#if she says anger doesn’t suit you and you reply crying doesn’t suit her……. what then | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ptergwen · 4 years ago

Note

Hi val! Got a request, it's okay if you don't wanna write it, but can you write about peter telling the reader he's going on a huge mission and he's excited about it but the reader is so worried they end up arguing? But when peter gets back from mission all bruised, the reader is still upset but dresses his wound anyway and it ends up with fluff??

abort mission

w/c: 2.4k

warnings: mentions of blood, swearing, and angst

a/n: woah woah woah i ended up writing way more than i expected but i loved this request so much :,) i hope you do too

“we’re staying in this, like, super fancy castle while we’re there. it’s gonna be awesome,” peter rambles to you. he takes all the clean shirts in his drawer and throws them into a suitcase.

he’s packing for a mission in europe with the avengers, and you’re here to say goodbye. you’ve been pretty quiet while peter gives you as many details as he’s allowed to. it’s always an honor when the team invites him on. he gets so stoked about it. you’re happy he’s happy and gets to pursue his passion, but you’ve noticed a pattern.

every time peter leaves the country with earth’s mightiest heroes, he comes back in worse condition than the last. it seems like they protect everyone except peter. he’s oblivious to the fact that the end result is always his suffering. he’s just glad to be there. really, he gets nothing in return except scars that never heal, not even a permanent spot on the team.

so, you’re not thrilled he agreed to go.

“plus, i get to miss two weeks of school.” peter beams, getting onto his knees to zip the suitcase. “feels like a vacation almost.” “you like school, though,” you remind him. you’re sat at the edge of his bed while you watch, rather than help. he hops up again with a shrug. “i like vacations more.” “it’s not a vacation,” you mutter to yourself, then speak up.

“how are you gonna catch up? that’s a lot of missing assignments.” with that same innocent smile, peter walks over to you. he grabs both your hands and laces your fingers together. “i’m a fast learner. besides, ned said he’d help me.” you sigh, looking down at the floor so you don’t have to look at peter. “or, you could. make it into a little study date when i get back,” he suggests while playing with your fingers.

“i don’t even want you to go,” you finally admit and meet his sparkling eyes. nothing could ever dull them. “why not? you’re gonna miss me?” peter teases, pressing a couple of kisses to your palm. “you don’t have to. i’m pretty sure france has wifi.” he wiggles his eyebrows. “oui oui, mademoiselle, eh?” despite yourself, you giggle at his french accent and tug on his hands. he sits down next to you with a chuckle.

“nat has been giving me lessons,” peter explains, you quirking an eyebrow. “she speaks french?” “she speaks a lot of languages, actually. she’s so cool.” peter scoots closer to you and sets his hands on your waist, his voice dropping. “you’d love her.” your face twists up in confusion at the idea.

you don’t have anything against the avengers, obviously. they’re good people. you’re just not the biggest fan of them at the moment, considering the circumstances they’ve put peter under.

“peter, i don’t want you to go,” you repeat more seriously than before. your teeth sink into your lower lip. “and, it’s not because i’ll miss you.” “none taken,” peter jokes, implying there should’ve been a no offense. he then realizes how distressed you look, so he cuts it out. “sorry, sorry. i’m done now. how come?”

you take his hand again and hold it tight. “what if you get hurt?” you ask in the nicest way possible, out of care. “i don’t wanna see you hurting, pete. this mission sounds really... dangerous.” he runs his thumb over the back of your hand, his grin faltering a bit. “it is, but i’m ready for it. i’ll be fine.”

you’re not convinced yet. that line he likes to overuse isn’t enough to do the trick.

his eyes searching for yours, peter brushes a piece of your hair back. “have a little faith in me, babe.” “no, i... i do. i have the most faith in you, peter.” you find yourself frowning as he twirls your locks around his finger. “that’s not the problem.” peter’s voice becomes a whisper. “what is it, then? talk to me.”

you do the opposite because you’re afraid you’ll upset him further, which is the last thing he needs right now. your silence prompts peter to fill it. “would it make you feel better if i say mr. stark is keeping an eye on me?” he’s smiling sheepishly, you scoffing. “oh, like he kept an eye on you in amsterdam?”

the only eye related activity that happened there was peter almost losing one of his. he’d come back with an eyepatch and couldn’t see out of it for over a month. to this day, there’s still a bit of blood in it when you look close enough.

“i already told you, that was my fault,” peter grumbles, turning so he faces forward. “i didn’t listen to him-“ “who gives a shit? he’s the one who put you in that situation!” you blurt out. you’ve been way too patient this whole time, and now you’re reaching your breaking point. “you say that like i didn’t wanna be there.” peter clenches his jaw, still mostly calm.

“either way, mr. stark,” you mock what peter always calls him, “was supposed to keep you safe, and he didn’t. i’m scared it’s gonna happen again.” letting out a noise close to a growl, peter stands up from the bed. “you’re not listening to me, y/n. everything was fine. i just-“ you’re not in the mood to hear him make excuses, so you interrupt.

“do you know any other sixteen year olds who fight literal terrorists on their free time?” you rhetorically ask and get to your own feet. peter tries to walk away from you, only you follow him. “you’re a kid, peter, in case you forgot.” he spins around to give you a nasty look. “do you know any other sixteen year olds who stick to fucking walls?”

your heart starts to race from his sudden outburst. he’s scary when he’s mad, and he almost never gets mad at you. all you can do is blink dumbly. “didn’t think so,” peter spits. “this is what i’m supposed to do, help people. is that so wrong?” his breathing becomes ragged as his anger grows.

“what about you? are you helping yourself?” you speak softly, expecting an answer this time. “you’re not my fucking therapist, y/n,” he deflects the question. “i am your girlfriend, though. i care about you so much, you know that.” eyebrows furrowed in concern, you reach out for peter. he takes a step back. it doesn’t take long for tears to cloud your vision.

“i was excited to share this with you, and i thought you’d be happy for me.” peter balls his hands into fists at his sides. his voice stays low. “instead, you made it all about yourself. you can never let me enjoy team stuff.” you’re speechless, peter nodding as he lets his words sit. “thanks for the support.”

“you’re an asshole,” you laugh out bitterly and wipe under your eyes.

he didn’t mean to make you cry. he was so caught up in himself, he didn’t realize you were.

peter’s whole demeanor changes. “y/n, baby...” he attempts to put a hand on your cheek, but you hit it away. “get off of me. what did i just say?” you sniffle, your tone harsh in contrast. “you’re an asshole, peter.” he changes his mind about feeling bad. you’ve berated him way more than he did you, anyway.

“you should go. i have to be up early,” peter decides, even though he’d said you could stay the night. whatever, you don’t want to anymore. “fine,” you agree shortly. “i’m leaving.” he stands there while you collect your things, shoving them into your bag. you’re going slow enough so he has a chance to stop you. he doesn’t.

you pass by him on your way to his door, sucking in a breath. here’s your official goodbye. “see you later, peter. don’t die.” “mhm, i won’t,” he replies, his tongue poking at his cheek. with one more shared look between you two, you make your grand exit, no doubt informing may of her nephew’s behavior before you’re gone.

peter immediately regrets the way he talked to you, and that you’re leaving things like this. you were only trying to protect him. you’ll never be able to save the city like he does, so this is how you do it. he truly is an asshole for not seeing that.

frustration consuming him, peter kicks over his fully stuffed suitcase, its contents spilling out. he grits his teeth.

“fan-fucking-tastic.”

you don’t talk to peter the whole two weeks he’s gone except for some are you alive and yes texts. he’d called you quite a few times, and was sent to voicemail for all of them. he gave you the benefit of the doubt because of timezones.

it was actually because you declined, which peter knew deep down was the real reason.

he’s coming home from his mission today. you’re not sure when or if he plans on dropping by. you’re not sure you’d like him to, either. you don’t really get a choice in the end.

there’s a series of knocks at your window, at some ungodly time in the night. you’re all too familiar with this routine. it’s peter.

you slip out from under your covers, a scowl already painting your face as you go to the window. surely enough, peter is perched in front of it, clad in red and black. the suit must be new because you’ve never seen it. you push up the window and step aside so he can get through.

“thanks,” peter mumbles, climbing into your room less gracefully than usual. he’s sort of wobbly when he lands. “yeah,” you dully acknowledge. “how was france?” “uh, good. you know, lots of cheese and all that.” his voice is muffled from his mask, since he hasn’t taken it off yet. that’s odd. “i was talking about the mission, but cool,” you almost laugh back.

“the mission was... fine,” peter clarifies and scratches the back of his neck. he never describes something as simply being ‘fine.’ when the boy talks, he lectures. you’re starting to get worried. “that’s good. at least you didn’t die, right?” you say to lighten the mood. peter awkwardly chuckles. “haha, yeah. thank god for that.”

you hum and walk over to sit on your bed, peter staying where he is. “what time did you get back?” you wonder, a completely harmless question. “um, this morning,” he says in response, raising your suspicions. “why’re you still in the suit, then?” you squint at him. “i like it, by the way.” “thanks, y/n/n. i, uh,” peter trails off, no good explanations coming to mind.

you’re quickly developing a hunch for what what down. you wordlessly get up again, meeting peter by your window. he’s nervous to see what happens next. peter’s shoulders slump when your fingers land on his mask. you carefully lift it, revealing his face to you. his banged up, bloody face.

“surprise.” peter musters up a grin, you tossing the mask at his chest. you’re beyond angry now. it’s not at him, athough it is at his injuries. “please don’t be mad,” he nearly begs, you shaking your head. you go to leave your room for some space. peter’s fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you back. “i should’ve listened to you, okay? i’m sorry,” he genuinely apologizes.

you still don’t say anything while you look over his beaten body. there’s a gash with stitches in it on his chin, a deep slice across the bridge of his nose, cuts littering his cheeks. he’s even got a busted lip for good measure. this might be the worst condition he’s let you see him in.

“you were right, y/n. i think... i think i’m gonna sit the next one out. it’s too much for me, clearly,” peter continues, fingers sliding down to lock with yours. “you should say you told me so.” “how... how did this happen?” you manage to get out instead. “the bad guy fought me,” he says with the hint of a smirk. “i won, though.”

it’s a relief that he’s handling this so well, even earning a laugh from you. that puts you more at ease.

“this is probably a dumb question, but are you okay?” you brush your thumb over peter’s cheekbone gently, avoiding his scratches. “not really. my face hurts a lot, and flash is gonna tease the hell out of me on monday.” his lips form a line, arms looping around your waist. it’s very much welcomed by you.

“you just spent two weeks trying not to die, and you’re worried about flash?” you snicker and draw a heart on his skin. peter shrugs a shoulder. “he’s so mean to me.” he brings you in closer to him. “besides, this is the normal kid stuff i should be focusing on.” you’re glad he finally came to terms with that. you’ve been saying it for the longest time.

you smile wickedly at him. “exactly. so is all that homework you have to make up.” peter lets out a breathy laugh, you laying your head on his chest. “i missed you,” he tells you quietly. “really wish i could kiss you right now.” “i missed you too, pete. so much,” you murmur into him. your hands settle on his biceps. “and, i forgive you.” “thanks, baby,” peter exhales.

“of course. once your lips are healed,” you pull back from his chest, making a kissing noise. “pucker up, lover- oh my god.” you’re looking up at him with wild eyes. peter gets reasonably startled from it. “what? what’s wrong?” “you... you’re bleeding!” you point at his stitches. he winces, touching the spot. there’s blood, alright.

“crap. do you have a bandaid or something?” peter gives you an apologetic smile. “mr. stark said i should cover them when this happens.” maybe, tony isn’t so bad after all. you nod and take him by his hand. “yeah, in the bathroom. come with me.”

peter sits on the edge of your bathtub while you patch up his chin. he tells you more about the fun parts of his mission, you placing the cinderella bandaid over his gash. you have those from a while ago and also regular ones. however, he preferred the princess design.

“you saw the real mona lisa? like, in person? that’s insane.” you grin, smoothing down peter’s bandaid one last time. “yeah, she’s even prettier up close.” peter returns the smile. “thanks for taking care of me, y/n. i swear i don’t deserve you sometimes.” now pouting at him, you crouch down so you’re at his level. “it’s the other way around, peter.”

“let’s just agree to disagree,” he concludes and tucks a stray hair behind your ear. “i love you, okay?” “i love you, too.” you press a light kiss to his bandaid, getting a giggle from peter.

yeah, it’s going to be hell finding replacements for his lips.

#peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker angst #peter parker smut #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland smut

865 notes · View notes

darthmaulification · 3 years ago

Note

Hey! Can I please make a request for a short Drabble where reader is Grogu’s nanny aboard the Razor Crest and Din develops a crush on her, but once he and the reader start visiting Grogu at Jedi School on weekends, Luke develops a crush as well? Doesn’t have to end up with either, but I would like to see either guy’s rivalry and slight jealousy (with Reader’s obliviousness).

A/N: ... okay so, i really got into the whole crush aspect of your request, anon, and this basically became a romantic prose piece. when i looked back to see what you had initially wanted, my product was... about thrice removed from the original prompt. 💀

i think i got some of the points??? like there’s din and luke and they’re both in love with reader and they both have a bit of rivalry with the other and basically that’s what matters??? please forgive me, anon, the ghost of sappho took my body over and forced me to write yearning love poetry!! 🙏 sis forced my hand!! 😭

though if there’s enough interest for it, i can always make a follow up for this, like from reader’s perspective, and write something a lil more in depth (once i get requests finished up that is). 😊

hope you enjoy! 💗

content: nothing but din and luke pining for reader, gn!reader (for the most part), use of she/her pronouns, fluff, but also a smidgen of angst 👁👁, perspective difference!!, kind of a commentary on mandalorian and jedi culture?? (mostly jedi culture lmao)

word count: 1,524

You’re beautiful.

He sees it now how your face lights up like candles being lit when his son succeeds at doing another one of his Jedi tricks. Joy illuminates your face like a spotlight, your soft cheers and kind praise make the whole room warmer. Din watches Grogu leap into your arms, cooing and squealing like he’s been given candy. It makes Din’s heart leap when you kiss his son on the head, and smile so warmly it’s like your lips become sunshine.

Din is infinitely grateful for his helmet in this moment, his face feels like it’s been too close to a fire. His fingers pick at a fraying stitch on his gloves, to prevent his hands from shaking in his lap. He hopes that the Jedi, who is standing casually across the room near you and Grogu, doesn’t notice. Din hopes you don’t notice what you’re doing to him.

I’m in love.

The sentence slips through the cracks of his thoughts the way a sunrise peeks over the horizon. You look over at him, holding up Grogu triumphantly in your hands like you would a prize, and he sucks in a breath because suddenly it feels like all he can see is you. You and Grogu, you and his son.

Please be my riduur.

“Did you see that? Wasn’t it amazing?” And Din forces himself to dip his head in a slight nod, because the Jedi is also looking at him with piercing blue eyes the color of the sky. His heart pounding, and when you laugh, and it sounds like summertime when everything is good and happy.

People love, he thinks as he stares at you, and suddenly his palms are sweaty and he feels the need to tap his foot, but Mandalorians love harder.

I dream about you every night, think about you when I lie awake. You’re always holding sunflowers, and the nightmares don’t touch me then.

Mandalorians love like there is nothing else in the universe more valuable, nothing more precious, not their vibroblades, their blasters, or even their beskar.

Giving up a blaster and a vibroblade in order to save you from that hut’uun came to me like breathing, I didn’t even think about it... I would’ve given up my beskar’gam too. I still would.

Mandalorians love with their souls laid bare, they love with their entire body, they love with sacred vows, exchanged beskar rings, their riduur’s name engraved on their hal’cabur, above their heart.

When you slept beside me one night, I whispered the entire marriage vow to you in Mando’a. You looked so peaceful bathed in the light of the moon, the silvery glow making you look holy. I’ll admit, it came out mostly accidentally, but it felt so normal, natural even. I wish you hadn’t been asleep.

Mandalorians love in spite of death, they love in the face of it. They love like warriors.

I had gotten shot. All I remember is you holding me in your arms, hands pressed over the wound. I was in pain, and you were crying, covered in blood and dirt, but you were so warm. I’m still unsure if I had actually said what I think I said:

“I care about you too much to leave you.”

He wants to tell you all of this, but he’s never been much of a romantic, or much of a speaker in general, so the words falter on his tongue each time he’s tried. And Din’s tried so many times. You say something to the Jedi, and it makes a sudden, surprising fury bubble in his chest, the vile rising to his throat. Din has to bite his tongue to hold back from shouting:

Don’t talk to her, di’kut jetii! You are undeserving of her words, of her time, of her presence. Unworthy! You can’t give her what I can, shabuir.

You look over at him again, and the hot anger dies completely, leaving him powerless before you. Din felt this way each time he’s tried to tell you how much you mean to him.

I love you, cyare.

It feels like your eyes are boring holes straight through his beskar, through his flight suit, singing his skin with their warmth. Din bites his cheek so hard he tastes copper.

You smile. It’s like the dawn.

You are the sun— His sun— of his universe, and his eyes burn from the light.

Din basks in the rays, and his heartbeat starts to slow to it’s normal, steady rhythm.

Tomorrow. I’ll tell you tomorrow.

You’re beautiful.

He sees it now in how your entire expression blooms into one of pure joy when his padawan successfully levitates the crates. It radiates in your aura, the waves of mirth traveling further than your respectfully quiet cheers and meaningful praise. Luke watches as the child leaps into your embrace, babbling without forming any actual words. Something inside Luke lurches when you place a kiss on Grogu’s head, and when your vibrant smile dissolves his willpower.

Luke draws the Force in on himself, welcoming the sturdiness it brings. He tries to ignore how his palm has gotten sweaty, but he clenches his hand into a fist and hastily relaxes it. Focus, let in calmness like a breeze. Luke hopes that the Mandalorian, sitting stiff and looming on a far bench, doesn’t notice his moment of vulnerability. He pulls the Force closer, and hopes you don’t notice what you’re doing to him.

I’m in love.

The thought springs up in his mind the way shoots of new grass breach top soil in spring time. You glance over at him as you lift the child, and the look is as quick and fleeting as blossoms on trees, but it floats in the Force like dandelion seeds, and Luke is painfully aware of how consuming you are.

Please don’t do this to me.

“Did you see that? Wasn’t it amazing?” And Luke catches your eye, offering you the smallest smile he can afford without it breaking. You look to the Mandalorian, and Luke follows your gaze because he can’t compel himself to do much else. The Mandalorian’s visor is dark like the night, and flashes when he nods his head. Luke feels his heart sink when he senses it from him, a yearning so deep he nearly drowns in it.

People love, Luke thinks and he feels all at once envious and angry and so achingly acquiescent, because Jedi cannot.

I swore by the Code years ago, but I look at you and doubt it all. It can’t be that I’m this willing to rethink everything.

Jedi are forbidden from having attachments, they cannot pursue romantic interests. Love leads to passion, and it all is an influence of the Dark. Luke knows this. He’s fallen to it before.

I’ve spent decades forgetting how deeply I cared for him! But I am reminded daily of my father, every time I look in the mirror, I see his eyes. How dare you pull me back into this cruel trap! I can’t do this again.

Luke contains himself. Jedi value peace of mind, they extend the sentiment to upholding it in the galaxy as well. They do not do it out of love, but out of obligation, out of honor, because of what’s right. They are not love.

When I first met you it was like I’d seen you before, in a past life. It was like retracing my steps, following the trail backwards, revisiting something I had passed. Despite it all, I had moved forward and took my padawan from you and the Mandalorian, plucked him from you like a petal off a flower. I watched you wilt.

Luke reminds himself. Jedi do not love. Focus is key. The Force is everything.

But you are too.

Luke has to swallow in order to make sure the words never reach his mouth, and it’s like eating thorns. You turn back to him and the look in your eyes is tender like butterfly wings. The pink in your cheeks reminds Luke of windflowers.

“Thank you again, Luke,” His soul shivers when his name sounds in your voice, “It’s so kind of you to teach Grogu.”

As he replies and tells you it’s a pleasure, he almost spills everything to you, but an abruptness shifts the energy of the room. There is a lurking anger that crawls at him through the Force, entwines him like ivies. The Mandalorian fumes, the wrath trembles like billowing leaves. Don’t. Undeserving. Unworthy.

Luke forces himself to agree and squashes down everything, pushing each painful emotion into the deepest parts of him. He watches you look to the Mandalorian, your aura flowers with affection, love.

I love you.

His resolve is fading, again. Luke reminds himself, again. Jedi do not love. Jedi do not love. Jedi do not love.

You smile, and it stings his soul like nettle.

Luke forces himself to ignore that your eyes say different things when they settle on the Mandalorian than they had him. The thought feels like eating bittersweet berries.

Briefly, he revels in what could have been.

It’s for the best.

A/N: i thought i would add another note at the end of this to explain exactly what the heck i was saying with the word soup i just wrote.

first, din is so hopelessly in love with reader that it hurts. like physically makes his heart ache. i feel that when din falls in love, he falls in love. it consumes him. i wrote a lot of sun/light imagery to portray the overwhelming, all-encompassing love din feels for reader. you are the sun that warms him, and burns him.

second, i purposely made luke have an even more tragic, even more conflicted crush on reader, on purpose, hahaha i am evil. 😈 he loves you, but forces himself not to. he tells himself that the jedi code means more. luke chooses to suffer because he knows that’s how it must be. there’s some plant/nature symbolism thrown throughout because that’s just the theme that i thought vibed with luke the most.

and that mention of anakin? i subscribe to the headcanon that luke really did love his dad, and just wanted him in his life, but of course, vader ultimately died. luke took a heavy blow from that, learned it hurts to love.

also, regarding the mini-rivalry that takes place, it’s through the force (if that wasn’t obvious) and it’s essentially another example of luke surrendering his own wants/desires and simultaneously din firmly declaring his love for you. it’s kinda meant to be the “understanding” between the two that clearly establishes who “wins” the reader.

... this was all one giant metaphor, huh?

