she can control luck.”

“Aurelia’s the girl to bring to the casino,” Percy said plainly. He got a slightly smack to the back of his head from the blonde and Will laughed. Chiron shook his head. “I’m not wrong!”

“Clarisse,” Will spoke suddenly. Annabeth had a look of realization cross her features as she nodded in agreement only Percy and Piper didn’t seem to understand. “She’s close with Clarisse still. Always has been. She would do anything for Clarisse.”

“Clarisse is in Arizona for University,” Chiron spoke but squinted slightly to his desk at his left side. “I’ll see what I can do about getting in contact with her. Keep trying to convince Aurelia though, I can’t promise Clarisse will be able to go to Portland for about a week or two. Summer break starts soon.”

“Why do we need her though?” Piper asked. She stood from the rickety wooden chair in a motel room they got. The walls had paint peeling and a tv that kept going out. The two beds in the room were comfy from what Will and Percy said when they jumped on separate ones when they first got here. “It was never made clear as to why we’re here for her. Aren’t there other kids of Tyche at camp?”

A murmur of agreement was heard from the other three as well. Chiron said nothing as his face turned stony and slightly pale, he shook his head as he stood from his wheelchair and wiped his hand in the air. He disappeared and left the four demigods in the quiet room with the yellow lights shining on them.

“Well, that was weird.” Annabeth side eyed Percy for a moment, and then nodded in agreement.

“We‘ll try again tomorrow.”

#Spotify #pjo fandom #clarisse la rue #annabeth chase #percy jackson #piper mclean #fanfic #pjo oc #daughter of tyche #traumatized child #Aurelia is not okay

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lemonjoonah · 4 years ago

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The Garden Thief (M)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Word Count: 9.3K Genre: Hybrid AU, romance/drama/comedy, enemies to lovers Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral sex (fem. rec.), they get down and dirty outside but no one else is there to see them, cum play? (just a little), there’s also a bit of mud (sorry, but also not sorry, they’re outside what do you want from me?!?!), referenced hybrid neglect and oppression (hybrids are wrongfully deemed as pets by law and the majority of society).

Summary: Your beloved vegetable patch has once again been victimized by a hungry thief in the night. The prime suspect? Jeon Jungkook, your neighbour's rabbit hybrid. But when you finally confront him, he pleads innocent, and proposes a plan to clear his name.

A/N: I wrote this fic’s premise and opening scene for the ‘A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words Game’ that I played oh so long ago and now I’ve finally finished the tale!

...

“Oh for fuck’s sake, not again!” You swear upon seeing the leafy green remains of several carrots lying in your garden, inches from where they used to be buried. This maddening mystery of the vanishing vegetables has been playing out all summer. You’ve set out deterrents for every possible garden pest, rolling out chicken wire and spraying natural remedies to repel anything from bugs to small rodents. Yet you still wake to find that your garden has been robbed in the night. The only possible suspect you haven’t been able to protect against resides just next door, in fact—

You squint up at the boarded fence, spotting a pair of long dark ears peeking out over the posts. “Jungkook, is that you?”

The ears immediately disappear, ducking down behind the barrier. The sound of his hurried footsteps trailing away are followed only by the slamming of a door.

You rush into and through your own house carrying the wilted carrot greens. Exiting out the front, and over to the house next to yours, where you repeatedly press the bell.

The entry whips open on the fourth ring to reveal Jungkook. His face is flushed, beads of sweat racing down his brow, and a shirt that one would normally use to cover their chest, is instead thrown over his shoulder. “Something wrong neighbour?” He asks with a carrot stick in hand. Bringing it to his mouth, he taunts you with a bite and crooked grin.

“Is-is your caretaker home?” You stutter trying your best to swallow your nerves. Concentrating hard on his face, you plead with your eyes not to wander down. That’s exactly what he wants, a reason to put you off your mission, to make you so flustered that you have to walk away. He’s always trying to use his allure against you, and you hate how often he succeeds doing just that...

“No, he’s at work.”

“When will he be back?”

“Not sure, maybe a week, or two? He’s on a business trip.”

Your gaze falters in it’s determination for a brief second as a drop of sweat descends from his neck to his chest. Holding your breath you watch it’s path, tracing the valleys between his muscles. When Jungkook finally wipes it away your brain catches up and scolds you for your weakness. “And he left you here, alone?” You ask, while trying to recollect your dignity, reminding yourself of how much grief he has put you through.

“Of course.” Jungkook’s smile grows. “I’m not just some common pet. I know how to behave myself.”

The statement makes your brow twitch, enraging you enough to overcome his tactics. “I know you haven’t been here long, but you should know, people typically don’t like it when someone steals from their yard.” You lecture him, waving the carrot tops in front of his face. “So stop treating my garden like your own personal snack bar!”

“Now why would I take from you? I have plenty of food here, even got another delivery this morning.” The hybrid kicks at a box next him filled with a vibrant collection of fresh produce and grains.

“I don’t know why. I just know it was you.”

“Prove it.” He prods, while taking the last bite of the vegetable from his hand.

The loud crunching gnaws on your composure, stripping you of any patience you may have had for the hybrid. “This all started when you moved in, and I’ve ruled everything else out!” You shout, but as good as it might feel to finally vent your anger, you feel as though you’re somehow playing into his hand.

“That doesn’t seem like very good evidence. It’s circumstantial at best. If you want to find out who the real culprit is you should have a stake out.”

“A stake out?”

“Yeah, you know, watch over the garden for the night, catch the criminal in the act. I could even help if you’d like.”

You scoff at the ridiculous notion. “You really think I should invite you over to guard my crops?”

“I do, so I’ll come over tonight? Say around seven?” You open your mouth to object, but the rabbit hybrid jumps from one statement to the next casually inviting himself into your own home. “Perfect. See you then.”

“I didn’t-no wait, that was sar-” The door closes between you before you can finish. Leaving you baffled and alone on the doorstep. You ready to knock but stop just before your knuckles hit the wood. Trying again right now is a lost cause, it’ll just play into his game. So why waste your breath when you know it’ll just end the same way? Tonight then, as he suggested, that’s when you’ll be ready to hit him with some hard evidence that he won’t be able to refute.

Admitting defeat for now, you retreat back to your garden to pick the surviving vegetables and contemplate the encounter. You wish your could have just spoken to Jungkook’s caretaker—fuck what was his name again? You’ve only seen the man a couple times since they took the house, but at least he doesn't give you a nervous knot in your stomach, or leave you confused and speechless like his hybrid does.

It’s been three months since they moved in. You were excited at first, to have new neighbours in your almost vacant cul-de-sac. Buyers don’t seem to be interested in the old houses with large lots in your area. Too much work to maintain, and not enough good job prospects to go around. So when you saw the sold sign go up you were beyond thrilled. Greeting the new residents with a fruit basket and a smile.

The rabbit hybrid you now know as Jungkook appeared rather shy at first, you did your best to welcome him. Always greeting him when he was outside, trying to engage him in small chat, but the first time you caught him during his workout everything changed. Until that point you had not considered him as anything but a prospective friend. You were stunned to see him in such a confident state, throwing around his weights like they were nothing. In that moment, with you too nervous to admit that you found him attractive, you became the anxious and blubbering fool in his presence, and he, unfortunately, took note. The once quiet and cute rabbit, became a flirtatious and bratty bunny.

And since then, whenever you would work in your garden he’d be on the other side of the fence grunting and panting. Staying close to the gap in the divider, a missing panel you had yet to replace. On days like today you would often look up from your radishes and accidentally lock eyes with the hybrid, drenched in sweat and showing off his skills.

Out of respect and self preservation you tried your best to not to pay attention, to keep your nose buried in your garden, but as the weeks went by the vegetables under your care started to disappear. The ample crops you tended to in the evening, lessened by morning, with only the refuse remaining to indicate it’s former presence. You didn’t want to point fingers immediately, but today was the final straw, and tonight no matter how hard he tries to distract you, you will find him guilty.

After harvesting the choice crops for the day and watering the rest. You dust yourself off, settling inside and in front of your computer; opening the visitors page for your place of work, the city's greenhouse conservatory. To help promote the centre in the community the staff all take turns writing articles revolving around their own projects or home gardens, and you’re up next in the rotation. You stare at the blank document for several minutes trying your best to concentrate on the task, but you are unable to think of anything other than the mischievous hybrid next door.

Embracing the topic of your aggravation, you start the post off with a title sure to catch the eye of any reader, ‘Garden Thieves.’

‘We’ve all been there, finding a tomato just about to reach its peak ripeness. We give it another day to grow into perfection, only to find it missing later on. In your absence something else has taken it into its own clutches. I myself have been dealing with a vegetable thief for several weeks, so if you are struggling like I am, here are a few things that might help. ’

You proceed to outline several garden pests uploading photos of their damage, along with quick remedies to deter their presence. Netting to block the sparrows, raised beds and fences to keep out most rodents or mammals, and a caffeine solution to stave off slugs.

‘I hope this may help you all in your efforts to keep your plants safe, but I must add a disclaimer. Unfortunately nothing here is completely foolproof. Even if you do follow all of these steps you still might lose some of your crops to a crafty critter. But I wish you the best of luck on all of your backyard battles. I myself plan to face off with my own long-eared menace tonight.’

You finish your post with a smile. Sending it off to your coworker Namjoon to get his approval before you make it public.

He calls a few minutes later, his laughter carrying through the speaker. “That was easily the best article you’ve written all year. You should definitely post it.”

“Thanks.” You chuckle, hitting the submit button. At the very least feeling a bit relieved to have one less task weighing on your mind. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. I take it you’re still having trouble with that hybrid neighbour of yours?”

“Yeah,” you groan. You’ve complained to Namjoon about the issue several times in the past month. It must have been all too easy for him to read between the lines and see what set you off to create this specific entry. “But he refuses to admit it was him. It’s like he’s trying to make me question my skills as a gardener and I hate it! I went over to talk to his caretaker but he’s away on business for a couple weeks.”

“He left him alone for that long? What about food?”

“He’s been getting deliveries. By the looks of it, he has a healthier diet than I do.”

Namjoon pauses on the line giving you only a simple, “Huh...” in a long break.

“What?”

“Well it’s just-” A loud buzzing sound erupts through the phone line cutting off his answer. A noise you know to indicate someone is at the back door. “That’s weird. I didn’t think we were supposed to get anything delivered today. No one else is here.... did you have anything scheduled to come in?”

“No.” You double check the calendar sitting on your desk. “I shouldn’t have anything until next Monday.”

Namjoon puts you on hold while he checks on the reason for the interruption, returning only a minute later. “It’s a delivery all right, but are you sure these aren’t yours? I’m seeing a lot of tropical species on the invoice. Combretum rotundifolium, Heliconia angusta, Myrciaria dubia-”

You mouth a swear as Namjoon carries on with his list. It’s obvious they are indeed the specimens of your expected batch. You're in the process of redesigning one of the tropical habitats. The lead director was adamant that the conservatory host a butterfly exhibition in the next coming year, and in order to support the grandiose endeavour you are required to introduce a vast amount of new flowering species over the next few months. “How many in total?”

“About two dozen. Looking pretty rough from the journey too.”

You’re not surprised by their current state. This summer is already one of the hottest and driest on record, and all the stock you had received this season was excessively wilted and near death because of it. “Do we have any holding houses with humidifiers available?”

“Not at the moment,” There’s a clatter in the background as Namjoon sorts through what must be the slack of clipboards. “But I’ve got the inspection chart here and your last delivery did just finish it’s quarantine. No signs of pests or illness, so they’re clear to plant. That should free up some space for you.”

“That’ll have to do. Thanks for checking.” Standing up from your desk with a sorrowful sigh. You mourn the loss or your afternoon off as you start to dress for a day of hard labour. Throwing on your work-issued overalls over your t-shirt and shorts. Unfortunately you can’t just leave the new stock to sit out under the beating sun. With little humidity outside and no protection they’ll be burnt to a crisp if you delay too long. But the worst part is that your planting staff isn’t scheduled until later in the week, and that volume of work will put you well into the middle of the night before you complete it. “I’ll be in soon to deal with it.”

“That’s a lot of planting to do on your own. I can help if you-”

“I can’t take you away from your trees, isn’t there a bonsai exhibition next week you have to prepare them for?” He’s been agonizing over this showcase for so long you couldn’t possibly inconvenience him now with your own troubles. “It’s fine, really. I’ll call to see if anyone else is willing to come in today.” You hang up letting Namjoon return to his tasks, and work your way down the contacts for the gardening staff as you prepare yourself to leave. Though as expected, all of those who answer have prior commitments and won’t be able to assist.

Grabbing your badge and plans for the updates to the garden you slip back out into the noon-day sun, so strong it’s turned your car into an oven on wheels. You’re just about to pull it into reverse when you spot the blinds shift in your neighbour’s window. Prompting you to recall the plans he had made for tonight.

With all the work you have, it’s doubtful you’ll be back home for seven. You return to Jungkook’s door to give him the news. He has it open before you can even knock, his usual smirk crawling across his face as he greets you.

“About tonight... something has come up at work and I really don’t know how late I’ll be.”

His ears perk up. “You’re going into the conservatory?”

“Yeah,” you respond, somewhat shocked that he remembered where you work. It’s been a couple months since you mentioned it while introducing yourself to him and his caretaker. “An order came in earlier than expected. I’ll likely be planting all day and night.”

“I can help,” he offers, already stepping out to join you, and locking the door behind him.

“You want to help?”

“Of course, isn’t that the neighbourly thing to do?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t want it or expect it from someone who terrorizes my own garden.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook corrects. “And wouldn’t you rather have me with you, under your supervision, than here, all alone with only a measly fence between me and your impressive bell pepper harvest?”

“Stay away from my peppers!” You scold, pointing your finger at him. “Even if I wanted to take you, what about your caretaker? Don’t you need his permission to leave and work?”

“He’s never paid attention to my whereabouts before, and it’s not work if you don’t pay me. I’ll just be a volunteer. You have people volunteer all the time right?”

“Yes but-”

“I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

“Alright, fine.” You finally agree though with a heavy dose of reluctance. Namjoon often brings his own hybrid in so it shouldn’t be a problem. “But if I see you nibble on even a single leaf, you’re coming straight back here.”

“Deal.” He rushes past you straight to your passenger seat and buckles himself in. Practically bouncing with excitement beside you as you pull out and head towards the conservatory.

The minutes pass and you try your best to focus on the road but you’ve never been so close to Jungkook in such a small space. And with his built frame taking up most of the car, he’s hard for you to ignore. His ears folded against the roof and his shoulders so wide they brush repeatedly against yours.

“Ever been to the conservatory before?” You ask, trying to divert your mind from the battle which builds inside you. A wavering war between frustration and attraction, with the former trying it’s best to pin down the latter, a move which only arouses the latter more...

“No, I’ve wanted to go ever since you mentioned it but my caretaker hasn’t had the time.”

“Oh.” A sense of pity joins the ranks of your emotions, nudging at you as you pull into the lot. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

“Why are you sorry?” Jungkook asks in a low whisper, snapping back to his flirtatious behaviours. His mouth turns up at the corner as he leans into you, so close that his drooping ears graze the top of your head. “Would you have taken me earlier if I had mentioned it?”

“N-no,” you choke out. Placing your hand on his solid chest, you push him back and away. As tempting as his advance might be to accept, you know his forwardness to be nothing more than an act to make a fool of you. Why else would he try to both seduce you, and steal from right under your nose? “You’re only here today because I am in desperate need of help, and I can’t trust you to be alone.”

...

You lead him through the unoccupied greenhouses. The conservation is closed to the public today (as it is every Monday and Tuesday); which usually allows for some time off, but at least now it’ll give you a chance to work unimpeded by visitors. Your own curated section is located in the most humid of all the houses, set in such a way to mimic the tropical environment you are attempting to represent.

The first stop is the holding house where the carts of new stock wait just outside. Grabbing an empty trolly you enter and start to load up those that are ready to plant. Jungkook following your actions does the same, easily lifting the heavy planters that you yourself struggle with. “Thanks,” you whisper as he relieves you of a particularly burdensome tree. To which he smiles in return.

After making the switch, by placing the recent delivery in the house for it’s quarantine, you lead him to the supply closet. Where you collect a couple shovels, trowels, and two pairs of gloves. As you continue to scan for anything else you might require, Jungkook pops in behind looking at the shelves with a sense of curiosity. He reaches up and over you to a spray bottle labeled ‘slug repellent.’

“We won’t need that, it’s for the outdoor gardens,” You explain. “It’s just a mixture of ca-”

“Caffeine and water?”

You snap your gaze to him. “How do you know that?”

He bites his lip as a snicker starts to escape. “Just a bit of morning reading. I found an interesting article with that particular tidbit. One which also happened to reference the exploits of a long-eared menace.”

“Y-you read the conservatory blog? You read my post? No one reads that, there can’t have been more than ten views!”

“Which is such a shame.” He goads you. “I’ve found your work to be both informative and comical. You really have me rooting for you in your quest to catch your thief.”

You groan in utter fury. “Why must you be so-so-”

“Handsome? Funny? Caring?”

“Antagonizing!”

“Because you seem to take more notice when I am.” Jungkook answers, with a turn of his heel, his tail poking out from under his shirt as he starts to walk away with the cart. “And I like seeing that perplexed look of yours. Your nose is cute when you scrunch it up like that.”

You remain in the shed, your traitorous heart beating erratically over the fact that he called a part of you cute. While your more sensible side grabs your nose and smooths out the wrinkles he referenced.

“Should we get to work?” He calls out after you. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go home and expose that bandit of yours.”

You roll your eyes and follow him out, before taking the lead to your tropical glasshouse. The air sticks to your skin the moment you enter. Jungkook lets out a long exhale behind you tugging on the collar of his shirt. “Is it always like this in here?”

“It’s a bit warmer today, but not by much. Are you already regretting your decision to help?” You tease him.

“Nope,” he answers, slinging a shovel over his shoulder. “Show me where to dig, and I’ll get to it.”

Pulling out your plans for the new exhibit arrangement, you select a couple species placing them on the empty plots of garden as directed, careful to allow for future growth. Jungkook follows behind digging out their new homes faster than at least three of your staff members combined.

You stare at him for a second, unable to believe the pace at which he’s going. “Something wrong?” He asks, pausing to lock eyes with you.

“No, I just didn’t think you’d be so quick at digging.”

“I’m part rabbit, what did you expect?” Jungkook boasts with a chuckle and a raised brow. “I share their strengths. Especially when it comes to burrowing and fu-”

His words are cut short when a fresh breeze from the outside washes over the both of you, a sure sign that someone must have entered the greenhouse. Your neighbour goes rigid, his nose lifts into the air and his ears fall back flat against his head. “Jungkook what’s-” Leaping up he closes the gap and grabs you. Tucking you into him with his chin resting on your head, where a warm and earthy scent envelopes you. His breaths are quick and deep, causing his chest to rapidly rise and fall against your back.

Namjoon’s voice calls out to you. “... are you in here?”

“Over here!” You yell out in reply, before turning back to the hybrid who still has you locked in his clutches. “What the hell Jungkook? Let me go! Now’s not the time for your games.” Sure it might feel nice to be wrapped in his arms, to get lost amidst his aroma. At any other time you might even consider taking a moment before chastising his boldness. But here? Now? And with Namjoon coming to greet you? No, this is too much.

You try to push him away like you have before, but this time it’s as if he’s set in stone, and not registering you at all. He focuses only on the direction your coworker's voice hailed from. “That scent, he smells like-”

“There you are.” Namjoon interrupts stepping around a flowering bush and into view, looking surprised by your guest. “Oh, hello there.”

The point of Jungkook's chin rubs against your head as he grips you even tighter. Embarrassed and confused by the hybrids embrace. “Jungkook, this is Namjoon.” You introduce your coworker while delivering an elbow to Jungkook’s gut. He finally snaps out of his trace and lets you go though he continues to hover behind. “He works with the bonsai of the conservatory.”

“You must be the neighbour I’ve heard so much about, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Namjoon extends his hand to the hybrid, but Jungkook ignores the gesture, choosing to glare instead, with his nostrils flared and his ears pinned back.

“Jungkook?” You whisper trying to chase him from his mood.

Namjoon gives him a nervous smile. “You probably smell my hybrid, on me don’t you?”

“A hybrid?” Jungkook confirms, his eyes narrowed at Namjoon.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t intend to scare you. I’m sure the scent of a predator, especially a tiger, is a bit of a shock. He’s harmless, I promise.”

“Is Taehyung here?” You ask, hoping to see his affectionate part-feline companion.

“Nah, he’s with a friend today. I needed to get some work done and he’d be more of a distraction than a help... but it would seem that didn’t stop him from scenting my shirt before I left.” Namjoon explains, and then turns to your neighbour again. “Jungkook would you mind if I borrow her for a second? I need help with one of my tropical species.”

Jungkook gives a solemn nod. For the first time since you’ve known him, he looks frightened, and somewhat hesitant to release you over to your coworker.

Worried by his current disposition, you reassure him with a squeeze on his arm. “Just keep digging where I’ve placed those pots and I’ll be right back.”

Namjoon leads you into the adjacent greenhouse where you can continue to keep watch of Jungkook through the pains of glass. But the instant the doors close between you, Namjoon starts bombarding you with questions. “Why didn’t you tell me? How long has it been going on? ”

You take a step back having been caught off guard. “Tell you what?”

“About you and Jungkook! Is the feuding neighbours just a cover story?” Namjoon’s eyes are wide and hopeful as he carries on, not letting you fit a single word in. “Don’t worry, I won’t inform anyone you're together. I know it’s not easy having a human-hybrid relationship out in the open. But I think you should be careful about going out into public because he’s far too obvious about it.”

“We’re not- we’re not a couple. Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because the way held you, he looked like he was marking you with his own scent. That’s what rabbits do isn’t it? They rub their chins on what they want to claim as their own.”

“They do what?” You ask, stunned by the possibility, before the realism settles back in. It must just be Jungkook’s idea of a joke. “No, that’s not what he’s doing, our connection is nothing remotely like that. Don’t get me wrong he’s very attractive, and he knows it.” You mutter the last part under your breath. “But-”

“But you really are having trouble with him. It's not a cover?”

“You think I would keep something like that from you?” Namjoon over the years has come to be your closest confidant. A good friend and coworker, you would never dream of hiding something like that from him.

“I suppose not.”

“Is that why you brought me back here, to question my relationship status?”

“Not entirely.” Namjoon shakes his head with a small dimpled smile and changes the subject. “I do actually want to get your help with one of my new acquisitions.” He points out an unusual tree on his work bench, much too big for the pot it’s currently situated in. It’s extensive roots spill out over the top and threaten to swallow the pot whole. “A Ficus microcarpa, far from the most sought after species when it comes to reputable bonsai, but I couldn’t pass this one up. It has such good character.”

“What made it grow in such a way?” You examine the plant and it’s container with care, prying between the roots and taking note of cracks starting to form in the terracotta.

“The last owner neglected it for far too long. It sat hidden in the back of a commercial greenhouse, still under the watering and fertilizing system, but since it was confined to such a small space it tried to root it’s way out. If I were to guess, it probably hasn’t seen a new pot for at least five years.”

“It’s a miracle it survived.” You nod impressed by the tree’s determination. “What’s your plan for it?”

“Give it what it wants, let it leach out. I doubt I would be able to pry it out entirely without causing significant damage to the roots that are gripping the sides, so instead I want to put another bellow to catch it and give it the fresh soil and room it needs.” Namjoon lays the tree and pot down on the table, and asks you to hold and support the trunk, while he taps and pokes at the bottom of the vessel with a metal trowel. Enlarging the cracks, but not breaking the pot fully. It’s a tedious process. The small chunks of clay are removed piece by piece, giving him access to see and free some of the tightly bound roots inside.

While your coworker continues his task, your eyes are free to wonder. You check on Jungkook through the glass, as he kneels in front of the garden bed digging even faster than before.

Namjoon appears to notice your distracted state. “How's he doing?”

“Fine I guess.” You whisper. “He’s acting stranger than usual today though. He stole from my garden again. Invited himself over to my house, then here, and you saw what he did back there.”

“Huh...” Namjoon mutters, trailing off the same way he did on the phone.

“What is this ‘huh’ you keep giving me? You know I don’t like games Namjoon. If you have something you want to say, say it.”

“It’s about what you said earlier, how his caretaker leaves for extended periods of time. Usually if an animal is alone for too long they look for ways to stimulate themselves and resort to their natural instincts, scavenging and such. But he’s a hybrid and therefore part human, so if you were isolated and restricted to your house what would you do?”

“Probably look for the closest person I could find. So he’s acting out in my garden and teasing me, because he’s lonely?”

“I think so.” Namjoon responds as he extracts another root, freeing it from its confines.

“But why?” You ask, worried for the answer to come. “Why wouldn’t he just say something?”

“There could be a number of reasons. He might not understand what he’s doing on a conscious level, or he might be afraid to show any sign of weakness to you or anyone else. Jungkook is part prey animal, and humans are all too often predators.”

“If that’s the case...” You curse yourself for not realizing it sooner. The fury you held for him slowly fades away as you replay every encounter in your mind. He was literally jumping at the chance to spend time with you, to help you with your work, and you were to blind to see it. Your anger over your missing vegetables is so trivial in comparison to what he must have been going through. The loneliness he must have felt, and the inability to admit it, you can’t imagine how he suffered through it alone. “What can I do to help him? I have no legal claim to him Namjoon. What can I do within such limitations?”

He looks down at his work in progress. “The way I see it you and he, like this small tree, have three options. You could maintain the status quo, leave him be, but how long will he be able to survive like he is? Creeping over the edge but grasping on to nothingness?”

You shake your head vehemently rejecting the idea while Namjoon continues.

“You could report his caretaker for neglect, breaking the container entirely, but that too could be very damaging to him, tearing him away entirely could put him in a state of shock, and in a home that is no better for him, while the legal battle is decided. Or...” Namjoon grabs another container, slightly wider than the one in which the plant is seated. Filling it with substrate he takes the tree clinging to it’s partial pot and places it on top. Pressing the newly freed roots down into the soil.

“You could support him, give him a better home just outside of his own where he can be himself and access what he needs. I personally think it’s your safest option for now.” Namjoon leads over inspecting the bonsai and lowers his voice to an almost inaudible whisper. “Until the day, when it is possible to fully cast the pot aside.”

You nod, though now left to grapple with what you could possibly have to offer the hybrid. “I’m not sure I would be the best person to care for him.”

“I think Jungkook would disagree. He was already trying to scent you. That to me, implies his desire for something more in the realm of an intimate relationship.” You choke on your breath as Namjoon comes to an additional conclusion. Upon seeing your distress he makes a suggestion. “Of course you could keep it strictly to friendship between the two of you and I’m sure that will improve his situation, but his other needs will need to be met for him to feel completely at home...”

“His other needs? You think he wants to be with me? Intimately?! No! Surely he would have acted differently if that was his intent! He’s done nothing but tease me when he catches me even remotely looking in his direction.”

“So you have been looking at him!” Namjoon taunts you with a massive grin. Apologizing a second later when you proceed to glare at him. “But to answer your question, no, not necessarily. You have to remember most of society deems him a lesser being. He could be feeling a lot of guilt and pressure not to engage with you in that way. Though he might not outright say it, I bet his instincts will continue to shine through. I’ll even prove it to you.” Namjoon takes off a glove and rubs your head. “I bet this rabbit of yours will take less than a minute before he tries to replace the smell of my hand with his own again... trust me.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I should probably get back to him.” You are just about to step away when your thoughts return to the long neglected plant. “Where do you plan to house that when you’re finished? Ficuses naturally belong in a more tropical location don’t they?”

“They do, especially if I want to give it a better chance. It’s going to need a place far more humid than this space.”

“Was this all your calculated way of guilting me to store it in my greenhouse too?”

“The thought might have crossed my mind.” Namjoon gives you a sly grin. “But my logic is still sound in regards to Jungkook. He needs someone, he needs a better home... and it would seem he’s chosen you.”

...

You wander back to your greenhouse, still full of doubt. Finding Jungkook to have finished most of the required digging.

“Sorry for leaving you.”

“You-you okay?” He asks, upon seeing the dazed look on your face and then scowling in the direction that Namjoon led you.

“Fine, he just needed help with one of his plants. Sorry about earlier, I didn’t think you’d be affected by the scent of his hybrid, Taehyung is rather sweet though, you’d like him.”

“You trust him then?” Jungkook grumbles as he pierces his shovel into the ground. “You trust Namjoon and his hybrid?”

“Of course, why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it wasn’t just a tiger that I smelled. He’s been around a lot of hybrids. Every scent on him told me to run, all of them put there by dangerous predators.”

“Oh,” you shoot back in surprise. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Taehyung is rather popular, he has a lot of friends and Namjoon often caters them at his place. You don’t need to worry, you're safe here.”

“It’s not myself I’m worried about.”

Jungkook inches closer as you crouch to place the plants in the holes he dug. His nose twitches as he takes a deep breath, his eyes watching while you bury the root ball in the warm soil, firmly securing the trunk of the young tree.

While you are leaning down, Jungkook reaches across to the other side of you. Grabbing the trowel to your right despite the fact that the same tool can be found on his left. The bottom of his chin grazes the top of your head and lingers for a spell. Your heart stops in that moment while questioning his motives. Though Namjoon said he’d do just this, you still can’t be entirely sure that it proves him correct; Jungkook might just not have seen the other option available to him, and he’s never bothered about invading your space. This could be nothing, though there’s a small growing part of you that wants it more and more to be something.

“He’s a good guy,” you promise, returning to the conversation so as to not dwell on his actions. “He even suggested that I should bring you along more often, if you’re interested in spending some of your days here.”

“He did?”

You nod. A small white lie, but not entirely incorrect, and if it gets him to accept Namjoon easier you’ll all be better for it. “I wouldn’t expect you to work, but you're more than welcome to just hang around. The staff here could always use some company and I’m sure it would beat staying at home alone all day.”

“I would like that. I would like that a lot, but would you want me to keep you company too?”

“If that’s what you want to do.”

“No, I need to know if that’s what you want.” He looks over to you pinning you down in his line of sight.

“I suppose I would....” You answer and turn your head, unable to bear the nerves that his gaze brings. The both of you fall quiet. Knowing what you know now, being free of your anger for him leaves you vulnerable, open to his persuasion, and now you are no longer certain of how to act. So you start to rely on what has made him comfortable in the past, and interject with a new condition to bring an end to the awkward silence. “As long as you treat this garden better than mine back home.”

Jungkook lets out a long laugh. “I have nothing but the highest respect for your garden.”

...

When planting is finished your clothes are entirely saturated in sweat and your muscles aching from use. It’s hard to believe how much you’ve both done in such a short amount of time. While carting up the supplies, Jungkook’s eyes catch on something behind you. You look around spotting the newly potted bonsai on a back table. Namjoon must have dropped it off while you both were busy.

Looking at it now you can’t help but notice how even the shape of its leaves remind you of the hybrid’s ears, long, pointed, and reaching up to the sky. You consider your friend's words one more time and while Jungkook leans over to inspect the tree. Reaching out to his back, your hand shakes with hesitation before setting down on a spot just below his shoulder. He softens under your touch, a low hum leaving his lips. His attention turns from the plant to you. With your hand still in place, your arm is now wrapped around him, leaving only an inch between the two of you. You stand there fixed and unmoving, but content in the knowledge, that you seem to have left him speechless this time. His eyes darting away from yours, to your lips, your neck, and finally the hand you place upon his chest.

Only to have the moment broken when you can hear and feel the rumble from his stomach. His nervous laugh follows as he reaches up to scratch behind his ear.

“Hungry?”

He nods in response, his eyes wide as he remains unusually silent.

“Come on, I’ll buy you dinner.” You offer as you turn him around to head to the car.

...

You both settle on a take out spot, and return home to wash up and eat.

After finishing your meal and tearing off your overalls, you both settle down on the hammock in your yard. With Jungkook’s legs long enough to touch the ground, he slowly rocks the seat back and forth. He’s been near silent since that close moment together. He’s never had a problem with banter and flirtation, but now you’ve come to notice that any attention which can’t be passed off as a joke causes him to flounder.

Laying back in the hammock, both full and content, your eyes threaten to close after the long day as Jungkook continues to sit beside you. The sound of crickets lulling you to sleep. “Keep an eye out for that thief of mine will you?” You may not like games but if it makes him comfortable, and keeps him talking, you’ll continue to play this ruse with him.

“You trust me to keep watch without your supervision?”

“Are you suggesting I shouldn’t?”

“No, it’s just a lot more credit than you usually give me.”

“I think you’ve earned it.” You whisper as you finally drift off.

It feels like only a few minutes of rest before the sun sets and the air turns cool. Jungkook’s chin comes to rest on the top of your head like it did back in the greenhouse. He shifts his weight, burrowing his arms around and behind to cover you as he takes deep breaths. You lean into him seeking the warmth of his chest. No longer restricted by your childish anger to enjoy his company is a welcome relief, you only wish you could relinquish him of any of his own troubles and doubts. And then, you feel it, a drop of cold rain hitting your neck. The hammock moves again as he adjusts, the back of his fingers running across the damp spot. Another finds your cheek and he wipes that away too, your skin shivering in response.

But when a speck lands your mouth he stops. You wait, a second, then two. Your anticipation grows with face heating up and your chest tightening as you continue to crave his touch. You want him to wipe it away, to touch you, to act on whatever desires he might be keeping. You part your lips with the desperate hope that he will take the hint. Rejoicing when the warm pad of his thumb spreads the drop across the delicate skin.

He comes down on to you, his mouth catching any and all remains of the droplet as he encases your lips. Jungkook places a hand on your neck while the other grabs the ropes of the hammock, his legs straddle your hips. The scattered rain turns to a downpour as he remains fixed to your mouth, even his form isn’t enough to shield you from the current washing down from the sky.

As your hands reach up to his own damp and curling locks entwining your fingers in the strands he moans and nips. But as quickly as it started, so too does it end. When Jungkook snaps up as though jolted from a dream. His ears point back as an apology flows from him. “I-I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Jungkook,” you call out to him but he ignores you as he tries to detangle himself. When one foot hits the ground. You grab his waist and try again. “Jungkook, you don’t have to be sorry.” But instead of stopping he merely pulls you off and along with him, sending you both to the muddy ground, but this time with you on top of him.

“Are you okay?” He asks the loud pouring of the rain forcing him to raise the volume of his voice.

You chuckle at his concern considering he’s the one flat on his back. “I think I should be asking you that question instead.” You pause as he mirrors your grin. “Why did you stop? Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” He looks up at you, his brow furrowing. “You did nothing wrong. It was me. I was the one acting on my instincts. I shouldn’t have done that when I know how much you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you...” You explain, trying your best not to be drowned out by the water cascading down. “The things you did might have annoyed me, but I get it now. I’m just sorry it took me so long to notice.”

“Notice what?”

“How fucked up your situation is. For not realizing how alone you must have been. How caged you must have felt. I’ve been so focused on my own little world that I didn’t realize what was happening or why you were acting the way you were. I like you, a lot, but I was too wrapped up in my frustration to say how I felt...”

“It’s not your fault.”

You shake your head. “I am not innocent in this. I should have been paying more attention.”

“Then pay attention to me now.” He begs with his round eyes shining up at you.

“But in what way? As a neighbour, as a friend, or maybe something more?" Your voice cracks in desperation, trying to find his needs while also hoping they are the same as yours. “Is that why you were always teasing me the way you did? You wanted something more?”

“You really want to know?” Jungkook’s tone is low as it grips on to his every word. “I did it because it was the only thing that could distract me from my incessant need for you. Seeing your reactions and having your attention kept me in check. I’m very different from you and I’m aware it could cause a problem. I wasn’t sure if you could ever fully want me because of that.” He reaches to rub around the base of his ears. “But every day that I looked over I wanted to hold you, to claim you, to take you right here on this very spot. So often I dreamed of jumping the fence and coming for you instead of...”

You smile down at him, noting his near admission. “Instead of?”

“Instead of watching from a distance.” He smirks, catching and narrowly fixing his statement. Pleading guilty only to his longing for you.

“Then do it.” You demand of him.

He groans from his position beneath you. “Don’t tease me like that.”

“I’m not. You weren’t the only one peeking through the fence Jungkook.” Reaching up to your collar you tug off your shirt. He follows your lead with his own to reveal his sculpted chest he’s taunted you with so many times. “I don’t care if we’re different from each other. I don’t care if it causes a problem.” You shift back on his body traveling from your seat near his stomach down to his hips, his clothed dick firm and pressing against you. A moan escapes his lips, confirming that you’ve made your point. “There’s no one else nearby, so if you want me so much that you’re willing to fuck me out here, in the rain and mud-”

His hands come to grip your waist, and in one swift motion, he lifts you off, maneuvering out from underneath, to fall into place behind you. From there he pushes you down to your hands and knees, his body bent over yours. “You have no idea how much I want to.” He whispers with a kiss to your bare shoulder damp from the rain that continues to pour.

He takes off your bra before his face moves down your back, nose trailing against your skin and pausing at your shorts. Unfastening the button he pulls them down, freeing you of your underwear too before they are both cast aside. “I want to smell you, and taste you.” Jungkook takes in a deep breath, wrapping an arm around your legs, and barring your thighs. He buries his face between your legs, his tongue reaching out to deliver a long lick to your folds pausing after every lap.

Your palms dig into the ground, the cool mud coming to the surface to meet them. You buck against his tongue but the forearm holding you remains firm, sending your squirming downward to bury your elbows in the soggy grass too.

Jungkook chuckles as you inadvertently give him a better angle. From behind you can hear the zipper of his own shorts. Rubbing the head of his cock against your damp folds, he covers it with the slick of your slit, and with a long groan he eases it inside. He’s slow at first, letting you savor the girth and warmth of him. So you start to edge back and forward on his cock. Taking the time to enjoy every inch, along with the sounds that leave him. But when he returns to take control, the first thrust is so powerful, his thighs hit your ass with a loud clap, and every jolt of his hips after, drives you further down each time.

A stuttering groan escapes him as he fills you. Thinking he’s finished you lean forwards and until his cock pulls out, but in response he grabs your waist. Turning you over, back to the ground on top of the discarded clothes and facing him.

He lowers himself pressing his chest against yours. His fingers reach to grab your chin and take a kiss. His cock, despite having come only moments before, is hard once more and poised to enter once again.

“How are you-” You manage to squeeze a few words in the gaps between his kisses as he draws breath. “Ready for more-” Another pass of his tongue. “Already?”

“You have my hybrid traits to thank for that.” He moves to nibble on the side of your throat. “I have more to give you, if you want it.”

You nod unable to emit any noise other than a gasp as his mouth finds a sensitive spot on your neck. His dick forges in again, your slick and his cum dripping out of you as he fills you with himself instead.

You’ve avoided touching him with your own hands as they are patched with mud, but as his thrusts grow more powerful than even before, you’re forced to grab on his arms and chest. Leaving behind streaks of dirt which display the path of your grip. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though, in fact looks rather encouraged by your touch, and the marks you leave him.

“What a dirty woman you are, and getting me all messy too.” He scoffs while admiring your handiwork. “Can I return the favour?”

“Help me come first and you can do whatever the fuck you want.” You gasp on the brink of your climax.

His ears perk up and a grin streaks across his face. “Close are you?” He grabs your calf and wraps your leg around his back, the other follows suit and his hand comes to rest on your lower back pushing you up and into him effectively grinding your mount against him.

You gasp and flinch with the sudden pressure, but he holds you firm as your back arches to meet him.

His hips beat on at a rapid pace, a small whimper escapes him as you reach the peak, tipping you over the edge. The chilling rain can in no way can douse the searing heat that spreads through you. You're still gasping when his jaw clamps down hard, his teeth poised upon your skin. The first pulse of his cock comes inside, but on the second he pulls out to splatter your chest and stomach with the rest. His hand comes to clutch his shaft, spilling more out and on to you with each stroke.

After every remaining drop has been cast on you he smiles, dragging his fingers across the rain drenched mess of mud and cum on your skin. “Never thought I’d ever see you so thoroughly soiled.”

You giggle at his remarks through your deep breaths. “And now that you do, what do you think?”

“I think it suits you, the dirt, the rain, and me...” He lowers himself down onto you, with his head now resting upon your shoulder. “It’s too bad though. Now I just want more, but we’re both far too filthy to carry on like this.”

You turn to whisper at the base of his ear. “Who says we can’t continue in the shower...”

...

You wake early the next morning with the sun spilling into the room, lighting up your bed, and the hybrid sleeping next to you. His ears and nose twitching as he continues to rest. Slipping out from the covers, and into a set of clean gardening clothes, you exit the room with as little sound as possible.

On the tile floor of your hall, muddy footprints trail from your backdoor to your bathroom. A smile pulls at your lips as you recall the events which brought them there. Jungkook had been so excited to keep going he picked you up and rushed you inside.

The feeling from the warm water and hands in contrast to the cool rain was enough to bring back the waves of pleasure. He was so thorough in washing you down, you might have to ask him to join you for another this morning and repay the favour.

Outside in the garden you find all your harvest from the day before present and untouched. You’re pleased by this new development, but it’s not the fact that your crops are intact which makes you happy, it’s the comfort in knowing that Jungkook didn’t feel the need to take them.

A few minutes later the hybrid in question comes up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist pulling with him a blanket he took from the bed to cover the both of you. “Morning.” He mumbles, as his nose finds the crook of your neck where he exhales with a deep and relaxed sigh.

“Morning.” You respond, enjoying the tickle of his breath before you turn around to better see him. “It seems the thief didn’t strike last night. ”

“I guess they found a new garden to plunder and devour?” Jungkook suggests, giving you a sly grin, before he opens his mouth again. It’s easy to see that he’s getting ready to confess, his face shifts to a stern expression as he looks down at the ground, the guilt weighing heavily upon his brow. Placing your index to his lips you stop him. No longer needing to hear those words of admission, you offer a new proposal instead.

“Maybe, but that was just one night. The thief might still come back. So if it’s alright with you I would like you to stay here. Until we can be sure they won’t return.”

Jungkook lets out a satisfied chuckle, pushing aside your finger and pulling you tighter into his warm embrace. “You’re right, I suppose it would be safer if I stayed.” His lips plant a kiss on the top of your head where he then rests his chin. “A temptation as enticing as this, shouldn’t be left alone and unattended.”

...

#jungkook smut #hybrid jungkook #bts hybrid au #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts the garden thief #bts smut #jungkook x reader

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silv3rswirls · 3 years ago

Text

They catch their s/o buying their merch

Anon asks: Ateez&skz reaction caching their s.o buying their merch? Or seeing them receiving a package with their album or pc?

Note: I decided to go with Ateez, but I might do a Stray Kids version sometime in the future! Thank you for requesting!

♡Seonghwa♡ You hadn’t been feeling well lately, so while over one evening Seonghwa went to the kitchen to make you some tea. He noticed the Hehetmon dish while refiling through the cabinets, quirking a brow at the sight of Yeosang’s birthday merch from a few months ago. Then he noticed the sticky note stuck to your fridge with your own doodle of Hehetmon. Plucking it off with a smile he asks you about it, finding it cute how fond you had grown of Yeosangs character. He gets Yesoang to doodle you some more, HehetMon deserves the love!

♡HongJoong♡ He had come by to pick you up to go out for the evening, picking up your package and bringing it inside for you. He asked what was in it, watching as you grinned and excitedly tore open the package, showing off the album from their latest comeback you had picked out. He rolls his eyes but ends up looking over your shoulder as you flip through the photobook.

♡Yunho♡ He wonders how he never noticed the Ateez lightstick displayed on your vanity before. He points it out one night while sleeping over, rolling out of bed and waking you up as he went to grab it. You groan at the light when he turns it on, swinging it around and playing while you sit up. He doesn’t really care, though it is cool that you own the group's lightstick.