#star wars #din djarin #luke skywalker #din djarin x reader #luke skywalker x reader #star wars din djarin #star wars luke skywalker #din djarin x you #luke skywalker x you #anon ask #anon #request

223 notes · View notes

1025cherrystreet · 4 years ago

Text

funeral

y/n attends a funeral and feels hopeless after losing her best friend until she meets her late bsf's cousin Harry.

a/n: this is for @harrystylescherry Playlist Fic Challenge!!! this is inspired by the song Funeral by Phoebe Bridgers. i used the name Phoebe in the story but i wasn't picturing Phoebe Bridgers when I was writing that character, i just liked the name and decided to go with it! but, y'all can picture her however y'all like lol. i went from loving this story to hating it, but i hope y'all like it! any feedback is appreciated!! <3

**despite it being surrounded by depressing matters, it's actually a cute and fluffy story lol! just wanted to point that out because i, myself, kinda avoid reading sad stories

warnings: a LOT of talk about death and dying and funerals, mentions depression/depressive episode?, mentions drugs and alcohol, swearing. i'm ceo of rushing the ending, soz <3 (also, gave up on proofreading lmao)

word count: 8k+ (this is the longest piece i've ever written lol)

Y/N has this dream. Where she's screaming underwater while her friends are waving at her from the shore. She's desperately calling for them, hoping and waiting for them to help, but, seemingly, her friends can't hear... and can't help. Submerged beneath the thrashing waters, her wails fall silent; her familiars deaf to her pleads. The more she struggles to get to the surface for air, the deeper she sinks. Her friends just waving at her as she drifts to the bottom. Every time she jolts awake from these dreams in a sweat stained bed and sticky clothes, she decides to brush it off. Not wanting to think about the problems she needs to face or what she needs to work on. Always concluding that she doesn't need anyone to tell her what it means or overanalyze her life through misplaced visions. Deciding to not believe assumptions made from vague, painful pictures.

As the familiar sinking feeling in her chest starts yet again, Y/N snaps her eyes up at the casket as the sound of her best friend's mother releasing a heart wrenching sob catches her focus.

The contrast of the white roses that lay on top of Phoebe's mahogany stained casket almost glow in the evening light, seeming like a mock to such a somber evening. The way the living looks so effervescent and bright, casting shadows on the less fortunate. The dead never celebrated in such light but rather mourned in dim grief and sadness.

Y/N doesn't like funerals, and not just because her best friend of 10 years is the recipient of this one. She's never cared for them. Believing they're just an excuse to get over the one they are to be honoring, they carry a stigma that everyone in attendance has to cry or you're seen as heartless, while the people who were never close to the deceased are presumed fake for showing emotion. Y/N thinks they're a big joke... with a cruel, cruel punchline.

The sound of despondent music playing and cries ring throughout the cemetery as Phoebe's casket is lowered six feet into the ground. The unchecked emotions start to boil inside of Y/N. Anger boiling deep inside of her quickly reaching its point, anger that stems from betrayal, that stems from hurt, that stems from...loss. She quietly scoffs, shaking her head with a stone cold look, before quickly getting up and walking away from the ceremony as her late friend's uncle, Bill, wraps up his poor excuse of a eulogy.

Phoebe wouldn't have wanted this. She wouldn't have wanted people to cry over her casket, stuck laying in a padded box while people who don't even know the real her, speak of her existence like they were the best of friends. They weren't. She was. Y/N was her best friend. These people don't... didn't know her like Y/N does. It's all bullshit.

In Y/N's quick pace away from the tent around the damp open ground, she spots a bigger gravestone with a stone bench built into it and takes a seat.

She inhales deeply, taking a moment to herself to look up at the sky. The clouds that overcast part of the blue sky drifting farther away from the graveyard as the sun starts making its way to set. She breathes in, the delightful scent of honeysuckle and dewy grass filling her nose before it's tainted by fumes of petrol from the road just on the other side of the cemetery gates behind her. It's so unfair; why of all people did Phoebe have to-

"It's all a joke," A deep accent says to her left.

She almost jumps out of her seat when she turns to the man who took the empty spot next to her. Jesus Christ, where the fuck did he come from? she thinks to herself. He had brown curly hair and green eyes (well, thinking green from what she can gather staring at the side of his face), wearing a black suit with a black button up shirt underneath. Rings clad his fingers and the sunset gleam shines off his cross necklace. She stares wide-eyed at him for a few moments before shaking her head to get out of her daze.

"Huh?" She says when she realizes he had spoken before.

"It's all a big joke," He repeats himself, the British accent more noticeable this time around. His head faced towards the funeral, having not spared a glance at her once this whole time.

She settles back into her seat, shifting her gaze to match his with the group of mourning people in the distance.

"Yeah." Y/N sighs in agreement.

The two of them sit in silence for a moment before Y/N decides to speak. Thinking to herself that if anyone would listen to her thoughts, a man who's also ditching the shitty eulogy would be her best bet.

"They all talk about her as if she was God." She chuckles humorlessly.

He scoffs with a small smirk, "Far from it."

Another wave of silence crashes over them, before Y/N breaks it once again.

"She would've hated this," She whispers, "People she barely even knows crying over her like they had any significance in her life. She probably only talked to five people here. She didn't even like her uncle." She laughs, referencing the man who gave the half-assed eulogy about how Phoebe being such an innocent, bright young girl.

"They're grieving her loss instead of celebrating her life, it's all fucked," He clears his throat before continuing, "Funerals are for the living."

"I hate funerals..." She says in reply.

Glancing at the boy beside her when she hears him digging through his jacket pocket, pulling out a flask. He takes a sip, and another, before gesturing it to her. Not overthinking it too much, she takes the cool metal bottle and takes a big gulp. Tasting the burn of vodka in her throat and mint from what she supposes is the mysterious strangers mouth.

Handing the flask back she says, "She would've wanted a party. Something where everyone was having fun in her honor, not some substandard funeral full of random people and careless words."

This time he's the one who chuckles humorlessly, "Yeah, she would've wanted everyone t'take shots and dress up in fancy clothes n' wreak havoc on this fucking town,"

Y/N smiles at this because Phoebe really would. Phoebe was the type of person who everyone wanted to be friends with, but also who everyone was scared of. She was mysterious and intimidating (a bit like the man next to her, Y/N thinks). Phoebe was a master at persuasion and could get almost anyone to go on crazy fucking adventures with her. One of Y/N's favorite memories with Phoebe was when they dressed up in wedding dresses they had gotten from a second-hand store and walked down the street yelling random things at strangers, taking turns drinking tequila from a metal water bottle.

"She really was something else, huh?" Y/N says a bit somberly, reminiscing on her late best friend.

"Definitely, a know-it-all," He laughs, bringing the flask up to his mouth.

"Oh, of course, she always thought she was right." She smirks.

"I mean, most of the time she was." He shrugs.

"Yeah, how did she always know everything?" The two of you laugh, taking turns drinking from the flask.

He shakes his head in disbelief, silence settling over the pair again.

"How did you know her?" He asks, still staring at the gathering of people in the distance.

"...She was my best friend," Y/N responds quietly, still staring out at the sunset.

He hums in return, "You?" She asks as she hands the flask over.

"Her cousin." His rough voice speaks out.

"You're Harry?" She says, less as a question and more in disbelief. Phoebe always mentioned her cousin Harry from England, always telling Y/N of stories they had together getting into reckless shit.

She turns her head to look at him just as he does, "And you're Y/N."

He offers a soft, knowing smile, both having heard countless stories of one another from Phoebe. He leans back and extends his arm on the top of the bench behind her, feeling the warmth of his body radiate off of him.

"I wonder what she'd say to me now. Sitting on a random gravestone in our hometown, drinking out of her cousin's flask, ditching what's supposed to be her remembrance." Y/N says, leaning back on the bench too.

"She would've said, 'quit y'crying, it's a sign of the times' and then would drag your arse t'the nearest pub." He laughs.

She joins in on the soft laughter, shaking her head because she knows that's exactly what she would've said. Phoebe was such a joy to be around, her presence unmatched.

"You know, she always talked about wanting to leave a legacy behind. Most of the time, I just laughed at her, thinking it was just another bizarre thing to come out of her mouth. But, she was always saying she wanted to be remembered as some enigma when she dies..." Y/N recalls the many memories of her and Phoebe staying up til 4am talking. Chills suddenly covering her body, not only from the cool Winter air but because of how Phoebe had talked about her death and now she's actually...dead.

She turns her head to look at Harry and he has a bittersweet smile on his face.

"I think she's accomplished that quite well, hasn't she?" He replies.

"How?" She questions softly with furrowed brows.

"Well, f'starters, her funeral is full of people who never even knew her, or frankly even cared about her, while two emotionless people just got up and stormed away from it t'drink vodka out of a flask on some random person's gravestone." He laughs before tacking on, "Trust me, the people over there are wondering who the hell she was and who she knew, right about now."

She turns her head from the (quite pretty, she thinks) boy to her left, looking at the wake, only to be met with a few people staring back at them.

"Well, I'll be damned," She scoffs. "Of course, the bitch did it." A smile bright on her face, probably the only real grin she's pulled since Phoebe's passing. Her best friends wishes coming true makes her heart warm just a tad, a relief to how cold losing her best friend made it.

"Always able t'make her life seem like an episode of Pretty Little Liars." He says shaking his head with a knowing smirk.

This comment makes Y/N laugh quite loudly, drawing a few — what she could only think were glares — back at her. Wiping a stray tear from her face that fell due to her laughing. The sweet sound coming from her lips only tacking on Harry to join her.

"Oh my god, she practically lived in an indie movie, always the role of the mysterious main character!" She chuckled out, creases forming at the corners of her eyes that Harry has taken a liking to.

As both of their laughter slowly dies out, another silence comes over them; only this time it's almost deafening. It's like the weight of the matter finally settled in.

Harry lets out a deep sigh, staring out at the never ending field of stone. Flowers accompany very few of the many graves; some wilted, some looking fresh, some long gone by now. Name placards littering the ground, all of these lost and forgotten people just decomposing underneath them. People coming and going to visit, only to be forgotten as time goes by, memories fading from their loved ones' mind. He wonders if he could ever forget Phoebe. No, I could never, he thinks to himself. He could never forget the only person that ever truly believed in him and embraced him for being himself.

Deciding he doesn't want to give anymore thought to the painful insight that one day he might forget Phoebe, he asks Y/N something instead.

"Y'wanna get out of here? M'starvin'."

The quiet girl next to him looks his way, his green eyes meeting her's that shine in the last few minutes of orange sunlight. Her eyes are so pretty, he tries to mentally shake that thought out of his head. He can't be hitting on his late cousin's best friend at her funeral, for fuck's sake.

Y/N only nods in response, gathering her bag and phone before standing from the bench. Harry towers over her when he gets up and the observation of how tall her his makes Y/N feel all giddy inside for some reason. Placing the flask back in his suit jacket pocket, he leads the way to a small restaurant nearby. She walks beside him the whole way there, the two of them just quietly observing everything around them.

***

The crisp, cool air passes through, goosebumps creeping up their arms as they sit in the outside seating of a small restaurant. Comfortable silence wraps them up and spits them out as their minds explore all the vast depths of their troubled minds, giving them time for their treacherous thoughts to eat at their sanity bit by bit.

"Phoebe told me once," Y/N cleared her throat, trying to get rid of the scratchy feeling from not using it. Harry's green eyes moved to her from his observance of the lonely street they're next to as she spoke softly. "She told me the only time she truly felt alive was when she made decisions that were reckless and spontaneous. She said living her life precariously was the only reason for her happiness, claiming that the perfect life is just an illusion. That dreaming of labor should not be the goal, but instead becoming your authentic self and living with no regrets..."

Harry stays quiet, reflection in his eyes as he stares at her from across the table, chewing the food in his mouth. Y/N plays around with the food on her plate with her fork and waits for his acknowledgment (although, she doesn't even know if he would say or do anything -- she doesn't know why she decided to tell him that)

"I mean, she's right, righ'? I never understood when people would ask what your 'dream job' is from a young age. No one's dream is t'work everyday 'til they die. They have to, t'make a living and survive, but what's the point in living if you aren't enjoyin' it. But, if y'workin' all the time, how do you make the time to really live?" He says, furrowing his brows as he talks.

Y/N takes in his words. The moonlight and street lamps casting a soft glow on his face, his carved features looking even more beautiful at night.

"Yeah... I guess, I guess I just envy how she viewed life, ya know?" She states, looking at the cars drive by as she tries to explain how she feels. "Always saying things to make you rethink your existence and purpose..." She looks back at Harry and whispers, "...She talked about life so much like she knew she was going to die."

"Well, we're all gonna die eventually." Harry rests his arms on the table with a quiet sigh, his features passive, but his mind is thinking of how he just wants to hug her and tell her everything is going to be alright.

"Yeah, but she just...she talked about it like she knew all the answers. She knew exactly what to say, when to say it. Sometimes, I feel like she was telling everyone around her how to live in complete happiness because she knew she didn't have much of her own, despite convincing everyone she was carefree and unbothered." Y/N shrugs and watches as they fall into a short silence.

"...I miss her." Harry breathes out after a moment, reaching his hand across the table to hold hers. Her skin is soft against his as he rubs his thumb against her hand in an attempt to comfort both of them.

Her eyes soaking in his softened expression, her cherry tinted lips whispering, "Me too."

They eat the rest of their dinner in silence, the only sounds reverberating from the road with the occasional car or pedestrian. Harry pays for the food, but not without many protests from Y/N.

As the two walk side by side down the street, back to the cemetery to pick up their cars, Y/N suddenly falls anxious. She doesn't want to be alone tonight, scared of being alone with her thoughts when she goes back to stay in her childhood home. Her parents, still living in the house they lived in since her youth, had to drive up to another town for a few nights to stay with her cousins because they planned to go there before the news broke about Phoebe. Leaving Y/N alone in the empty house since there wasn't room for her at her cousins.

The black cemetery gates coming into view, eeriness and gloom becoming more apparent when the sun is down, Y/N and Harry can see their two cars sitting idly on the side of the road. Y/N fidgets with her fingers as they grow close to departure.

"D-do you, maybe, wanna hang out for a little while longer?" She turns to face him, looking up at him nervously. "I just don't want to be alone right now." She rushes out when he doesn't respond.

"Yeah, I didn't really want t'go home alone right now either." He offers a sliver of a smile before unlocking his car, grabbing two brown paper bags that look to hold bottles, and gesturing his head, "C'mon, we'll pick up my car later. Let's go celebrate Pheebz, yeah?" He grins.

She smiles at him, unlocking her own car and waiting for him to get in, putting on a playlist full of Phoebe's favorite songs. She drives through her hometown, memories stirring up of her and her best friend smoking weed in the park the summer before graduation and jumping in the lake naked in the middle of winter. The two end up at her house sitting in her abandoned driveway, both unbuckling but neither making the move to get out of the parked car, the engine still running as they sit listening to the melodies playing from the speaker.

Harry suddenly pulls out two bottles from the brown paper bags at his feet, one of vodka and the other tequila.

"Pick y'poison." He says with a smirk.

She picks the vodka and Harry mutters, "Good choice, tequila is more m'speed."

"Weren't you drinking vodka at the funeral?" She laughs, unscrewing the cap.

"Yeah, figured I'd drink Phoebe's favorite since it was her party." He chuckles.

"To Phoebe." Y/N says, sorrow lacing her voice as she turns in her seat to face Harry.

"To living your life precariously." He says before the two of them take a big gulp of the sharp liquid, starting what will only be the beginning of a long night.

***

Light shines through the white curtains, the room glowing bright in the soft, yellow sunlight. The white comforter tangled up in bodies as birds chirp in the morning tranquility. Y/N's eyes flutter open, immediately feeling sweaty and clammy. The headache that sets in reminds her of the amount of alcohol she consumed last night. Waking up in her childhood bed after blacking out in the backseat of her car the night before doing very little for her sanity.

As she lays in bed, groggy, she needs to pee. She moves to get up and walk to the bathroom connected to her room, only to freeze when an arm wraps around her and pulls her closer. Warm breathes pant at the back of her neck, unintelligible murmurs coming from the person behind her. Her eyes widen, realizing Harry is the one she is snuggling with in the early morning (afternoon?) light. Despite needing to pee really badly, she finds herself only melting into his touch. She can't remember the last time someone held her like this, can't remember the last time she felt this content. In fact, she thinks the last time she cuddled with someone was with Phoebe when she slept over in her room at their apartment... Well, just Y/N's apartment now.

Y/N and Phoebe would have movie nights in Y/N's room and in the midst of the fun, they would grow tired. Phoebe would never want to leave the comfort of Y/N's warm bed, so she always asked, sleepover?, with a wide grin. To which Y/N never refused and the two would put on The Notebook and fall asleep spooning one another. The first time it happened, when they were children having sleepovers, she tensed a bit; thinking it weird for her friend to cuddle her because no one had ever done that. But, as the years went by and their friendship grew stronger, knowing that despite both of them being bisexual it wasn't an act of intimacy, but one of platonic comfort.

So, Y/N figured (in her touch deprived mind) that this was just an act of friendly, platonic intimacy...nothing else. After coming to that conclusion, she let herself relax into his touch, his warm embrace nodding her off to sleep once again.

What wakes her up the second time is the sound of a gravelly voice groaning. The arm around her waist squeezes tightly before the body it's attached to tenses up. Harry tries to take in the position they're in -- his arm snuggling her close to his bare chest and legs intertwined with hers -- but his hangover headache clouds his mind too much to think about it. Only registering that he's never felt this comfortable with someone before, never felt someone so warm and cozy. He's cuddled lots of girls (and guys), has spent many mornings waking up in someones hold or holding someone in his, but they've never been as addicting as her. Never being so relaxing, so soft. He's about to just say, fuck it, and fall back asleep as to spend as much time with her in his clutch, but Y/N had stirred awake from his groaning and she really has to pee!

She slowly turns in his arms, their legs shifting apart, and is met with probably the cutest sight she's ever seen. His eyes are glassy and the green of his irises shine in the soft light. His lips pink and his face holding a hesitant look, like he thinks she might yell at him for accidentally ending up in his arms throughout the night, but she can also sense the underlying feeling of content reading on his face. The way his eyes soften when they meet hers and the way his hand involuntarily squeezes at her side. The serene feeling almost tangible as her childhood room becomes their own little world. All the responsibilities and pain of the outside fall ceased at the door decorated with heights of a growing Y/N.

"G'morning," His gravelly voice going straight to her heart, melting it at the beautiful sound.

"Good morning," She says in a raspy whisper, her throat dry from the alcohol and singing at the top of her lungs the night before.

She takes the quiet moment to look at his body, her gaze drifting from tattoo to tattoo, not realizing how many he has. She knew he had some from the ones on his hands yesterday, but she didn't know he had so many. His long sleeve button up had covered the view of the ones adorning his arms, but she looks at them now in awe, thinking how pretty they are.

She's about to tell him how much she likes the butterfly tattoo on his chest, when her bladder has other plans.

"I'm sorry, but I really have to pee," She bashfully smiles as she looks at him.

"Oh, m'sorry. Probably should've told ya' I'm a cuddler." He gives a small smile with embarrassment soaking his words, thinking he's made her uncomfortable.

"No need to apologize," Her eyes light up at his out of character shyness, "I am too, I just really have to go to the bathroom." The harmonious sound of her giggles soothing every worry in Harry's body.

He playfully sighs, "Fine, I guess I'll let y'go piss."

A smirk pulls at his lips as she rolls her eyes and gets up, but he can see the corners of her lips turn up.

She goes to the bathroom, doing her business and washing her hands. She takes the time to brush her teeth and wash her face, cringing when she looks in the mirror. She feels gross that she looked like this when Harry woke up with the resemblance of an angel.

When she's finished, she walks out back into her room, excited to get back into the warm bed (and hopefully cuddle with Harry some more, but she would never admit that out loud), but she's met with abandoned sheets and panic consumes her. Did he leave? Did I make him uncomfortable by waking up in his arms? He was the one to cuddle me and he joked about it! But maybe he was just trying to be nice so he could escape? Her mind starts to race a mile a minute of anxious thoughts before they're all suddenly wiped away at the smell of coffee wafting in from the open doorway.

She throws on a sweatshirt and socks and makes her way down the stairs of the familiar, yet foreign after spending so long away from home, house. Her sock clad feet pad on the hardwood floors as she walks into the kitchen, spotting Harry silently staring at a spot on the wall with a cup of coffee in his hand (he's using the same pink and green mug with a little ceramic pig sitting on the top of the handle that Phoebe would use every time she'd sleepover in high school).

She walks in quietly, coming up behind him and grabbing a cup of coffee for herself, noticing the two pain killers next to the pot (which made her heart swell if she's honest). He had heard her coming down the stairs, but despite her presence his focus is still on the spot on the wall. Taking a sip of her pick-me-up and swallowing the pills, she takes up space next to Harry, following his eyes that stare intently at a picture frame hanging up and her eyes immediately soften.

"That was freshman year," Y/N spoke delicately, staring at the picture herself, "We had both been asked to prom by these senior guys. I was ecstatic because no one had ever shown any liking to me, but Phoebe had played it cool, of course." Harry lets out a quiet breathy laugh because of course Phoebe didn't care.

"We spent weeks planning out how prom night would be. Imagining how the senior parties would be like and if the boys would kiss us by the end of the night or not. She came over at 9am the morning of the dance and we spent all day getting ready and laughing with each other. She had even done my makeup all pretty and I helped her get into her dress. I remember I laughed when she decided she was going to wear converse under her dress, and she almost convinced me to do it too because she said 'you're not gonna be the one laughing when we're at all the after parties and your feet are killing you'." A genuine smile forms on Y/N's face as she reminisces on the cherished moment.

"But, two hours before the dance, our dates cancelled on us and told us they were going with these senior girls." Harry scoffs bitterly, understanding how cruel teenage boys are.

"I remember I was so upset because the one time I thought someone actually liked me or thought I was pretty enough to go to prom with, had just made me a second choice..." She recalls to Harry, who is now looking at the side of her face as she looks at the picture of Phoebe carrying Y/N on her back, piggy-back style, in long prom dresses, dirty white converse peaking out from under both girls' dresses.

"So, she grabbed me by the arms and looked me in the eyes and said 'Y/N L/N, we are deserving of the love we wish for. No senior boys are going to make us doubt that. We are not little freshmen girls who can be seen as cheap thrills and easy hookups. We are women, who demand respect and complete infatuation.' Then she took the tickets that the boys had pre-purchased for us, took my hand, and dragged me to that dance. We had been each other's date and made prom our bitch. She even got us into a party afterward...And we had one hell of a night."

She smiles fondly at the sweet memory. Harry's eyes flutter between the picture and the beautiful girl next to him. How could she ever think of herself as a second choice?, is all he can wonder to himself.

Letting his gaze fall to the picture one last time, he mumbles, "Well, those boys missed out on the best thing t'ever happen t'them."

He doesn't catch Y/N's blush that creeps up on her cheeks as he turns around, taking a sip from his little pig mug.

She shakes her head as to get out of the crushing haze she falls into, turning and walking to the countertop, leaning against it as Harry stands in front of her on the other side.

"Thank you. F'letting me stay the night, last night." He speaks up.

Y/N notices how he's still lacking a shirt, making her mouth dry up just a little at the sight of how fit he is. The tattoos stretching across his tan skin so perfectly, the black ink creating such a beautiful contrast on his body. He catches onto the not-so-subtle gawking and smirks.

"Uh, yeah. It's really no problem. There's no way I'd have let you drive home intoxicated and it was the least I could do after I made you practically spend the day with me." She blushes.

"Y'didn't make me," He shakes his head gently with a smile.

Y/N doesn't know to feel about how her cheeks heat up at his remark, shyly looking away as the teasing gleam in his eyes might make her combust.

"O-okay. Good to know." She squeaks out, the action only fueling Harry's ego and playful mood.

"I should go get m'car from the cemetery before it gets towed," He says almost disappointedly, like he doesn't want to leave yet. If she's being honest, she doesn't want him to leave yet either.

"Yeah, that wouldn't be good. I'll give you a ride." She says, shaking off the saddened feeling of his departure.

"Oh, you don't have t'do tha'." He shakes his head but Y/N quickly shoots him down.

"Nonsense, I'll take you. It's no big deal."

He smiles at her objection, nodding, and going upstairs to grab the rest of his clothes, feeling uncomfortable in his dress pants from the funeral that he had put back on when he got up this morning, not wanting to make Y/N feel weird by staying in only his boxers.

***

Vodka Lover: hey... are you up?

She chews on the skin around her thumb, a nervous habit that Phoebe had always teased her about, as she sends the text to Harry (having exchanged numbers when she had dropped him off at his car at the cemetery). Phoebe had always said, 'You're not gonna have any thumb left to chew, babes, if you keep at it'. To which Y/N just rolled her eyes, but in the deafening silence of 4am, she wishes she cherished those moments with her best friend more. Wishing she didn't take for granted in those little encounters of Phoebe's care and concern with her well-being. Y/N would give anything to be able to spend one more minute with her.

Butterfly Boy: yeah, everything okay?

Vodka Lover: um, can i call you?

Suddenly, breaking the bitter quiet with a ringtone, her phone she holds in her palm lights up with Harry's contact. A tear falls from her face onto the screen and she has to wipe it away before she presses accept.

"Y/N?" Harry's deep voice rings out, laced in worry, from the other line.

She chokes out a sob, not being able to hold it back anymore. The floodgate of her emotions she has been trying to keep at bay suddenly burst. Salty tears fall onto the blue fluffy blanket from her senior year she's wrapped up in.

"Hey, hey, s'everythin' okay? What's wrong?" Harry says, more alert now that he hears her in such a fragile and frantic state.

Y/N just cries harder, desperately trying to catch her breath, she feels like she's suffocating.

"Hey, love, just breathe. Just breathe, Y/N." He tries to coax her down in a soothing voice.

A raggedy breath is heard on Harry's side, making the worry dissipate just a little now that he knows she's breathing. Harry sits up in his bed, calling out to Y/N, repeatedly telling her to just keep breathing. He can't get to what's wrong if she hyperventilates.

He was laying restless in his bed when she had texted, lost in thoughts of life and replaying memories with his cousin. Trying to grasp everything she's ever told him before, hoping that by watching the moments he spent with her like a film reel in his mind would help him not forget them.

"Love, can y'tell me what's got you so upset? Please," He asks softly when she calms down enough where her breathing is regular and not sporadic inhales gasping for air.

"I-I-I miss her," She cries out into the phone, the thought of embarrassing herself by breaking down to Harry not on her mind; the only thought she has is how empty she feels.

"I know, I know, love. I miss her, too," He sighs out sadly, wishing he could take away her pain, hating the way her voice quivers with every word. "Do you want t'talk about it?"

She wipes the tears that sting her eyes and cascade down her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. The one she wore when Harry slept over, smelling a little like him still from the car ride to his car that day, three days ago.

They had been texting each other and talking every day since then, usually about light topics like asking how their day's were or what they were doing. However, tonight (or early morning), everything felt like it was crashing down on her. Y/N's strong front she had put up since the funeral for Phoebe's family finally collapsed, and she's found herself stuck under the rubble. She was trying so hard to keep it in because she shouldn't be feeling sorry for herself when someone's kid is dead.

She had bored herself to tears, not knowing what to do. The only thing that seemed right was to call Harry.

"Talk to me, babe." He begs her, running a hand through his disheveled curls.

"I-" She sniffles, "I feel like I'm fucking drowning,"

He hates how defeated her voice sounds and he wishes he could just be there to hug her and tell her everything's going to be okay, eventually.

"It-it feels like my whole life is in ruins. Harry, I miss her." Her face scrunches up again as she starts to sob, "Sh-She was my best friend, I d-did everything with her. How am I s-supposed to do this without her? How am I supposed t-to live without her?"

"Oh, darling. I know, but you will..and you can." He frowns, racking his brain for the right thing to tell her, "You got t'live so you can experience all those ways of life she always talked about. Y'haven't experienced all those feelings Pheebz would mention when she would live her life precariously. Don't y'want to know how she felt when she would talk of such a beautiful life she lived, yeah?"

He hears a hiccup and a quiet, albeit breathy, yeah, from the other side of the call.

"You are so strong, Y/N. I don't know how y'made it this far without breaking down..." He tells her whole-heartedly.

"D-don't know how you haven't either," She gets out, realizing how selfish she's probably being, bothering Harry with her grief when he has his own to deal with.

"Honestly," He breathes out through a somber smile, "The only reason I haven't is because I have you, love."

Y/N's heart swells tenfold, she thinks. She didn't realize Harry needed her just as much as she needed him.

"...I'm sorry for calling you, I know it's late." She says through sniffles when she notices the time.

"There's no reason to apologize. It's okay, love. It's okay to hurt or be angry or upset. No one expects you to be perfect all the time." He pauses, listening to her breathing.

"Ya know, one day, it won't hurt this much. One day, you'll be able t'look back at this moment and it won't break y'heart as much as it does now. You're just in the thick of it right now, pretty girl. But, the light's coming soon, I promise." He continues and Y/N feels her heart beat faster at the pet name.

"You promise?" Her voice barely above a whisper and Harry thinks his heart just broke at the sound.

"Promise." He says, wiping the stray tears rolling down his cheeks, "Phoebe wouldn't want y'to be this upset. She would want you to keep living your life and find out the ways to how she was so in love with it. If not for yourself, love, then for her...F'me."

She nods, despite knowing he can't see. Silence falls over the pair, only the sound of bated breaths assuring the other one is there.

"One summer," He speaks up, "One summer, my family had come t'visit them, partly because of the lake near her house. It was after we had moved t'the States from Cheshire, and Phoebe and I would go walk to the little pond near the park,"

"The one near Hope?" She asks quietly if they had gone to the park she had always played at as a little girl.

"Mhm. We would walk there in the blistering sun and when we got there she tried to convince me how fairies were real." He said in a calm voice.

He hears an airy puff of breath escape her mouth, which he takes as a small giggle -- making him want to continue his story as it's helping her cheer up, and because he'd probably do anything to hear her that sound from her.

"Yeah, fairies. She told me that they live at the pond and t'see them, I would have to find a pretty flower and then jump in the water with it in only m'underwear." He breathes out a laugh.

Y/N gasps, trying to keep quiet but fails when she lets out a loud laugh.

"Oh my, did you do it?" She asks bewildered, laying down so her head rests against the pillow.

"So, I told Phoebe 'no way', yeah? But, then she said she can't just tell me about them and not follow through with seeing them. Convinced me that it would bring bad luck." He scoffs, remembering the memory vividly.

"Bad luck, indeed." She giggles and it brings the dimple out on Harry's face.

"Yeah, so of course, me being like 8 or sum', I stripped down to m'pants in the middle of the day and jumped in the water." He smiles when he hears her laughing, even if it's at his expense. "Y'laughing, but I think I got ringworm after tha'!"

"I can't believe she got you to do that! I wish I'd been there." Y/N says, out of breath from laughing.

"Scarred me of ponds for the rest of m'life." He chuckles and a pause takes them both over as they settle back down.

"...Thank you, H." She whispers into the phone, adoration taking up all her features.

“F’what?”

“For being you, for being here. Just...Thank you.” She sighs.

They get lost in recalling stories of their loved one for the rest of the night, repainting her memories in gold. They laugh with each other until all the pain seems to disappear. The weight, of what felt like the world, lifting off of both their shoulders. Finally being able to breathe after days of endless battles of trying to stay strong for Phoebe's sake.

***

Days pass since the lonely 4am phone call and Y/N and Harry are still talking everyday.

She finds out he lives in her city, only a few blocks from her apartment she shared with Phoebe! She didn't believe him when he first told her, but he said he was always busy with college whenever Phoebe tried to meet up. Y/N's not going to lie, her heart picked up when she found out he'd be so close to her, wondering if he'd want to hang out with her when they leave her hometown.

Almost everyday of the last few days they have visiting, they've spent at Y/N's empty childhood home. Harry asking her to explain pictures and what she was like in high school, whenever he gets the chance. In turn, she's been picking his mind on what Holmes Chapel was like and how his family was growing up. She found out that he lived with his sister, Gemma, and his mom, Anne. They talked about everything, from their favorite things to every pet they've ever had (Y/N, particularly, falling in love with the pictures of his cat, Evie).

Just as the last few days have been spent, they are spending Y/N's last day in her hometown together before she goes back. Harry told her he had to stay a couple more nights with his family before he could leave, assuring her he would've gone back with her if he could've. That comment made her blush and she had to pray the butterflies growing in her tummy to relax.

That's another thing. Y/N had stopped lying to herself and denying the ache in her chest that would form when she was away from Harry, growing very fond of him since their first encounter at the headstone bench.

Harry, also, couldn't deny any longer the way his heart would flutter at every little thing she did. Just wondering to himself how everything about her was just so pretty. He loved the way her eyes would light up every time she saw him and how he would catch her checking him out whenever he took off his shirt.

He especially loved the way she let him sleepover a few times and how they would end up cuddling into the late hours of the morning. Both parties not minding one bit, the comfort and warmth actually preferred than sending Harry home to sleep in his own bed.

"Bet I can reach that branch right there," Harry shouts with a gleeful tone, a bit out of breath as he tries to stretch his legs far enough so his shoe brushes against the leaf on the end of the tree branch.

The two of them decided to go to Hope park, where they both held fond childhood memories at. They settled at the swingset, calm swaying in the seats quickly turning into a competition of who could swing the highest. Harry won of course, his legs being much longer than hers giving him the advantage. Playful giggles and sweet conversations of things occurring in that moment help distract them from both Phoebe and the fact that Y/N is leaving.

Y/N is distracting herself from worrying about if Harry will reach out to her when they get back to the city, if he even wants to talk to her again after this weekend or if this was all just out of politeness.

Harry, on the other hand, is distracting himself from wondering if she fancies him. He wonders if the cuddles and small touches meant as much to her as they did him, if after this weekend she would want to hang out again or if she was just being nice because he knows what she's going through.

"Bet I can reach it before you!" She giggles as her hair whips around in the wind she's created. Pumping her legs back and forth, desperately trying to get higher so she can beat Harry in her made up competition.

"Now, love, not everything has to be a competition," He huffs, really reaching out this time, "But, I wanna win, if we're playing a game, I wanna win." He grins, the cute dimple that Y/N has fallen for making an appearance on his face.

The two try their hardest to be the first ones to touch the tree branch hanging not too far from their swinging feet at their highest point. Harry, however, attempts a little too hard and flies off the swing when he lifted up his leg to make the two inch gap he was short of.

Tumbling to the woodchip covered ground, he ends up laying on his back. Groans spill out of his mouth and Y/N's eyes go wide with concern. She slows herself down just enough to safely jump off the swingset, rushing to Harry's side.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" She asks worriedly, trying to hold back the laugh that's trying to bust out. Crouching down to him, she runs her hand over his arm that's grabbing his leg.

He rubs his knee with a pained smile, "Yeah, just peachy, pet."

"Is anything hurting? Bruised?" She questions with a loving smile.

"Just my ego," He chuckles, looking up at her and admiring her caring nature.

She can't hold it in anymore, she laughs loudly at his comment, her carefree happiness making Harry's ears perk up and his heart warm.

"Yeah, love, just laugh at the crippled man." He jokes, smiling up at her happy face, wishing it could stay that way forever.

She lets out another laugh at his comment, delicately grabbing his arm to help him up, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It wasn't funny," She attempts to calm herself but fails, "Okay, it was a little bit funny!"

Giggles fall out of her mouth as Harry brushes off the mulch from his jeans, "See how much you're laughing when I push you out of the swing."

"I'm soo scared." She mocks fear.

"Oh, just wait, pet. You'll never be safe on another swing set again." He playfully grabs her sides to tickle her, but her fighting his tries just ends up bringing her closer in his hold.

Their laughs quickly die out when they realize he's holding her in his clutch, his hands at her waist, hers around his neck. Harry stares into her eyes as she stares back into his. The empty park is serene, no other noises besides the chirping of birds and the sounds of other animals sprawling about. The sweet moment causes Y/N's breath to hitch and her palms to sweat. They've only been this close when cuddling, she's never been this close to his face before. His features glow in the sunlight, his green irises complimenting the bounce of his skin and dark eyelashes. Her skin is soft and warm against his, and he just wants to lean in and-

Y/N's eyes flutter close as Harry's face comes closer, his lips meet hers in a gentle caress. With the sweet kiss, he takes note of how soft her lips are, how warm and fuzzy her intimate touch is making his head. While one hand is squeezing at her side, the other is brought up to cradle her face and she leans into his touch. Harry sucks on her bottom lip before peeling away so they can catch their breath.

Y/N lets out a whine at the loss of contact, her bottom lip jutting out as he pulls away.

"What are y'pouting for, pet? W-was that not okay? Should I not have done tha'?" The blood almost drains from his face at the pouty look on her beautiful face.

She shakes her head at him, "No, I liked it. I want more," She pants, pulling him by the collar of his shirt to bring him back to her lips.

He chuckles at her cute antics (and in relief of not fucking up his shot with her). He smiles against her lips as he melts back into her, her hand around his neck reaching up to tangle in his curly hair. He groans when her nimble fingers pull tenderly at the curls at the base of his neck, causing him to squeeze her side gently.

She breathlessly kissed him, slotting her lips between his and immediately opening her mouth in acceptance when he brushes his tongue against her bottom lip in a silent ask to take it further. As the kiss deepens, the need for air increases. They naturally separate, Harry sucking her bottom lip as he goes until it pops back.

Taking in her reddened swollen lips and her pretty flushed face, he presses one last chaste kiss on her lips, and one to her cheek and her nose.

A big, genuine grin adorns Y/N's face as she stares up at the man in front of her.

"Thank you f'letting me do tha'." He says with a gravelly voice.

"I've been thinking about you doing that since the first night you stayed at my house." She tells him bashfully.

"Me too, love. And it was better than I ever expected," He says whole-heartedly, leaning in to press one more quick kiss to her lips again.

"So, does this mean we're gonna hang out when we both go back home? Because I really want to do that again." Her glassy eyes blink at him with hope awaiting his answer.

He smiles and shakes his head, bewildered at how she could ever think that he could just ghost her after that, "I think Phoebe would come back just to slap me upside the head if I ever kissed her best friend and just never saw her again."

She chuckles at his comment, shyly looking down to her hand on his chest when he doesn't say anything else.

"Of course, I want to hang out when we get back. I want to take y'out on a real date, if you'd let me." He looks at her all starry eyed, squeezing her waist.

"I think Phoebe would come back and slap me upside the head if I ever kissed her cousin and just never saw him again," This time he's the one that laughs.

"I'd love that very much, Harry." She beams up at him.

Going back home couldn't come sooner to the both of them.

******************

ahhh i hope y’all liked that, i’d love feedback :) i’m thinking of making a series out of it, but only if that’s something y’all would like! so, pls let me know if you enjoyed it or if i should make a part 2 ??

anyways, stay safe and much love <3

470 notes · View notes

roscgcld · 4 years ago

Text

NANAMI KENTO + GOJO SATORU || the one that got away

request: i'm literally in love with your fics- i was wondering if you could write a Nanami x reader x Gojo where Nanami and the reader were dating before he left Jujutsu Tech, but they break up when he leaves. When he comes back he realizes he's still in love with the reader but she's engaged to Gojo and there's just a bunch of angst and tension. Sorry ik that's a lot :') But ty!!

note: lowkey thought you wanted a nanami x reader x gojo and i was like ‘oh babes am so ready-’ until i rer-read your request lmao! but honestly this was a lot of fun to write. tbh, if i was reader I would choose nanami cause rn am a whole ass SIMP for the man that is nanmi kento cx but i hope i managed to capture what you wanted in this request babes!

pronouns: she/her

“Maybe we should take a break.”

Those six words were engrained into the mind of Nanami Kento for the rest of his life. Those six words were the words that tossed his world upside down - and every time those words came into mind, the imagine of your crying face comes with it.

You were so distraught, yet you put up a brave front as you gave him a shaky smile - something that he loves so much about you. That even though his explanation as to why you two should break up was childish, selfish even; you still go the extra mile to make sure that he knows you understand. That you understand why he wants to take a break so that he can focus on himself and his career.

“I understand, Nami...just know I love you, okay?”

Your simple words, coupled with your tearful eyes and watery smile made him want to take back the words as soon as possible. That he wants to just turn back time and just admit to himself that he was going to regret his decision. But at the same time, he doesn’t want to. If he did go back in time and stopped, he might end up breaking your heart again; if not with more bitterness and anger.

When he was young, he hated that he was a jujutsu sorcerer - hated how he has this responsibility over him that he never asked for. He just wanted to be free from the jujutsu world and never look back. You were different - you were so proud that you were a jujutsu sorcerer, always a beacon of light in the dark reality that is being a sorcerer. Somehow you made it bearable for him, and at one point he thought he can do it for the rest of his life. Until after the death of Haibara Yu, a classmate that the both of you call a dear friend.

It was at that moment that he snapped, and he knew he didn’t want to do this anymore.

Yet he couldn’t force himself to drag you away from something you love so dearly, something you see as your duty to protect. He knew that either way he was going to be selfish, and either way tears were going to be shed; so he chose the one that would hurt the least. However, now years down the line, he still thinks that maybe things could have worked out. There was no denying that he still loves you - even though he keeps in touch with his senior, Gojo Satoru, from time to time, he doesn’t ask about you.

From what he knows, you stayed back in Jujutsu Tech and became a teacher, but that is all he knows about you. He was too scared, too embarrassed to face you once more - because he knows better then to dream. Dream that the promise you promised to keep as teens was going to hold up now that the both of you were in your late twenties.

But there is no harm in dreaming, right?

Nanami checked his watch as he got off the train, making his way towards the bus station located right outside of the building. It was his first time back at the college after being away from it for a few years, since he had called Gojo the other day on asking about if there is an opening for him to return as a sorcerer.

Even though Gojo can be a huge pain in the ass to deal with, Nanami knew that if there was anyone who can confirm a space for him at work, it will be Gojo Satoru.

Walking out of the crowded station, he looked up just in time to see the white haired shaman waiting for him at the entrance; who grinned and waved when he saw his junior. “Nanami! I knew you were not going to be late.” Gojo called out to the man dressed in a fresh grey suit and blue shirt underneath; his spotted tie knotted around his neck. The bespectacled man just sighs tiredly and made his way towards his overly excited senior, scowling when the taller male draped an arm around his shoulders.

He opened his mouth to say something when he noticed the ring that was resting on Gojo’s left ring finger, causing him to raise a curious eyebrow as he allowed the older male to lead him along. “You got married?” He asks the taller male, who glances at his hand before he grins and shakes his head, flexing his hand a little to show off the simple band around his ring finger. “Nah, we just got engaged. We are planning for the wedding though.” He stated simple, to which Nanami glances over at his senior in surprise. “What? Thought that I was too good to be married off?”

“No, I am surprised that you somehow managed to find someone willing to chain themselves down with you.”

“How mean!” Gojo gasps before he shakes his head in amusement, playfully squeezing his junior who just scowls lightly. “For your information, we’ve been dating for the last 4 years. And we have both talked about marriage before, so I wasn’t blindly shooting into the dark when I proposed.” Gojo commented as the two of them made their way towards the taxi stand, where Ijichi greeted his two seniors with a soft bow; all three men getting into the car. “Still surprised they said yes.”

Gojo just pouts and whines at his junior, who just listened to him with his deadpan expression the entire way to the college. He was surprised that Gojo managed to come on time to pick him up, since he had expected for him to be late, and for him to have either taken the bus or hailed a taxi on his own. But he didn’t really mind; he’s used to handling Gojo’s childish personality, and he gets a free ride at the same time. So he doesn’t mind the brief ride with Gojo.

Soon they arrived at the wooded area where the college is located on, getting out of the car once Ijichi stops the car. Quietly Nanami got out of the car and squints his eyes a little at the sunlight that shone down on him, his eyes slowly focusing on the grand temple-like compound that is Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College. “Feels weird to be back?”

“A bit.” Nanami admitted to Gojo when he walked from the other side of the car to Nanami’s side, the man just chuckling before he gestures for him made his way through the gates and into the campus, immediately being hit with all the nostalgia of being a student once more. It felt like a light weight was being lifted off his shoulders as he soaks everything in, like the guilt of him leaving his duties as a sorcerer behind has been lifted.

The two men made their way deeper into the college just as someone called out to Gojo from behind, causing both men to pause as they turned to look back. Immediately Nanami felt his heart skip a beat when his eyes finally settled onto you, a warm smile gracing your features as you made your way towards the both of them. Nanami was so stuffed that he didn’t catch the way Gojo grins and opens his arms for you, watching the two of you embrace one another as a sinking feeling when he saw the delighted grin on your face.

The same grin that you used to give him after not seeing you for awhile.

Somehow Nanami managed to keep up an indifferent façade as you embraced your fiancée, pressing a soft kiss against his cheek in greeting whilst Gojo just nuzzles closer to you; in an attempt to milk all of the attention he can from you. “How needy.” You giggled at him before you turned to the man beside your fiancé with the intension of greeting him; only to freeze up when you realise who it was. “K-Kento?”

“Nice to see you again, Y/N.” Nanami greeted in his usual indifferent tone, trying to hide his heartbroken eyes beneath the shadow of his sunglasses as he tilted his head ever so slightly. “I guess some congratulations are to be said.” He stated simply before he gestures to your left ring finger, where a simple yet beautiful engagement ring rested on your finger. For some reason your heart sank as you awkwardly hid your hand behind your back, causing Gojo to raise an eyebrow as he glances between the both of you.

Was there something going on between the two of you?

“O-Oh, thanks.” You mumble out awkwardly, knowing immediately that Nanami was no longer in his usual indifferent mood. You can feel the slight hurt in his voice, one that causes your heart to break a little; bringing you back to the day you two broke up. How you promised to keep loving him until he was ready to return - yet here you are now, engaged to another man. It wasn’t like you fell out of love with him, you still love Nanami with all your heart, but that love had started to shift the years you two spend apart. And somehow, you started to fall for the white haired shaman known as Gojo Satoru.

But that doesn’t mean you didn’t feel any guilt for how evil you might seem to your ex for stringing him along like that. “I wasn’t expected to see you here.”