♡Yeosang♡ When did you get that sweatshirt? He wonders when he notices you wearing the merch while lounging around together. He makes sure to tell you that you don’t have to buy their merch, albums, or anything just because the two of you were together. He thinks it's a cute gesture nonetheless, though would be shy if you wore it while out together.

♡San♡ He had been helping you store away new photos and mementos from your latest trip with your friends. He had gone to your room to find a mini photo album for you, but of course, he grabbed the wrong one. Rather than a cute little book filled with your friends, he found a casual collection of photo cards. “Awe, you really are our fan!” He doesn't let you breathe for the next few days, teasing you over it.

♡Mingi♡ It started as a joke. It was late, nearing two am, and the both of you had been goofing off sleep-deprived for hours and the idea of just printing out an Ateez poster and hang it up in the living room was hilarious. So you did and you forgot about it until Mingi came over next. You were mortified when he pointed out the poorly cropped and low quality picture. He could only laugh and insist he’ll get you an actual poster if you want one so bad.

♡Wooyoung♡ You were mortified when he came to you with a little collect book in hand and a devilish grin. “Well, well, well. You really can’t resist me?” When Wooyoung discovered the album of his photocards you had collected recently you knew he would never let you live it down. He’s relentless with his teasing, though he secretly hopes you keep collecting them.

♡Jongho♡ He didn’t mind that you bought their albums from time to time, he even liked flipping through the older ones to refresh on past concepts. It's the photocards he doesn't like- specifically that you never pull his. You’ve amassed a collection of Wooyoung. He always tells you to pull him next time but you never do. Those poor photocards are put through the wringer- taped to the ceiling, tossed about, put in a tupperware dish to serve jail time- all but Jongho’s hands. It’s all a joke of course, but your curse of getting Wooyoung keeps on strong.

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez imagine #ateez reaction #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #choi san

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kirishimas-manly-eyeliner · 3 years ago

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MHA BOYS REACTION TO YOU BUYING THEM DRESSES

pairings: eijiro kirishima, katsuki bakugou, izuku midoriya, shoto todoroki, denki kaminari x reader

warnings: none!! but if dudes wearing dresses make you uncomfortable THERE’S THE DOOR 🚪💕💕

EIJIRO KIRISHIMA

man’s is SO EXCITED

when you show up with the poofy sleeves of a strawberry dress,, when i tell you he RACES UP TO YOU

“no way. don’t tell me you actually got it. did you- you got it. for real. i love you forever.”

he’s grinning like an idiot the entire time, and once he has the whole thing on, he spins around and screams “LOOK AT THAT SPIN. LOOOK AT THAT SPIN. babe, do you see it? i mean- look at it!”

he will never take it off with his own will, you need to force it off him, because he’s actually genuinely so in love with the design and he will wear it whenever he possibly can

he’s strutting down the streets of the gas station with red acrylic nails

he’ll probably request the costume managers to change the design so that the little red cape thing around him is longer, so when he’s training he just

SPINS

in conclusion, that is the best purchase you’ve ever ordered and kirishima now has a shrine for it

KATSUKI BAKUGOU

“i hate this,” he says, but he’s literally willingly putting it on and checking the fit in the mirror. “why the fuck did you buy this?”

he admires it or a few moments, and he’s about to spin when-- katsuki literally rips it off him once he notices you taking photos and bolts over to his room and stuffs the dress deep inside his closet

he wipes his hands off and hopes to never see it again, then sets off to go to hero training

and that was the end of the dress. they never saw it again.

HAHAHA BUT THAT’S HOW IT WOULD END IF KATSUKI WAS A COWARD

after a few more weeks of completely abandoning the short black and gold dress with the entire back showing, he takes a peek and gives in

like he’s commiting a crime, he grabs the dress, pulls it over his head and admires himself in the mirror, checking to make sure his door is locked.

and he is in love with it.

“katsuki, what are y-”

“fuck off!”

IZUKU MIDORIYA

he’s definitely shy about wearing it the first time he sees it.

aside from the xs all might long shirt he wore when he was four, he’s never really worn a dress--

--so when he sees you hold up that frilly, sage green tinted-gold skirt with even frillier sleeves,,, something inside him short-circuits (and that’s what kaminari is supposed to do??)

“uhm.. you- when did you buy this?”

you crossed your arms over your chest, “when you weren’t looking. want to try it on?”

he’s just staring around the room

“here? ,,, now ??”

“yes, izuku. if you want to, yes, now.”

and he puts it on and absolutely slays in it. even though he won’t wear it very often, he’s the happiest when he does <33

SHOUTO TODOROKI

“ew, aren’t dresses only for girls?” mineta says, once he notices you take out a white dress with velvet red sleeves for todoroki

“clothes have no gender,” shouto deadpans. “and it looks nice. what’s so wrong with that?”

he puts it on as easy as breathing, fitting the sleeves and turning around to take a look at how the colors compliment his hair. “i like it.”

you smile as you take him to the mirror in your dorm, telling him, “it looks nice on you, shouto, we should probably go back-”

“i want to wear it.”

you hesitate. “what?”

man’s literally does not care. he likes it and he wants to wear it for the rest of the world to see. obviously, he knows better than to just strut the halls of ua and show everyone his outfit, but shouto’s willing to keep it on for as long as he can.

“i mean... we have some free time after lunch, do you want to keep wearing it that time?”

shouto nods as he manages a soft thank you and gets ready to leave.

DENKI KAMINARI

“uhhhh you want me to wear it?” kaminari asks, opening a black sleeveless crop top out of the box, next to it connecting a silk yellow skirt that ran down to his ankles. “but aren’t dresses for girls??”

he’s actually just very genuinely confused

“yes,” you nod. “dresses are for girls, but they can be worn by boys and any gender in-between. clothes have no gender, and that’s okay. do you want to t-”

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” kaminari shouts, eyes literally lighting up. “i’ve wanted to wear a dress for ages, and you- and you- y- you bought one for me?”

you nod excitedly, pleased to see him bouncing up and down like a 4-year-old who just got an ice cream cone with sprinkles on top. “yes, denki, i bought y-”

“AND only now i know that guys can wear dresses too?? that’s so cool! come on, let’s go wear it. right now.”

he’s so excited. he puts it on right away, takes a look at the mirror, and nearly looks like he’s about to cry. denki acts like he just won the greatest trophy of all time as his arms wrap around you and he laughs, “thank you. thank you so much.”

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iloveart06 · 3 years ago

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Reassurance

Gif Not mine

Warnings: None just Fluff

Looking himself at the mirror, he admires his body and the clothing he were wearing. A yellow plaid skirt along with a regular white crop top with a beautiful diamond ring in his left hand finger. M/N smiles at his reflection before exciting the room to walk downstairs where he finds his future husband sitting on the sofa with their pup next to him. “Hey sugar.” Smiled his Fiance. M/N smiles back, “Like my outfit?” “Do I liked it? I love it.” Chris chuckled, patting his leg for M/N to come and sit down at. “How is my Fiance doing.” Questioned the Bostonian man as he placed kisses at the crook of M/N’s neck.

“I’m good, feeling sexy as always.” Shrugged M/N. “My baby is always sexy.” Chris gropes the male ass earning a yelp from him. “Christopher not here. We have our son next to us.” They both look down to see Dodger looking at them, confused but cute. “Right...then lets move to the room.” He was about to lift M/N up when the male jumps out. “Nuh uh we had sex last night.”

The Bostonian man groans with a frowny face. “Plus you haven’t taken Dodger out so go do it.” Chris folds his arms frowning at his fiance. “No” It was so child-like of him, one of the things M/N loved about Chris. “Christopher.” Warns M/N. They both squint their eyes at each other before Chris huffs. “Finnee, come on dodger.” The dog wails his tail, jumping of the couch as he followed behind his owner. M/N smacks Chris’s ass, “Don’t give me that face Mister. You choose me so now you deal with me.”

“Come with me. Remember till death part us apart.” He teasingly said. M/N raises his eyebrow, “We aren’t even married.” “Soon will be” Come on M/N it’s not cold nor hot outside. Even Dodger wants you to tag along.” God if it weren’t for the Bostonian’s man and the pups pleading eyes, M/N would have said no.

Sighing, “Fine Imma go change.”

“No no don’t. You look good like that.” Chris gently grabs M/N’s wrist, stopping him. “Chris I don’t want attention, the-” “Bubba it’s fine, we’re just walking down the street. Now go put your shoes on and get your pretty ass out.” His reassurance and the small wink he sent to M/N made his heart flutter. “Sure I guess.” “Thats my boy.” Chris smacks M/N ass making him yelp. “No sex tonight.” M/N warned the Bostonian man. “Yea right.” mumbled Chris under his breath.

Once they were prepared, the couple held hands as they walk down the street. It was calm, not so many people like Chris said. “Mom says you should wear the orange plaid skirt for thanksgiving which I in fact agree.” “Your mother sure does sense of fashion unlike her son especially when he was in his 20s.” M/N giggled. “Hey! It was the 20s, that was fashion back then and I was in my early twenties.” Protested Chris. “I’m still gonna make fun of you for that.” The couple laugh and chat, too distracted to know their were a paparazzi guy taking photos of them...

Later That Same Night

The lights of the lamp illuminated in the room at M/N’s side. Chris was downstairs in his office attending some ASP meeting while M/N was upstairs in their shared room, in his laptop, going through social media. Scrolling and scrolling his finger goes until he stops and his eyes widen with terror written on them. ‘Chris evans spotted with mysterious man holding hands, Possible lover? Below the article, photos of him and Chris walking dodger were shown. Thousands of headlines were written the same. And down in the comments were such mean horrible messages, like ‘Fuck we lost another one to the other side.’ or ‘Him? Thought Chris Evans had better type then that F@G.’

Jesus they were even death threats. The male immediately jumps up from the bed and runs downstairs. “Chris Chris! Oh god Chris.” The Bostonian man gets up his sit, alarmed by his fiance barging in his office. “M/N what’s wrong!?” “THey foUND OUT ABout uS. We ARe AlL OVeR thE INterNet” Hollered M/N. Chris confused and a bit scared. He could only scratch the back of his head. “I have like a million messages from your suppose fans leaving me death threats, FUCK” “God M/N I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for-” “Chris it’s fine, it wasn’t your fault...I’m gonna go rest, Goodnight.” Seeing his Fiance so dreary made Chris feel so fucking guilty. So without a thought, the Bostonian man opens up his phone and presses record.

M/N laid in bed with the sheets on top of his body. Silent but lost in his racing mind. All hell has been unleashed, how could he go to work or even around the corner without worrying about a creep taking photos. Especially now that his Fem side has been announced to the world. How would he deal with that. M/N crinkles his nose when the door suddenly opens. Footsteps slowly approach him before a body presses down on the bed, sitting next to him. “M/N...” whispered the Bostonian man. But he doesn’t respond. He shouldn’t be doing it since it wasn’t his sweet fiance fault. “Sweetheart.” Chris cooed in M/N’s, earning a small giggle from the male.

“I...I told the world about us. Made it clear that your the love of my life and my soon to be husband and if they ever mess with you, I will kick their asses.” With a small grin, M/N turns to face Chris. “Did you really say the last part?” “No but I will if they keep bothering ya.” The Bostonian man chuckled, “Now come on get your ass up, let’s watch some movies.” M/N groans, “Nooo, I’m already comfortable in bed.”

Chris exhales loudly before lifting M/N and taking him in his arms, bridal style. “Seriously.” mumbled the male. “Yep” replies Chris. Taking him downstairs into the living room, the Bostonian man places M/N down on the sofa before laying himself down next to him with blankets covering their bodies. “I don’t usually watch scary movies but I’m doing this for you.” The film Nightmare on Elm Street began rolling. “I love you bubba.” M/N peck Chris’s chin. “I love yo-DoDgEr” The pup jumped on top of the two male making them laugh. “Looks like we got our son to reassure us throughout the whole movie.” Chris said. M/N hums, agreeing as he relaxes himself to the warmth around him. The night ends with the lovebirds huddling with their pup as they tremble in fear from the movie. But at the end they will always each other.

#chris evans x male reader #chris evans x male #male reader #male #male insert

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whirlybirbs · 4 years ago

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( this chapter’s gif by @ransomflanagan from this beautiful set ! )

✪ — VACANT MIRRORS ; B.B. | 5/?

summary: your plan goes to asbolute shit.

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn

word count: 9k, please pray for my fingers

a/n: there’s action, there’s gunshot wounds, there’s canon appropriate violence! this one has a lot of plot, a lot of action, and i truly want to sleep for seven days after writing this. you should listen to the glass cannon’s club playlist while you read, though, for vibez.

( PREVIOUSLY | AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT )

You do have a plan.

Maybe it’s a little vague, a little messy, and a little up-in-the-air, but it’s a plan.

Get in, find Kiwi, avoid a handful of unsavory characters, and access the Alexandria Library.

Getting the hell out The Glass Cannon once you and Bucky were in was going to be a whole different plan entirely — one that was more improv than anything else. Hopefully, running a quick facial recognition program wouldn’t take long. With any luck, it would get a hit on any more recent aliases Innessa Sidrova was using after parsing the motherload of information Kiwi held onto with her life.

Kiwi wasn’t always known as Kiwi. She worked at SHIELD, like you, and back then she was known as Suji Awal. She stuck around longer — and she’d stayed on board during the active collapse to do heaven-sent work. It was an absolute Hail Mary, but while HYDRA had tried to purge all of SHIELD’s cloud data to protect their active agents and decades of progress, Suji had beat the hare in the race. Two steps ahead, she’d managed to pull nearly 97% of all confidential data including mission reports, agent profiles, and even electronic correspondence. While the metaphorical fire burned the documents behind her, she’d managed to salvage one of the only surviving, comprehensive looks at SHIELD before the curtain was pulled back to reveal HYDRA’s infection.

It had been used to try multiple HYDRA agents in the wake of it all in the federal courts. It was significant evidence, but after nearly all was reaped from the crop, Suji had taken the aptly named Alexandria Library and gone underground. Now, Kiwi was just another hacker in the thick of it and the Alexandria files were all but whispers.

It’s all about knowing the right people in the end.

Kiwi was a regular at The Glass Cannon. There was a nine out of ten chance you’d find her there. And if you didn’t find Kiwi, you’d probably find Climber and… Well, going to him wasn’t the most ideal situation, but out of the menagerie of acquaintances you’d gathered up throughout the years, you could trust Climber. He’d send you Kiwi’s way if you finally called in that favor he owed you. Either way, you’d find her and you’d get the files.

You just needed to avoid Alexei Gardzov.

Easy. Ish.

In truth, you barely get anything done Thursday — you’re too preoccupied in your head, running over the so-called plan even now as you fold laundry in the basement of your apartment complex.

You’d dug around in your closet, trying to find some semblance of an outfit. It was difficult. It wasn’t like the barely-there dresses and platform shoes were your thing anymore. Back then, your diet was mostly energy drinks and alcohol — in a way, it’s a relief to find that a good number of your staple outfits no longer fit. It made you feel like you really had put all this behind you.

You have.

Sure, it was the Rabbit you were going to have to be for tonight, but you’re not the Rabbit you were eight years ago. Good thing, too. You’re not too sure you and Bucky would have gotten along otherwise. Right now, your relationship with him was the biggest thing keeping you afloat — for the first time in a long time, you feel like you have some sort of purpose, even if it was a vague one at best.

You knew Innessa Sidrova was a threat — and you knew Bucky had to remedy that threat. You knew he felt responsible for creating her, for planting her in a position of power where she could manipulate and control. In truth, there was still a lot of vagueness surrounding his past. He’d made it clear he hasn’t been himself for a long time, but you couldn’t bring yourself to wade through the muck of his trauma to pluck out your answers. It just felt wrong.

If you were to say you hadn’t been tempted to go out on your own and dig, that’d be a lie.

Even now, as you pull out the ink-black top from the dryer and fold it neatly on top of the other pieces of laundry needed for tonight, you can feel it sparking like a lighter in the back of your head.

He was keeping something from you.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You nearly jump six feet in the air.

It’s Miss Bonnie — and she’s laughing when her feet touch the cold concrete of the unfinished floor. Her basket of laundry is balanced neatly on her hip, and she walks with a smirk on her face. Her hair is piled neatly on top of her head, and as she bends to plop the basket down, she offers a wink.

“I could hear you thinking from upstairs,” she ruminates, paisley and dyed skirts kissing the ground, “Like a little steam engine.”

You laugh quietly into your task. You duck your head and heft a black bra and jeans from the dryer. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

She looks up, eyes moving carefully from the laundry pile to your face. Her eyes glimmer with quiet curiosity. “And a big night planned, huh?”

You snort. “What was the giveaway?”

“It’s always the lacey bras,” she chirps and slides a smirk your way as she waggles a finger at your pile, “And the strappy little bodysuit was a good hint, too.”

You exhale with a laugh, bracing a hand against the dryer. She’s not wrong — you’d really forgone comfort with this outfit lineup. It was temporary, though, and well worth the efforts if it meant helping Bucky tick off a name from his list of amends. You knew how much those meant to him.

“So,” she continues, voice muddled as she continues to load the washer, “I take it this friend of yours is really helping you out of your shell?”

“I guess so. Yeah. It’s — It’s sort of a mutual shell-cracking, I guess.”

“Mm,” a hum, “You sound troubled, though.”

Your mouth opens as your fingers trace the line of the bodysuit. You pause, and you rock back on your heels. Miss Bonnie notices.

She waits patiently, bent at the knees.

“You ever just…” you wave your hand, “Feel like — I don’t know. He’s my friend. My best friend, honestly, and that’s… Really saying a lot. But, there’s stuff under the surface and I know it’s not my business but…”

Out comes a strangled groan.

“What? Like a crazy ex-girlfriend?”

“No, no — I don’t think so,” you mutter, “Wouldn’t surprise me, though.”

“Handsome?” she asks, smiling.

You close your eyes and ignore the smile on your face as you reply. “Yea, handsome.”

“Well, have you tried asking?” she shrugs as she stands, “Not about the crazy ex, but about the stuff you’re worried about? It never hurts.”

“Problem is, I don’t really think it’s too much of my business.”

Miss Bonnie hums at that and presses the start on her washer. She’s quiet for a bit, swaying slightly as she weighs the conversation and you watch — enamored with the older woman’s calm wisdom. She gestures openly with ringed hands.

“I think it’s normal for us to want to know everything about those we care about,” she says, “We want to know how we can protect them, how we can comfort them. But… it comes in due time. All of it does. You’ll find a time when he does open up about the ex, or whatever it is on his mind. You’re friends, after all.”

You’re nodding, chest tight with thanks.

Miss Bonnie’s face is soft.

“You got a picture?” she chirps like a bird looking for a worm, “I wanna see who this little friend is. And if he really is as handsome as you’re suggesting...”

You scoff and lean to dig out your phone.

“Cut it out,” you mumble as she moves closer, “No playing matchmaker.”

“Sure, sure,” she waves, leaning to watch as you scroll through your camera roll.

The only photo you have of Bucky is there from Tuesday night — after he’d housed nearly an entire container of noodles and promptly passed out during the third Lord of the Rings movie. You’d woken up around one in the morning to find that Poke had unceremoniously curled up on top of the supersoldier’s chest. Bucky’s hand was still in the calico’s fur as he dozed, the colors of the TV painting his face all sorts of peaceful. You’d taken the photo, shoving it in his face after gently nudging him awake.

He’s laughed.

You gesture to show Miss Bonnie.

Like ice, she freezes.

You notice a microexpression dart across her face, but it’s gone in an instant. You can’t pin it, but the way she bends to pull the phone closer and zoom in on her face comes off as interest. You blink, label it as shock, and move on.

Her voice sounds different.

“Handsome,” she mumbles plainly, preoccupied with the sight, “I get it now. What’s his name?”

“Bucky,” you say as she hands the phone back, “He’s… He’s a good person.”

Miss Bonnie just nods.

You tuck your phone away and plop your laundry into your basket. Ignoring the sudden quiet that had crept between you both, you haul up the stack and offer her a gentle smile. She’s fiddling with the washer’s timer.

“Thank you, Miss Bonnie.”

“Of course,” she rushes out, smiling gently, “And be safe tonight.”

“I will.”

With your promise, you ascend the stairs.

In that basement, Bonnie McLayne is no more, and instead, Innessa Sidrova remembers that night in Moscow, back in 1975.

She remembers the Winter Soldier.

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

Bucky calls you three times with no answer.

Normally, he’d just give up — but it was Thursday, and you weren’t answering the buzzer to your apartment either. He tries his best to ignore the strike of panic that sparks in his chest. It could stoke a wildfire, really, but he pushes it down and remembers to breathe. He doesn’t let himself think about what he’d do if something happened to you.

After all, you’re probably fine. Sleeping, maybe. The both of you had a long night ahead.

(Longer than either of you realize, really.)

It’s nearly seven o’clock, and after trying your cell one more time from his perch on your apartment’s stoop, Bucky decides to say fuck it.

A well-adjusted person might frown upon what he was about to do, but Bucky wasn’t exactly well-adjusted, now was he?

He rounds the back alley with long strides and easily finds that, with a little maneuvering, he can hoist himself upwards on top of the nearest dumpster. With a well-timed hop, he can also snag the bottom of the fire escape’s ladder and haul it downwards. The rest is easy, and he’s scaling the fire escape to the third floor with ease before he even knows it.

There’s even a smug little smirk on his face the whole time he does.

Finding your window is a little harder, but Bucky eventually spots Poke’s round little body smushed against the glass — it’s a dead giveaway, and after some prowling, he finds the window to your living room and unceremoniously throws it open.

It’s unlocked, for whatever reason, and he makes a mental note to have a conversation with you about safety and security in the city. After all, you never knew when an ex-assassin supersoldier was going to break in and pet your cat.

Upon opening the window, he pieces together pretty quickly why you’re not answering. Could be the music coming from your bedroom, or even the singing that’s coupled alongside it. From the bathroom across the hall from your room, steam has settled above on the ceiling. The whole apartment smells like fruit and soap and perfume and Bucky’s not really sure how to parse through all the sensory experiences that greet him with he shimmies in through the window, legs first.

All in all, they make him smile.