“I decided to come back.” Nanami stated simply with a shrug, glancing over at your quiet fiancé who blinks at him owlishly back at him. “Plus, Gojo here told me about a student of his by the name Itadori Yuji that I am supposed to take under my wing.” He continued, giving Gojo the chance to jump in as he smiles down at you, squeezing your shoulders gently. “That’s right! Kento-kun here said he wanted to come back! So his first job is to supervise Yuji-kun.”

“Oh.” You replied in a small tone, unsure of how to answer at all. But luckily Nanami stepped in before the awkward silence can drag on for long, pulling the sleeve of his jacket off his watch to check the time. “I don’t want to get in the way of your free time now, Y/N-san. I am going to go and rest up in my room before dinner is served.” He stated simply before bowing at the both of you, not meeting your eyes. “Excuse me.”

With that he turned to walk away, forcing himself to not look back at you as he made his way down the familiar hallways towards the dorms; the keys to the room he is to stay at for the time being clutched in his hand after he slipped it into his pocket. What was I thinking? He thought to himself as he continued his way down the empty hallway to the dormitories. Did I really think an amazing woman like that will wait for me?

He sighed to himself as he shakes his head a little, slipping his polished dress shoes off his feet before putting them on one of the free cubbies built into the wall; grabbing a pair of the guest slippers before he puts them on. “At least she managed to get engaged to Gojo. He’s definitely worthy of her love.” He mutters to himself, reminding himself to be happy that you found happiness. He doesn’t blame you for finding love once more - when he left this life behind, he also left you.

No call, no text, no attempt to reach out. Was he expected you to just fall into his arms once more? Pretend that nothing happened, and to go back to where you two once were? That thought alone caused him to let out a soft snort as he made his way towards the locked room, unlocking it with his keys. “Don’t be foolish, Kento. Be happy that she’s happy.” He mutters to himself as he entered his new room, closing the door behind him with a tired sigh.

“Guess you really were the one that got away.”

814 notes · View notes

amazingmaeve · 4 years ago

Text

right where you left me ↠ f & g weasley

━ “i like you for you, you know that.”

summary ━ Y/N is heartbroken when Fred breaks up with her and leaves her at Hogsmeade and she feels like she’s frozen in time. Until someone snaps her out of it.

warnings ━ angst, fluff

a/n ━ no twincest. also no hate to angelina or fred. Loosely based on ‘right where you left me, by taylor swift. Also may make a part two if i’m up for it.

word count ━ 2.3k

tags ━ @risingtripletaurus @hey-there-angels @lindsaytriestowrite

Before the war everything was fine between Y/N and Fred. They were in a relationship ever since their 4th year. Fred Weasley and Y/N Y/L/N were hopelessly in love.

Then the war came. Everything changed after that.

Y/N knew that Fred must be going through a tough time since a wall almost crushed him to death. She was there when he woke up screaming from a nightmare. She held him while he cried. Comforted him when he needed it.

She suggested a therapist where he can talk his problems out. Fred immediately declined not even thinking about it for a second.

They no longer went on dates where they could spend time together. Laugh and be in love. Fred put his focus on the shop which Y/N could understand since she worked there as well.

Before the war Fred would cheer Y/N up whenever she was sad, angry, frustrated or even when she had a bad day. Fred would there to cheer up, making her smile and laugh.

But now when she had a bad day Fred didn’t even know. Not even when she was sad or angry. It was like he was falling out of love with her.

Y/N would usually shake those thoughts out of her head not believing it.

Fred worked longer than she did and always came home late. Y/N assumed it was work getting to him. Also him not wanting to sleep because of the nightmares, which she completely understood.

She didn’t want to make Fred worry at all since the war so she tried doing her best with everything. Cooking, cleaning, doing laundry so he didn’t have to do it.

She assumed this was the normal. Y/N was happy for the moment. She was here with Fred and everything was okay. It would’ve been much worse if Fred had died she told herself.

She was content for the moment.

Everything was fine. Until it wasn’t.

Fred told Y/N that they would be going on a date tonight which made her really excited. It’s been awhile since He took her out.

She got dressed in her favorite dress and put on makeup to make her look presentable. When she was done finishing putting her earrings on she looked at herself in the mirror.

She smiled at herself. She felt so happy at the moment. Fred might be coming back to her and that was the best thing in the world.

Fred took her to this really nice restaurant where she ordered some salad while Fred ordered some steak. He was being very quiet which confused Y/N.

“What’s wrong Fred are you okay,” Y/N asked worriedly while she put her hand on his. It surprised her when jerked his hand away from her.

“We need to talk,” Fred says, not looking at her in the eyes, this makes her heart sink into the bottom of her stomach.

“About what,” Y/N asked as her voice wavered a bit out of nervousness. She dropped her hands to her lap and picked at her nail wondering what he was going to say.

“I think we need to break up,” Fred blurts out making her eyes widen.

Many emotions are running through Y/N. Confusion, sadness, a bit of anger. Her lip trembled when she met his beautiful eyes.

“Who is she,” Y/N sighed tears brimming her eyes as she looked down at her lap. She didn’t know if he cheated, she just wanted to know if she did. Fred let out a sigh.

“Angelina Johnson,” Fred answered. Y/N could feel the tears falling as the name slipped out of his mouth. Angelina has a crush on Fred in Hogwarts but Fred always reassured Y/N he never liked her.

“Of course,” Y/N scoffed, tears finally falling down her cheeks. He didn’t love her anymore. She thought they’d be together forever. The mascara must be wearing out from the few tears that came out which probably made her look like a freak show.

“Also I think you shouldn’t work at the shop anymore,” Fred says softly. It took everything for her not to cry. She was losing her boyfriend and her job in one day.

Y/N nodded not looking at him. Fred got up putting the money on the table and walked over to Y/N kissing her forehead. The contact made her flinch.

“I’ll come pick up my stuff tomorrow,” Fred softly says before leaving Y/N in the restaurant. She tries to finish her salad to get something in her stomach but she just couldn’t.

She finally got up wobbling on her legs. Putting a tip on the table before leaving the restaurant.

The cold air is a sensation that made her flinch as soon as she stepped out on the sidewalk. She walks home as tears slip out of her eyes as reality sinks in.

Fred doesn’t love her, he loved Angelina.

She puts her hand over her mouth to cover up the sobs so people don’t look at her weirdly. When she finally gets inside her flat she falls on the ground sobbing into her arms.

Y/N pulls her knees to her chest and rocks herself back in forth. What did she do wrong to make Fred not love her anymore? Did she not love him enough?

She got up after half an hour of crying and put her pajamas on. She looked inside her closet and saw Fred’s quidditch Jersey.

Y/N pulls it to her chests as more tears fall out of her eyes. Her heart feels like it cracked in half from the heartbreak.

“Why?” She whispers to no one. She starts to get angry. She did everything to help Fred, she comforted him when he had nightmares, suggested a therapist to help him and even offered to pay for it. Y/N did everything to help Fred but apparently Fred didn’t care anymore.

She crawled into bed as she let a few tears fall until the exhaustion finally hit her like a freight train. She fell asleep hating the fact that Fred would never love her again.

Y/N woke up early the next morning so she could pack up Fred’s stuff so he wouldn’t be there for long. She didn’t want to look at him if she didn’t she would break down in front of him and Y/N didn’t want to do that.

She got some boxes and threw all of his stuff and put it on the kitchen counter waiting for Fred to show up. Y/N thought about what job she could get since Fred fires her.

A knock on the door startled her. She sighed paddling towards the door and opened it reluctantly.

“Your stuffs on the counter,” Y/N walks him to the kitchen where she stares at her feet not wanting to look at him.

Fred nods and notes that she’s not looking at him. “Just so you know I will never stop caring about you,” He walks himself over as he holds the boxes.

Y/N scoffs, “Whatever.”

Fred sighs, grabbing her hand and giving it a squeeze to reassure her. She closes her eyes until she hears the door close and when she opens her eyes again tears start pooling again.

Y/N never wants to see Fred Weasley ever again.

For the next few weeks Y/N stays in bed wallowing in her own misery. She cries herself to sleep every night wondering what went wrong.

The only reason she gets out of bed is to go to eat, shower, and read the paper to see if there’s any jobs out there. She watches rom coms where they get the guys in the end and wishes it was her.

One particular time she’s sitting at the counter eating someone bangs on her door.

“Y/N open up, it's been weeks,” George yells, continuing to pound on the door. He’s been here everyday since the break up wanting her to get out of bed.

Y/N sighs angrily walking up to the door opening it letting George in. He walks in and turns around to look at Y/N.

“You look like hell,” George comments, putting his hands into his suit pocket.

“Thank you, you always know how to make a girl blush,” Y/N sarcastically replies rolling her eyes. “What are you doing here,” She says more seriously.

“I’m just worried about it,” George says worriedly. “You’ve been in bed for weeks, it's not healthy,” George states.

“You don’t have to worry about me anymore,” Y/N coldly replies.

“I will always worry about you, you are one of my best friends and Fred is an asshole for cheating on you,” George sternly says.

“I can’t even look at you without crying,” Y/N says looking at her feet on the hardwood floor. George pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I’m not Fred,” George sighs.

“I know but you look exactly like him,” Y/N counters back.

“Well no Fred has that birthmark-,” Y/N interrupted him.

“Okay you can stop,” Y/N snaps holding her hand up.

“I’m just saying I’m not Fred and I want to be there for you,” George tried to reassure the girl.

“Why Fred’s your brother,” Y/N finally looks up at him with a confused look on his face. She doesn’t understand why he wants to be there for her.

“Yeah and he’s a prat for cheating on you and for firing you,” George scoffs. “But I still love him and that doesn’t stop me from not caring about you,” He explains.

“Fine if you want to see me be miserable,” Y/N accepts. George gives her a smile before walking in the flat further and following him.

For the next six months George kept coming to her flat everyday to see how she was doing. He stayed for dinner and if he couldn’t come he’d call her before.

George was being so nice to Y/N and she felt a crush forming on him. But she didn’t want that because Fred would probably accuse her of using George.

But she didn’t want George to think bad of her. Him thinking that she only likes him because he’s Fred’s twin is something she does not want.

Whenever she feels particularly down George drops everything to come and comfort her. No matter what.

Y/N doesn’t want to go to the shop because she’ll see Fred and she doesn’t want to run into him or Angelina. George understood knowing how bad it could hurt her.

They would sit on the couch watching shows and movies laughing and joking with each other. She felt so comfortable around him and she felt her heart race around him.

Y/N would never have thought she would have feelings for George Weasley since she was with Fred. But her feelings change when Fred doesn't want her anymore and now she sees George in a different night.

On one particular night she was cooking some lasagna and waiting for George to show up.

“I got breadsticks,” George yells as he walks in the door with a smile on his face.

“I knew you would,” Y/N giggles pointing her spatula at him. George sets the bag on the table and walks around the counter to go next to Y/N.

“You always make the best food,” George groans smelling the lasagna. “Fred moves in with Angelina today,” He blurts out.

Y/N nods biting her lip getting the food out of the stove and setting it on the table. George told her a few months ago that Fred might want to move in with Angelina.

“That’s great that means I can come over to your flat now,” Y/N teases, getting plates and setting the food out on it.

“I thought you’d be more upset about it,” George’s eyes furrow as he takes a bite of the food.

“I did too but I guess if he’s happy I’m happy,” Y/N sighs leaning against the counter poking at her. “You want some wine,” she asks, getting the glasses.

“Sure I love getting drunk,” George accepts with a smile. Y/N pours the wine and hands the glass to George and pours one for herself.

Only in a few hours George and Y/N are drunk. They’re making out on the couch and neither of them knew how this started. But at the moment they don’t care, they only care about getting their clothes.

Y/N rubs her eyes when she wakes up in the morning feeling the sunlight in her eyes. She feels someone pressed up against and she looks up to see George laying there sleeping.

“Oh my god,” Y/N whispers, getting up out of his arms to go and change into something more comfortable. She sits on her bed before walking out and shaking George awake.

“Give a guy a break Y/N,” George grumbles, rubbing his eyes as the sun peaks in through the blinds.

“We had sex last night,” Y/N snaps.

“Why are you so mad about it,” George asks sitting up.

“Because we’re friends,” Y/N states wondering what George is going to say about it.

“We’re more than friends and you know it,” George snaps at her getting his clothes and putting them on. “Are you telling me that you don’t have feelings for me,” He asks as he stands up.

“Maybe,” She whispers, crossing her arms over her chests. “But it’s be wrong you’re my ex boyfriend's twin. I don’t want you thinking I’m only doing this because you look like Fred,” She explains.

“Is that what this all about,” George asks, his eyes softening. He brings his hands to her cheeks and cups them.

“I like you for you, you know that,” She smiles at him, her arms wrapping around his neck.

“I know love.”

443 notes · View notes

wienerbarnes · 4 years ago

Text

Italian Heart

Pairing: Bucky x Italian!MobBoss!Reader

Word Count: 4,867

Warnings: canon level violence, possible inaccurate italian slang lol

A/N: ive been watching a lot of the sopranos lately and i feel like ive never seen a bucky x mob boss reader au (ive only rlly seen em where buckys the mob boss. if there are ones where reader is the mob boss PLS SEND EM TO ME I BEG) a lot of the slang and mob stuff here is from sopranos bc... im not in the fucking mafia so forgive me anyway enjoy :)<3

MAIN MASTERLIST

Bucky’s never seen a woman quite like yourself.

Dressed in expensive satin and jewelry that hangs between your breasts, an angry look on your face at the fact you’re sitting before him and Sam in an interrogation room in the tower. Freshly done nails, clean and crisp lipstick, spicy perfume, and an expression of annoyance.

As put together as you look, you don’t look like someone to be fucked with. Which, he supposes is good for a mobster; the Boss of Newark.

Looking at you, though, he’d never thought you to be such a figure of intimidation. While the mafia is still alive, despite how the media tries to deny this, he always pictured an old Italian man that chain smokes cigars. He doesn’t think he’s too far off, to his credit; he can smell the remnants of smoke on you.

“Mind if we make this fast? My cousin’s comin’ for dinner and I was gonna make ziti.” You huff, crossing your legs under the table.

“Sounds delicious. Sorry for dragging you all the way out here.” Sam says, a calm look on his face even though he’s well aware of what you’re capable of.

When hunting down the last traces of the super soldier serum, he never thought Nick Fury himself would suggest getting in touch with you. He didn’t think it was worth the time to question how the two of you knew each other.

Theft. Drugs. Murder. Bribery. The list goes on, and there’s not a single thing that ties you to any of it.

A shrug of your shoulders, “So, what exactly is this about?” You ask.

“What is it that you do for a living?” Sam asks.

“I work in waste management.” You respond, a rehearsed answer.

Not exactly a lie, the environmental facility you manage is one of hundreds of covers used by your crew for your crimes. Environmental facilities, deli shops, strip clubs, auto shops. There isn’t a business in Jersey you aren’t tied to.

“Waste management? Like, garbage disposal?” Bucky asks, knowing exactly what it is you do for work.

You smirk, “Yeah, we dispose of garbage sometimes. What’s that got to do with me being here?”

“It’s to my understanding that you’re in the business of… buying and selling things. You and… the people you hang around got a real knack for it.” Sam tells you.

Bucky holds back a roll of his eyes. More like stealing and selling. Expensive Italian suits, antique watches, cars, electronics, illegal cigars. Who knows what else.

“I don’t know where you heard that… but I’m a popular gal, maybe I know a guy who might know a guy. What are you lookin’ for?” You ask.

You know this game, after being in the mob for so long. After being a part of your own crew for years, your patience and hard work paid off, working your way up to a captain and finally a boss. It didn’t take you long to learn in this business that government officials are jokes. Always wanting to bust my balls and then come crying to my corner for help, it’s a bunch of ugatz.

“Serums.” Bucky finally speaks.

A laugh escapes you, “What, like vitamin C?” You teasingly smirk at him.

His chair makes a loud sound in the small room as he pushes it back harshly and stands, resting his hands on the table in between the two of you. You don’t flinch.

“Enough with the bullshit. Super serums. To create super soldiers. We need to get them before they end up in the wrong hands and make a big ass mess.” He snaps at you, but you don’t seem phased in the slightest. In fact, you seem rather amused.

“You must have a lot of agita with all that anger, Sergeant Barnes.”

He doesn’t hold back this time and rolls his eyes before you speak up again, “Your first name is James, isn’t it? Ain’t that Italian?”

“No, it’s English. Or Scottish. Or Jewish - I don’t know, who cares? Are you gonna help us or not?” Bucky takes his seat again, crossing his thick arms over his broad chest.

“What’s in it for me?” You ask, leaning back in your chair.

“Not being arrested for all the shit we know you’re caught up in.” Sam offers.

You roll your own eyes this time, “I’ll take my chances. Thanks for wasting my time, boys, don’t let it happen again.” You stand, prepared to make your way back to the train station to go back to Jersey.

“Wait,” Sam stops you, “What is it that you want?”

You smile innocently and take your seat again, taking a minute to think before answering, “My little sister’s a big fan of yours. I’m sure she and all her friends would think it’s cool if you showed up to her prom as her date.” You wink at Sam.

Silence fills the room as the men think about your request.

“You’re gonna do it, right?” Bucky looks over at him and sees Sam rubbing the crease in between his eyes. He was expecting you to ask for immunity, protection, money, guns. But after hearing your request, he supposes you have enough of all that stuff anyway.

“Man -” Sam begins to refuse.

“Sam, it’s a fucking school dance in exchange for some of the most powerful and sought after serums on the planet - go to the fucking prom.” He tells him, eyebrows scrunching in confusion as to how he would hesitate on something so simple.

“She’s eighteen, so you won’t have any problems with the media or none of that.” You add, the information not really making Sam feel any better.

“Alright, alright, fine. I’ll go to the dance with your sister if you help us get these serums.”

You smile, happy to have done business with the two men, “What information do ya got for me?”

…

Bucky and Sam wait outside a back room in the facility you own. They passed the garbage trucks parked neatly outside, but could hear your screaming and the smell of Cuban cigars as soon as they entered the building.

She’s with a customer, they were told, by someone in your crew, them meeting Bucky’s expectations for mobsters more than you did. None of them ask any questions, but Bucky and Sam aren’t stupid, they’re sure your crew is aware of what’s going on and know the exact reason they’re there.

“You’re a fuckin’ asshole, you know that? The Bible says, Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit -”

“You listen to me, you take your Bible and your quotations book and shove it up your fat fucking ass! Now get the fuck out of my face!”

Bucky can’t help but scoff listening to you scream at whoever’s inside. Sam elbows him, silently telling him that now isn’t the time to find your work funny, especially not in front of the rest of your crew.

Bucky knows he’s old-fashioned, and while things that were taboo such as body modifications or certain fashion styles don’t phase him anymore, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to hearing a woman talk like that. He doesn’t think he’s ever even heard anybody talk like you do.

Suddenly a man bursts out of the room, huffing and puffing, and you walk slowly behind him, as if to make sure he makes it outside okay.

“Grab his plate for me, will you?” You say not to anyone in particular, voice smooth and calm as if you hadn’t been yelling and threatening that man’s life for the past twenty minutes.

One of the men from your crew follows outside, seemingly to collect the license plate of the man who just left.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to that guy, right?” Sam asks as he and Bucky enter the room, taking a seat in front of the desk you have in there. He knows there’s no point in asking, that you’ll do whatever you want regardless because it’s obvious you’re passionate about receiving respect, but it was worth a shot.

“Is that what you came all the way to Jersey to ask me? Christ, I’m fuckin’ starving, you boys want anything to eat?” You ask, accent heavy as you reach into the side drawer of your desk and pull out what seems to be some kind of meat wrapped in paper.

“Gabagool?” You offer to them, picking out a slice for yourself and placing it in your mouth.

“Gesundheit.” Sam responds.

“It’s pork, you asshole.”

Bucky silently reaches over and picks off a slice of the cured cold cut, putting the meat in his mouth and savoring the flavor. While he can’t stand the way you make a living or the sailor’s mouth you have, he loves Italian food, and actually chose a neighborhood in New York that has plenty of traditional cold cut markets and restaurants to live in in order to fulfill his cravings.

“There’s a big party staged downtown this weekend, we think that’s when the drop is going to happen.” Sam tells you, bringing the focus to their reason for coming here in the first place.

“I’ll send one of my boys.” You reply in between your chews.

“That wasn’t the deal. The deal was you get the serums.” Bucky speaks up.

“Buck, you know how many people want her dead?” Sam tries to reason.

“What the fuck do I have a crew for then? - No, if pretty boy wants me to do it myself, then I will. The same people that want my head are the same fucks who are terrified to be within twenty feet of me in fear they’ll make eye contact. I’m not scared of nothin’.” You say, narrowing your eyes at Bucky.

“What did you guys come here to talk about?” You ask.

Sam looks confused at your expression, “...To go over the plan? Hash out details? So you know how everything’s gonna go?”

“I’ll be fine; I’ve seen The Godfather once or twice,” You tell him, wrapping up the cappo, after Bucky picks off one last slice, and replacing it in the drawer, “Don’t worry Captain, this ain’t my first rodeo. I’ll get the serums for you.” You open a different drawer and pull out a cigar and a lighter.

Bucky watches as you place the large cigar in between your red-painted lips, bringing the flame of your lighter to the end and hollowing your cheeks until smoke exits from the corner of your mouth. Bucky feels blood travel south as his eyes glaze over your hand grab the cigar out of your mouth and blow out a long string of smoke.

“I guess we’ll be in touch then,” Sam stands and Bucky follows after.

“My sister’s wearing blue, so find yourself a nice tie.” You call out, lifting your feet up to cross them on the desk, dress rising and showing your legs.

Bucky blushes, and then laughs as he exits when he hears you, in a deep and more exaggerated accent than your own, “Just when I thought I was out… they pull me back in!”

…

The morning of the party, Sam and Bucky pick you up from your house, planning to take you into New York to discuss final details before tonight.

You get in the passenger seat, Sam offering it to you and climbing in the backseat. As Bucky begins to drive off, your phone rings.

“I told you to leave that.” Bucky says, telling you explicitly to leave electronics here to prevent anyone finding out where you are, and also to avoid any distractions.

“Wanted to see what you’d about it, Sarge,” You wink at him, pulling out a flip phone and answering the call.

“Yeah… Uh huh… He what? Are you fucking kidding me?... Alright… Tell him not to move a fucking muscle.” You hang up, slamming the phone closed.

“Stop at the facility for a sec, I gotta take care of something.” Bucky sighs and turns away from the route to head to your facility.

“Bucky’s going to be going with you tonight, by the way, he’ll be in disguise. Just in case anything goes wrong.” Sam tells you, not really caring anymore about having to make a stop for you to take care of whatever business you need to take care of.

Your only response is a hum as Bucky can feel the anger radiating off your now tense body.

You slam the car door shut as Bucky parks behind a garbage truck outside, not even waiting for him to fully put the car in park before you exit.

Him and Sam follow quickly behind you to see what’s going on. You enter through a side door that leads to a large room, a garage for the trucks, Bucky assumes.