Bucky shuts the window behind him as he’s quickly greeted by Poke — the calico offers a gratuitous little chirp when Bucky bends to scoop up the cat. Easily, he melts. Poke is purring loudly in his ear as Bucky takes a moment to survey your apartment a little bit closer. Mr. Poke Bowl rubs his face against Bucky’s stubble as the man weaves through the kitchen.

It’s very you.

He isn’t really sure what that means at the end of the day, but all he knows is that he feels at home here. He feels safe. He feels comfortable. He feels like he can be himself. Not James, not Sergeant Barnes, not The Winter Soldier. Not even Steve’s Bucky, but just… his Bucky. Himself. Sarcastic and exhausted and a little cynical.

Bucky lets Poke down on the counter and moves to the fridge.

There’s still beer from the other night in there, tucked in the back, so he makes easy work on popping open a bottle and busying himself with petting a very adamant Poke.

As he sips the Leinenkugel, it’s no small coincidence that his phone buzzes again — for what feels like the hundredth time today — with a message from Janelle.

She was nice — pretty, too. Once upon a time, she would have been his type.

That was before he met you, though.

There’s a little pinprick of mortification at that quiet confession that’s been slipping into his heart more and more in the last few days. You are, after all, his best friend. He’s your best friend. Guilt swims with the feelings that have begun to pluck his heartstrings and he has to admit he’s not too comfortable with the song they play.

His biggest fear is fucking this up.

Fucking you up.

Honestly, his track record isn’t great. The whole defrosted-international-threat bit made it a little difficult to date. Janelle seemed to think the date had gone well enough, though, hence the handful of texts he’d been getting every few hours asking if he’s free.

Like usual, he ignores them.

Exercising his own free will is hard sometimes. Especially when it comes to saying no.

Taking another swig of the beer, Bucky shoves his phone back into his pocket and tucks his fingers back into Poke’s fur. The calico’s tail swings patiently as he sits and watches — and it’s a little weird how human his eyes are for a second there. He mmrrps and lunges for Bucky’s hand when he comes close, bonking his head eagerly against the cool vibranium.

It’s a different sensation.

That’s another big adjustment — learning how things really feel with this new arm. It’s not just handling recoil or gripping knives or throwing punches. It’s the soft tickle of fur, the gentle pressure of a warm rag to clean the joints. Meticulous upkeep wasn’t something HYDRA did often. He doesn’t miss the twinge of pain and molasses-like stickiness that came with a dirty arm. Blood was the worst. Always sat deep in the cracks.

He flexes his fingers. Poke meows again.

He moves to plop down on the couch. Poke follows.

You’re singing, still, to some song that Bucky’s never heard, when you push open your bedroom door and move towards the living room.

You jump six feet in the air and scream when you see him just sitting there, clutching a beer and petting Poke like he fucking lives here rent-free.

Bucky’s reaction is muted, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with your outfit and your jewelry and the pink eye shadow that creeps up your brow-bone. There’s glitter on your eyelids and lip gloss on your mouth and he can smell some sort of candy-sweet perfume coming off you. The plunging neckline of the jet-black top is enough to leave him shifting his gaze back up to your startled expression with a tight jaw.

His face is blank.

Then he offers that stupid fucking smile he does. Y’know, the tight-lipped one where he somehow maintains a dead-eyed look the whole time. If you weren’t trying to calm your racing heartbeat, you might have laughed. You hate the white-hot flare it sparks in your chest.

“How the fuck did you get in here?” you hiss, waving your hands.

“We need to have a serious conversation about locking our windows,” he says as he kicks his feet up on the coffee table and wags a finger at you, “Also, what are you wearing?”

“You — You fucking broke in through my window?”

“Yea, well, you were too busy pretending to be Britney Spears to hear me try and buzz up, and my phone calls.”

Sheepishly, you cross your arms. “Nice reference—”

A shrug from Bucky. “Thank you.”

“—Also, what are you wearing?”

He looks down at his usual t-shirt, leather jacket combo. He squints back up at you.

“I’m sorry,” he chirps, “You’re talking to me? Did the department store run out of fabric, Rabbit?”

You self-consciously adjust the plunging neckline of the bodysuit as you frown deeply. “I think I’m gonna skip on the fashion advice from the man who lived in a time where ankles were seen as scandalous.”

“I was born in 1917,” he mumbles as he stands, actively avoiding another pass over your outfit because as much as he hates to admit it, it’s not a bad look on you, “Not 1817.”

“Point being, we’re going to a club. And you look like you’re going to the local Home Depot,” you move to snag a set of dangly earrings that are sitting on the coffee table, “We’ve gotta look like we’re there to party, nothing more.”

Bucky sighs. He finishes the beer, places the bottle down and sheds his jacket. “So, what?”

You pry your eyes away from the flash of skin — his arm, flesh and blood, speaks to how strong he is. And, undoubtedly how easy it was for him to fucking scale three stories of the fire escape to bust in.

“So,” you mumble as you thread the earring in, “I have some of Jaimie’s old shirts. There’s probably something you can use… If they fit.”

Bucky exhales softly. “You kept them?”

“Didn’t have the heart to throw them out,” you reply as you gesture for him to follow you into your bedroom.

The back of your top is arguably more crisis-inducing than the front — it’s an open back, and Bucky settles on admiring the decor rather than the curve of your spine. He has to. For his own fucking self-composure.

Your bedroom is nice — and like the rest of your space, it makes him feel comfortable. It’s all warm colors and posters and plants in the corners. Across from your queen-sized bed, there’s a large desk with a triple monitor setup. That’s where the music is coming from. The little knick-knacks on your shelves and desk make him chuckle.

Then, he stops, halfway to the closet, and stares.

You blink over your shoulder as you bend, digging to the back of your closet to pull out the clear bin you’d piled most of Jaimie’s stuff into after the funeral. After you’d cleaned out his apartment on your own.

He’s looking at the poster — the one from Cap’s USO tour. It’s framed nicely, set up on the wall beside your desk. It’s got a gold frame, and Bucky can’t help but wander closer to look at the signature.

It’s Steve’s alright.

“How much did you pay for this?”

You scoff. Your necklaces tinker together. “Don’t even go there.”

“The jerk signed thousands of these,” he mumbles, crossing his arms as he leans closer, “And still, the fame didn’t go to his head.”

You smile softly, leaning back.

“Jealous?” you chirp, raising your brows as you pretend to swoon, “Oh, Sergeant Barnes, I’d just love to meet your dear friend—”

Bucky’s laughing as you swat at his knee, leaning back on the carpet like a damsel in distress.

“Shut up,” he snorts, “It’s a sore subject for me.”

“Oh my god.”

“I’m serious — do you know how many dates I had to set up for the chump? And then, boom. I’m invisible.”

“Yeah, well,” you mutter with a smile, unclicking the lid, “Some people just like blondes, Buck. I’m sure there were plenty of eyes on you. Stop being so dramatic.”

“Yea, the best friend, sure,” he mumbles at the poster, “Hell, he was taller than me. You know you don’t need to lie to me—”

“Listen, if I was some Lauren Bacall-looking nurse back then,” you wave your hands, “I’d have gone for you. Alright? Stop lamenting and get over here.”

He goes quiet and ignores the warmth in his cheeks. He squats by your side. “Shut up.”

“We seriously need to work on taking compliments,” you groan, throwing your head back, “I’m being serious, y’know, for once. And I’m not just saying it as your friend. You’re handsome and everyone knows it except you, apparently. My neighbor agrees that’s for sure.”

He squints.

You wave it off and gesture to your outfit. “She saw me doing laundry.”

“That explains nothing,” Bucky deadpans, “Literally nothing.”

“I showed her a picture,” you cry indignantly, moving to shuffle through some of the old t-shirts sitting on top of the bin, “Relax.”

He moves to plop down, crossing his legs beneath him. He decides to let the topic die — again, for his own self-composure more than anything. The compliment, though vehemently denied by the worst part of him, is tucked neatly in the homes of his heart. The idea of meeting you, before now, is a little intoxicating. What would it have been like?

Would you have even spared him a dance?

Bucky rubs his cheek. Poke meows and buts the door open with his head.

You’re wrist-deep in the bin when you speak. “He’s obsessed with you, y’know.”

Poke has already taken up a post in Bucky’s lap. Bucky smiles, petting Poke gently with his vibranium hand. The cat seems to like the cool metal. Bucky mumbles softly down to the calico, scritching his cheeks. “I like him, too.”

You pause long enough to try and remember the sight.

Bucky’s eyes find yours, and you’re quick to turn back to the bin.

“Here we go,” you exhale as you pull out the shirt you’d been looking for.

It’s a long-sleeve button-down, one that you can distinctly remember Jaimie wearing to his engagement party’s after-party — a real typical night of Jaimie being Jaimie. It’s black with a barely-there red floral pattern. It’s flashy enough that Bucky won’t look horribly out of place.

The only problem is Jaimie was a little smaller than Bucky.

“Try this on,” you mumble as you dig around trying to find something else in case it doesn’t do the trick.

Bucky catches the silk shirt and gives it a once over. He raises an eyebrow, and deciding against debating this, he simply nudges Poke off his lap and stands.

He moves to your bed, laying the shirt out. On your closet door is a full-length mirror. You want to snap it in half when you accidentally catch a glimpse of Bucky hauling off his black, cotton t-shirt and anxiously fumbling with the buttons on Jaimie’s old shirt. You have to breathe — and remind yourself that that’s Bucky.

Your Bucky. Your best friend Bucky.

When he calls your name, it sounds far away. You’re busy angrily sorting through old clothes.

“I look ridiculous.”

When you turn around, the first thing you notice is that it’s a little tight. Not in a bad way, but the buttons are gapping along his chest, and it’s tight around his arms.

Your eyes widen a little and you swallow. You tilt your head.

Bucky’s frowning.

“Let me see,” you offer gently, standing and moving close, “It’s not that bad.”

“You don’t sound too sure right now,” he mumbles as you enter his personal space.

You’re nimble with undoing the top three buttons — it gives him enough room to move his shoulders, though, and the dip of the shirt along his sternum brings dog tags into view. You reach, momentarily entranced, and read them to yourself.

You smell like vanilla and sugar.

Bucky shifts in his boots.

“Y’know,” you say, moving to the sleeves, “I think this works.”

You roll the sleeves, stopping at his forearm.

When you step aside, Bucky can see himself in the full-length mirror. He looks less than enthused.

It’s not an entirely bad look — he’ll admit that much — but he doesn’t look like himself. No, there’s too much chest and skin and… Christ, this shirt is tight. He does, though, look like some of those trendy folks he sees at Izzy’s bar every now and again. Hipsters.

“I look like a douchebag.”

“That’s the point,” you chirp as you close the box and shove it back into your closet, “Now the outfit matches the personality.”

He swats at your head on the way by. You laugh.

You’ve got boots in your hand, and you land on the bed with a bounce. Bucky is busy fixing his hair in the mirror while you zip up the thigh-high boots. When he turns around, you’re about three inches taller. He blinks, yet again entranced by the outfit.

Then, you’re muscling on the jacket.

It’s neon pink — and shaggy and cropped. It falls just above your waist and swallows you whole. But, Bucky’s attention is mostly on the back.

There’s a large, white embroidered Playboy bunny there, with RABBIT written across the shoulders in a chunky, blackletter typeface.

His brows are high on his face when you turn around.

You freeze.

“...What?” you ask, “Something on my face?”

“Playboy bunny, huh?”

You could smack him. “Weren’t you busy being a frozen dinner when Playboy came out?”

“I’ll have you know,” he says tightly as he follows you out of your bedroom and to the living room, “The Russians enjoyed their fair share of editions.”

“The Russians? Sure, what’s that saying? There’s no sex in the USSR?” you chide, “You can just say Bucky Barnesenjoyed his fair share—”

The tips of his ears are red. You notice. It makes you split into a grin that worsens the pink shade that’s crawling up his neck.

He coughs. “Have you ever considered never opening your mouth again, Rabbit?”

You nudge his arm. “Nah. Bothering you is more fun.”

He shrugs on his jacket, sighs, and decides that keeping quiet is just easier.

However, that’s not entirely your plan — and you speak quickly as you pull your purse over your shoulder. You’re rummaging quietly, stacking your wallet and phone inside. You glance up at him.

“You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he mumbles, bending to pat Poke one last time as you move to the door of your bedroom. He watches you flick all the lights off, and before you leave, you double check the calico’s food and water. He’s got enough for a few days. Bucky leans against the door frame, “Care to run me through the plan?”

Nodding, you move to open your front door.

“It’ll be easy,” you explain as you make room for him, “If we play our cards right—”

Bucky’s stopped, though, and is digging in his back pocket as his cell phone rings. You watch him exhale tightly, eyes on the screen the entire time he squeezes by you and starts down the hall. You make careful note of the delicate scowl on his face, only before you catch Miss Bonnie out of the corner of her eye.

Her door is half-cracked across the hall, and she’s watching.

She offers you a smile.

Bucky keeps walking.

You wave, lock your door, and jog to catch up to Bucky.

“Hey,” you call, “Earth to Mr. Claw Machine?”

His head snaps up. “Sorry.”

“Who was that?” you ask carefully, nudging his arm with yours, “Falcon?”

“I wish,” he mutters as he muscles the cellphone back into his pocket, “I wouldn’t feel so bad sending him to voicemail.”

“Yeesh,” you wince, “Lemme guess, was it the owner of the coral lipstick that was all over your face on Tuesday night?”

Again, that temptation to feel jealousy flares up in your heart. But, he’s here, isn’t he? With you. Ignoring her calls. And probably texts judging by the guilty look that’s on his face. You feel a little bad — but at the same time, Bucky’s a grown man. Maybe a grown man who needs to create some more transparent lines of communication with the poor woman, but still.

“Bingo. I mean — it’s not that she wasn’t great an’ all but…”

You raise both hands. “I’m not judging.”

He sighs raggedly as he bounces down the apartment’s stairs. “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“What?” you ask with a laugh, “Dating? Yea, it’s pretty fucking terrifying, Buck.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

You hold the door open for him and slide him a pitying look.

“Because I am.”

The walk to The Glass Cannon is spent walking Bucky through the plan — and for the most part, he makes a point of nodding along and listening. His only real anxiety pops up at the mention of Alexei, which is relatable to say the least.

It’s dark, the streets are relatively quiet, and the spring chill has pricked your skin. Your heels click against the pavement, and you stalk along. Shoving your hands in your pockets of the pink, shag jacket, you huff.

You’re starting to feel the anxiety.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re both approaching the blue glow of the storefront.

Computers & Stuff was a family-owned and operated computer shop from the 90s that was taken over by a lesser-known hand of the Russian crime family in New York, the Gardzovs. Alexei’s father is the formal owner of the shop, and his son runs the lucrative activities of the underground club that lay beneath the graphics cards and motherboards.

Bucky, as you both near the entrance, speaks quickly. “Anything else I need to know?”

“Just follow my lead, okay?” you whisper.

The bell above the door dings when you pull open the glass door.

The lighting is sterile and if you’re real quiet, you can hear the dull hum of the fluorescents. The store is empty, save for one man behind the register.

You almost duck out the entrance at the sight of him.

Igor has been a bouncer at The Glass Cannon for as long as you’ve been a patron — and he’s also one of Alexei’s dogs. This part of the plan was something you’d considered only briefly, and for a second, you’re thankful you worried over the million and ten ways this would play out for days.

“Well, if it isn’t the little bunny.”

It’s said with malice. Igor’s tattooed hands land on the counter as he leans.

You, however, hold your head high. Bucky watches as something changes in your posture.

“Good to see you, Igor.”

“Is it?” he growls, stalking around the counter and quickly encroaching on your personal space, “Because I’m pretty sure you’re not welcome here, bunny.”

Bucky gets a good look at the man now — clearly an enforcer. He’s got prison tattoos, a shaved head. The long beard is a weak spot. Doesn’t seem to be armed. Blue eyes flick to you and the way you don’t even flinch when the man leans to breathe right in your face.

You just smile.

“I thought you’d say that,” you mumble, moving to swing your bag to the front and dig your wallet out, “But, I’m not here to cause any trouble.”

Suddenly, there’s a hundred-dollar bill slipping from your well-manicured nails into the vest pocket of the bouncer. There’s a tense pause, then, while the two of you size one another up.

“Fucking your way through college paid off, huh?” he hisses.

You stay quiet.

Bucky, though, moves between you both with a quick shove. Immediately, Igor’s attention goes to Bucky as he sizes him up — he laughs. His nose is nearly touching Bucky’s.

“What’s wrong, pretty boy?”

“You should watch your mouth,” Bucky says evenly, “Or I’ll cut your fucking tongue out.”

You’re careful to hide your expression; the feeling the words stir isn’t one that you’re happy about. This sudden protectiveness, though, makes you feel some sort of invincible.

Igor settles back on his heels.

He steps back.

He gestures to the back room with his head.

You keep walking when he calls out: “Careful, bunny, the dogs are going to be looking for you.”

You grit your teeth tightly and push through the fabric curtain.

He barks, taunting you.

Bucky is by your side in an instant, gaze still rooted over his shoulder at the hulking bouncer. He waits until you’ve settled down until you’ve said his name. His eyes fall to you, then to the stairwell before them.

Above it, in curled neon tubing, reads The Glass Cannon.

The windows are blacked out, but from his spot at the top of the stairs, Bucky can feel the rattle of a deep bass vibrate his ribs.

“Come on. We’re on a time crunch now.”

“Alexei?”

You nod as you lead the way down the stairs. “Word travels fast. We need to be quicker. Stick to the crowds. Remember, we just need to find Kiwi — then we bail.”

Bucky nods tensely.

Then, you open the doors.

Immediately, his eyes adjust to the darkness — neon and strobes and the pulse of purple and pink LEDs make his vision swim. It’s warmer down here, and the stairs leading down into the sub-basement is lined with people sipping drinks and chattering over the loud music. It smells like piss and beer and tobacco.

Again, Bucky watches as the person he knows melts away.

The Rabbit in front of him is different.

You reach, as if on reflex, for his hand.

When you turn around and flash him a smile, he has to swallow down a sudden rise of sheepishness.

The sea of people part around you, and Bucky realizes quickly that people recognize you. He can see their painted lips moving, muttering things into curious ears about the pink-clad woman in front of him; there are smiles there and frowns, and shock. You’re slow in your descent, making a show of the arrival — all while Bucky begins to piece together that The Glass Cannon is larger than he originally suspected.

As they near the bottom of the landing, he can see out across the floor.

There’s a square-shaped catwalk around the dance floor, laden with dancers on their designated poles. Tables line the outside of the cavernous room, and the bars along each wall are crowded — even still, these glimpses of his surroundings come in temporary flashes of light. The music coming from the center of the dancefloor is loud. The entirety of the scene is raucous.

He can’t imagine you finding solace here.

He tightens his grip on your hand. You squeeze back.

When both of you reach the bottom of the stairwell, the sea of people swallow you in a current of dancing and drinking and laughing, and you crawl into Bucky’s personal space to shout in his ear.

You’re still holding his hand tightly, pressed to his chest, as you lean upwards to brush your cheek with his.

“Follow me, okay?”

He nods.

You begin the methodical crawl through the dancefloor, working your way to the bar — there, you pause long enough to be served a drink that’s as pink as the glitter on your eyelids. The flecks dance in the lights, and Bucky graciously accepts a shot from the bartender who smiles sweetly like honey at you.

You bat your lashes, thank her, and stand gracefully from the barstool.

You take a pointed swig and scan the floor.

Kiwi would be in one of the private booths, you suspect — she was enough of a high roller here. But, with the crowded club bursting at the seams, it was nearly impossible to get to the other side. You sway a bit on your feet, still tightly gripping Bucky’s hand in your own. You refuse to let go.

For your sake and his.

Bucky is a silent shadow, eyes roaming the club — he watches a dancer dip down low and snag a green bill from a patron. Someone beside him laughs loud, another bumping into his backside as you continue to weave to the outer rim of the room. The music is so loud his heartbeat could be mistaken for an 808, and he feels the thrum in his bones.

If he wasn’t so overwhelmed, if he was drunk, maybe it could be fun.

Finally, out of the haze of bodies, Bucky can breathe.

You’re leaning over again, speaking quickly.

“I don’t see her.”

“I can’t see shit in here,” he calls back, eyes moving along the ridge of the room. He scans the booths set into the walls, set up on platforms, and roped off with velveteen, “Where would she be?”

“Hard to tell,” you mumble, “But I think I might need to go to Plan B.”

Bucky follows your solid stare.

In the booth directly across the floor from you, there’s a man in black — black everything, save from his hair. That’s the brightest blue Bucky has ever seen. He’s swallowed by a harem of men and women who are laughing and drinking and dancing, and he’s entertaining. Ringed fingers wave in the air, face split into a laugh so wide he swears it’s a mile long. He’s got glasses on and they’re tinted blue.

Bucky watches carefully as you move to his booth.

It’s like a prey surveying a trap — you’re careful.

Finally, when you stand before it, you let go of his hand.

“Hi there, Climber.”

The whole booth falls silent. The man stiffens, back turned to you totally. Bucky watches as his hands fall and slowly, the man you’d called Climber turns around.

His expression is stone cold.

His voice, however, is as warm as a hot poker.

“Oh my goodness, is that Rabbit?”

He ascends from the booth, platform boots leaving him to tower over you — he’s no small man, either. Bucky watches as he bends to kiss both of your cheeks and hug you tightly. He, however, doesn’t pull away entirely.

“What the fuck are you doing here,” he hisses, “You want to be roadkill?”

“I need to find Kiwi,” you whisper quickly, expression almost begging, “Please.”

He pauses, dimpled chin wavering a bit. Bucky watches him sniff, push his glasses back, and readjust his posture. Climber licks his lips and his eyes dart to Bucky. He’s thinking, Bucky realizes, and after a quick moment of deliberation, he seems to cave.

“Only because I owe you.”

“I know,” you say, raising your hands, “I know.”

In a dash, his demeanor changes once more. He’s flying over to his harem, waving his hands and blowing kisses and promising he’ll be back in a flash. They whine, they moan, but Climber appeases them with another round of jello shots from strobing syringes that a waitress is carrying by.