There’s a large truck inside, and racks of suits wrapped in plastic scattered around. A younger man stands near the truck as your crew peruses around the racks, he couldn’t be older than twenty-five years old. Your heels click on the ground as you approach, slowing down as you glance between the suits and the young man. Bucky and Sam hang around a few feet behind your trail.

You stop, fuming, staring at the man before you speak, “You wanna tell me what the fuck happened?”

“I -” He begins, but you cut him off, raising an open hand at him.

“Actually, I don’t even want to hear your fucking voice right now. Because if what I heard you did is true; if what you did to Vinny’s guy is true, you’re gonna be a fuck load of trouble.”

“Can I -”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“But -”

“I said shut the fuck up, Christopher! What part of that don’t you understand?” You yell, and even Bucky feels intimidated.

You turn to your crew, “What the fuck happened.” You demand, more than ask.

“Kid says he tried to take the truck, Vinny’s guy had a gun that fell outta the seat, went off, shot him.” One of the men summarizes, not looking up from the rack of suits.

You raise a manicured hand to pinch between your eyes, “You keep me skinny, Christopher, with all the fucking stress you cause me.”

“Would you let me explain?” He tries.

“If you don’t do as I told you and shut your fucking mouth, you’re gonna be buried with two assholes,” You threaten before continuing.

“They were fuckin’ suits! All you had to do was take the truck! How did you fuck that up -” You stop yourself and sigh, attempting to calm yourself down.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna take all this shit, you’re gonna take it back to Vinny, and you’re gonna tell him what happened yourself.” You finish.

“Marone!” He exclaims, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Enough with the theatrics! You’re lucky I don’t put a bullet in your ass! Now, I don’t see you grabbing that rack and that rack and that rack and putting it back in the truck!” You wave your arms around the room.

The kid sighs and begins grabbing the racks one by one and rolling them back in the truck.

“Would it be such a shame if they all went back?” An older man from your crew asks, already wearing one of the expensive suits. You scoff and laugh.

“Bucky, pick yourself somethin’ nice for tonight,'' You turn to face him, and he jumps at the sound of your now calmer voice being directed at him, as opposed to the harsh one used on Christopher, “On me.” You wink.

...

Sam and Bucky sit on the bed and watch as you get ready. A small apartment near the party that’s already been swept for bugs. A favor, you called it, from someone you know.

They don’t question it.

“You and Bucky will go in together and I’ll be waiting at a secondary location watching and listening to everything.”

Bucky can’t tear his eyes away from your dress. A mermaid dress, he thinks it is, black and tight and hugging you in all the right places, curving around your ass and sleeveless at the top, allowing you to show off a nice necklace and your cleavage. It’s an understatement to say that he’ll enjoy accompanying you tonight, even if it’s in a costume.

His mother probably would’ve loved it if he would’ve gotten with someone like you. Someone who loves their family, a spitfire that wouldn’t take any of his shit, and whose god damn gorgeous. She might’ve had to wash your mouth out with soap, though.

“So, why is Bucky goin’ again?”

“Safety.” Bucky answers.

“Is he going for my safety or am I going for his?” You tease, finishing the last few curls of your hair, smoke coming from the iron after each time you pull your hair away from it.

“Once you find our guy, get talking with him and see if you can get him to make you an offer,” He begins.

“One I can’t refuse?”

“Then, you’ll try and get him alone, see if he’ll show you the serums, and once you do, we’ll be taking care of the rest.” Sam finishes explaining.

Bucky plucks a box from his pocket and opens it to reveal a pair of diamond earrings. One, a camera, and the other, a microphone. You’re also given a comm to hide in your ear so both him and Sam can hear everything and you can hear them.

“Easy - peasy.” You respond.

The ballroom is lively, loud music and people everywhere, and Bucky attunes all the action overwhelming him to a sweat and not that fact that you’re pressed up against him, his arm wrapped around your waist.

About a hundred different people come up to greet you, asking about your family, offering you drinks and food. Bucky can see right through all of them though; they’re all putting on the act out of fear. Everyone’s attention is on you, and Bucky’s sure if he wasn’t in disguise right now, no one would even notice.

You bring him to the middle of the crowd and he can’t be surprised when you start to dance with him, pulling at his arms to get him to loosen up. He complies, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close as the two of you move together.

“I’ll let you know when I spot him.” He tells you, voice causing goosebumps to rise on your neck; goosebumps that he notices but doesn’t point out.

It only takes a song or two before he spots who he’s looking for and sends you over, making sure your com is on, and choosing to stick by the bar, giving him a good view of you and allowing himself a break of having your body pressed against his.

He’s impressed listening to you talk to this guy, voice smooth and sultry, yet still commanding.

He knows there was a lot of talk when you took position as boss; not a lot of people in the mob took you seriously and didn’t think you or a woman in general would be good in that kind of position in power. So, you use that to your advantage to get shit done, and Bucky applauds you for that.

It’s not long before the guy offers to go somewhere more private to discuss business and Bucky follows far behind, Sam praising you through the coms from where he waits in the car outside, watching through the camera in your earring.

Bucky waits outside of a closed office door upstairs, listening to the conversation through the coms but hearing your exclamation through the door when the guys give you his asking price.

“5 mil each?! What do you take me for, some kinda stunad?”

“Take it or leave it.”

“Take it or leave it, yeah, I can put a bullet between your eyes and take it, alright.”

“Stop messing around and take the offer, it’s not real anyway!” Sam tells you, not wanting to lose their chance on the serums.

You ignore him prioritizing your need for respect over the stupid mission, “How do I know these aren’t Kool-Aid pouches poured in glass bottles?”

��Well, I’m certainly not going to test ‘em out for you.” The guy scoffs.

“Stronzo. You’re outta your fucking mind offering me that.”

“I’ll lower the price for you if you give me a little dance, how ‘bout that?”

“Vaffanculo.” You curse at him.

“Up yours, lady!” He yells back, and Sam sees through the camera, he grabs at you.

“Buck, get in there.” Sam tells him, and it only takes Bucky a second to kick open the door.

He’s a bit taken aback when he not only sees the case of serums out on the table, but you holding the man bent over the small table in the middle of the room next to the serums, gun held to the back of his head.

He very quickly decides that you’re fine and moves to grab the serums, closing the case and holding it securely in his left hand.

“Don’t kill the guy.”

You stay silent and Bucky looks at you again. He can almost see the steam coming out of your ears and he notices a small cut on your cheek bone. He looks down to the man’s cowering figure and notices a large ring on his hand.

You mumble something in Italian to the man, a threat of some kind that Bucky can guess given how the man shuts his eyes and shakes a bit under your hold. Sam finally enters the room, military grade handcuffs in hand.

“Feds are on their way, get her out of here.” He tells Bucky.

You slowly lift the gun off the man’s head and stand up straighter, walking over to brush past Bucky in the direction of the back door.

He makes eye contact with Sam and gives him a nod before following after you, watching as you scrunch up the bottom of your dress to replace the gun in an ankle holster. Once outside, he stops you under a street light near the car and raises his hand to look at your cheek.

“We gotta get going,” You swat at his hand.

“You’re still bleeding.” He says, using his thumb to brush away the line of blood, smearing a red tinge on your skin.

He looks into your eyes and for a second he sees the tough exterior drop. The face of someone who got smacked across the cheek all for mouthing off at some asshole.

Your vulnerability doesn’t last long, though, as you sniff and walk towards the car, opening the passenger door and sitting inside before Bucky can make it over there to open the door for you.

The drive back to the apartment is silent, and Bucky doesn’t know what to do or say to fill the silence. Stepping into the apartment, you immediately go to change and collect your things. Bucky moves to the bathroom to look for a first aid kit of some kind.

He meets you in the room and you’re now in cotton pants and a large t-shirt, sandals on your feet showing the bright red color of your toenails and the lines indented in your skin from how tight your heels were. You’re hanging up the dress and zipping it back in the cover when Bucky drops the first aid kit on the bed.

“Christ, it’s only a small cut.” You mumble.

“Just - Let me, would you?”

He takes out the liquid of disinfectant and soaks a cotton pad, cleaning off your cheek bone with it before covering it with healing ointment and a bandaid.

You don’t thank him when he finishes and he huffs as he closes the kit, “When do you drop the act, huh?”

“I don’t.”

“Really?” Bucky asks in annoyed disbelief.

“No. People tend to try and have me whacked when I drop the act.”

He sighs, “So, what, nobody ever takes care of you? Treats you? You don’t have any days off? Time to be yourself?”

“This lifestyle doesn’t really allow me to have days off, Sergeant Barnes.” You snap, gathering the dress in your hands and turning to face him completely.

“Take me home, I’m tired and my feet hurt.”

You leave him in the room and he waits an extra few seconds before dropping the conversation and following you out.

...

Bucky opens the back door to the environmental facility with his right hand and sees the door to your office open, you and your crew sitting together surrounded by cigar smoke and he can hear a TV on.

“Sir, please step into the vehicle.”

“Like the cop would be callin’ this asshole Sir if the fuckin’ cameras weren’t around!” You wave a hand at the TV, not yet seeing Bucky standing there.

He finds it funny that the gnarliest criminals - the literal Mafia - spend their time watching shitty, scripted cop shows.

It’s been about two weeks since the mission with you where you retrieved the serums. Sam went to prom with your sister five days ago, which was hilarious for him, especially when he got photo prints of different sizes in the mail at his apartment. He didn’t bother thinking about how you found his address.

One of the men sitting next to you glances his way and sees him standing there, smirking at the vision of him; hair combed slightly back and to the side, and a large bouquet of flowers in his right hand and a small paper box in his left.

“You got company, Boss.” He says.

You look over to the doorway and your jaw drops in an open-mouthed smile.

“Look at googootz! Now this is a man that knows how to treat a lady, are you boys paying attention?” You tease, scurrying over to him and pinching one of his cheeks, resting your free hand on his large bicep to guide him into the room, the rest of your crew ushering out to give the two of you privacy.

“What’s in the box?”

“Cannoli.”

You throw your head back with an exaggerated moan, “You know the way to an Italian woman’s heart, Sergeant Barnes. What’s with all the gifts?”

“Thought I’d treat you.” Is all his response is.

You narrow your eyes at him and stand up a little straighter, crossing your arms over your chest.

The last conversation before he dropped you off that night hasn’t escaped his mind. He understands the difficulties of life - how it’s hard to find time for yourself among the busy schedule that is existing. He catches himself sometimes, too, forcing his body to run with no sleep, burning through all of his energy until he’s completely drained and blaming it on life.

But life’s not always like that. Life allows for days off. For treats. For a bit of kindness. And Bucky’s come to show you just that.

“What, a beautiful woman like you never received flowers and pastries before?” He says, taking a half-step forward to be close enough to look you closer in the eyes.

“Are you flirting with me?” You whisper in amusement.

His eyes glance away from yours to look down at your red-painted lips. He gives you a shy smirk, really turning up the charm. For a big, bad, boss, you’re pretty easy to break down.

“Let me take you out tonight.”

“Maybe I’ve got plans.”

“Cancel ‘em.”

“What makes you think you’re worth canceling plans for?”

“Why don’t you trust me and find out?”

“You should know by now, Sergeant Barnes, that I don’t trust.”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, setting the box of cannoli on your desk before reaching his now free hand up to your face, using his finger to brush away a stray hair and push it behind your ear.

He then takes a hold of one of your hands, turning it over to place a kiss on the top of it, before wrapping your fingers around the flowers in his other hand, forcing you to take them.

“No restaurant you’ve been to a hundred times over, no drama, no business. Just a man trying to treat a lady.” You look down at the flowers before meeting his eyes again.

“I get to pick the place.”

“No.”

“The kind of food.”

“No.”

“The -”

“No. Let me take care of everything.” Bucky insists, determined to get you to give up control for the first time in what he can only imagine has been a very long time.

Bucky knows better than anyone how terrifying it is to give up control. It was terrifying when he was forced to give up control, his free will taken away from him in the war for decades upon decades, but it’s terrifying even now when he has to do it as a free man. It makes a person vulnerable. When was the last time you were allowed to be vulnerable for somebody?

“I’m gonna pick you up here at six. Wear something nice and leave the executive attitude at home.” He finishes, leaving you with the flowers and cannoli before returning back outside, ignoring the stares he receives from you crew who wait patiently outside your office.

He feels your eyes follow him at the door, and he can’t wait to sweep you off your feet tonight.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes mob au #bucky barnes x mobboss!reader #mob au #marvel #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes oneshot #even tho bucky wants her to give up control we all know he prob likes being yelled atin italian #and that the real reason he wants to take you out

204 notes · View notes

accioprozac · 4 years ago

Text

Jealous : Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: You’d known the Weasley twins since 1st year and had been pining after Fred nearly as long. You knew it wasn’t requited, Fred treated you like he treated Ginny, like a little sister. Your crush on him was painfully obvious, almost everyone knew except Fred. Still, you were holding out hope. Then Fred asked Angelina to the Yule Ball and you felt your heart spilt in two. But despite Fred’s apparent disinterest in you romantically, he still attempts to sabatoge all your dates and you’re getting sick of it.

Warnings: Swearing

Author’s note: Please interact! Also, I wrote this on my phone so sorry if the spelling and format is a bit wonky.

“The Yule Ball is coming up,” you mention, trying to keep your voice light, “Are you going to ask anyone?”

George gives you a knowing look and you glare at him. He knew about your not-so-secret crush on Fred. Hell, almost everyone did, except Fred. You weren’t exactly good at hiding your feelings.

“I have someone in mind,” he grins slyly.

“Really? Who?” You ask, a bit too excitedly, and he gives you an amused look. “Come on Fred, tell me!” You wheedle but he puts a finger to his lips, zipping them shut.

“I’ll give you a hint,” he starts, “She’s in Gryffindor.”

Well obviously,” George snorts. Fred gives him a look that says what’s that supposed to mean? “You barely talk to any Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws are too smart to put up with your shit and Slytherins? I’m pretty sure that whole house hates you after the prank we pulled last year.”

Fred’s eyes light up at the mention of the prank and he enthusiastically starts to recount Snape’s reaction to his House’s robes being turned red and gold.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

“He didn’t say much, but do you think he could be talking about me?” you ask Hermione anxiously as you both get ready for bed.

“Well it would make sense. You are the girl he spends the most time with.”

“I hope he asks me,” you say wistfully, “Night Hermione.”

“Goodnight Y/N.”

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

The next morning, Hermione’s forehead is wrinkled in thought when you sit down for breakfast, “Y/N,” she starts, “I heard from Lavender Brown who heard from Katie Bell that Fred asked Angelina to the Yule Ball.” Her lips are pursed as she anxiously studies your face for some type of reaction.

“Oh,” you say dejectedly, “Good for him.”

“I’m sorry Y/N,” Ginny says sympathetically, “My brother is an idiot.”

You give her a weak smile back.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

A few days later, Ernie Macmillan comes up to you and nervously asks you to Hogsmead. He’s sweating profusely but you secretly admire his bravery. You accept and the date is fairly uneventful, mostly consisting of playful banter, and he walks you back to the Gryffindor common room, kissing your cheek chastely before departing.

Fred and George caught sight of the kiss and Fred snorts, “A Hufflepuff?”

“What’s wrong with Hufflepuff?” You demand, crossing your arms.

“Nothing. Nothing at all,” he mutters before angrily storming off. George mouths “sorry, I’ll talk to him,” before following Fred.

Ernie doesn’t talk to you again after that date. Every time you approach him, he finds some reason to leave quickly. You couldn’t lie, it was hurtful, was the date that bad? He seemed almost scared to be around you.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

A boy from Durmstang ends up asking you to the Yule Ball. His name is Ansen. He’s tall and has nice eyes, so you accept. Maybe you aren’t in love with him, but he’s a nice distraction from Fred. You get along with him well enough, you both like quidditch and chocolate frogs. He’s not a bad dancer either, he twirls you around and that combined with your F/C dress makes you feel like a princess.

When the Yule Ball ends, he walks you back to the Gryffindor tower and wishes you a good night.

When you enter the common room, George and Fred are talking in harsh whispers, heads bowed. Both of them are still in their Yule Ball suit. Fred looks up and seems a bit annoyed, “Who’s that bloke you went to the ball with?”

“His name is Asen, he goes to Durmstang,” you say, shrinking a bit under Fred’s glare. “He’s really nice,” you added, just because you could.

“You went with him??” Fred huffed, sounding a bit disbelieving. “He’s Bulgarian, how do you guys even talk?”

George grinned, “I bet there’s not much talking involved when they get together.” You shoot him a look, not helping George.

Ginny glares at them from a armchair by the fireplace, the splitting image of her mother, and they shrunk under her angry gaze. “Stop being gits,” she grabs my hand and pulls me to the girls dormitory, “Tell me everything.”

Once you’re done recounting the date, she smiles, “He sounds nice.”

“He is.”

“You don’t sound too happy,” Ginny notes innocently.

“I know,” you sigh. “I just wish I that Fred had asked me.”

Ginny winces, “I know the feeling.” Harry, right.

“I’m sorry Gin.”

“Boys are stupid, who needs them?”

“Here, here,” Hermione agrees from her bed, her voice is thick with tears and muffled slightly by her pillow.

“I’m going to kill Ron.”

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

The next day, Ansen’s hair is bright blue. When you try to talk to him, he seems disgruntled and brushes you aside, muttering something about “stupid Weasley twins” and “she’s not worth the trouble.” You narrow your eyes and put two and two together. Fred and George.

You storm up to them and Fred gives you an annoyed look as you cut of his conversation with Angelina.

“You two are unbelievable! You can’t just prank everyone I try to date,” your voice raises a bit and you know you’re making a scene, but you’re to mad to care. You can feel onlookers burning holes into your back with their curious stares.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Fred drawls and George quickly removes himself from the situation, putting his hands up like don’t get me involved.

“You dyed Ansen’s hair blue and now he won’t speak to me,” you shoot a glare at him, “Not to mention whatever you did to poor Ernie.”

“We prank everyone,” he says defensively.

“You scared them away,” your voice is accusatory.

“Well if they’re that easily scared away, they’re not worth your time,” he replies breezily.

“You don’t get to do this,” you repeat. Your voice is quiet but shakes with anger and hurt.

“Why not?” Fred asks, looking a bit sullen.

“Because you don’t get to do this. You don’t get to ruin all my chances of love after you broke my heart,” your eyes widen at your thoughtless confession.

He gaped silently for a moment, “When I broke your heart?”

“You took Angelina to the Yule Ball.” At his blank look, you felt your face grow hot with anger, “You know what? Forget it. Fuck you Fred Weasley. Stay out of my life”

“Wait, Y/N!” He scrabbles up and grabs your wrist. You jerk it away from him, feeling like he burned you, before running into the girls dormitory.

Hermione, who had been silently watching the exchange, set her book down, “Fred Weasley, you are a compete arse,” she hissed before running after you.

She finds you lying face flat on your bed, “Y/N? I’m sorry about Fred, boys are idiots.”

You let out a watery laugh, “I hate him,” you pause, “but I also love him and he doesn’t love me back and it’s hurts, Mione.”

“I know,” she sighed, wrapping you in a hug. You allow yourself to cry on her shoulder and she glares at the wall behind you, thinking of all the things she wanted to do to Fred Weasley for hurting you.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

You avoid the Fred for a whole week and you’re absolutely miserable. You’ve been spending more time with Hermione which is fun and all, but you missed George(and maybe Fred too). It’s not that you were mad at George, but if you spoke to him, Fred would probably be there. You made sure to continue to smile at George in hallways but your face would turn icy at the arrival of Fred.

The next week, you’re walking to potions and Fred grabs you and pulls you into an empty classroom. “I need to talk to you,” he says.

You sigh wearily and avoid his gaze, “What do you want Fred? Can’t you just leave me alone?”

“I want you.” His voice is so earnest and when you look up to meet his eyes, he’s smiling nervously, hands wrung together.

You look away, “No, you don’t. You’re just saying that because you can’t stand seeing me with another boy and no longer fawning over you like a lovesick little girl.” Your tone is venomous and you take a step back, preparing to leave but his voice stops you.

“That’s not true,” he says defensively, “I fancy you, I think I always have. It just took seeing you with another bloke for me to realize.”

“What about Angelina?”

“I don’t love her, I love you,” his frank declaration stuns you into silence.

“You love me?” your voice is a hoarse whisper.

His face flushes and you hate that you still find him endearing after everything he’s done, he nods solemnly, “I do. I know I’ve been awful to you these past weeks and I don’t blame you if you don’t want to see me.”

You feel your resolve crumbling, “I’m still mad at you but I do miss being friends.” You don’t address the love confession, you were still too mad and hurt for that.

“I’ll make it up to you Y/N, I promise.”

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

He stays true to his word. He walks you to every class and even apologizes to Ernie, who is no longer avoiding you. He doesn’t try to demand anything from you or push you, leaving everything up to you. Slowly, you begin to trust him again and can feel your relationship shifting from friends to something else.

Your first kiss is at the end of the school year. You say goodbye to George and turn to Fred, nervously aware of his family standing a few steps away. “Write to me?” you ask and he nods. You stand on your tip toes and peck him on the lips, quickly. He stares at you in shock for a moment before gently grabbing your waist and pulling you in for another a kiss that leaves you both breathless. You can hear his brothers hollering in the distance and Molly scolds them.

When you pull apart, Fred’s face is almost as red as his hair, “Bye Y/N, I’ll uh- see you next year,” he pauses, “Or maybe you could come to the Burrow sometime during the summer? You don’t have to but I reckon Mum would love to have you, and I would too of course-“

You cut off his rambling with a laugh, “I’d love to Freddie.”

#fred weasley x reader #fred x reader #fred weasley #george weasley #weasley twins #fred weasley imagine #harry potter imagine #harry potter oneshot #harry potter #hogwarts #yule ball #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley x y/n

959 notes · View notes

lexwritess · 4 years ago

Text

Taken [P.P]

Inspired by this tiktok

Pairings- Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader, Steve Rogers x platonic!reader, Steve Rogers x Daughter!Reader

warnings- abuse, abduction, fighting, mentions of blood, fighting, swearing, angst, scars

Word count: 2825

a/n: in this fic tony, nat, and steve are still alive and here. may is dead :( sorry it just fit in better like that.

Italics are translations

“Have you see anyone yet?” You hear Tony ask through your ear piece.

“No not yet...I’m going to peek behind this building.” You reply. You were currently on a mission with Tony, Wanda, Sam, Steve, and Peter. Steve and Tony usually don’t allow you and Peter do go on missions together because your first instinct is to always protect each other, and Tony knows how overprotective Peter is. But they decided that they needed both of your abilities to complete today’s mission.

“Okay be careful, you’re getting pretty close to the unit.” You hear Natasha.

You were investigating an old HYDRA unit. Even though HYDRA has been destroyed, you and the team think there are still people trying follow through with their plans.