“Come on then,” he says, “And stop looking like such a prude.”

He begins to weave.

You follow hand returning to its spot in Bucky’s like a lifeline.

You’re sipping your drink, moving through the crowd easily. There’s a slight sway in your step now, and at one point you and Climber even get noticed by a pod of people who recognize your faces. It’s met with laughing and squealing and in the fray, the both of you slip back into the crowd. Bucky is taking it all in, desperately ignoring the tingle of a panic flaring in the back of his head.

Too many people.

Soon, though, Climber is moving towards a side entrance.

It’s a back room.

Suddenly, the dim lights and neon dissolve, and instead, Bucky is flashed in the face with the abrasive sting of fluorescent lights. It no longer reeks of spilled beer, and his boots don’t stick to the ground. No, there’s quiet chatter back here — Climber continues to lead the two of you through a maze of supply crates full of booze and soda.

Then, a right turn. And a left turn.

Someone is taking inventory.

“Kiwi, I know you’re going to hate me for this—”

The woman who turns around is beautiful. She’s in the midst of eyeing an open crate that looks just like the others but fitted with a hollowed center, marking off what looks like an inventory of burner cell phones. Her brown skin is decorated with glitter, her eyes streaked with the same green shade of her tightly shaved head. The green is bright and it reminds Bucky of summer.

Suddenly, her expression sours.

“What the fuck.”

“I know—”

“No,” she snaps, raising her hand and waving to the assistant beside her to take her tablet and make themselves scarce, “You need to get out of here.”

“I need your help,” you say finally, tone heavy.

It’s enough to make Climber sigh. Kiwi watches you, scratches her neck, and swallows.

She meets Climber’s eyes.

Then she breaks.

“Where the fuck have you been, Rabbit?” she asks, worries seeping into her eyes as she pulls you into a rough hug, “We thought you were dead.”

“No,” you shake your head, “But you know I couldn’t be around here anymore.”

“Yea,” Climber snorts, “Not good for your health, huh, love?”

“Alexei still wants your head,” Kiwi chimes in, crossing her arms, “Does he know you’re here?”

“Igor was on the door, so I’m sure he’s heard by now.”

Both of them curse.

Guilt flashes across your face as you screw your eyes shut and nod. “I know. I know, I just… I seriously need your help, Kiwi. It was worth the risk. It’s — HYDRA. I need to tap into the Alexandria Library.”

Immediately, the woman stiffens.

Her eyes flash to Bucky in the corner. He stares back.

“He waits outside.”

“You can trust him—”

“No,” she snaps, “I can’t. And I don’t. And I won’t.”

You give Bucky a pleading look. Between the two of you, a negotiation happens between your eyes. It’s a compromise, and finally, Bucky relents.

“Fine,” Bucky barks, tilting his head and giving you a tight-lipped smile, “Fine. I’ll wait out here.”

“He’s cute,” mumbles Climber as Bucky rounds the corner, long legs carrying him out of the supply room, “Boyfriend?”

“Shut up, Climber,” you mumble, waving your hand, “Just listen—”

“Who is he?” Kiwi asks, eyes still watching the doorway, “And why did you bring him along?”

You sigh, rubbing your brow. “He’s the one who’s trying to find this HYDRA agent. He knew her before.”

“So he’s HYDRA.”

“No,” you snap cooly, “He’s not.”

“So, just handsome, then?” Climber asks, hands waving, “Right. Great. Really making a case for yourself, Rabbit.”

“He’s trying to find a woman named Innessa Sidrova. She was one of the original agents who helped form the American HYDRA cell,” you explain quickly, “I’ve got the GRC breathing down my neck, and… And he’s a good person. He’s my friend. I’m trying to help him, but I can’t do it without you. Both of you.”

Kiwi hums. She sighs. “That explains why you went MIA.”

“Aside from putting Alexei behind bars?” you scoff, “Yea, the GRC played a part in it.”

The three of you are quiet for a moment.

“Fine.”

You look up at Kiwi. Her hands are on her waist.

There’s an immense wash of relief that floods over you at that moment — and from the looks of it, Kiwi can tell. You move to grab her hand, and she grabs back. Both of you smile, and the hug that follows is warm. You’ve missed her. A lot.

“Thank you, Suji.”

Then, footsteps.

That relief is traded in for an anxious backfire of fear in an instant.

It’s slow. Dress shoes on polished cement.

Then:

“Oh, bunny, bunny, bunny. Tsk, tsk.”

Climber and Kiwi’s faces upturn to the doorway and they tell you everything you need to know.

So, you decide at that moment that you won’t be the prey tonight.

You turn around and come face-to-face with a man playing devil.

Alexei Gardzov is a handsome man — a beard and piercing grey eyes. His hair is tightly cropped, and intricate tattoos decorate every inch of his skin. Some of them are new, you realize, and there’s temporary pride that bubbles up at them. They’re from prison.

You almost smile.

Behind him, three goons loom.

“I’ve been wondering when you’d come hopping back,” he croons as he enters the room with the swagger of a man who trapped his dinner, “Well worth the wait, I think.”

His cologne hangs like smog in the air. He strolls up to you, and in a flash, he’s got your hair in a vice grip.

He yanks it back, you grit your teeth.

The barrel of a gun digs into your cheek.

“Climber, Kiwi, and Rabbit,” he sing-songs, “All in one room again like it’s NYU’s 2014 hack-a-thon. Isn’t that cute?”

Kiwi speaks. “Alexei—”

“Shut up,” he snaps, gun moving to flash towards Kiwi, “And stay out of my business, Sujina.”

The gun’s muzzle is cold. He’s rough, and you try to ignore the twinge of pain that comes with his unceremonious yank of your hair. Once more, he tsks. His breath is hot on your face. He smells like cigarettes and whiskey.

“I spent seven years behind bars,” he bites, “All because a’ you.”

“Me? I wasn’t the one trafficking girls—”

“SHUT UP!”

The pistol cracks across your cheek and the cement floor hurtles towards you. The gasp that falls from your lips is from shock; your fingers dig into the cold ground as you try to blink away the blurriness. Your ears ring. Blood drips from your cheek between your fingers.

Again, there’s a hand in your hair.

Now, the fight begins.

Climber and Kiwi are stuck, frozen in fear.

You don’t blame them, because Igor and the others have guns already drawn. One of them, one that’s young and you don’t recognize immediately, has a baseball bat in his hands.

Alexei drags you by your hair as you grimace, refusing to scream. Your heels scrape against the ground as you try to get purchase, but he’s quick to throw you back against the far wall.

“Don’t worry, Bunny,” he smiles, “I won’t kill you. Not right now.”

Then, a kick.

Right to the ribs.

You can’t breathe — you gasp earnestly at the white, hot shot of pain.

“Get up.”

You’re not listening, you’re too busy trying to catch your breath.

“I said,” comes a growl as he reaches, hand in your hair again as he drags you up the wall. Your legs buckle, and you try to hold your chin high as you stumble upwards, “Get up.”

Then, there’s a hand around your throat.

Tight. Too tight. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t get his hand off your neck, can’t breathe, can’t breathe, can’t fucking think, can’t stand, can’t see, can’t breathe —

“Boss!”

A new voice.

The pressure is relieved for a second.

A new face has run into the room — he looks frazzled, hair askew and gun out. He’s eyeing the scene before him in a moment’s pause.

“Can’t you see I’m a little bit busy?” Alexei snags as you gasp, clawing at his hand. He swings his head to the figure in the doorway with an annoyed bark, “What is it?”

“The cops, boss,” he stammers, “They’re here.”

“What?”

“They’re here for her, boss.”

A slow turn to where his finger is pointing. His gaze lands on you. Alexei laughs.

“Well,” he says as the goon disappears, “Isn’t that just peachy, bunny?”

The choking starts again.

Then, a metal hand.

Vibranium.

You watch it swing, you watch it grab Alexei’s throat.

Suddenly, you can breathe.

Suddenly, Bucky Barnes enters the fight.

You make friends with the ground again as you duck, just as Alexei is rammed into the wall above your head by his throat. As you cough while Kiwi calls your name — you can hear a fight. But everything’s moving slow, and it’s not until the first gunshot that you’re kicked into action. It’s loud. Your skin pricks alive.

Someone screams.

You stumble to your feet, eyes finding Bucky’s form moving quickly between the three goons — the gunshot had come from the pistol that had somehow found its way into Bucky's flesh and blood hand. One of the men is on the floor, suit pants stained with a bullet wound through the thigh. He’s wailing. Bucky doesn’t notice. Or he doesn’t care. Maybe both.

His face is cold.

Another gunshot is fired off, this time richoting between you and Kiwi and Climber and embedding itself into the cement wall overhead. The three of you scream, ducking reflexively.

That’s when Bucky snaps.

“Now would be a good time to go!”

Kiwi’s hands are on your arm as you quickly break through the doorway through the storage room. Climber is following, checking over his shoulder at the carnage that Bucky begins to reap in the room.

He’s hysterical, trying to jog in his white platform boots. “What the fuck, Rabbit!”

Your voice is hoarse. You’re clutching your ribs. “Not now, Climber!”

“I’m parked in the back,” Kiwi says, ducking through plastic flaps as she helps you through the back of the club, “Come on, we’ll go through the trucking entrance.”

You hear Bucky call your name — he’s jogging to catch up, gun drawn in his hand. Seems like he made good work of the others, sporting nothing more than a split lip. You turn, pausing for a moment to take inventory of his well-being.

And that’s all it takes.

Alexei Gardzov, limping, steps in front of you and Kiwi and Climber at an intersection in the hallway.

There’s a gun in his hand.

The first thing you feel is the impact.

Like a truck slamming into you at full speed. For the fourth time tonight, you have the air robbed from your lungs. It’s instant confusion.

Then comes the pain. Hot. Hotter than the sun. Hot like white flames. It tears through your shoulder and all you can do is gasp; you’re sent into a stutter step — and while the world around you continues to move, you’re busy reconciling with the fact you’ve just been shot.

A bullet flies by your head.

Alexei Gardzov drops.

You’re grasping at your chest, staggering, when Bucky breaks into a sprint — but you’re okay. You’re okay, it’s just your shoulder, it’s just your arm, you’re okay, you can feel your fingers and you can breathe and the pain is nearly unbearable but you’re okay.

Then, a baseball bat.

It clocks Bucky directly in the skull. He’s clotheslined.

It’s Igor.

The gun from Bucky’s hands clatters across the ground to your feet, and you’re too busy trying to get to Bucky to realize — but, you’ve got tunnel vision and adrenaline and at that moment, you think a good sidekick doesn’t need anything else in this life.

Igor goes to swing at you, but you duck. Your stiletto crushes through the top of his shoe. He screams and in a flurry of pain and panic, you manage to snag the bat quick enough to turn and clock him under the chin with a roll of the wrist.

His teeth clack together and he falls backward, unconscious.

“God, I really wish you could have seen that, Buck.”

You spit. Blood paints the ground.

The bat clatters to the cement as you fight through the pain. Kiwi and Climber are by your side in an instant.

“No, no!” she screams, “We do not have time for this—”

“I am not leaving him,” you snap, nearly screaming at the woman, “Come on and help me with him. Now.”

After a sigh of resignation, Kiwi shoves the gun she’d snagged from the ground into the back of her jeans. You’ve got your hands around Bucky’s ankles as Kiwi and Climber take his torso — and the four of you make a break for the back entrance. You can hear the cops outside now, and there’s the chatter of Russian following you into the back parking lot.

“Hurry up!”

“He’s not exactly light as a feather, you know!”

“Shut up, Climber!”

You’ve got Bucky halfway into the back seat of Kiwi’s white Cadillac when another bullet whizzes by your head.

“Fuck.”

Kiwi hops into the driver’s seat as Climber scatters to hop the hood and throws himself into the passenger's seat. You lean, clinging to the door of the backseat as Kiwi peels out of the parking lot. It swings wide open and you curse loudly. You can see Alexei’s men watching from the back entrance, shouting in Russian — so you muster all your strength to pull back and throw the door closed as Kiwi’s car bounces over a speed bump and rams through the parking meter’s gate.

In the rear window, the front of the club is surrounded.

Red and blue lights illuminate the street — but Kiwi is quick.

No one follows.

And when she finally makes it to the Manhattan Bridge, you exhale.

Bucky’s head is in your lap. He still hasn’t come to — there’s blood coming from his nose and you’re worrying. You lace your fingers into his thick, brown hair and chew your lip.

Kiwi’s voice pulls you from him.

“When were you going to mention the vibranium arm, huh?”

You laugh. It’s more of a breath of air than anything. Your head rests back against the seat. Your shoulder is still on fire. You’re hot, but cold. You’re bleeding still. Your ribs aren’t right. You know that.

“I can’t believe he shot you,” Climber mumbles, “He fucking shot you.”

“And your boy toy shot him,” Kiwi says, sparing you a look in the rearview, “So you better pray he’s dead.”

You ignore the commentary.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe,” she says, accelerating into Manhattan, “Where I can get you those files and you can keep your head down.”

Sounds like a plan.

Better than the one you had, anyways.

#vacant mirrors #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagine #tfatws imagine #bucky x you #BOY OH BOY THE FORMATTING I WANNA SCREAM

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beautiful-and-terrible · 4 years ago

Text

little things

Rating: Gen

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, SoftBoi!Rodrick, Insecure!Reader

Ship: Rodrick Heffley x Reader

Warnings: Body Image, Eating Disorders / Body Dysmorphia, Insecurity

A/N: this is. SO shmoopy and cheesy lmaoooo but this was an anon request and i live to please :) enjoy!

---

You dragged yourself through your front door, kicking off your shoes in the foyer. The house was dark - your parents were probably asleep already.

You had just spent the day with Rodrick at Six Flags, and you were exhausted from spending all day in the hot sun, running around with your boyfriend like children. You smiled to yourself thinking about the events of the day, the thrill of the rollercoasters you went on.

You clutched the teddy bear Rodrick had won you close to your chest as you slowly ascended the stairs, trying not to make too much noise.

You entered your room and tenderly placed the bear on the bed, giving it a little kiss on the head as you did so before starting your night routine. Change into pajamas, brush teeth, wash face. As you were putting on your final face cream, your phone vibrated on the bathroom counter. You knew who it was from the specific rhythm of the vibration - two short bursts, like a heartbeat.

Rodrick had sent pictures of you two from today - a lot of selfies, but also a couple of far away shots that Rodrick had harassed people into taking for you. People rarely were able to say no to Rodrick once he had gotten an idea into his head - even if that idea was wrapping himself around a street lamp like a stripper for a good picture.

You finally, blissfully laid down in bed, letting out a giant groan as you cracked your back. You browsed the photos, feeling your heart-rate pick up as you gazed at Rodrick in the pictures. He looked so cute today - he had been wearing cut off black jeans, black high-top vans, and a loose button down Hawaiian shirt, half-way unbuttoned to show off his tanned chest and the multiple layers of silver necklaces he was wearing. His nails were painted black, but his eyes were free of makeup, simply accented by his naturally long eye-lashes and the smile-lines around his eyes.

After admiring Rodrick, you turned your gaze to yourself in the pictures. You felt your heart sink into your stomach. When you had left the house this morning, you had felt pretty confident in your outfit - just ripped jean shorts and a crop-top with converse. But as you looked closer, you couldn’t stop thinking about how unsatisfied you felt with the way you looked in the pictures.

As you continued to scroll through, the more faults you found in your appearance. Your thighs being squeezed by your shorts, which didn’t feel too tight but apparently were not as flattering as you thought. In one picture, you were sitting down on a bench, your legs over Rodrick’s lap, but you couldn’t stop staring at the roll of your stomach that came over the waistband of your shorts. You felt tears pricking your eyes, but you stubbornly refused to cry. You spent a long time trying to feel confident in yourself - you weren’t going to let that hard work be ruined by a few unflattering photos.

However, you couldn’t stop thinking about the way your body looked in those pictures. You got up to stand in front of your full length mirror, looking at the reflection critically. You were craning your neck to look at your butt when you heard a soft tap-tap-tap at the window. You jumped about 2 feet in the air before you realized it was just Rodrick, grinning from outside the window and placing a wet kiss on the glass, making you laugh. He made a grossed-out expression when he realized the glass was not as clean as he thought it was, wiping his tongue on the back of his hand.

“I swear to God, you’re like a toddler. Didn’t your mom ever tell you not to lick random surfaces?” you asked as you opened the window to let him in. He folded himself gracefully through the window, all long limbs and messy hair. You felt both comforted and electrified in his presence.

“Since when have I ever listened to any authority figure?” Rodrick asked, grinning wolfishly and leaning down to kiss you softly, juxtaposing his rebellious tone. For someone with such a seemingly hard exterior, Rodrick was always very gentle and sweet with you. It was one of the things you loved most about him - he seemed to hate everyone but you. It made you feel special and appreciated.

As he pulled back from the kiss, he frowned, stroking his thumb over your cheek. “Have you been crying? Your eyes are red,” he said, making a pouty face. You shrugged, turning away and shaking your head.

“No, just allergies probably.”

Rodrick scoffed, “Sure, allergies. You’re a bad liar, you know that?”

You refused to look at him, instead going to your record player and flipping through the vinyls you had stacked in a black milk-crate. “I’m not a bad liar,” you said half-heartedly, not really able to come up with any other excuse.

“You totally are, you avoided eye contact and everything. Seriously, what's wrong? Do you not like the bear?” Rodrick asked. You felt his arms wrap around your waist, his chest pressed against your back, his nose tucked into the crook of your neck. You felt yourself smile despite your bad mood.

“No, I love the bear. I named him Sasha Bear-on Cohen. Get it?” you said, turning your head to place a kiss on his cheek.

“Ahh, a-very nice,” Rodrick replied in his best Borat impression. You giggled. He gave you a squeeze, hands warm on your waist, but the sensation made you self-conscious about your body again, and you wiggled away. You couldn’t understand how Rodrick could bear to touch you. You had no idea why he was attracted to you in the first place. It made tears spring to your eyes again, and you sniffled.

“Y/n”, Rodrick said softly, looking genuinely concerned. “I know you. You don’t get sad for no reason - unless you’re on your period, or you start thinking too much about the Mars Curiosity Rover.”

You sighed, but you knew he had a point. It took you a minute to get your thoughts into words before you spoke.

“I just... I know its silly. But those pictures - you look like a Hot Topic wet dream and I look... I don’t know. I just don’t like the way I look. And most of the time I don’t let it bother me - at least, I try - but I hate having my picture taken because whenever I see them, all I can see is the things I hate about myself. So. Yeah.”

You feel the tears making steady rivers down your cheeks, and your voice shakes as you speak. Rodrick listens attentively, sitting on the foot of your bed. He pats the space next to him, and you sit down. His hand rests on your leg - not constraining you or placating you with a hug, just letting you know he’s there.

“Y/n, I don’t know how to tell you this without sounding like a giant cheese-ball, but... holy fuck. You are so beautiful. I - every time I look at you all I can think is goddamn, I can’t believe she’s into a loser like me. And don’t argue, it’s just a fact,” he says quickly as you try to defend him from his own self-deprecation.

“I’m not good with words... I’m more of a man of action, y’know?” he says, raising his eyebrows suggestively. You smack him on the arm, but his silly expression still makes you smile.

“But, I can still tell you - and don’t repeat this to anyone ever because I’ll never live it down - you give me butterflies. Every time. No matter if you’re in pajamas or a ballgown. You make me feel like a stack of pancakes with warm butter and syrup,” he pauses as you laugh, his warm brown eyes gazing into yours. “Just... I don’t even know what I’m saying at this point. You make my bones feel funny. That’s how beautiful you are.”

Rodrick finally wraps his arms around you. You let yourself be folded into the embrace, feeling content and more than a little overwhelmed by his confession.

“Thank you,” you murmur, unable to find any other words at the moment. You want to say all of that back to him, ten-fold. You want to tell him he makes you feel like flashing concert lights and Fourth of July fireworks. But your mouth can’t make the words, so you just wrap your arms around him tighter.

“Do you want me to spend the night?” he asks, pressing a kiss to your temple. You simply nod, already moving up the bed and pulling back the covers as Rodrick goes to turn out the lights.

In the dark of the room, only illuminated by the street-lamp outside your house, Rodrick looks very alien - all long lines and lean angles. It makes your heart-rate kick up again, and you feel a blush form on your cheeks. It’s not as though this is the first time you’ve slept in the same bed, or even been intimate, but this feels... different.

Rodrick tucks himself in next to you on your bed - it’s a queen size, so it fits both of you well enough that you could sleep together not touching if you wanted to. But Rodrick is a big cuddler at heart, even if he would deny it to his grave. He wraps his arms around your waist as you lay your head on his chest, already being lulled to sleep by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

You feel like it’s important to tell him before you both lose the tenderness of the moment, so you finally open your mouth to speak.

“I’m so lucky. I know you think you’re... a loser, or whatever but, Rodrick. You aren’t. You are so beyond cool, and brave, and courageous. Thinking about you makes my head spin. And whenever I see you... I’m home.” You trail off, feeling awkward, but Rodrick simply tightens his arms around you, stroking your back with his fingers.

“If I knew we were getting this sentimental I wouldn’t have brought lube... and maybe a few tissues,” he snickers, and you pinch his nipple, causing him to squeal.

“Jerk.”

“Bitch,” he teases back, and you sigh softly, feeling your body and mind relax. You had almost completely forgotten about the pictures - and at this point, you didn’t really care. The pictures didn’t speak. The only voice telling you that you weren’t beautiful was the one inside your head, and it could definitely be a bitch sometimes.

You could’ve imagined it, but as your brain was finally shutting down, you could’ve sworn you heard Rodrick start to sing, “you are my sunshine... my only sunshine...”

“you make me happy... when skies are gray...”

“you’ll never know, dear, how much i love you...”

“please don’t take my sunshine away...”

#devon bostick #rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley fanfiction #rodrick heffley fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #comfort fanfiction #comfort fanfic #hurt fanfiction #hurt fanfic #hurt/comfort fanfic #Diary of a Wimpy Kid

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mrs-hollandstan · 3 years ago

Text

Y/n feels feels self conscious about her body but Tom reassures her.