You move from the Pilar you were hiding behind and just as you take the first footstep bullets start flying your way.

You use your powers and create a force field around your body as your eyes turn from Y/E/C to your signature neon green.

You created green energy orbs with your hands and shot them at the attackers.

“There’s people now guys. I’m west from the unit, lots more people are coming out so please hurry.” You breathe out.

They started getting close enough that you needed to go to hand-to-hand combat.

Two were coming at you at the same time. You gave one a swift punch to the head, your arm glowing green in the process giving you extra strength. The other one was coming behind you but before they could do anything you grabbed his arm and flipped him over your head.

More men started rushing towards you and you weren’t sure you could hold them off much longer.

“Guys there’s about 30 agents here now!” You say frantically into your mic.

“We’re coming, just hold them off a little longer you got this!” Steve encourages.

“Y/n, be careful please.” You hear Peter’s wavering voice.

“Don’t worry.” You pause ducking into a split from an agents hit, punching him in the nuts.

You flip back up from the ground and get back to a fight stance.

One comes at you shooting a gun. You quickly from a force shield and run towards the guy. You jump onto his back and climb up onto his shoulders. You make him spin around while his gun is firing, shooting all the men surrounding you.

You jump off his back and start firing your energy orbs wherever you can. The amount of agents surrounding you now is getting over whelming.

There’s about 6 men trying to fight you up close. Your trying to battle them out but some of them are laying some good hits on you.

You feel a sharp sting, you can quite identify what caused it. Just as you go to look, 4 of the agents have been knocked down.

You check your surrounds to see what caused the men to fall and see caps shield. You smile and let a breath out knowing you have a little extra help now.

“Thanks cap!” You shout over to him. He nods with a smile and runs over to you and starts fighting by your side.

“Where’s everyone else?” You ask while knocking an agent out.

“They’re coming. We got stuck at one of the buildings.” He replies knocking down one of the last agents. You know it won’t be the last one but you have some time to cool off for a while.

You nod and pace around, catching your breath. You look down and an agent lets out a groan and moves a little. You give him a quick kick and he’s out again.

“Hey did you see this?” You hear Steve ask.

You turn around and see him holding a used syringe.

You get nervous and start to think maybe they was the pinch you felt earlier while fighting.

“Steve check my neck and see if there’s anything.” You ask.

He walks over to you and tilts your head up to exam your neck.

“Shit...Y/N/N.” Steve sighs.

“Okay, it’s nothing to worry about Nothing’s happening.” You shrug.

“Yeah yet.” Steve turns away.

Steve is very protective over you. He’s basically your father. He found you hiding during the battle of New York. You had a pretty traumatic life. Getting abducted by HYDRA at the age of 4, getting powers due to the experiments, your parents dying, but hey now Captain America basically raised you and you’re an Avenger dating a boy with spider powers.

You look around once again and see more agents coming your way. You tap Steve and tell him to get ready.

In the other direction you see the rest of your team coming. Now you might actually be able to get into the unit.

Everyone has attackers swarming them you can barley see each other. You find it suspicious that they keep eyeing you though. But before you can finish your thought a pistol came to your head and you blacked out.

You woke up in an unfamiliar room. You’re surrounded by grey walls and strange tech equipment.

You groan out in pain. Your whole body aches and you can feel your head pounding.

You go to get up, but you’re body is restricted.

You look and see you’re body is tied up to the cold metal seat. You try to use your powers to break free, but you are left to see you’re powers aren’t working anymore.

“What the hell?” You mutter to yourself, wondering why and how your powers abruptly stopped working.

“Hello Miss Y/L/N...” A cold voice rang throughout your ears.

Your head shot up to see who it was. The man was tall with dark grey hair. He was wearing a suit and the other two people behind him were as well.

“Who are you?” You grunt out, struggling against your restraints. Damn maybe you shouldn’t of skipped out on training last week.

“Well if you must know, we are the remaining members of HYDRA. We and a couple more people have joined again to finally carry out our plans.” The one in the middle tells you. You assume he’s the leader.

“Why did you take me? Out of everyone else?” You ask them.

The man raises an eyebrow at you and then smirks. “You, dear Y/n, are one of the most important people on the team. They all care for you so deeply it’s disgusting. And quite frankly we aren’t finished with you.” The man hunches over so his eyes can meet yours.

You scrunch your nose up as he inches close to your face.

“You have something of ours.” The man tells you.

“I don’t have anything.” You say.

“Liar!” The man yells and strikes you in the face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” You shout at the man, blood trickling from your nose into your mouth.

The man scowls at you and says something in German. Another man walks over with a knife in his hand.

He was younger then the man, he looked to be about 30.

The men all discuss while glancing at you every couple seconds. You try to hear what they’re saying but it’s all German.

You glance around the room and see there’s a camera in the corner. The light is blinking so that means they’ve been recording your whole interaction.

The younger man kneels beside you and places the blade on your arm.

“Where is our Grün serum?” The man persists.

“I told you I don’t know what you’re talking about!” You cry.

“Tu es.” The gray hair man mumbles and you feel the blade sink into your skin.

You scream out in pain. The pain never resides, you wanted to see what he was carving but the sight of your mangled skin would freak you out even more.

“I didn’t take anything!” You weep.

You start yelling in agony again when the man starts carving on a new section of skin.

“PETER!” You scream out, maybe just a little bit of hope if he was still around he’d hear your screams.

At the Avengers compound

“PETER!” They hear your painful screams through the monitor.

Peter breaks into a sob. Hearing you yell for him and he’s not able to save you kills him.

“Shut it off I can’t watch anymore.” Steve says and looks away.

“I wish we could, but we need to see if they say anything.” Sam says trying to remain calm.

“Did you find the location yet?” Tony asks Natasha.

“Almost, five more minutes.” She responds.

The team looks at the monitor as the man comes to eye level with the camera.

“If you want your girl back you must surrender to us. For now she’s hydras property.”

And with that the monitor went static.

“I’m leaving.” Peter stands up.

“Kid you can’t leave. We gotta strategize first. You can’t leave without the team.” Tony demands.

“I don’t care!” Peter shouts.

“She is being tortured and she doesn’t have her powers! Without them she’s just a teenage girl, she’s going to die!” Peter grits his teeth in anger and starts to exit.

Wanda uses her powers and drags him back to his seat.

He huffs and slouches into his seat, tears brimming his eyes.

“Did you at least find where they’re keeping her?” Peter asks, his voice tired and raspy.

“No, I thought I was close but the coordinates are false.” Natasha replies, defeated.

“Then why are we here! I’m so tired of your stupid plans! We never follow them anyway. Y/n is going to die! Die! Do you not understand what that means?” Peter starts screaming and crying as the team starts rushing towards his side.

“Peter it’s okay, we’re going to find-.” Peter cuts Sam off.

“It’s not okay!” Peter’s voice cracks. “I keep losing everyone I care about. My parents, uncle Ben, and now May...I can’t lose Y/n.” Peter walks out of the room, he needs air.

“He’s not wrong Tony.” Steve says, the tears in his eyes threatening to spill.

“Go talk to him. Calm him down, I’ll figure something out.” Tony says and Steve exits.

Steve walks out to the balcony where Peter stands.

“Hey queens.” Steve says softly to Peter.

“Hey.” Peter says, his voice just above a whisper.

“Listen I know exactly how you feel. She’s my kid! I’m mean I know not actually but she might as well be...I want to get up and go after he just as much as you do. I don’t think they moved locations. I believe they’re still at the facility.” Steve explains.

Peter takes a glance at Steve. He nods his head, after cooling off he realizes there should probably be a plan. He still would rather leave though.

“So that’s exactly what we’re doing.” Steve stands up straight getting ready to go.

“W-what? Seriously?” Peter asks with wide eyes.

“Yeah, kid cmon get your suit on.” Steve motions for him to go and Peter immediately starts walking with him.

“Mr. Stark is going to kill me.” Peter breathes out.

Peter and Steve were in a car that Steve “borrowed.” He didn’t want to be tracked down.

“It’ll fine. He’ll understand...eventually.” Steve huffs.

“So what made you change your mind?” Peter breaks the silence.

Steve bites his lip while thinking.

“Y-you I guess.” Steve let’s put a breathy laugh.

“Seeing how determined you were just reminded me I can’t just sit here. I’ve never been on to just sit and wait. And this weekends Father’s Day... I would always make sure she’s happy that day because I know how it can be not having your dad.”Steve pauses.

“You can join to of you want.” Steve smiles.

“O-okay yeah.” Peter smiles back, but on the inside he wants to cry, he’s never had someone offer him something like that before.

At The HYDRA Unit

You feel awful. Your whole body aches, your skin burns, you can feel the cuts on your arms are infected.

Looking down at your arm you see the man carved “HYDRAS PROPERTY.”

You feel dirty, you’re tired, and maybe even getting sick. You don’t know what they injected you with or what they’re planing to do but it’s really taking a toll on your mental and physical health. The abuse doesn’t make what’s going on in your body any better.

“I just want to go home.” You cry out, your voice broken.

“You can’t...you are the final step.” The man gets inches away from your face.

You get fed up and spit in his face.

“Curva dracului! Damn you whore!”The man shouts and cracks you across the face.

Maybe you shouldn’t of done that, but damn it was worth it.

You can’t help but laugh. You’re used to the beatings and you’re delirious at this point

“You think this is funny?” The man sneers at you.

“Hilarious.” You reply.

Before the man can do anything, a loud crash was heard.

The man glared at you before running towards the source of the noise.

A couple seconds later you hear bangs and grunts, you’re assuming it’s a fight.

A little bit of you hopes it’s Peter.

You see a man blasted across the wall and a red-suited figure follow.

“Spider-Man!” You say with the the first genuine smile in a long time.

“Hold on Y/n I’ll be right there!” Peter shouts and webs up another agent.

Peter comes over and unties you. Once your finally free you pull Peter into a bone crushing embrace.

“I missed you so much.” You mumble against his chest.

“I missed you.” He says while caressing your head.

“Cmon guys we gotta go before anyone else comes after us.” Steve urges.

Peter picks you up and runs back outside towards the car.

“Okay go!” Peter tells Steve.

“Seatbelts.” Steve says.

“There’s people literally shooting at us and you’re waiting till we put our seatbelts on?” Peter complains.

Steve doesn’t say anything and Peter rolls his eyes.

“Alright there go!” Peter yells.

And with that Steve slams on the gas and leaves the facility.

“I know I’ve already asked you this but are you sure you’re okay?” Peter asks you. It’s been a week since your rescue and he’s still treating you like your glass.

“Yes Peter I’m perfect.” You smile and kiss him sweetly.

Bruce and Tony worked together so you finally got your powers back.

You feel a lot better now that you’re back home with everyone you love, but you can’t help me bothered by the scaring of HYDRAS PROPERTY on your arm. Will you actually always be apart of them?

“Y/n, I know somethings on your mind...what’s up?” Peter asks concerned.

“Nothing...just look.” You pull your sleeve up and show him the healing scars.

“Baby listen to me...you’re not apart of them. You’re apart of the avengers and they can’t control you anymore. I won’t let them get you ever again i promise.” Peter pulls you into his warm embrace.

“Thank you so much Peter...I love you.” You whisper.

“You love me?” Peter whispers back.

“Yeah I do, I love you a lot Pete.” You smile.

“I love you too, Y/n.” Peter smiles back and kisses you passionately.

You giggle and pull away.

“Alright let’s focus on today.” You say.

“Do you think Steve will be happy about his gift?” You question Peter.

It’s Father’s Day and since Steve has always treated you like his own daughter, you got adoption papers to make it official.

“Of course! He’s going to love it!” Peter reassures you.

“Hey Steve!” You walk into the living room where him Natasha, and Bucky are sitting.

“Hey Y/N/N, are you and Peter ready for lunch?” He asks you while patting a seat beside him for you to sit.

“Yeah we’re ready, but before we go I got you a gift actually.” You smile.

“You didn’t have to get me a gift.” Steve smiles back.

“Well I did so here.” You let out a shaky breath and handed him the papers.

“If you want, I got the adoption papers so you could legally be my guardian. I know it’s a little difficult when I get into trouble at school and they need to see my ‘parent’ and you always the one that comes. You’re the one that’s always there when I need a parental figure, so thank you. Happy Father’s Day, Steve. I love you.”

“Y/n...” Steve pauses which kind of scared you.

“Of course I’ll be your dad. What do I have to do! Just sign?” Steve says with the biggest grin.

“Yeah, yeah just right there and it’ll be official.”

Steve signs the paper and stands up.

“Alright celebratory lunch! C’mon official daughter. And Peter you come too.” Steve grabs you and Peters arms as you walk out the door.

*Bonus*

“Nat, are you...are you crying?” Bucky asks Natasha.

“It was a sweet moment! If you ever tell anyone I’ll kill you.”

Tag list

@bubblicious-trashcan

@caswinchester2000

#bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #marvel #peter parker #peter parker x avenger!reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter Parker smut #peter Parker angst #steve rogers x daughter!reader #dad!steve rogers #Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers

403 notes · View notes

paperpocalypse · 4 years ago

Text

significance.

50 Cliché Tropes and Prompts: 26. Cuddling in comfortable silence before murmuring “I love you” + 47. “I’ve been in love with you for years”

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4,118 words

Warning: Swearing, violence

His head feels like it’s been split open, the rest of his body feels like one giant bruise and the Handler’s daughter has her fancy leather boot on his fucking throat.

Five couldn’t be less surprised by his luck.

“Doesn’t feel so good, does it?”

He forces in just enough breath to answer her. “Eat shit and die …!”

The reaction is worth it. Lila lets out a furious cry, gritting her teeth and bringing her foot down even harder – and in doing so, changes her center of gravity. Opportunity. Five digs his nails into that damned shoe and pushes upwards. The sudden force sends her flying, and he can breathe again.

Fighting the ache in his bones, Five stumbles to his feet as she does the same. “Come on,” he pants, readying his stance as the woman turns to face him again. “What are you waiting for? Let’s finish this thing.”

She shakes her head. “No,” she whispers, sniffling. “This isn’t gonna be quick. You are going to suffer for what you did.”

Suffer? For Christ’s sake – Five scoffs and drops his hands. “Lady, I got no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Ronnie and Anita Gill.”

“Mean nothing to me.”

“1993, East London.” Lila continues to stare at him like he knows what the hell she’s talking about. “You hog-tied them and you shot them in the head.”

Five narrows his eyes; it’s very possible that she’s just bullshitting him. But despite the rationality of just ignoring her and going for the kill, he searches his memories anyway. 1993, East London. Hog-tied. Tables overturned, the pleas of a couple inside a tiny flat in the middle of the night. Yes, wait – he does remember. 1993, toys strewn everywhere – he told you to close your eyes but you didn’t – East London, two quick shots –

“We had no choice.”

“I know. But …”

“The flower merchants,” he murmurs. Five looks at her with wide eyes. “They were your parents …!”

“And they never did anything to anyone. They didn’t deserve to die like that.”

The Handler ordered him to kill Lila’s parents. Lila, who has powers like them. That couldn’t have been a coincidence.

Absorbing this newfound information, Five attempts to talk the woman down as he fills out the rest of the picture. “You’re right, alright? I killed them. But I killed a lot of people over the years. It was all just a job. Alright? That was never personal.”

At that, Lila laughs. “‘Never personal,’ my ass,” she sneers. “Yeah, I’ve killed – it’s always, always personal.”

“That’s why you’re not cut out to be an assassin.”

She yanks a knife out of her boot as soon as the sentence leaves his mouth. “Bet your life on that?”

Right then, a shadow moves in the doorway to the barn. Five immediately knows who it is, and his heart seizes in his chest.

“Lila!” Your voice is firm and taunting.

Shit. Shit!

Without hesitation, Five lunges for the knife, only to find himself grabbing at air as Lila reappears behind you. The blade is pressed against your neck before he can even shout your name.

Five clenches his fists as he meets your eyes. Your expression is stony, hands stiffly grasping at Lila’s arm. Jesus Christ, just a little energy to blink – nothing –!

Fucking shit!

“Let her go.”

—

The bearded man smiles. “Sorry, no can do.”

The alley is frigid and dark, the air damp and rotting. He doesn’t move a muscle. In front of him, you breathe steadily, in and out, not saying a word. The steel barrel pressed flush to your temple mirrors the one against his.

“Just hand over your valuables and that briefcase, and we can be on our way.”

“Sorry,” you say, voice steady and cold. (It makes him proud.) “Everything stays with us.”

He looks at you. You blink.

Within the next half-second, he’s knocked your captor to the ground and the two of you are aiming the guns at their previous owners. They raise their hands almost immediately. Exactly like the exercise from his youth.

Another half-second, and both of you pull the triggers.

Five stares down at the corpse now lying on the ground. Then he straightens his tie and turns to you.

You’re still pointing the gun at the other target. His frown softens.

“[Y/n].”

Putting a hand on your arm, he notes how you stiffen, snapping out of whatever zone you had been in. You meet his eyes and breathe in sharply, then relax.

“We’re done.” You frame the question as more of a statement as Five takes the former thief’s gun from you.

“For the night,” he affirms, holding your gaze curiously. “You good?”

You wet your lips and tuck your weapon away. “I’m okay,” you eventually reply. He raises an eyebrow; your mouth twitches. “I just – well, you’re taking this whole assassin thing a lot better than I am. Pointing guns and shooting and killing for real, and – and all that pizzazz.”

“I was a member of the Umbrella Academy,” Five points out dryly. “Thirteen more years of formal training and being able to spatial jump gives me somewhat of an advantage.”

“… That’s true.” Still, you seem unsettled. “Five, you’re okay with this? We’re … killing people.”

“No. But we have no other option,” he says. “It’s only until I figure out how to get us back, alright?”

You hesitate, then nod. “Alright.”

The pair of you leave the alley, leaving the targets there to be found by the police. The fact that they had a gun pointed at your head should make him feel better about it. They were already criminals, too. Self-defense instead of cold-blooded “corrections.”

There’s still a bitter taste in his mouth anyway.

“You hold your own pretty well,” he murmurs after a while, trying to distract himself.

You grant him a small, knowing smile. “Thanks,” you say, taking his arm as the pair of you walk the rest of the way to the motel. “I had a good teacher while I was stuck in the ruins of the apocalypse.”

He hums. “Weren’t you lucky?”

Your hand tightens around the sleeve of his tailored suit.

“The luckiest.”

—

He’s going to kill her.

Teeth bared, Five starts toward her, only to stop short when Lila presses the blade harder against your throat.

“Not another step, Five,” she warns him, her grip tightening. “Or you’ll both regret it.”

“She’s not responsible for what happened. I was the one who killed them!”

“But she didn’t stop you, did she?”

Five struggles to control his rage. The knife is sharp and black underneath your jaw, ready to draw blood at a moment’s notice.

You inhale shallowly. “Lila,” you rasp.

“Don’t speak.”

“Look,” Five forces out as evenly as he can, catching the woman’s attention again. He can’t take his eyes off that goddamn knife. Five can almost feel the edge cutting into his own skin. “You wanna blame someone, blame the Handler, alright? She faked the kill order.”

“Bullshit! I saw the kill order. AJ Carmichael ordered it, and you and [Y/n] carried it out.”

“Lila, listen to what I’m telling you, alright? The Handler gave us the kill order. She came on the job, which she’d never done before.” He unclenches his fists with unwilling, trembling fingers. His mind is reeling. “You’re Commission. You know execs never go on jobs, but that day in London, she was there. Ask yourself why –”

“Stop trying to muddy the waters.”

Five swallows, pulse racing. He rips his eyes away from your neck to gauge Lila’s expression. Doubt is beginning to bleed into it, and he manages to keep his tone level.

Focus on completing the picture. No sudden movements.

“Think about it, Lila. It all makes sense.”

Lila’s grip on the knife relaxes by the smallest amount. She hesitates for a moment before speaking. “What?”

“She never cared about your parents. She was looking for you.”

What little is left of her anger melts off Lila’s face. For the first time, the girl looks completely vulnerable. And it’s not a farce.

“Why?” she whispers.

Come on …

“‘Cause you’re one of us.”

Lila whips her head around when Diego cuts through the silence, holding you even more tightly against herself. Five’s gaze snaps back to the knife again and he swears internally.

Dammit, Diego, you better have a plan!

“The Handler stole you, Lila. Just like our asshole father took all of us,” his brother explains carefully.

“No. It’s not the same thing.”

“You’re right. Because he didn’t have our parents murdered.” Diego approaches her, staying low to the ground, hands outstretched. “Listen to me, Lila. You were born October 1, 1989, the same day as all of us.”

The rest of his siblings close in on Lila, slowly, warily. The movement sends her into a panic, and she cuts a little into your neck. You let out half of a gasp and swallow the rest of it, but it’s enough.

Five sees red.

“Get your fucking hands off her!”

“STAY BACK!”

“Five! Back off!” Diego shouts. Chest heaving and blood roaring in his ears, Five looks at him and then at your sweaty, frozen face – and against every fiber of his being, he listens and backs off, glaring venomously as his brother then turns to Lila again. “Lila? Lila, stop. Let her go.”

She turns her head from side to side, knuckles white as she keeps the knife against your throat. “No,” she chokes. “Diego, you don’t understand. They killed my parents. They took my life away from me.”

Five seethes. “For the last time, it was nothing personal –"

“And it was wrong. I know.” Diego’s eyes flit to Five’s, silently reprimanding. “You want to make them pay for what they did. But killing [Y/n]’s not gonna bring your parents back. You know that.”

“It’s not about bringing them back.”

He nods once, softly. “You’re right. It’s about justice. Honoring their memory.” Diego’s voice is gentle. “Trust me, Lila, I get it. I lost someone to the Commission too. She wasn’t family, but she was my friend, and I cared about her. She wasn’t supposed to die. She didn’t deserve to die. But she did.”

As Diego continues talking, Five keeps his guard up on the other side, watching and waiting for a contraction of a muscle, a single forewarning of violence. If another drop of your blood stains that blade, shit, he’ll kill the woman with his own two hands, Diego’s feelings be damned.

Tightening his jaw, Five shifts on his feet as he looks at you. You stare back with calm eyes – just like that night in the alley, but this time, with no signal for him to make a move.

Goddammit, they should’ve gotten you to safety by now!

“… Just think about whether taking another life would honor their memory. [Y/n] deserves a chance to start over, live a peaceful life with people she cares about. And so do you.”

Lila’s trembling. Yet, she refuses to budge. “If it weren’t for her and Five,” she whispers, “I wouldn’t need that second chance. I would have been all alone if Mum hadn’t found me that night.”

“But there’s a reason she found you. She’s using you, Lila. The Handler.”

“You’re wrong. She raised me.” Lila pauses, then asserts, “She loves me.”

“She’s dangerous,” Diego emphasizes. “And you’re scared of what she’ll do with all that new power. That’s why you dragged me to the Commission. Because I know what it’s like to love dangerous people.”

—

“Oh, my.” The Handler puts a hand on his shoulder, hovering behind him. “One hundred and forty-three kills on the simulation? That’s a new record. Very, very good, Five.”

Five bristles at her closeness, but he doesn’t move away, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of unnerving him. “Thanks,” he says tersely.

“Tell me, Five. From what I’ve seen during your training, you’d be a lot more efficient in the field if you were a one-man team. Working alone is when you work best.”

“I’m partnering up with [Y/n].”

“And you’ve filled out the paperwork and everything, I know. I know. But I implore you to think about it logically,” the Handler tells him, leading him down the hallway. “[Y/n] has highly marked assessments, but frankly, they’re nowhere near your level.” She raises her eyebrows at him and blows out a stream of smoke. “Forgive me for assuming, but perhaps this is less about a partnership that would benefit the Commission and more about your personal … relationship.”

Five smiles thinly at her. “With all due respect, we’ve worked together for years. Almost forty years, in fact. I can assure you that our partnership will deliver more than satisfactory results.”

The woman just hums serenely, eyebrows still raised and cigarette holder between her lips as he faces her. Behind her, he sees you approaching.

“Excuse me,” he says politely.

As he sidesteps the Handler to meet you halfway, your shared employer calls out to him, voice ringing through the sparse crowd of Commission drones. “You’re a dangerous man, Five,” she drawls, “and this is a dangerous job. If you want to protect someone, we won’t stop you, but don’t let it endanger this opportunity we’ve so generously provided. To the both of you.”

“Duly noted,” Five replies over his shoulder, walking away with you. He can hear the Handler’s heels click against the floor as she goes on her way as well.

“She’s suspicious about us partnering up, isn’t she?” you ask him lowly.

He frowns. “I would be too if I were her. But we have to stay together.”

“Well.” You reach up to adjust his hat, tilting it slightly. “In any case, I’m pulling my own weight in the field. Just like in the apocalypse. No one-sided protection.”

“[Y/n], this is different from the apocalypse. We’re not dealing with food shortages or bad weather – we’re dealing with people.”

“All the more reason for you to trust me.” Despite your usual controlled tone and mien, he sees the way that your eyes glint. “I’m kinda dangerous myself, Five. Especially for the people I love, and I’ve been in love with you for years.”

Five sighs.

“You’re so sappy, you know that?”

(Nevertheless, he finds himself mumbling those four words, just loud enough for only you to hear.)

—

“Difference is …” Diego glances around at their siblings, then looks down, “they love me back.”

“Shut up.”

“The only thing she loves is power. Now, the minute she can’t use you, she will turn on you, and deep down, I know you know that.”

She tilts the knife against your neck. Five sucks in a breath, his heart pounding.

“You don’t know me, Diego.” Lila’s voice is hoarse.

Diego steps closer. He lifts a hand to cover hers over the knife.

“Don’t I?” he whispers. “I know that we can be your family. If you just let us.”

Lila’s eyes are glossy with unshed tears. Hesitantly, she turns her head to look around at his family, and in that moment, Five has a cautious inkling that Diego’s words actually got through to her. She doesn’t resist when Diego pulls her hand gently.

When she releases you, he almost feels weak with relief.

Five murmurs your name as you stagger over to him; you grab his arms, and he raises his hands to hold your face between them.

“Shit,” he breathes, “[Y/n] –”

“I’m okay,” he hears you say, but his ears are ringing and your skin is cold and shit, your neck – delicately, Five tilts your head back, and you attempt to brush his hands away. “Five, it’s – it’s just a scratch …”

His fingers brush against a wetness on your skin. You wince, almost imperceptibly. He draws back to look at his hand, and when he sees the blood on his fingertips, your blood, the wave of relief crashing onto him abruptly morphs back into rage.

Before you can pull him back, Five lunges at Lila.

Gunshots echo throughout the barn.

—

You’re smiling.

—

He wakes up, gasping for breath.

“Oh, good! You’re still alive,” the Handler says, looming over him. Her lipstick is bright red through the dizzying blurs. “Lucky you. You got to see how this all played out.”

Grappling for air, Five tries to speak – tries to give one last word, to finally tell the damned snake to fuck off as he stares into the barrel of her automatic. But it hurts to breathe and he can’t. Fuck, it hurts. It hurts. His tongue feels like lead and his throat is closed up. All he can do is look.

But before she can pull the trigger, he hears gunfire.

Bullets rend flesh that isn’t his. Five’s eyes widen, stunned; the Handler gasps sharply. She turns. More gunfire.

She falls.

Shit, that could only mean.… Five struggles to lift his head, almost blacking out from the pain as the gunman approaches, crushing straw underfoot. A shadow falls over him.

The Swede silently tilts his gun down at his face, and he realizes: they are both the last ones. Everyone else is dead. The Swede’s brothers. The Handler. Lila. His siblings. You.

This is the end.

(This doesn’t have to be the end.)

… Five blinks, numb.

(You’re the one who got us stuck here.)

Unless …

(Seconds. Not decades.)

Seconds.

His lungs burn. Hope blooms in his chest.

(C’mon, Five.)

Concentrate. Hands clenching sluggishly, Five focuses on gaining back the feeling in them. Seconds, not decades. A familiar, electric buzz thrums through his bones, warm, crackling with energy. His hands begin to glow. Blue envelops them like they had so many times before.

It happens slowly, time reversing itself like molasses oozing back into a jar. The Swede lowers his arm and retreats. Bodies begin to rise. Five feels himself getting pushed up, and his feet touch the ground; he presses forward, running, refusing to look back. The sharp pains recede to a singular ache.

Seconds.

He breaks through behind the barn door with a gasp. Air fills his chest, full and crisp.

Immediately, Five looks back at you and everyone else, standing and breathing, and pats himself just to make sure.

Holy shit.

Spotting movement outside, Five leaps at the Handler just as she walks in, seizing her weapon and turning it on her. His finger curls at the trigger. She raises her hands in surrender, lips pursed.

Got you, you son of a bitch.

“It’s true, isn’t it? What Five said,” he hears Lila ask. He doesn’t dare look away from her mother, meeting her poisonous glare with an equally cold one. “Answer me! Is it true?”

The Handler takes in a breath. “Well –”

Before she can finish her sentence, blood sprays out from her chest. She collapses. Dead.

The Swede. Five stares at her body, gun lowering. There’s a pregnant pause, void of any air – and then in his periphery, Lila shoots forward.

Luther charges after her. “The case!”

“No!”

Diego tackles him to the ground. Lila disappears in a flash of blue.

One dead, one missing. Neither of which are you or his siblings. There might be hope for them yet. Rolling his shoulders, Five turns his attention to the rogue assassin, cocking his gun and pointing it at him. The Swede reciprocates.

Nobody utters a word, for fear that it may be their last. But as Five feels the weight of the automatic in his arms, he wonders, suddenly, just how much he has in common with this man. A forgotten humanity. The death of their families. The force of a person with nothing to lose.

Except in the Swede’s case, he has no chance of gaining back what he had lost.

This is the end.

Five takes his finger off the trigger, then after a brief hesitation, lets go of the gun.

“Enough,” he says.

Nothing happens at first. The only sign that the man heard him is how he looks away from Five, surveying the rest of the barn’s occupants.

Five returns his gaze firmly, muscles tense, when he meets it again. The Swede regards him for another moment, then finally speaks.

“Inte mer.”

He drops his weapon. No more killing.

—

After Vanya helps the kid and calms him down, she goes with him and Sissy to help them pack up. Everyone else exits the barn as well to rest up and say their goodbyes before leaving, save for Diego, who talks to Herb and Dot with you and Five before joining the rest of the group at the house.

As soon as everything seems like it’s on track, Five brings you straight to the bathroom before you can protest.

“Five, it’s just a scratch.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

In a familiar turn of events, you’re sitting on the edge of the bathtub, sulking as he cleans the rest of the dried blood from your neck. Five scowls as he inspects the thin, rough scab underneath your jaw. For shit’s sake, it’s more than a ‘scratch’ – but at the very least, the cut wasn’t deep enough to cause too much bleeding.

Obviously, he’d have preferred it if you hadn’t gotten cut at all.

“She could’ve killed you.”

“I know,” you murmur. He glares at you softly, and you reach over to hold his hand. “Sorry for worrying you.”

Five scoffs, shaking his head. “Worrying me? I was damn well past worrying when she –” At that moment, he makes the mistake of seeing the guilt in your eyes, and he sighs. “What the hell were you thinking?”

You shrug quietly as he opens a large Band-Aid. “That I had to do something to keep you safe.”

“At your expense?”

Your miniscule smile changes into a grimace for a split second when he sticks the bandage on, but it returns immediately after. “You would’ve done the same thing, Five.”

All he can retort with is a displeased huff.

Silently, you stand up and turn him around, urging him to sit down this time as you pluck another hand towel from the stack that Vanya had given the two of you. Five sits still, mouth shut and eyes watching, as you start cleaning his face. Your expression is tender. A familiar feeling wells up inside of him.

Suddenly, you chuckle.

“What?”

“It’s just – if I didn’t know any better,” you say, scrubbing at a particularly grimy spot on his cheek, “I’d think that you were a schoolboy that just got into a fight and lost.”

He rolls his eyes. “Well, good thing that you do know better, because I obviously would’ve won.”

“Obviously.” Your eyes glint, like they have so many times before.

—

“How bad does it hurt?”

Your hand is soft in his as he glances at his wrist, propped up on a stack of books, then into the small fire burning a few feet away. “Not that much,” he answers. “Thanks for splinting it.”

“Thanks for talking me through it.” You breathe in, head on his shoulder, testing the words on your tongue before you continue. “I was worried. I’m glad it’s feeling better.”

A wrist sprain is nothing to write home about, figuratively speaking. It’s more of an inconvenience than an actual concern; Five figures that the injury will heal in a week, a week and a half at the most. Frankly, he’s more concerned about how much longer it’ll take to complete daily tasks in the meantime.

… You, on the other hand – well, he wonders if you’ve ever gotten anything more than a few cuts and scrapes growing up. The closest he had ever seen you get to panicking was after he fell today, and you’ve been wandering around with him for years.

In a strange way, Five thinks, he was glad for it. He is glad for you. Glad for your presence, your level head. He is glad for the way you hold his hand and talk to him during the day and after dark. And he is glad, secretly, that you want to protect him just like he wants to protect you.

“I love you.”

The words slip out, rough and unbidden.

Five holds his breath when they echo in his ears. You stop tapping your fingers over his skin. Perhaps that’s a bad thing. It was not a mistake, of course, and he isn’t going to take it back, but if that wasn’t what you were saying this whole time – shit. He lets go of your hand, his throat scratchy and strangely closed up.

But then – your fingertips brush his face. He swallows.

“I love you too.”

544 notes · View notes

choco-exe · 4 years ago

Text

the one where tsukishima and sakusa go too far with teasing their crush

anonymous asks: Hiiiiii I LOVE ur writing, and I was wondering if I could request the haikyuu boys (whoever u think fits best) who constantly tease (borderline insult) their crush, who one day just breaks down from their harsh words and say to them something along the lines of “why do you hate me?”, and how the the haikyuu boys react to that. If possible, end with something fluffy 🥺? (Like a confession) TYSMMM ❤️❤️

a/n: hello! aww im glad you do :D wait i just realized you said to have the boys react to their crush saying why do you hate me- fuuuuu- ahem please forgive me for not reading the ask correctly ;w; i hope you still enjoy, nevertheless! and why did i write these long-

tw: mentions of self hate, kind of toxic behavior from sakusa

𝚝𝚜𝚞𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚊 . . . 🖉

☾ he’s gonna be meaner the more he likes you ☾ like if he’s only realized he developed a crush on you, he’d treat you the same, but if it’s been weeks and you haven’t picked up the hint, he’s gonna be treating you like trash ☾ you find him staring down at you with a dead eye stare ☾ “what’s up, kei?” “you’re so short you look like a toddler” “..i’m the average height for a high schooler though-” ☾ his comments about your height never got to you, but then he started to target other regions of yourself ☾ like he’d give a rude remark about a low score you got on the quiz, or how you always look dead inside well he isn’t wrong ☾ whenever he said something negative about you, you just shot back a counter and brushed it off ☾ after a month of this going on, though, his words started to sting a bit ☾ “hey kei-” “can’t you stay quiet for one second? it’s like you blab out words every chance you get” ☾ imagine your surprise, since it was unusual of him to comment about you talking ☾ and one of your biggest insecurities is being annoying to others; you knew you tend to ramble about things, and a nagging voice in the back of your mind was always telling you about how people around you would get fed up with it ☾ did tsukki mean to say it like that? of course not; he was meaning to have a bit of humor in his statement ☾ he just said it in such an annoyed tone and way that it made it seem like he was bothered by you talking ☾ “..sorry, kei. my mind wandered for a bit..” ☾ you figured that he just had a bad day, and you were over it after a full night of sleep i could really use that ☾ the voice inside your head grew louder, however, and tsukishima’s comments didn’t help at all ☾ “stop bothering me about the homework; cant you see i’m busy? ugh, fine, take my notes if you’re that stupid-” ☾ “if you want attention, listen to this playlist. it should satisfy your longing for voices; i need to study for a test now” ☾ it got to the point where your mind was yelling at you about being a nuisance, and the final piece you needed to break just so happened to be during a practice match..

“You did great, blocking them all, Tsukki!” You exclaimed, flashing him a grin as you pass him his water bottle and towel. In all honesty, you were forcing your smile so hard, it began to hurt your jaw. “I could’ve blocked better if someone wasn’t screaming the whole time,” the middle blocker said, wiping sweat off his forehead. You had been passing out water bottles to the other players, but you stopped dead in your tracks when his words hit your ears. “Y/N-chan..?” Shimizu asked worriedly, eyeing your expression that Tsukishima couldn’t see. The said blonde took off his goggled to switch them out with his regular glasses. “It was just a practice match; getting hyped up wasn’t exactly the brightest idea your mind conjured up.” Putting his glasses on after wiping the lenses, he looked down at you to see your tear ducts brimming with your sadness. “..huh..?” You touched your face as a tear slid down your cheek. The other club members looked at you in concern. “Ah- don’t worry, everyone..” You wave your hands frantically as Daichi and Sugawara stare disapprovingly at Tsukishima. “It’s nothing to worry about. I’m just gonna.. step outside for a bit.” You forced another smile out onto your face, then quickly scampered out of the gym. The silence was so thick, you could slice it with a sword. Four-Eyes clearly didn’t expect you to be that emotional over his statement, as his face was filled with a small mixture of concern and confusion. He ran after you, shoving his things in his hands to Yamaguchi and leaving the rest of the team shocked into standing still. You had fled to a nearby bench, where you collapsed onto and shoved your face into your hands, desperately trying to stop your tears from shedding. How stupid, you thought. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Look what you did; you made the team worry about you, and they’re all going to resent you the moment they find out the reason behind your crying. “Y/N.” Jolted out of your thoughts, you looked up to find Tsukishima staring down at you with an unreadable expression. Almost immediately, your face became flooded with streams of tears. You quickly looked down at your lap, fidgeting with your hands. “I-I’m sorry for talking so much, Tsukki, I’ll try to keep my thoughts to myself-” “Shut up, Y/N.” He interrupted. You sighed and calmed your breathing. “This is what I’m talking about, Tsukishima.” You muttered, putting your face in your hands once again. “I’m just a pest to everyone; anyone I encounter will automatically hate me-” “Stop insulting yourself, dammit.” The middle blocker clenched his fists in anger. “You aren’t a nuisance, and you most definitely aren’t one to be hated on- I know I can be a bit of an asshole sometimes, but did it really affect you that much-” You slowly took your face out of your hands to see the blonde crouching, staring up at you. “'Did it really affect you that much?’ What do you think?! God, it really seems like you don’t consider my feelings at all, Tsukishima! I’ve been suspecting that you hate me, but why-?!” Said boy quickly clasped your hands in his, surprising you greatly. His usual expressionless face was morphed into one in a slight panic. “It’s because I like you, idiot!” Taking a moment to process his words, your whole face flushed a scarlet-red. “What?” The tips of Tsukishima’s ears were dusted with a soft coral-pink hue. “You heard me. I won’t repeat myself.” He averted his eyes from yours, squeezing your hands in nervousness. “I-” You were internally melting inside; who would’ve thought the salty beanpole would like someone like you? “But you would always push me to the side! Telling me you were busy and such!” Tsukishima stared at you like you were the biggest dumbass in the world. “I gave you my notes because I knew you didn’t have the energy to take them in class, and the playlist was a collection of songs I thought would suit you. Are you that dense?” “Who are you calling dense?!” You replied hastily. “And for your information, I haven’t given you my answer yet! Let go of my hands, and I’ll tell you, okay?” The middle blocker leaned in close to your face with his dead eye gaze. “It’s an agreement or disagreement, Y/N. What is your response?” You leaned back into the bench, but Tsukishima followed with your movements. “Um- I-” Your words crossed with each other, the lack of personal space making your head spin. “Yes?” Satisfied, the lamppost removed his hands from yours and flicked your forehead. “Simple as that, shortcake. If you want to freeze to death outside, that’s fine by me.” He began to walk back to the gym. “Wha- I’m not short!” You exclaimed, running after the four-eyes. “Also, I’m not the one who’s been sweating profusely for the past hour, so speak for yourself!” Tsukishima gently smiled as he heard you rapidly firing back at his comment. Looks like she’s back to her usual self. 𝚜𝚊𝚔𝚞𝚜𝚊 . . . 🖉

✤ obviously he’s gonna be commenting about your hygiene 24/7 ✤ the fact that he’s developed a crush on you doesn’t help, either; it means that you should be extra clean if he were to date you ✤ and of course he has to remind you almost every hour of the day; whether it be by text or in person ✤ now, you didn’t mind him checking up on you every couple of days, but every hour?? ✤ you’re convinced that sakusa has had some sort of trauma in the past, fighting with germs ever since he was a child okay not really.. unless? ✤ he doesn’t even do this to the other people he’s acquainted with; you’ve asked koromi about it, and he says sakusa just sprays him with holy water a disinfecting solution ✤ now you’re confused as to why you’re getting special treatment from him, when you two aren’t as close as him and his cousin ✤ so you personally went to his class to ask him about it ✤ “hey kiyoomi, why do you remind me to be clean every hour that you’re awake?” “because you shouldn’t have a single germ on you.” “but it’s literally the same message every time; at least make it seem more interesting” “cleaning yourself should be simple, not complicated” ✤ you got fed up with it as another week went by, which is understandable, since this clean freak was spamming your phone hour after hour without missing a single text ✤ the fact that sakusa was willing to put effort into reminding you about your hygiene was kind of sweet, but the same message every. single. damn. time. was annoying you like hell ✤ and when you tell him to stop and that you already know how to get rid of germs, he gave you a disgusted look ✤ this had to be one of the most nasty expressions he had ever made, because you stood paralyzed to the floor ✤ “i have been reminding you for your own good, y/n. why don’t you just appreciate what i do for you, instead of complain about it?” ✤ your mouth stayed shut, your tongue feeling as though it was glued to the top of your mouth ✤ “don’t mention anything like this again” ✤ you meekly nodded, and he strolled out the classroom ✤ the moment he was gone, you collapsed onto the floor out of fear, shivering as you replayed the scene again and again in your head ✤ the main question that circled your head was: why was he acting so controlling? ✤ the night after, you texted sakusa, and asked him to meet up with you at your favorite spot ✤ surprisingly, he complied. and you were waiting for awhile by the time he got there..

“Sakusa, hi!” You greeted your friend with a small but warm smile. The ace frowned; it was unlike you to call him by his last name. In fact, it had been months since you’ve said his name with such coldness in your voice. “..why did you call me out here?” He questioned in a low tone. Your eyes grew dark as you thought about what to say to him. “I wanted to talk to you about what happened yesterday. I feel as though we need to.” Sakusa’s own eyes narrowed as you spoke each word. “Are you still going to complain about my reminders to you?” Shaking your head, you stared at your feet while hugging your arms to your chest. “Of course not, I heard what you told me to do. I just.. wanted to know why you got so angry, is all.” The jet-black haired boy stared down at you, furrowing his eyebrows as he tried to remember what specifically happened the day before. “I don’t know what you’re remembering, Y/N, but I wasn’t angry in the slightest. Are you sure you aren’t thinking of another memory of yours?” Your head snaps up when he said that he wasn’t angry. “Yes, I’m very sure.” You firmly say. “Maybe you don’t think you seemed angry, but you were downright furious. It was.. kind of terrifying.” “Are you saying I was out of control yesterday?” “No, just..” You subconsciously hugged your arms tighter to your body, trying to make yourself as small as possible. “..intimidating.” Sakusa tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. You found him intimidating? Just from a little conversation that happened because of you’re questioning ways? “I’m tired, and I’m sure you are, too,” you continued, not catching on that your friend was becoming annoyed with your talking. “Which is why I want to end this quickly. Sakusa, I have a life, too. As much as I appreciate what you do for me, I can take care of myself without your help-” “You’re repeating the same words you stated yesterday, just in different phrasing.” The germaphobe harshly cut in. “I said this once, but I will say it again, for your sake. I am doing this for your own good-” “-and I know what’s good for me and what isn’t, Sakusa!” You exclaimed, your arms no longer crossed. “I can make my own decisions! I’m not some dumb little kid you have to look after-” “Y/N-” “-so just drop this already! It doesn’t help anyone; it doesn’t help me, it doesn’t help you-” “Y/N.” Sakusa lost all patience. He towered over you, his hands clenched tightly into fists. You slightly shrink at his actions, your arms up in defense. The ace didn’t seem to notice your fear as he took a step forward. “You are crawling with so many germs, I can practically see them all over you. You are in no condition to be deciding on your hygiene, when you can’t even rid of the many dirt particles covering your skin.” He took another step forward, and you step back, unsure of what to do. Sakusa broke out of his anger when he heard a slight sob leave your lips. “Why do you hate me so much, Sakusa?!” You asked, pain laced into your voice. “I’m perfectly capable of not being dirty, can’t you see?! Why can’t you just leave me alone-” You used your sleeves to start wiping the tears away, although they doubled to replace the ones you removed. The ace hesitantly enveloped you in a hug, making you break down even more. “Sakusa- no- you’re gonna get germs on you-” You stammered, resisting the temptation to bury your face into his chest. “..I made you cry. I need to pay the consequences.” Said boy murmured, rubbing shapes onto your back. You continued to cry for a good 5 minutes, before slowly pushing him away. “..thank you.” You sniffled. “I know consequences has nothing to do with that. Why did you-?” “I like you, Y/N.” He cut you off, making your eyes widen. “The reason why I’d been constantly reminding you to wash up is because I thought I should date someone who was clean to the touch. That was wrong of me, so very wrong. I apologize, and it’s fine if you reject-” You shut him up with a kiss to his mask. “Are you traumatized yet?” You asked, trying to crack a smile. “That’s my revenge from yesterday.” Sakusa blinked multiple times before realizing what you did. “..I guess I deserved that. So is that a yes..?” You broke out into a beautiful, radiant smile this time, the moonlight making you glow even more than you already were. “Of course, Kiyoomi!”