I really love this one.

"Babe?" Tom calls as he knocks gently on the bedroom door. He pokes his head in, eyes widening as he spots you swiping tears away, "baby, what happened?" He asks. You shake your head and tuck hair behind your ear, finding your makeup bag amongst the mess,

"Nothing… I'm fine." You murmur. He scoffs,

"Yeah, sure. That's why I just caught you crying, looking at yourself in the mirror. What's the matter darling?" He asks softly as he moves into the room, coming to stand behind you at the vanity. Just looking at him, makes your lips quiver and fresh, hot tears roll down your cheeks,

"You should just… go alone." You squeak, glancing down at your lap. Tom clicks his tongue, leaning in to kiss your cheek,

"You know I'm not going to do that. Tell me what's wrong darling and I'll do my best to fix it." He tells you, lips pressing against your shoulder. You give an airy laugh,

"Right… can you… change my body?" You ask. Tom hums,

"No, and I wouldn't either. You're so perfect." He confirms. Rolling your eyes, you roll a tube of mascara between your fingers,

"Sure."

"I'm serious. You've seen my other girlfriends and costars. And you've seen our red carpet photos. How many of those pictures do I have saved where I've cropped myself out because you're that fucking fine?" He poses, resting his hands on your shoulders and standing straight, "This self sabotage needs to stop babe. You're perfect and I don't care how many times I have to tell you that, I just want you to get it."

"I'm not though. You have Ciara, you have Zendaya, fuck… you had Laura. I'm nothing compared to them."

"I'm sorry… am I missing something? Are you… not my girlfriend?" He asks once you've turned your chair around. He raises an eyebrow, "Yeah, they're great coworkers. I love being hype men for girls like that but… you're mine and I've been in love with you for… what… two years now?" He asks. He shrugs,

"I love all of my coworkers, but no one is better than you baby." He assures. You sigh, staring at the carpet for a moment. He holds his hand out,

"C'mere. Let's dissect you together."

"Oh Tom-"

"Don't oh Tom me. You were doing it five minutes ago by yourself and you didn't have anyone to protect you." He explains, taking your hands and forcing you to stand. He drags you over to the mirror, centering your body in it,

"What sticks out to you that makes you hate yourself so much?" He asks, holding your hands in his. You sigh, refusing to look at yourself for a moment. Drawing your eyes up, you shake your head,

"My hips." Is all you murmur. He hums, slipping his hands from yours and pressing them over your hips,

"Are you kidding? I love your hips. What do I grab onto during sex darling?" He poses. You giggle softly which brings a smile to Tom's face,

"Exactly. These hips… perfect. Absolutely beautiful. I just know that when that time comes, we're gonna have healthy, beautiful babies because you have the perfect hips for it." He tells you. You stare at him in the mirror before he raises an eyebrow,

"What else?" He asks. He watches you glance down at your chest before he's raising an eyebrow, "Oh I know you are not telling me you're self conscious about your tits. Those are my favorite part of you. Are you kidding? Hello… how many lingerie pieces have I bought you where your boobs are just out?" He poses. You sigh,

"But they sag."

"And? Not every pair is going to be perky and round and that's okay. I don't have a problem with your body. You're gorgeous. There's no doubt in my mind that you are." He tells you. Turning to him, you stare up into his eyes, finding nothing but sincerity. Draping your arms over his shoulders, you stroke across the hair at the nape of his neck,

"I really hit the jackpot with you huh?" You ask. He shrugs,

"I was thinking the other way around but… we can both hit the jackpot, yeah." He wraps his arms around your waist,

"Quit listening to the internet trolls yeah? You're fine as hell and we both know it. You have to love yourself and I'm hoping that knowing how fucking much I love you and this goddamn body, you're able to see how sexy you are." He explains. Sighing, you nod,

"I'm trying."

"Take as much time as you need. But just know that you're fine as hell and you're gonna kill this red carpet." You groan,

"Are you sure-"

"I am not finding another date. You're coming with me and that's final." He confirms as he leaves the room, "And hurry or we'll be late!" He hollers over his shoulder, forcing you to fix your makeup up, and slip into your heels to trail along after him.

#tom holland x oc #tom holland imagines #tom holland fic #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x reader smut #tom holland smut #tom holland x y/n #tom holland #tom holland blurbs #tom holland blurb #blurbs #my writing

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mviswidow · 4 years ago

Text

i can’t feel it

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 2,727

Warnings: wandavision spoilers!! i recommend catching up before reading this if you haven’t already. also, i cursed like, twice.

A/N: this was literally edited while i was falling asleep, so if there are mistakes, that’s why. Please pm or reply, telling me and I'll go back and fix it.

Prompt: hi!! what about a wanda x reader where r has similar powers to wanda & enters the hex to talk her into letting everyone in westview go & coming home with r? :)

Summary: R has to convince Wanda to let everyone in Westview go.

part two

“Are you sure you remember everything?” Jimmy asked you, concerned about how fast you were being thrown into everything.

You nodded confidently, you were nervous, kind of scared, but ready. After getting a call from Monica, you knew whatever was going on was important, and you made your way to the outskirts of Westview, New Jersey before she even had to tell you what was going on. “Wanda’s robot boyfriend-”

“-Synthezoid,” Jimmy corrected before seeing the look Darcy gave him. “Sorry.”

“Synthezoid boyfriend died because Thanos pulled the mind stone out of his head, she had to watch him die twice and freaked out, stole his body from S.W.O.R.D., and created a fake sitcom reality where she goes through decades because she’s a grieving 30 year old with an odd obsession with tv shows. Oh, and she’s mind controlling a whole town and I’m supposed to convince her to let them go. Almost forgot that one,” You said, pointedly making the lighthearted joke because of Jimmy’s evident stress, chuckling softly.

“Just be careful,” Darcy cut in, “Wanda doesn’t seem to want to leave and we won't know if things go wrong because she chooses what goes in her show and what doesn’t.”

“I’ll be just fine. Let’s go,” You sighed and the four of you started to head out the door, but Hayward pulled you aside before you could leave the building. You told them to go ahead and you would meet them by the car.

“Ms (Y/L/N),” Hayward nodded, and you nodded back to him. Warm greeting, you thought. “Director Hayward.”

“If you cannot get Wanda to submit and release the people of Westview, I want you to fight her. Do whatever you have to, I need the Vision’s body back in S.W.O.R.D. custody and the citizens of Westview to be freed.”

Your brow furrowed, “My assignment is to try to persuade Ms Maximoff. I’m not fighting her, Sir. She’s grieving. I just got here and I can tell. She seems like she just wants to be happy.”

He scoffed at you and shook his head, “Her happiness means nothing to me. Ms Maximoff has thousands held captive. So, I think you’re misunderstanding me, Ms (Y/L/N), I am ordering you to kill her if needed. We need her to bring that barrier down.”

“I don’t take orders from you, Director. I’m just here to try to work things out, not to fight anyone,” You retorted.

“So you would let her continue to mind control the people of Westview? To continue controlling a sentient weapon made of vibranium?” Hayward asked pointedly, but you weren’t having any of it.

“With all due respect, you seem awfully concerned about the Vision when there are ‘thousands held captive’. And regardless, do you have any idea what would happen if Wanda died while all those people were in there?” You paused for a moment, giving him a chance to answer. ��I didn’t think so.”

And with that, you turned on your heel and huffed, quickly making your way to the car that was waiting to take you to the border of the hex, Darcy, Monica, and Jimmy sat inside of it.

“What did he want?” Jimmy asked.

You sighed and started playing with the sleeve of your long sleeved shirt, “He wants me to kill Wanda if she doesn’t stop mind controlling Westview.”

Darcy’s eyes widened, “Sorry, what?”

You looked up at her and saw her concerned expression, “Oh, I’m not going to.” You said quickly, not wanting any of them to get the wrong impression. “He isn’t in charge of me. Wanda doesn’t seem to want to hurt anyone in Westview, and besides, it would be foolish when we know nothing about what would happen inside the barrier if she died.”

Darcy nodded as Monica parked the car and the four of you got out of it.

“Thank you for doing this, (Y/n),” Monica smiled softly as you reached the hex.

“You know I’m always willing to help you when you need me,” You smiled and looked towards the barrier.

You knew the trio was watching you intently, with the other agents standing outside, waiting for you to go in, but your heart was racing and you had to take a few deep breaths before bringing your hands up, moving your fingers in a way that they recognized to be similar to the way Wanda did, and you stepped closer, the blue light from your powers flowing forward and hitting the hex.

It kind of looked like when food coloring is dropped into water, and the color spreads, except your powers were the food coloring, and the hex was the water.

Not wanting to waste any more time, you pulled your hands further apart and groaned as you slowly but surely pulled apart a section of the barrier that was big enough for you to fit through before walking right through it.

As soon as you were through, you looked behind you and saw nothing. None of the S.W.O.R.D. tents or buildings or cars, Darcy, Monica, Jimmy, and all the other agents who were outside were gone. It was just a plain old normal street.

You looked down at your clothes and chuckled, the 80s. If Wanda had anything, it was a fashion sense, whether it was conscious of it or not. You were dressed in a fitted white shirt, and an electric blue skirt and cropped blazer set. Was it a bit tacky? Sort of, but you couldn’t help but love it. However, you were very pleased that the white boots you were wearing didn’t have too high of a heel.

You sighed and knew you needed to go quickly. Vision had just left for work and this was the best chance you were going to get to talk to Wanda. You doubted she would let you convince her to let everyone go if Vision was there with her.

You extended your arms to the ground below you and used your powers to lift yourself up into the air, waiting until you saw the house you recognized to be Wanda’s to fly down to a street that had no one on it that was close enough for you to arrive quickly.

Your hand trembled as it reached up to knock on the door, but before you could overthink any longer, you tapped your knuckles against the wood three times and waited, playing with your fingers.

Wanda opened the door and smiled, though she wore a confused expression on her face, “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met before, or have we?”

You offered a smile and shook your head, “We haven’t, I’m (Y/n).”

“Wanda,” she said, with a lilt in her voice.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about something, if you aren’t busy? It’s important.”

She gazed at you curiously before nodding and stepping out of the way, “Come inside.”

You walked inside her home, the feeling you got was weird. You’d seen it on Darcy’s tv, but it was different to actually be in the room.

Wanda noticed the way your eyes flicked around her living room, looking at the couch, the photos hanging, the random decorations, and the few toys on the floor.

“Do you want something to drink?” She asked politely, before noticing you staring at one of the toys Tommy happened to favor. “My boys are upstairs.”

You smiled politely and shook your head, “I’m alright, Wanda, thank you. I need to talk to you about what you’re doing.” You started, not very strongly, but it wasn’t like you could just blurt out what you needed to say. This was a difficult situation.

“I’m sorry?” She tilted her head, not catching on, but she looked worried.

“I know about your powers, you’re controlling everyone in Westview, and Vision is starting to-”

“Leave,” Wanda extended her hands and tried to levitate you out, but you put your hands at your side and grounded yourself, blue mist surrounding your feet.

Wanda faltered and her eyes widened at the sight of your powers, “Who are you?”

“I’m Y/n Y/l/n. I was sent here to convince you to let everyone in Westview go. I promise I don’t mean you any harm, I just want things to go smoothly so no one else gets hurt.”

Wanda shook her head, “I can't just let go of this, I finally have everything I want.”

You sighed and nodded, “I understand how you feel, I have lost family too, but the people of Westview, they have their own lives and families. They’re in pain, Wanda. I can feel it. Can’t you?”

Her eyes snapped up and met yours, the tears in her eyes threatening to spill. She shook her head, “I can’t feel it.”

You stood for a moment, the two of you just looking at each other, before taking a breath and letting the blue mist that was keeping you grounded fade away. Cautiously, you walked closer to her and let out a breath of relief when she wasn’t backing away or looking like she was going to attack you.

“You can look into minds, can’t you?” You asked, knowing that showing her the pain she was unknowingly putting these people through was the best chance you had at convincing her to do the right thing.

Wanda nodded without saying anything and understood what you wanted her to do. Shakily, she lifted her hand and bit her lip, she looked scared.

You blinked a few times, thought, fuck it, and gently held her wrist, bringing her hand up to your temple. You watched her eyes glow red before closing your eyes, allowing Wanda to see inside your mind.

All Wanda could feel was an unbearable amount of agony, she heard thousands of voices overlapping each other, panicked screams and crying. It was too much. Everyone sounded so scared. She did this.

The feeling was excruciating and let out a strangled sob, which made your eyes open on instinct.

Tears were flowing freely down Wanda’s face and she slowly sank to her knees, trying to catch her breath.

You got down on the floor in front of her and held one of her hands, using your other one to tilt her chin up towards you, “It’s okay, Wanda.”

She shook her head furiously and squeezed your hand, leaning forward, into you.

You wrapped your arm around her and let her cry into your shoulder. Your stomach felt twisted and you couldn’t believe Hayward had asked you to kill Wanda if she refused to comply, not when she was reacting like this.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen like this,” She managed to get out between deep breaths and whimpers. “I just - I wanted Vis back.”

Tears pricked at your own eyes, but you ignored them, knowing that you had to focus on Wanda, “I know, it’s okay. Everything will be okay. You just have to put down the barriers around Westview and stop mind controlling everyone.”

Wanda’s breath hitched, but she nodded, “Okay.”

“Okay?” You asked. Surprised at how you managed to get her to listen to you.

“I’ll do it now,” She sniffled and wiped her tears, standing up slowly.

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Well, hold on, don’t you want to see Vision first? Or call the twins down here?”

Her lips pressed together as another tear slipped down her cheek and she shook her head, “I don’t know what I’ll do if I allow myself to see them again,” She said quietly.

You nodded and stepped back, letting her go about this whatever way she wanted.

You watched her work, even though the two of you were inside, you could see out the window that the sky had turned red and it was gradually getting more blue, looking like she was chipping off pieces of the sky, if the sky was red, away from the inside out.

Before you knew it, the house the two of you were standing in had been reduced to the foundation of a home, just concrete laying on the floor in the shape of the house Wanda had been living in.

She was wearing a burgundy shirt, a jacket, and jeans instead of the big jeans and plaid shirt she’d had on before, and you were back to wearing your comfortable grey long sleeved shirt and jeans.

Her bottom lip started to tremble and she turned towards you before her breath started to quicken.

You wore a pained expression and stepped towards her, holding your arms out. You thought she was going to deny the embrace you were offering her, but she walked forward and buried her head in your neck, letting you wrap your arms around her, “I’m really proud of you, Wanda. It takes a lot to be able to give up something that important to you.”

She nodded, but said nothing. You stood there for about two more minutes before her breathing had calmed and she’d stopped crying. “Thank you, (Y/n).”

You nodded and smiled sadly at her before you both looked towards the red buick that was now sitting in her driveway, “I think I’m going to have to take you back out of Westview with me. I’ll get in trouble if I just let you leave, I think.”

“It’s fine, I’ll go,” She fished the keys to her car out of her pocket and played with the keyring. “Do you think you can drive us? I kind of want to look around before we leave.”

You took her keys and she let out a breath before quietly thanking you and walking to the passenger seat of her car.

Before you pulled out of the driveway, you spoke, “How did you do all of this?” You asked curiously. Sure, you had magic yourself, but there was no way you could even dream about pulling off anything like this.

“I’m not sure. All I remember is feeling so completely alone and sad, and I went to S.W.O.R.D. to see Vis for the last time before coming here, because Hayward wouldn’t let me take his body to give him a funeral or anything, so I guess I made a version of him here. I really don’t know how I managed though, because -”

“Sorry,” You interrupted, turning to look at her with your brows knitted together. “You said the Vision stayed in S.W.O.R.D.?”

“Yes?” She nodded. “What is it?”

You huffed and started the engine of the car, pulling out of the driveway, “The lying bastard. Hayward edited security camera footage to make it look like you stole the Vision’s body and used it here.”

“That’s ridiculous. I know better than to make myself a criminal again. Well, I mean-”

“It’s fine Wanda. You didn’t mean to,” You continued driving, enjoying the neighborhood.

When you were getting close to the edge of town, she spoke again. “Am I going to jail?”

“I won’t let them put you in jail,” You said simply.

“What, why?” Wanda asked, and it was clear that she was asking because she thought she deserved it and she was expecting it to happen.

“You don’t deserve it,” You shrugged. You didn’t want her to suffer alone, again. She already tried that, and look where that got everyone.

Wanda shook her head, “You know that isn’t true.”

“I believe it is. I know that your actions were wrong, but Hayward was wrong for denying you when you asked for Vision’s body to bury. It wasn’t his to have. All he cares about is money and power and the Vision would cost a lot of money and would give him a lot of power. I mean, realistically, he’s kind of the cause for this. But that’s not the point. The point is that it was never your intention to hurt these people and it’s not fair to you that he set you up like this.”

“And what will you do if they try to put me in jail?” Wanda asked curiously, her voice low.

You sighed as you started to be able to make out Jimmy, Monica, and Darcy from far away. “I dunno, maybe we can run away together or something.”

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff oneshot #wlw imagine #sapphic #wandavision #wandavision imagine #wandavision oneshot #fanfic

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sushi0989 · 3 years ago

Text

that girl

Summary: Wanda Maximoff transfers to her twin brother, Pietro's, college in New York because their parents had decided to move back to Europe that summer. Wanda didn't want to be all alone in the West, so moving to New York would help her, but she has a tough time socializing as the popular kids, which her brother was a part of, ruled the campus. Things took a turn once Wanda was stuck with you, one of the most popular girls in the college, for a project.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Crude Language, and Alcohol

Word Count: 4,454

A/N: Eek this is my first AU fic I wrote on AO3 and I personally don’t like it lmao, but everyone starts somewhere I suppose. I just find writing smut to not be my forte so I will not be surprised if you guys don’t like it either lmao. Fun fact, “do you love me” originally had smut in it but I cut it out for tumblr, however, it’s on AO3 still. Anyways, this might be the only smut I post just because it’s so bad 🙈 have fun

Wanda stood on a 3-legged wooden stool trying to hook her fairy lights on the last nail in the corner of her new dorm room. Her roommate, Natasha, was not paying one bit of attention as she was hyper focused on studying for her first exam taking place tomorrow morning. She had noise-canceling headphones on listening to Evermore on repeat, so Wanda's grunts at trying to reach for that last nail were unbeknownst to her.

Wanda was on her tippy toes, she cursed her dorm for having such tall ceilings. Suddenly, the stool tipped forward and Wanda's heart skipped a beat, but she was luckily able to put her arm out on the wall quick enough to catch herself. She breathed a sigh of relief and got down deciding she'll force Pietro to help her since he's much taller.

Wanda flopped onto her bed stomach first and pulled out her phone to scroll through Instagram. Pietro posted a photo with his football buddies, Tony Stark and Steve Rodgers, who was supposedly talking with Nat. Wanda liked the post and continued to scroll and saw Y/N Y/L/N post a picture of yourself in a crop top, ripped jean shorts, and Gucci sunglasses standing on a rooftop bar with the Empire State Building right behind her.

"How'd she get into a rooftop bar when she's just a sophomore isn't it that one had to be 21?" Wanda thought to herself. Wanda was shocked to see that the post was already at 453 likes and you only posted it 2 hours ago. She continued on with her Instagram scrolling and didn't like your post.

Nat spun around in her swivel chair and faced Wanda with a toothy grin and took off her headphones where Taylor could still be faintly heard. Wanda looked up at her and furrowed her eyebrows at the sight of Nat's giddy smile.

"What's wrong with you?" Wanda questioned.

"Steve finally asked me out!" Nat squealed clasping her hands together and spun around her chair.

"And I thought you were studying for your psych exam, I was being quiet for no reason then," Wanda rolled her eyes. Nat looked over to the wall and saw the end of the fairy light dangling.

"It looks like you couldn't even get it done anyways," Nat teased before getting up and bringing the stool over to the hanging wire taking a gander at it herself.

"You're shorter than me, Romanoff, you really think you'll be able to get it—" Wanda's mouth was agape when Nat was able to hook the light on with ease by standing on her toes like a ballerina.

"The one time your ballet skills will ever be useful," Wanda huffed in defeat.

Nat jumped down from the stool dusting off her hands at her accomplishment.

"What's the date?"

"He invited me to Tony's party tomorrow night and wanted to take me with him," Nat pushed Wanda over on her bed to make herself some space.

"How romantic of him, your first date is at a frat party. You know you have your own bed right." Nat bucked Wanda's hip with hers at her response.

"Well, I wanted to rub it in your face" Nat teased.

"Rub what, you getting a date or putting up the lights?"

"Both," Nat smirked which irritated Wanda.

"Do you want to come to the party, too? I'm I can get Steve to have Tony invite you," Nat suggested trying to see if Wanda would finally get out of their dorm and make some more friends.

"I don't want to go to a frat party. Besides, I'm not sure they'd want the new girl in the same vicinity as the hot-shot socialites."

"You're brother is probably gonna be there, too. And you can make more friends I think it's kinda sad that I'm your only friend here," Nat joked.

"I don't know, Nat."

"Pleaseeeeeeeee," Nat held out the 'eee'.

"Ugh if it'll make you shut up then fine." Natasha hugged Wanda in celebration since she finally succeeded at getting her to do something.

_______________________________

Wanda got up at 9 am since her first class started at 10. Nat was already gone, her bed was made and she left a sticky note on Wanda's favorite red jacket "You better not back out on me, Maximoff >:(" Wanda laughed and stuck the sticky note on her bulletin board before getting ready for her day.

She wore black mom jeans cuffing them at the bottom, a white t-shirt with her red leather jacket over it, and white slip-on vans. Wanda only had one class on Fridays because she wanted the end of her week to be light. This class was English Literature, but the one thing that made her dread this class was that you were also in it.

When she walked into the classroom, which was more of a seminar-type class so the table was arranged in a U shape, Wanda saw that you were sat in her seat. Wanda's blood began to boil until she noticed the seating chart on the board showing that she was seated right next to you. Wanda rolled her eyes and made her way over to her new seat and plopped her bag down on the floor getting out her laptop and notebook. You gazed at Wanda, but Wanda noticed that you were gazing at her for too long. Wanda quickly turned her head and met your eyes.

"What do you want?" Wanda questioned with a stern tone.

"Oh, nothing" you replied and played with the rings on her finger. You thought about the first day Wanda walked into this class and taking a seat in the very chair you were currently occupying. Wanda was wearing her red leather jacket, a dark sweater, and light-colored jeans, and her green eyes had this sparkle that you could never get out of your head.

It was obvious to you that you indeed had a crush on Wanda, however, Wanda seemed to have a distaste for you. And with your social status in school, having a girlfriend would probably cause you to lose a lot of that recognition. This didn't stop you from stalking Wanda's Instagram whenever you were on your phone or just trying to catch a glimpse of her during class or when you would walk past each other on campus.

Maybe you could try to at least become friends with Wanda, which was going to be hard since Wanda couldn't care less about her. In fact, Wanda resented you because you were one of those popular girls who drank Starbucks every day and was obsessed with your appearance. Those things were in fact true, but ever since middle school, you got wrapped up with those people and could never seem to escape them. You had numerous boyfriends and none of them seemed to really make you feel truly in love with them. The sex was average, nothing really life changing, but you yearned for something more. Something that a guy couldn't give you.

When class started, Wanda began writing down notes in her notebook while you got distracted by Wanda's hands. They seemed so strong yet so delicate at the same time. You imagined how smooth they would be and how it would feel to hold them in yours, to kiss it, to feel them feeling your body. You were then snapped out of your daydreaming when the professor called your name.

"Yes? Could you repeat that?" Wanda turned towards you and raised her eyebrows.

"I asked you if you were okay. Are you?"

"Oh, yes, of course," you cleared your throat and sat up in your seat. You now paid full attention, afraid to be called out once again.

"Okay kiddos, we're going to have a partner presentation project. I will be assigning you your partners and you will have two weeks to finish it and then present it in class. I actually already assigned you your partners. On the board you can see that each person's name has a number with it, whoever has a matching number with you is your partner."

Wanda looked up and horror struck her face. 'Wanda Maximoff (4)... Y/N Y/L/N (4)'

"Fuck," Wanda muttered under her breath. Your heart skipped a beat, excited to get the chance to potentially build some kind of friendship with Wanda.

You turned towards Wanda, "Hey so let me give you my number so we can stay in contact. I'm free at 6 tonight until about 8 if you want to get a head-start on the project. I don't like procrastinating stuff."

"Yeah that works, I have to go somewhere at 8, too" Wanda replied flatly.

"Okay! Sounds good, so uh I'll text you and we can meet up at my dorm, o- or yours. Whatever works for you," the nervousness could be heard in your voice as you stuttered to get your words out. Wanda, however, didn't think much of it and replied with a monotone "okay."

___________________________

It was now 5:45, Wanda decided that you could come to her dorm since Nat wouldn't be home until 7:30 anyways. You came about 10 minutes early, you had your backpack and separate tote bag which Wanda assumed contained some more work stuff, but it actually had food.

"I brought some Chick-Fil-A, I was hungry so I figured we could both have some," you smiled as you walked into Wanda's dorm.

"You didn't have to do that, you could've just got some for yourself."

"Well, that's not very nice to do, I hate it when people eat in front of me and don't offer me any, so why should I treat others any different?" Wanda shrugged and sat on her bed to open up her laptop.

"You can sit at my desk and set up your stuff." You put the food on the desk and gave Wanda a box with 8-count chicken nuggets and medium fries.

"What's your favorite sauce?" You asked.

"Chick-fil-a sauce, of course," Wanda replied with no hesitation.

"You have good taste," you smiled and handed Wanda two packets of Chick-fil-a sauce.

"How'd you know that's what I like?"

"Well that's the only type I got, it was either you have taste or no sauce for you at all," you smirked before pulling out your spicy chicken sandwich and medium fries.

"I mean their honey mustard is a close second," Wanda dipped her chicken nugget in the sauce and took a bite.

"Okay let's get started..." you opened your laptop and the two got to work while you also took some stolen glances at Wanda noticing the way she eats and the way her eyes are focused while she's concentrating.

Soon it was 7:30 and the two of you made a good start on your presentation. You made a layout of what you each need to get done and your goal was to get it done a week early. Nat got home and she began talking to Wanda without even realizing there was another person there.

"I hope you haven't backed out of going to the party or else I'll kick your ass to the moon- oh hi y/n! Uh watcha doin here?" Nat stopped in her tracks when she saw one of the most popular girls in school in her dorm room.

“Wanda and I are working on a project for lit, we wanted to get a start on it so that we don't rush it," you smiled looking at Wanda who seemed to be anxious. Wanda remembered that one time she was scrolling through Instagram and stopped on a post of you at the beach and was staring at it before Nat teased her for it.

"Haha, you think she's hot. Do you have a crush?" Nat smirked while attempting to grab Wanda's phone to take a closer look. "No, I don't, now leave me alone! Nat give me my phone!"

Wanda snapped out of her trance when you called out her name.

"Wanda, you're going to Tony's party, too?"

"Oh yeah she is, or she better be," Nat stared at Wanda's eyes and smiled while Wanda rolled her eyes and huffed

"I didn't have much of a choice, but yeah I guess I am." You could feel butterflies in your stomach. You were elated that Wanda was finally going out and now the two of you have a chance at getting closer.

"Well, that's amazing! It's gonna be so much fun, you'll love it!" You squealed while Wanda leaned back on her bed and said nothing.

"I think I'm gonna head out now, next time do you wanna work on the project at my place?" you suggested as you put your belongings into your bag.

"Sure, that's fine. I'll bring some food next time in return." Wanda replied and you gave her a grin.

"That'd be nice, see you at the party!" You left and Nat jumped onto Wanda's bed.

"Girl, I think she likes you!"

"Oh shut up, she's being fake," Wanda retorted.

"I don't think she is, I saw her staring at you quite a bit..."

"You keep thinking that."

_______________________

Steve Rodgers knocked on the door "hey are you ready?"

"We'll be out in a second!" Nat replied. She wore a red tube top, white shorts, and hoop earrings.

Wanda didn't want to draw attention to herself so she put on a white top, ripped light blue mom jeans (cuffed), her red jacket, and black converse. She knew her white vans would become brown if she wore them, so black was the way to go.

"Ready?" Nat turned to Wanda who had her hands in her pockets and she nodded her head. Steve drove the two of them to the frat house in his 2014 blue Chevy Bolt with Wanda sitting in the back.

There were already a bunch of people and it was only 8:40, these parties can go all night. Wanda was still only 19, but there were a bunch of underage drinkers, so she didn't feel out of place. The three of them walked in, Nat holding Steve's hand and Wanda right behind them with her hands in her pockets. The lights were a dim purple color and EDM music was being blasted. There were people everywhere drinking from red solo cups talking, dancing, laughing, and even making out.

"Wanda! Over here!" Wanda turned her head to see you in the corner wearing a yellow top, black jeans, and black vans with some other popular girls. Wanda lost Nat and Steve, so she sighed and made her way over to you.

"Do you want something to drink? We were going to play spin the bottle with some of the boys if you wanted to join."

"I'll have a beer, and I guess since I have nothing better to do," the dread of being there could be heard in Wanda's voice.

"Here come with me," you took Wanda's hand pulled her to the kitchen where all the drinks were.

You got beers for both you and Wanda before a guy came over and blocked your path.

"Hey, y/n. Do you wanna come upstairs with me and have some fun?" You scrunched your face, "No Tyler, get away from me, you're drunk."

"Oh come on, we had so much fun a few months ago," Tyler then made an attempt to touch your butt making Wanda pull you back and slap him across the face.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, bitch?" Tyler screamed making everyone turn towards the commotion. Then Tony walked over, "Hayward what's going on?"

"This bitch slapped me!" You couldn't get any words out, you had one fling with Tyler, but he was too aggressive. He choked you and left bruises all over your body that lasted for days.

"This motherfucker grabbed y/n's butt without her consent," Wanda shouted back pointing her finger into Hayward's chest.

"Get out," Tony grumbled. "You heard him get out you bitch," Hayward laughed.

"No Tyler, you need to get out. Get the fuck out of here." Tony glared at him, his eyes shooting daggers into Hayward's. Tyler was in disbelief and then he stormed out and the party resumed. Tony nodded his head at Wanda and you, communicating that you're both okay to stay.

Wanda turned to you, "are you okay?"

"Yeah" you cleared her throat, "yeah I'm fine. Let's go play with the others."

The two of you went over to the circle of about 12 people and they sat at opposite ends, Wanda sitting next to Nat while you sat with Tony.

"Hey, little sister!" Wanda turned her head to see Pietro walking towards her with open arms. He gave her a warm embrace "you're only 12 minutes older than me," Wanda huffed into his shoulder. "Still means I'm older," he snickered and he went to sit next to Tony on the other side of the circle.

An empty bottle of vodka was placed in the middle. Tony went first with the bottle landing on Pepper Potts, his ex, and they had a passionate kiss which left them staring at each other for the rest of the party. Next was Steve and by some miracle, the bottle landed on Nat; Wanda could see Nat melt as their lips locked together.

Eventually, it was Wanda's turn to spin and she was nervous at who it would land on. She hadn't kissed anyone since she and her boyfriend broke up at her previous college. The bottle seemed to be spinning for what felt like an eternity and it slowly stopped and landed on Carol Danvers. She was a part of the popular squad, and her face turned red when the bottle stopped on her. You tried not to show any emotion, so you looked elsewhere trying not to break.

Wanda went up to Carol and held her face in her hands and gave her a strong kiss with no tongue. The guys whistled and Wanda broke it off making Carol dazed, wanting more. Wanda smirked and sat back down.

Soon it was your turn to spin and you prayed that it would land on Wanda. The bottle spun quickly but then it landed on Pietro "shit" you whispered.

Pietro chuckled and Tony slapped his back. You glanced over at Wanda who had a straight face the whole time, and then you slowly made your way to Pietro but you kept your confidence. You rubbed Pietro's chest and slowly moved your hands behind his neck and locked your lips with his. His tongue wanted yours, but you denied it, and you abruptly pulled away and Wanda's mouth was agape.

Pietro's face was red, he wanted more. Wanda looked at you get up and sit back down, locking your eyes with Wanda's green eyes. This time, Wanda's eyes had a desire, a hunger.

"Let's now play 7 minutes in heaven! We've got 3 closets down here so we can have 6 people going at once" Tony announced.

"I wanna pick first!" Nat squealed. She turned to Wanda, who was still staring at you.

"Wanda and..... y/n" Nat smirked. She and Steve got up, Nat pulled Wanda while Steve pulled you pushing you both into the closet nearest to them.

"3...2...1...start!" Nat squealed.

The closet was pitch black and cramped. "Uh so, we don't have to do anything," you said lowly not wanting anyone to hear.

"Yeah, yeah, that's fine," Wanda replied.

"Am I stepping on your foot?" you asked before trying to back up but you tripped forward. Wanda caught her and their chests were up against each other, you breathing heavily.

"Can I kiss you?" Wanda asked. Your heart ignited, fuck it you thought, and you pulled Wanda's face into a deep, passionate kiss. Wanda moaned at the sudden action and kissed you back. You licked Wanda's bottom lip to ask permission before letting your tongue slip into her mouth, which Wanda did. Your tongues were dancing, your breathing was heavy and in sync, and your hands were touching all over each other.

You kissed Wanda with such hunger and passion which left each other with butterflies dancing in your stomachs. You then kissed her down her neck, leaving moans escaping from Wanda's mouth and her body relaxed.

You sucked on her pulse point and proceeded to take off Wanda's jacket. Wanda turned you and pushed you against the wall and felt for the button on your jeans. She began to pull them down with haste and then put her hand into your underwear.

You were already wet and Wanda groaned at the feeling. You covered your moan by putting your mouth on Wanda's shoulder as Wanda rubbed your clitoris. You took this opportunity to suck on Wanda's neck causing her to moan, but Wanda continued to rub you aster and pressure built up in you.

"Hey, guys times up!" Tony knocked. Wanda pulled her hand out of your underwear and picked up her jacket while laughing at your quiet pout. You both fixed yourselves up and walked out nonchalantly back to the group.

Steve and Nat were gone as well as Pietro and Carol. As Wanda made her way, you grabbed her wrist and whispered into her ear, "Do you wanna continue that elsewhere." Wanda's eyes answered for her, so you pulled her upstairs to an empty room, which Wanda was surprised no one was there.

You locked the door and your lips crashed together. Wanda dropped her jacket on the ground and ran her hands through your hair. You both kicked off your shoes and stepped out of your socks while trying not to trip one another or break the kiss. Wanda then picked you up and sat down on the bed while you straddled her, still hadn't broken the kiss.

You tugged at the bottom of Wanda's shirt, so Wanda put her arms up while you pulled off Wanda's shirt. Wanda did the same to you and you locked lips once again. It felt electric. Wanda never felt this way with a guy and neither did you. It's like you both knew what turned each other on.

You then searched Wanda's back with her hands for the clasp of her bra and then unhooked it revealing her breasts. You cupped them in your hands and rubbed Wanda's hard nipples with your thumbs and pinched them making Wanda moan.

You pushed Wanda down on the bed and proceeded to kiss down from her lips, to her neck, to her collarbone, to her chest, and then kissed Wanda's right nipple. You licked and sucked them as Wanda moaned and ran her hands through your hair. You did the same for the other breast and then kissed down Wanda's stomach making her back arch slightly at the feeling.

Y/n unbuttoned Wanda's jeans and pulled them down along with her underwear. "Oh wow, you're so wet," you giggled.

"And I thought you hated me, but I guess I was wrong," you teased and rubbed your fingers along Wanda's wet folds with a moan escaping from both your and Wanda’s lips.

Wanda never hated you, she just hated your lifestyle. You were the popular girl that never seemed genuine, but now Wanda sees you. Wanda lusts for you, your beauty, your confidence, and your radiance.

You began to rub Wanda's clit while leaning over and kissing her. Wanda moaned into your mouth with every circle you made until you teased her opening by sticking one finger in and then going back to rubbing her clit. Wanda arched her back, pulling away from your mouth to breathe.

You smirked as you switched to putting your fingers inside of Wanda and licking her clit. Wanda's eyes rolled to the back of her head. It was agony, but a good agony. It felt so good and she could feel the pressure reaching its peak.

You felt Wanda's rough g-spot and rubbed hard while sucking on her clit, Wanda grinded her hips on your face to add more pressure until she cried out, back arched, toes curled, and fists clenching the bedsheets. You licked up all of Wanda's sweet juices and moved up to kiss Wanda, making her taste herself which turned her on.

"Your turn," Wanda smirked flipping you over making the two of you laugh. Wanda unclasped your bra and slowly pulled down the straps and tossed them off.

She lovingly kissed each breast while undoing her jeans and taking them off. Wanda got off the bed and kneeled at the end.

"Where are you going?" you asked and looked to see Wanda had disappeared, but then you were dragged to the edge of the bed. Wanda spread out your legs and kissed up to your inner thighs sending butterflies scrambling in your abdomen.

Wanda kissed your core through your panties and breathed warm air causing you to shudder at the feeling. Wanda then slowly removed your underwear revealing your wetness. She latched her lips onto your clit and slowly licked in circles.

You closed your eyes and bit your lips, grabbing onto Wanda's hair and pushing her head into your center. Wanda kept her hands on your legs to keep them spread apart until she used one to stick a finger inside of you. You gasped at the feeling, and Wanda continued to thrust her finger in and out while simultaneously sucking your clit.

"Wanda," you moaned, which only made Wanda go harder, adding in a second finger and pulling you closer to her with her other arm. Wanda then added a third finger and used her free hand to put her fingers into your mouth making you suck them. The tension inside of you finally burst as you let out a guttural moan with your back arched. Your legs shook as Wanda cleaned up the liquid and lied down next to you on the bed.

"That was... amazing." you were practically speechless. You turned to your side, still breathing heavily, to face Wanda who was already turned towards you. Wanda smiled as she leaned in to kiss you, her hands cupping your cheeks.

"I think I'm too exhausted to back to my dorm, do you think we could just sleep here?" Wanda asked while running her hand through your hair.

"I'm sure they won't mind," you smiled as you sat up to pull the blanket over the two of you and you both fell asleep in each other's arms.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda #fanfic #marvel

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dreamkidddream · 4 years ago

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Hey! Could I please request asmo meeting an mc who has always worn black baggy clothing ever since arriving to devildom, like literally never showing what their body looks like, until one day where the a/c broke and it is super hot that mc comes out wearing short shorts and a crop top and is ⌛️ please ?

Hey anon! I wasn’t sure if you wanted this as an actual fic or headcanons, so I decided to do headcanons! This got fluffy so I hope that was okay (I really can’t help it 🥺😔). Also, this turned a little bit into body positivity, so to my readers: love yourself and the skin that you’re in! Hope you enjoy!

Warning: it’s gets a little spicy towards the end, but no NSFW acts or NSFW in general is mentioned

Asmo with Hourglass Shaped!MC

So Asmo loves you regardless of whatever shape you are, we all know that

But he wished that you would let him play fashion designer with you! You only wore these dark and dreary clothes all the time, and he was absolutely positive that you would look just divine in some of his suggestions for you. Plus, it was nothing wrong with showing just a little bit of skin, he would know

He just knew that you were hiding something delicious underneath your clothes, and he would try to convince you to just let him have a little taste, a little sneak peek (but would never go on to the point of making you uncomfortable). He was dying to see you in something new (really he was dying to see your body in all of its glory, but he’ll take what he get), and the opportunity finally presented itself

After someone broke the house air conditioner (ie. Mammon and Levi), the temperature skyrocketed. The saying, “it’s hot as Hell” stayed true to its words. While the brothers were somewhat used to the heat (y’know, being demons and living in Hell and all), even it was starting to get a little uncomfortable for them

Asmo was already whining about his beautiful skin practically melting away at this point, and decided that he needed to complain to someone who can truly relate to his struggles and listen (ie. You)

Plus Lucifer was ready to just string him up with his other brothers if he uttered one more word

But luckily, he didn’t have to stray far, as he heard you descending down the stairs. “MC, can you believe what the heat is doing to my pores-”

He choked

Your legs were showing

Your stomach wasn’t covered

Your skin was actually showing

Oh my Diavolo, you were already attractive before, but this...oh my

Crop top and short shorts?? You were going to make him snap, MC.

Your thangs were thangin respectfully

The longer he took in your form, the more he felt himself losing control. Now Asmo is far from an animal, being one of the brothers that could actually control themselves when needed be. But he just wanted to devour you whole-

“Asmo, you okay? Earth to Asmo?”

“Why darling, why have you been hiding this from me so long?! But I can’t deny, this was more than worth the wait, I just wish this happened in my room, with you undress-“

“Asmo, no. It’s way too hot to be doing any of that.”

“But dear, I can easily find a way to cool you off. Especially now that you gifted me with this appetizing sight. You look just gorgeous MC. We have to take pictures to commemorate this moment! Can you imagine how quick we’ll be trending on Devilgram?!-”

“No way.”

“But whyyyyyy?”

“Because...it’s nothing. I just don’t think I should. It’s just my body, nothing special.”

NOTHING SPECIAL?!

WHERE YOU TWO LOOKING AT THE SAME THING???

It wasn’t that you necessarily hated yourself, but you didn’t want people to just like you because of how you look. You can admit that your body was looking pretty good, but you didn’t want to be ogled at like a piece of meat. It was bad enough in the human world , and you definitely didn’t want to risk it here around demons who were already hungry for humans

He was shocked. First you hid this treasure from him and the world (but mainly him) without any reason, and the way you were adamant about not taking any type of photos was mind boggling to him. You are STUNNING, MC. He can see that, his brothers can see it, so why can’t you?

Your shape is just far too enticing to hide anymore. And he was going to convince you of that. He took your hand and rushed to his room, making sure to close the door to keep any prying eyes away

He took your hands into his, looked into your eyes, and flashed you the most gentle smile to ever grace his face

“MC, don’t tell me that you’re ashamed of your body. You have no reason to be. You radiate so much beauty inside and out, it can be such a blinding sight. You’re beyond special, so let me show you just how special you are.”

He started to pepper kisses all on your face: on your cheeks, eyelashes, nose, lips, anywhere that his lips could catch. While doing so, he rubbed softly on your body, drawing random shapes on your hips, even moving to rub at your stomach. You quietly giggled at all of these sensations, trying to push him away tenderly, but he stayed put. Asmo was obviously quite the romantic, but you also been around long enough to know when he wasn’t putting on an act. Right now he wasn’t Asmodeus, the Avatar of Lust. Right now, he was Asmo, the brother who only wanted to be shown and given true love

You don’t know how long you two stayed like that in his room, but neither of you cared. Asmo finally got his wish to see your body (and man was he even more enamored with you now), and was he not disappointed one bit (not that he would ever be with you). You even went out of your way to take some of his suggestions (and I say this very lightly, as we know how Asmo’s “suggestions” can vary) and include them in your wardrobe

Either way, he was beyond happy, and he could tell that the new stylish choices and his pep talk kinda helped you too

Cause now he can do impromptu fashion shows (albeit in the comfort of his room) and admire your shape all in one! It’s a win win!

However, now that you were coming out of your shell more, and you didn’t show any discomfort towards him, he was definitely ready to show you why he has the title of the Avatar of Lust, and rightfully so

#obey me x reader #obey me reader insert #obey me asmodeus x reader #obey me asmo x reader #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #reader insert #obey me #obey me swd #obey me one master to rule them all

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newtonsheffield · 3 years ago

Note

Molly

I have been desperately waiting to send in an ask where you could write a Drabble around these pictures of Simone

She looks incredibly beautiful here but I honestly couldn’t fit her in a specific AU so far

But now that I think of it these pictures give off such ACUPOP vibes. Can you write a Drabble where Kate is like becoming a very successful artist and she has like this photo shoot where Anthony is hyping her up but at the same time, dying because goddamnit his wife (HIS WIFE) is so bloody hot!!!

Plsssssss

Okay, I love this idea.

I love the idea of Anthony being a little simp for Kate (As we know, I believe it to be his default setting)

And I like the idea that Kate is starting to get recognised for her work. She’s a little bit more visible than she was before because Anthony’s a politician and they have a public life now, and this is something I think she’d be a little uncomfortable with to begin with

And I heard from a little bird that it’s your birthday today. Everyone say Happy Birthday

Anthony raised his eyebrow, “What kind of weird?” His heart hammering a little.

Kate shrugged “um… a magazine wants to do a segment on me before my gallery opening. Like an interview and some pictures.”

Anthony’s eyes widened, “Kate that’s amazing! When are you doing it?”

Kate shrugged again, finally turning towards him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, “I told them I’d think about it. Obviously my agent wants me to do it, but I don’t know.”

Anthony frowned, “Why don’t you want to?”

Another shrug, passing off something amazing as mediocrity. “I didn’t know if you’d want me too for one, with your whole image, and I don’t know I fell kind of weird about it. Like maybe they only want to do it because I’m your wife.

Anthony huffed, quickly moving around the kitchen bench, tilting her chin to look in his eyes, “for one, I actually don’t care about public image at all. And I want you to be so successful, you’re amazing, and I want everyone to see it.”

She stared back at him, something like disbelief clouding her eyes for a moment before she sighed. “Okay.”

Anthony smiled, “okay my wife’s about to make men all over England jealous?”

She rolled her eyes, “okay your wife is going to be in a magazine.”

“Same, same.”

Anthony closed the front door, humming to himself as he hung his coat in the hall closet, sticking his head in the living room, smiling as he saw Edmund laying on the couch, his hair rumpled, Nintendo propped up on his stomach, he grinned when he saw Anthony.

“Hey Dad!”

“Hey sprout, How was Auntie Eddie’s?”

Edmund smiled, “Great, she and Matt say Hi.”

“Where’s Mum?”

Edmund frowned, “she’s getting ready for the pictures upstairs, they sent round the outfit and she’s a little stressed about it I think. Milo’s taking a nap.”

Anthony nodded, climbing the stairs, peeking into the nursery, smiling down at his tiny son, sleeping soundly, his heart leaping happily, smoothing Miles’ hair before slipping into the bedroom, wrapping his arms around Kate’s waist from behind as she stared down at something on their bed. A skirt and crop top, a sort of creamy colour, flowers on the top and Anthony’s stomach clenched.

He kissed her cheek. “What’s wrong?”

Kate sighed, “I had a baby 8 months ago, and they sent me this to wear.”

Anthony hummed, “You look amazing, just try it on, you’ll see.”

Kate sighed, turning in his arms, her chin resting on his shoulder “You have to say I look good, you depend upon me to eat, and it’s your fault I turned into a whale.”

Something in his chest ached, ached that she couldn’t see how beautiful she was, that she felt so uncomfortable in her own skin, and worse he couldn’t stop wondering if she’d felt like this after she had a Edmund, remembering how she’d tried to cover herself the first time they’d slept together when they’d reunited, even in their desperation and anger, she hadn’t wanted him to see.

Anthony cleared his throat, “It’s my fault you’re the most beautiful woman alive? I don’t see how but I’ll take it.” She scoffed, but Anthony kept going, “Please just try it on, and if you hate it, we’ll find something else for you to wear, but please just try it.”

She stared back at him for another very long moment before she sighed, snatching the clothes off the bed, heading for the bathroom, “You have to promise not to laugh!”

“I’m more worried about needing to take a cold shower before we go.” Anthony muttered flopping on the bed.

“What?” Kate called back.

“Nothing!“

Anthony flicked through his phone, replying to a text from Mary, and finally Kate cleared her throat, appearing in the doorway to their ensuite, and Anthony’s throat went dry, Her clothes were tight against, her, her midriff exposed, her long legs stretching on forever miles and miles of smooth brown skin on display. He forced himself to swallow.

“I don’t think it’s so bad.” Kate said quietly, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

Anthony’s mouth fell open, “Not so bad?! Kate, you look incredible!”

“Are you sure?” Her voice was tiny, full of disbelief.

Anthony nodded vigorously, his heart hammering, “Positive. You are wearing this, and then I’m dragging you back here to show you just how beautiful you are.”

And finally her lips ticked upwards in a smirk, “Well, in that case, we better get going.”

And Anthony probably wasn’t as embarrassed as he should have been, standing with Miles in his carrier strapped to his front, Edmund lounging in a chair nearby as he told a production assistant,

“That’s my wife!” His chest puffing a little proudly as he watched Kate in front of the camera. “We have two children.” He gestured at his sons.

“Congratulations, Mr Bridgerton.” The assistant said, biting back a smile.

“You’ll have to excuse my husband,” Kate called out apologetically, “He gets a little excited.”

“Yes, I do, when my wife looks like a goddess!”

She rolled her eyes, not quite able to hide his smile.

“I’m glad you two are as sweet as you seem on Tv.” The assistant whispered, “I voted for you.”

“They’re embarrassing is what they are!” Edmund called back, and Anthony didn’t have it in him to care a jot.

#a crumpled up piece of paper #kathony #anthony x kate #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #kate sheffield #molly’s asks and answers #simone ashley

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mah-gah-lee · 4 years ago

Text

What a weird family reunion Reggie x Reader (xLuke)

gif originally posted by @jatpsource

Word Count: 3515 words

Summary: You’re Reggie’s little sister. You were 3 when he died. You’re now a ghost for a decade. One night, you recognize your brother and jumped into him to an unexpected family reunion. How is it going to happen? Will Reggie believe you? In a mysterious way, that’s Luke who help you to convinced Reggie.

Warnings: cuss (language), mention of death, mention of divorce, mention of drugs

A/N: This is my first fic about jatp characters. Hope you’ll enjoy! keep in mind that french is my first language, so i’m so sorry if there’s some mistakes in my fic

disclaimer: It takes place during episodes 6 and 7. I do not take into account the possibility of a Juke. The chemistry while they sing is there but no romantic feelings.

Tagged: @asdfghjkl-fanfics @standingtalllove

_______

Losing a child is the worst thing a parent could live, losing two is unimaginable. It’s seems being 17 years old was a new malediction in Peters family.

You were 3 when your older brother, Reginald, died in a weird hot dog accident. At that point, your parents were literally a fight away from a divorce but never did it because of you. You were too young to be in a divided family, according to them. But Reggie's death separated them for good. Yet they really tried to support each other, to overcome that and give you all the attention you needed. But your mother overprotected you and made you live in the shadow of your late brother. Your dad couldn't stand it. And when they finally divorce, moving out from reggie’s childhood house, you went to live with your dad.

Even though you were too young to form a strong bond with your brother, in a way you missed him. Your mother’s house was full of pictures of him, some of his clothes were still in a room, dedicated to him. When you visited your mother, you didn’t understand why you always found yourself in this room. You were drawn like a magnet to the comforting room. Reggie’s presence in this new house brought you such a sense of security that your mother had repeatedly found you asleep on a pile of your brother’s T-shirts.

And then you died in 2009. Kanye West had interrupted Taylor Swift's speech at the VMAs, Miley Cyrus hadn't gone crazy yet and One Direction didn't exist yet. What an era! You didn't know why the great light didn't come looking for you but you were there, as a ghost in 2009. And the time has passed ... You've had your best concerts, the best parties. A forever teenager who couldn't eat, drink or sleep.

And then 2020 came.

…

You were tired of always doing the same thing for over a decade, but you couldn't help but go to every open scene that came up in your beautiful city. It was as if an inexplicable force was pushing you to go there.

This evening was no exception to the rule and you were in a very hip little bar in the city center. You wore one of those sleeveless, gray crop tops with high waisted pants, your leather jacket draped over your shoulders. Your eyes were directly drawn to a group of girls in colorful costumes. You couldn't help but roll your eyes. It's been 10 years since you died and it seemed to you that these girls looked like the same plagues that ruined the lives of so many teenagers in your time. You put on an expression of disgust when they all took the stage, but when the music started you couldn't help but admit it was pretty catchy. However, you didn't expect a ghost to appear in the middle of the stage, improvising a choreography. Was that part of the show?

But looking at the audience's non-reaction, you knew it wasn't. The ghost disappeared for the first time, and your gaze sought directly the distinctive light source of another apparition in the room. Your gaze lingered on a small group of three boys - the blond boy included - and two girls. You have wrinkled your eyes to better distinguish the teenagers, and your face expressed confusion.

“Reggie? “

You wanted to go see him so badly. You were pretty sure it was your brother but it all came too fast. The moment you decided to walk towards them, the organizer announced a new band.

“Okay, looks like we're close the night out with one more group…Julie and the fat ones.”

What was that for a name? Your attention had been diverted and when you looked back at the group, the boys had disappeared as one of the young girls took the stage. Your heart was beating so fast. You couldn't go wrong; you had seen so many pictures at your mother's house that it was impossible that this boy was not your brother. But you missed your chance…

Julie started to sing and your eyes were captivated, as much as your ears were. This kid was so talented! When she sang a rather high note, the tension in the room charged into electricity. The next second, the young singer was joined by the group of boys you had seen in her company. Appearing distinctly as the ghosts did. On drums there was the blond boy you had seen dancing a few moments earlier, on the electric guitar, a boy with tousled brown hair who seemed slightly familiar to you ... and on bass, with a flannel shirt, there was your brother ... Reggie was there, identical to the photos you had admired so much.

The bar was on fire as Julie and The Phantoms performed. What a sick name for a group made up of two-thirds of ghosts! The song was so catchy that your heart beat to the sound of the music. But your eyes did not leave your brother, you were unable to move, frozen in place. What should you do ? Will you introduce yourself after the performance? And, what would you say? "Hey hi Reggie, I'm your sister, I died ten years ago and you twenty-five years ago. Unbelievable, right?! Nice to see you again" And once again, before you knew it, the song was over and the boys were gone again, leaving Julie alone on stage in the bewilderment of the many people in the facility.

“for God's sake, where are they?”

You didn't want to miss it anymore. Even though the whole situation was strange, you wanted to see your brother again.

Your eyes flew over the room before seeing the scene play out before your eyes. Julie seemed petrified in front of a man. The boys watched in amazement and as Julie left with what appeared to be her father, you rushed over to the group of three musicians before they disappeared again.

“omg please don't poof out again.” You said almost out of breath

The boys looked at you like you were crazy before the guitarist jumped off the bar counter, bursting with energy.

"Wait, you can see us?"

“as much as when mister "all eyes on me" made his performance”, you were pointing your head at the blond boy.

The group looked at each other in puzzlement and Reggie finally spoke, his blue eyes full of mischief.

“So…hi there cutie, how can we help you?”

Your face expressed disgust and you stuck your tongue out mimicking vomiting.

Luke gave Alex an amused smile, seeing Reggie flirting and your spontaneous reaction. The bassist couldn't help but charm the pretty ladies.

“Wow Reggie, that's gross ... you're my brother.”

Reggie burst out laughing at your response, not noticing that you called him by his first name when he hadn't even introduced himself to you yet.

“Yeah right, for sure. You just could tell me you weren’t interested. But I’m charming...”

It was the first time he had been given such an excuse but you looked so serious that he stopped dead in his tracks as Luke and Alex watched you. They always knew Reggie had a sister. But the scene unfolding before their eyes seemed impossible. (Y / N) was so young when they died and now must have been around 28, something like that. But the girl in front of them was a teenager, their age. How was this possible?

You didn't want to drop the information like that. It was worse than anything you could have imagined. But it had escaped you. Now he didn't take you seriously. Your eyes were wet with tears. It was scary to find you in front of your brother for the first time as a ghost teenager. Luke looked panicked when he noticed your eyes, squeezing Reggie's shoulder as you seemed to beg.

“Can I ... can I meet you in a quieter time please, Reginald?”

Your brother's eyes widened as Luke's hug on his shoulder tightened a bit. The eagerness and desperation in your voice had made both boys react, Alex was just looking at all of you like all of this wasn't real. The use of Reggie's name made him tense, surprised. Few called him Reginald. In fact, only his family, and the boys when they wanted to annoy him, called him that way. And although his nickname is obvious enough to deduce his

full first name, he deeply felt that you weren't just anyone.

He seemed a little panicked and looked around for his friends to support him. As if the solution would fall by itself just by the presence of Luke and Alex.

“Okay, but I want Luke and Alex’s there! What about tomorrow? I’ll give you the address!”

Wow, that was quick.

“hm, yeah, yeah sure, as you want”

You nodded and Reggie silently slipped a note to the drummer. Alex took a pen, write something on a paper towel and gave it to you. You weren’t surprise, you also can make some tricks. And you just had the time to thanks them before they poofted again.

…

The next day, you landed in front of Julie's garage. Lucky she's at school because you shouldn't be explaining your presence, so she managed to see you the way she saw boys.

Before entering, you peeked out the window and frowned. There seemed to be only Luke so far. He was leaning over the piano, his head in a notebook. Your body went through part of the garage door and you cleared your throat.

“hmm, hi ... i came to see Reggie ..”

Luke instantly raised his head and you caught his attention.

“oh uh, hi! He should be here soon, come in.….”

Silence felt as Luke motioned for you to sit on the couch. It was a rather pleasant studio; the plants gave a warm atmosphere to the room and the music set sent you good vibes.

"Does your girlfriend mind that I'm here? I mean, that seems to be your HQ"

"girlfriend?"

"The girl you sing with" I simply said.

"Julie? Um, yeah, she's not my girlfriend. She-sh-she’s great and we have this powerful connection but…not, not in a romantic way. Music tied us. Music and friendship "

Luke chuckled lightly as he scratched his head. You were surprised they weren't dating. Yesterday the tension was intense. He seemed authentic when he had continued his momentum. You let out a smile amused by so much overflow.

“It's okay, I don't need to know your full relationship statute or your social security number.”

The guitarist gave you a frank smile, his eyes twinkling with amusement. For a ghost, his gaze was really alive.

“ I’m Luke, by the way”

"Y / N… Re .."

"Reggie's little sister… I-I remember you a little."

"You look familiar to me. Maybe I saw you in a few pictures with Reggie."

Silence fell and you started to feel anxious. Maybe it was a bad idea? You had grown up since Reggie died ... were you still his little sister after all? Luke seemed to notice your dismay and put a comforting hand on your knee.

“hey, is something bothering you?”

“What if he doesn't believe me ... if he definitely thinks I'm not his sister.”

“Let's be honest, it's a little hard to believe. The last time I saw you, you were three years old.”

It was as if the memories flooded into your mind and let you carried away in your words.

“Yeah, you gave me this teddy bear with a guitar and told Reggie you wanted to be my favorite.”

Luke chuckled slightly before staring at you, speechless. He seemed dazed. This anecdote dates back to twenty-five years anyway. He himself had a hard time remembering it until you said it a few seconds earlier.

“what was the smell of the stuffed animal?” he asked, confused about that funny fact

“sorry, what?”

“the plush, what did it smell like?”

“hot waffle, why?”

“okay ... maybe you are his sister ... tell me more about what you remember”

You looked at him with a puzzled expression. Everything had been so natural before he stopped in all the movements. And now, it was hard to think about for the memories you had of Reggie on demand. The teddy bear given by Luke story had slipped out of your mind without you realizing it. As your brain seemed to boil, the fog of your thoughts cleared.

“can I use your guitar?”

“hell no ... why?” Luke exclaimed with far too much anticipation

“I have this lullaby stuck inside of my head ... I think Reggie sang it to me when I was a child”

Your pleading and desperate gaze fell on Luke who categorically refused to let you take his guitar. He ends up grabbing his six acoustic strings, terminated. There was something about you that made him weak.

“Maybe you can teach me but ... my guitar is my guitar, nobody touches it.”

You nodded and the lead singer moved closer to you. You were stunned by its smell, like a distant memory. Luke had definitely been a part of your life before he died, you were sure of that. You leaned over her shoulder, humming the lullaby that was left in your head. It didn't take long for him to find the right chords. Luke continued several times before you stopped singing, looking at him intently.

“that's exactly it ... this lullaby”

You both looked at each other, an indecipherable expression in your eyes. You both jumped at the sound of the garage door. Reggie appeared with Alex.

"Ready to compose hellish songs! oh did I interrupt something?”

"No, no I was there to see you. I guess you have a lot of questions."

"hell yeah, can we start from the beginning?"

You smiled to approve his request. The boys settled down on the sofa, while you sat down on one of the single armchairs. And the flow of questions began

“When are you born?”

“(your birthday date) 1992” you simply answered.

“What’s your name?”

(y/n) (y/m/n) Peters

It’s seemed to convinced a little Reggie but doubt was all over his face. It was information you could easily get on the internet nowadays.

“What’s my favorite food?”

“Pizza, mom said your favorite was the extra cheese with pepperoni”

“And what was my favorite toy?”

“I freaking don’t know, how can I suppose to known that?”

“ah ah!” he pointed the finger at you, as if that answer was proof that you were lying. It broke your heart but you didn't show it.

Instead, you rolled your eyes and Reggie kept going to ask you some question. Of course, you would have liked to have answered his questions correctly. Your mother told you some anecdotes about him but not to the point of knowing all the details.

“What’s the most terrible thing I said to my mom?”

“Omg I don’t fucking know! I was 3 when you’re died, asshole!”

Luke smiled when you exploded. Reggie was Reggie, as weird as possible. Now you were angry and desperate. Your brother didn’t believe you and he kept dragging you into this miserable feeling that you were never going to get your brother back. You had spent your short life living with a faint memory of him. Your blankie was one of his t-shirts, his voice reasoned in your head when you couldn’t sleep.

But then, in front of him, you were a stranger to him. Your heart was bruised from not being able to hug him and to finally meet this brother who had left far too soon.

“Okay, okay… So, how can you proof me you’re really my sister?! “

In the room’s corner, Luke looked at you, you looked desperate, about to cry again. He grabbed his guitar and cleared his throat. Reggie turned to him as the guitarist still had his eyes on you, a heartwarming smile hanging across his face. You had managed to convince him in a few minutes. He felt connected to you and the things you told him were disturbing. You could only be Reggie's sister; it was impossible otherwise.

"Hey…What about the song you told me earlier." he said with a soft and comfort voice

Your eyes caught his gaze, grateful for the initiative. You nodded and Luke started playing the few notes you had taught him a few minutes earlier. It was so different from all the songs the brunette could play before. It was a lullaby, such easy children's music with just a few notes. Of course, the band wasn’t supposed to play when Julie wasn’t in the room but, Luke had thought it was the best thing to do to encourage you to keep going. He didn’t know why, but he wanted Reggie to believe you. Luke believed you, hard as nails. There only had to look at your eyes to understand this reality, and Luke had noticed that. You had the same blue eyes as your brother. How could Reggie still doubt that? You started to sing

You're so sleepy

Very much sleepy

You want to go to the fairyland

You close your eyes

And jump into your dream.

When you'll wake up

I’ll still be on your team.

The instant Reggie heard the first notes, he knew. But hearing you sing the lullaby he had invented for you when you didn't want to sleep as a child, was a magical moment. You were his baby sister. He gave you that sad little puppy face, so overwhelmed. Reggie opened his arms and you jumped into a hug, so glad he finally accepted the fact that you were his sister.

You felt oddly safe again, like taking a nap in Reggie's pile of old t-shirts. You were so happy to find your brother and to be able to live your non-life by his side. Nothing would be as boring as it used to be. Reggie pushed you away with a concerned look

"but wait ... how did you die?"

"Yeah ... I don't really know ... I was at a really, really good rock concert and I bought this drink ... and I think I got drugged up there and ... I guess I'm dead? tadaa " you tried to tell him in a light tone.

He had just learned that he had a little sister. He didn't have to know that she was sneaking out at rock concerts and drinking alcohol before she was old enough. Right? Alex looked at Luke and Reggie with his half amused half confused smile. As for Luke, he fidgeted from foot to foot at the discovery. Y / N was as much rock and roll as they all were. Rebellion had to be his middle name

You loosened Reggie's embrace and lowered your head, pursing your lips so as not to show your embarrassment. He asked if you wanted snacks and you nodded. There was a slight silence. You didn't notice the urgent look Luke gave Alex but the next moment the blond jumped up to accompany the bassist, leaving you alone in the garage with the lead singer.

The silences were a little longer until Luke cautiously approached you. You could feel the awkwardness from miles away.

“ Sooo, you made this.”

“ yeah ...” you answered in a shy voice

It was the moment you had to thank him but your words seemed frozen. You mustered all the courage to plant your gaze in Luke's eyes.

“Thank you ... for helping me earlier.”

“oh it was nothing”.

“I ... yes, yes it was. You can't imagine how important seeing Reggie again is to me. Thanks for ... for helping me open his eyes.”

A slight smile caught his lips and he reached for your cheek before stopping his gesture. Instead of stroking your skin, he simply put a section of your hair back behind your ear.

“I would do anything for my best friends.”

And Reggie was definitely one of Luke’s best friend. You hardly swallowed, your stomach contorting under the effect that the guitarist made you. Time had seemed to fly at an incredible speed as the moment was interrupted by Reggie and Alex coming back to you.

“OMG LUKE DON’T FLIRT WITH MY SISTER, SHE’S 3!”

You cleared your throat and stepped aside to pull yourself away from Luke as far as possible. Your gaze fell on your brother and you raised an eyebrow at the last remark. 3 years old, really? You were 3 years old twenty-five years ago ... now you were eternally a teenager

“I’m seventeen.”

“Listen, i'm your big brother, you’re three, end of discussion.”

Your face wanted to laugh and you pursed your lips to keep from succumbing. But your eyes… Your eyes met Luke's in a complicity that slowly settled. Could you fall in love with your big brother's best friend? Definitely yes...

#jatp #jatp cast #jatp cast x reader #jatp imagines #jatp fic #julie molina #luke patterson #alex mercer #reggie peters #reggie x reader #reggie peters x reader #luke patterson x reader #charlie gillespie #jeremy shada #writing #owen patrick joyner #madison reyes

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