419 notes · View notes

mosswillow · 4 years ago

Text

Focus - Dark!Bucky Barnes x ADHD!Reader

Warnings! Dark! 18+ content, vaginal fingering, noncon/dubcon, smut, kidnapping, oral (female receiving)

Summary: You never should have taken the job cleaning for Stark industries. The Avengers might be heroes on the outside but something sinister lies just beneath the surface.

A/N: this is part of the Synonyms series. You can read any of them as stand alones but I encourage reading them in order if you want to read all of them. This one specifically ties them all together (but you can still read it alone and it should make sense)

This is one of those where it doesn’t feel done but I’m done writing it. I think I just hyped it up in my head too much so after actually writing it I’m like, eh it’s not as good as I thought it would be.

Word count: 3.4k

If you could just focus, everything in your life would be better.

Your inattention follows you around like a shadow. It stands behind you, silently ruining your life while you try in vain to just focus. Just don’t forget. Just stop losing things. Just pay attention. Teachers in school would tell you to stop daydreaming, that if you just listened you could do so much better. Growing up, Your parents treated you like you would never amount to anything. They would push your siblings to do well in school but when it came to you they were silent, unwilling to spend energy on a kid who couldn’t even make it through a family dinner without getting distracted. Everyone around you would laugh at your “quirky” personality. You know that for other people you’re funny, always getting yourself into trouble and making silly mistakes. You don’t think it’s funny though and you never did. As a kid you would frequently cry yourself to sleep. You found ways to hide your stupidity so that just maybe others might overlook your shadow. You’ve tried so hard to act normal, to make check lists and routines but it never works and you always find yourself once again brought to tears after your inevitable failure.

This is why you took the job at Stark Tower all those years ago. You knew you wouldn’t excel at school and so you took the first job you could find, cleaning for Stark Industries. It’s something you’re actually good at and the only routine in your life you’ve been able to consistently follow. It makes you move around constantly and there’s always some different puzzle to solve. You love the feeling of finally getting out a tough stain from the carpet or finding the perfect tool to finally get to a hard to reach spot.

Now, after years of hard work and an extensive background check you’ve been promoted to cleaning the Avengers floor. You have a generous salary now, health insurance, your own place with no roommates. Some people may judge what you do but you don’t care anymore. It’s honest work and you love it.

---

You walk into stark tower, showing security your badge before heading to the elevator and riding it up to the Avengers floor. You’ve had this job for a few weeks now but you still feel nervous every day. If you’re honest you’re scared of them, the Avengers, They feel unhinged. It’s nothing they do or say. It’s the general vibe you get when you’re around them, like they’re filled to the brim with unbridled anger that hides underneath a cracking exterior. Any moment they might break completely and whatever trauma they’ve all been through will spill out and consume anyone who dares stand close to them.

You start your day in one of the many bathrooms, scrubbing every surface before taking your cleaning supplies and working your way through the floor. Every day is much of the same, you spend all day cleaning the massive Avengers living area, trying your best to stay out of their lives.

You turn a corner and see Captain America with someone, a new recruit you’ve seen around but haven't met. He has her against the wall, pushing his finger into her pussy. You stand stunned for a second.

“If I don’t take action now I might lose you and I can’t lose you.” Captain America says.

You turn and jump back behind the corner, sliding your back down the wall. You can make out some of their conversation and it sounds dramatic. She’s crying and begging him to walk away. You close your eyes and tell yourself to stay out of it. It’s not your place and if you tried to step in you could lose your job.

You hear footsteps walking towards you. Captain America stops and flashes a smile while you stand up.

“We appreciate privacy here, you understand the consequences if you tell anyone about anything about our personal lives?”

You do know, they had you sign an agreement that said they’d take everything away from you if you talked about their personal lives in any way to anyone. If you value your livelihood you won’t speak a word about it to anyone.

“I’m sorry sir, I saw you there and didn’t want to interrupt. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but, Is… is she ok?”

He crosses his arms and looks you up and down.

“Everything is consensual if that’s what you’re asking, we enjoy a little roleplay sometimes.”

you‘re not totally convinced, something inside you tells you that he’s lying to you. He looks at you so intently and you know, despite his hero status, that he wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of you permanently if he had to. you nod your head and give a smile.

“I’m sorry if I insinuated anything sir.”

He checks his watch before quickly walking away. You exhale and pick up your cleaning supplies. As you walk past her room you stop for a second, deciding if you should knock. You back away, not wanting to interfere more than you already have.

“You’re new here.” a voice says as you reach the living room.

“Yes, I just started a few weeks ago.” you reply.

“I’m Bucky.” he walks over to you, looking you up and down.

“I have a lot of work to finish.” you back up a few steps and hold your cleaning tote in front of you. Bucky stuffs his hands in his pockets and smiles.

“I won’t keep you.”

---

Six months later

---

You walk into Tony’s suite and lean down to plug in your vacuum. A pop of red catches your eye and you pull a thong out from under the nightstand. You turn it over in your hands, deciding what to do with it. A hand comes behind you and takes it from you. You look up to see Tony Stark in front of you, stuffing the thong in his pocket.

“Mr. stark.” you gasp.

“From a one night stand.”

“Of course sir, do you want me to wash and return it to your... friend?”

“No.” Tony says quickly. “That will be all in here today.”

“I haven't vacuumed yet, do you want me to come back later?”

“No, just leave.”

You unplug the vacuum and roll it out the door, turning just briefly to close it behind you. As the door closes you see Tony pull the underwear out of his pocket and bring it to his nose.

You try your best over the next week to keep your mind focused on work. Everything starts to get back to normal.

One evening you hear a thud and someone yell out in pain. You run over to see Tony in the hallway standing threateningly over a woman.

“Is everything ok? You ask.

“We’re fine, you can leave for the night.” Tony says, waving you away. You make eye contact with the woman, looking back and forth between her and Tony. She nods and gives you a small, unconvincing smile. You turn around and walk away, wanting nothing more than to get home and take a long shower. Maybe you can forget about what you just saw.

On your way out you run straight into a wall of muscle.

“Hey, what’s the rush sweetheart.” Bucky catches you, holding onto your shoulders.

“I, uh, I’m sorry sir. Nothing, I’m just anxious to get home I guess.”

“Call me Bucky.”

“Bucky.” you say, moving away from him and towards the door.

“Hey, are you ok?” He takes a step towards you, cocking his head and furrowing his brow.

“Yes sir… Bucky.”

“Hey, you can tell me.”

“No, I can’t.” you look into his eyes, silently communicating the reason for your silence.

Bucky runs his hand through his hair and looks down.

“Your socks match.” he looks up and smiles.

“I’m sorry?” you look at your feet.

“You usually wear mismatched ones, it’s cute.”

You know he meant it to be a fun observation, maybe even a weird complement, but it feels pointed. You always lose your socks, it’s just one of the many small things that you should be able to do better but just can’t. You can’t even keep your life together enough to consistently find matching socks. You give a fake smile, used to laughing at yourself when these things are pointed out.

“Oh, yeah.” you laugh.

Bucky takes an almost imperceptible step towards you and you in turn take a very obvious one backwards.

“I’ll see you tomorrow sir.” you say.

“Bucky.”

“Bucky.” you give a tight smile before walking away.

---

Two weeks later

---

Natasha hands you a book.

“Can you wrap this please?”

“Yes ma'am, whose name should I put?”

“Say to my little bookworm, Love Nat.”

You wrap the present lovingly, putting extra care into it. You’ve seen them together, Nat and her girlfriend. Tony and Steve’s wives mostly keep to themselves but Natashas girlfriend is always nice to you, acknowledging you and thanking you when she sees you working. She owns a bookstore that you’ve visited a few times and always remembers you when you walk in.

“I think you forgot a piece of tape.” Bucky whispers in your ear making you jump. He’s started doing this, becoming more comfortable around you, touching you in small ways and getting just a little closer than what’s appropriate. You grab another piece of tape and secure a bit of paper.

“Thank you.” you say as you tie a bow around the gift and write the note. You pause with your pencil trying to remember what Natasha told you to write. You should have written it down when she told you it. You curse under your breath, wishing you had paid better attention when you were given instructions. You remember it was something easy but not exactly what she wanted.

“I have to get this back to Ms. Romanoff.” you push past Bucky.

“Did I do something to make you upset?”

You stop and look at him.

“No sir”

“Bucky”

“I just prefer to remain professional while at work,” you look down.

“What about outside of work?”

“I would rather keep that life separate. I’m sorry, I just really like this job and don’t want to do anything that might jeopardize it.”

Bucky clenches his jaw and you half expect him to grab you and push you against the wall like you’ve seen the captain and Tony do to their girlfriends and then wives. You flinch when he takes a step towards you. He reaches out, brushing the back of his hand over your cheek.

“I’m not like the others,” he whispers.

You’re not sure what to say, you just nod and watch as he steps back and walks away.

---

One month later

---

You’re doing dishes, scrubbing hard against burnt on food that was never soaked or even rinsed. One of them had a date the night before, making a complicated meal.

“How long until you get your girl?” Thor says to Sam as they walk into the kitchen.

“Tony’s working on it, probably a few weeks before I can take her home.”

They each grab oranges and head into the next room. their voices get quieter for a few minutes then louder again as they walk back to throw away their orange peels.

“I’m envious, I often fantasize about finding mine, If only I knew where she was.” Thor says.

“You have no idea where she could be?”

“I must confess, friend, I don’t even know what planet she’s on. She’s a slippery little lady.”

You stop washing dishes for a second, mind trying to dissect what you’re overhearing.

“You ok?” Bucky sets a plate next to the sink.

“Yes sir.” you reply, taking the plate and washing it.

You turn off the sink and turn around, seeing multiple dishes you forgot about. You pick them up and bring them to the sink, restarting the cleaning process.

“I think you should take a vacation.”

You look at him and raise your eyebrows.

“You’re a hard worker, and fast too.”

You nod in agreement.

“You’re… unusual to watch though.”

You set the last clean dish in the drying rack and turn your back to Bucky, taking a step away. You put your hand in your pocket to pull out your phone which holds your to do list but it’s not there. You look to your right and left and then turn back toward Bucky. He holds your phone out to you and you grab it and open your list.

“This is the third time today you’ve misplaced your phone.”

“I appreciate your concern, you’re very observant.” you bite your tongue before you say something aggressively inappropriate to your boss.

“Hey, I don’t want to hurt your feelings. You’re very smart and capable, I just noticed it’s been worse lately and think you should take a break.”

You take a deep breath.

“I’m taking next week off.” you say, grabbing a broom and walking out of the kitchen.

“Good.” Bucky yells after you.

---

Three months later.

---

Your phone rings, waking you up from a deep sleep.

“Hello,” you say sleepily.

“Hey, can you come in ASAP?” Tony says from the other end.

You jump out of bed.

“Of course, I’ll be there soon.”

You quickly get dressed and run out of the apartment. You gasp and drop your bag as soon as the elevator door opens. There’s a huge mess covering the entire living room and kitchen. There’s broken glass and furniture everywhere as well as a hole in the wall. It looks as though there was a fight and you wonder what happened. You get to work right away.

Thankfully a few of the Avengers wives come and help you clean up. Natashas wife evidently is back from a long honeymoon and you’re happy to see her. You smile at her and she frowns back at you.

“Are you ok?”

She looks away. “Just tired.”

You watch her give a tiny flinch as Natasha calls her name from the next room. Something is very wrong.

“You got this cleaned up fast.” Bucky says, taking a dustpan away from you and dumping the contents into the trash.

“I had help.” you say, looking over to where Natasha and her wife stand across the room.

You look back at Bucky and give a sweet smile.

“I was wondering if I could leave a little early on friday. There’s a birthday party for my grandmother.”

“I think you’ve earned leaving a little early after today, you’re welcome to get ready for your party here too. You can use the guest room.”

“Thank you sir.”

“Bucky.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“Thank you Bucky.”

---

You put on your dress and a full face of makeup, admiring yourself in the mirror before heading out. Bucky stands outside of the guest room door, obviously waiting for you.

“You clean up nice.”

“Thank you.”

Bucky clicks his tongue as he stares at you.

“Did I ever tell you that you remind me of someone I used to know?”

You back away.

“No, you didn’t.”

“I miss her.”

You try your best to take even breaths. The way he looks at you makes you deeply uncomfortable. You feel naked despite your dress being on the conservative side. You make the mistake of looking straight at his crotch, seeing a very visible bulge. You gulp and shift uncomfortably on your feet.

“Have a good time at your party.” Bucky says.

“I will.” you say politely before basically running to the elevator. You get in and realize you forgot your phone. You walk back to the guest room where Bucky waits, holding your phone out for you. You grab it and turn around but bucky catches your arm.

“Focus, do you have everything you need.”

You shift your eyes away and realize you forgot your wallet and keys too.

Bucky grabs your things out of his pocket and hands them to you.

“Thank you.” you breathe.

Bucky hums and lets you go.

“Be safe,” he yells as you walk back to the elevator, this time taking it down and leaving the tower.

---

Three months later

---

You’re going to quit today. As good as the money is it’s not worth the fear and stress of working there. Not only have you become more and more concerned about the wives of the Avengers but you just can’t take Bucky anymore. You’re scared of him. The way he looks at you makes you feel as though he could decide at any minute to lock you in a room and tear your clothes off. You feel constant stress at work and have developed a tremor. No amount of money is worth this work environment. The lease at your apartment is about to end and you’ll move back with your parents until you find a new job.

You enter the avengers floor and hear yelling.

“Fuck!”

“I thought we were kidnapping women?”

“You weren’t supposed to just snatch one. Now there’s a whole mess to clean up.”

“Thor just took his.”

“He has a point.”

“Thor had that whole betrothal thing.”

“Touche.”

You make eye contact with a scared woman who is sitting on the couch with her hands tied in front of her. She mouths run and you do, running out of the tower and home. You start frantically packing a bag, throwing your phone away since you’re sure they can track it.

“There’s nowhere to hide baby.”

You scream as Bucky pulls you away from your suitcase and throws you on your bed.

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” he touches your face, smoothing his finger over your lip.

“We’re married now, Tony already set it up. I’m going to take you on a honeymoon on an island until I can trust you.”

It clicks in your head, the honeymoons. They always come back so quiet and introverted.

“What did they do to those poor girls?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Tears start forming in your eyes.

“I won’t tell anyone, just let me go.”

“This is the only way.”

Bucky’s hand travels down your body, grabbing your waistband and pulling your pants off. He puts his hand in between your legs and you squirm away, clenching your legs tight.

“Please baby, I don't want to hurt you but I will if i have to. Now open up”

You shake your head, tears now spilling down your cheeks. He slaps you hard and you clutch your throbbing face, crying out and pushing your body against the headboard. You slowly and shakilly open your legs for him, closing your eyes as he dips a metal finger in your pussy.

“I’m not like the others.”

He thrusts his finger in and out.

“They took those women out of greed. They feel like they deserve love after everything they’ve given up... we’ve given up.”

He reaches his other hand up, still fucking you gently with a metal finger, and grabs your chin, shaking your head gently until you look at him.

“I just want you to be safe and happy.”

Bucky pulls his finger out. He grabs his cock, stroking it as he looks at your naked lower half. You try to close your legs but he grabs them, pulling them open. He kisses your mound gently and you arch your back involuntarily, pushing your pussy into his face. He grabs your legs and holds you against his mouth, suddenly sucking and licking until you’re coming undone. The pleasure washes over you and you relax for a second before your mind is brought back to reality. Your legs shake as He pulls back and smiles at you, climbing over you and pushing his impressive dick in. He kisses you as he thrusts into you, grabbing your shoulders and squeezing them as he comes.

“I’m going to be good for you, this will be good.” he whispers, holding you as you cry in his arms.

---

You’re forgetful. You don’t focus, don’t pay attention. It was right in front of your face and you still missed it. You always miss it. You’ve always been someone who gets themselves into trouble, always making silly mistakes and having to pay for them.

Your shadow did it again, silently destroyed everything around you while you ignorantly looked the wrong way. If you could just pay attention.

If you could just focus.

But you can’t.

#dark!bucky barnes #dark!mcu #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky

473 notes · View notes

untaemedqueen · 4 years ago

Text

Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 21.

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage, Love

Warnings For This Chapter: Yoongi and Sera heart to heart?, Lots Of Money Thrown Around, A Surprise Guest, Suggestive Content, Crying Yoongi, Fluff

A/N: Always the biggest thanks to my babes @ladyartemesia, @xjoonchildx, @ppersonna

There is nothing Yoongi hates more than public spectacles. He really detests it.

He hates how fake people are at these events. Especially when they're looking for something to get out of them.

People use these specially coordinated events to prove how much money they have and to show how much better they are then the others attending. It's all smoke and mirrors.

But this event today is different. It's practically painful for him. For him to have to go with the leech and not you… it hurts his entire being.

You didn't speak much at breakfast. You didn't speak at lunch. He could see you practically vibrating with nervousness and it breaks his heart.

He knows you well enough now to know that yesterday won't mean a goddamn thing when you get into the thick of it. When you see the sea of rich stupid fucks -- you'll forget everything. And he can't bear to see your face when it happens.

"I love you," he tells you for the umpteenth time as he fixes his skinny black tie.

The gown that covers your body is simply breathtaking. You're breathtaking.

"I love you too, Yoongi." you whisper, turning to him.

He can hear the nervousness in your voice and it renders him almost incapable of looking at you.

"Y/N." he breathes out.

You smile at him then and he scoffs.

"Don't… Don't do that. Don't do that fake shit with me." he practically begs.

You snort gently, wrapping your arms around him. "I'm sorry. I'm trying to be positive. But it's hard."

He nods, running his hands over your belly. "I know you are, little dove. Listen, it's only one night and when it's all over I'm going to come into bed and lay with you and only you. I'm going to sleep beside my woman and my child. Alright?"

"YOONGI, LET'S GO!" Sera screams and his eyes flutter shut.

"In a few months, we won't have to be apart. Alright? We can go to these ridiculously tedious events together." he mumbles, tilting your chin up to look at him.

You hum in agreement, nodding to him. He kisses your lips passionately and it grounds you even for a moment. He loves you and you love him. That's what will get you through this evening.

"Just a few hours." you speak aloud, more for yourself than for your boyfriend.

"That's right, gorgeous. Just a few simple hours." he replies, kissing you once more.

"ARE YOU FUCKING DEAF?!"

His teeth grit as he pulls away from you and he shakes his head slowly.

"You'll be having much more fun than me I'm sure. I have to chaperone a kid all night long." he jeers and finally you smile properly.

"Ready Freddy?" Jin asks peeking into your closet.

You hum to him, watching Yoongi fix his suit jacket.

"Just remember how much I love you, hmm?" he quips, bending down to your belly.

"I love you, kiddo. I'll see you in a few hours. Don't miss daddy too much okay, I'll be around." he tells your son, kissing at your clothed stomach.

He scoffs loudly when he hears Sera scream once more. "Stupid fucking bitch," he whispers, kissing your forehead.

"Love you!" you call to him as he leaves.

"And I love you, little dove. So much so it hurts me."

"HELLO?!" Sera screams.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP LEECH. I'M COMING. GODDAMN!"

Not even the biggest limo would give Yoongi enough space from his wife.

He can barely stand to look at her. But she takes up such a large chunk of his peripheral vision and her constant huffing and puffing is irritating.

When she huffs again, he just about loses all of his sanity. "What?! Why are you stealing so much oxygen?! Jesus Christ!"

Sera turns to him, scowling at his calm demeanor. "I hate you!" she seethes.

"Same. So stop huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf." he retorts, crossing his legs.

God, he misses you.

Sera watches him pull out his wallet and she can hardly contain her scoff.

His thumb drifts over the sonogram picture and he sighs loudly, leaning back into the leather seat. He misses his son.

"Why did you take my money away?" Sera barks out.

Her grating voice makes him cringe and he feels offended to have to look away from his son's photo to have to look at her. "Because you make enough money on your own and it's time you stop leeching."

The car is riddled with tension and the driver puts up the soundproof glass between them and him. Yoongi finds it fair, he wouldn't want to listen to Sera either.

"That's my money too." Sera bickers.

Yoongi pulls out a cigar, lowering his window. You're not around and he can finally smoke just one again which will probably help with his anxiousness and anger.

"It was your money. Now it is not." he replies simply, lighting the Cuban cigar.

"You were always fine with our arrangement! I don't know what's changed!" his wife scoffs.

The CEO's eyes flutter shut. Fine? He hasn't been fine since their wedding day.

"Excuse me?" he growls, turning to look at her.

"You always seemed like you were perfectly content with us being the way we were. Now everything has changed." she says flippantly, looking down at her nails.

"I fell in love. Of course I wouldn't be happy with you beating me over the head for money and using me for status. After the night before our wedding, I've been stuck with you. You think I wanted to be in a loveless marriage?!" he chastises.

She blushes furiously, pulling her shawl tighter over her shoulders.

For fucks sake, he cannot get through this night without you. He doesn't know why he pretended he could. You're the only thing tethering him to the fucked up planet and now without you he's going to just fly away.

"Well, you never got rid of me." the actress caterwauls, folding her arms.

Yoongi begins to laugh, ashing his cigar out the window. It's a humorless, cold laugh but a laugh nonetheless.

"I couldn't get rid of you. Because you threaten people and use them for your liking so you can get what you want! You're honestly the most disgraceful, undignified thing I've ever met in my life. You're an actual fucking bloodsucker. You always bitch and complain about Y/N and how she's a 'gold digger' but my woman doesn't even want my fucking money. It's you, who always has. And that's probably the reason why Jin doesn't even fucking want you."

Ouch.

That's gonna sting.

"EXCUSE ME?!" she screeches at the top of her lungs.

It feels good for Yoongi to get all of this off his chest. It feels like the biggest relief in ages. He's always held it in so he wouldn't have to hear her incessant screams but at the end of tonight he'll get to cuddle up in bed with his woman and his growing baby and he couldn't really care any longer.

"Jin. He said you have no relationship to my grandmother because he hates the person you are, Sera. I should tell him about what you did to me the night before our wedding. That'd really make him run for the hills." Yoongi fumes.

Sera is fast, especially in the way she jumps across the whole long limo to sit beside her estranged husband.

"P-Please. Don't tell him." she stutters.

Your boyfriend snorts loudly, clamping the cigar between his teeth and looking down at the sonogram picture once more.

He rolls his eyes gently, this isn't his fight. He couldn't give a care in the world for what Sera wants. He hates her… But if she can get out of his hair…

"Maybe." he replies, shrugging his shoulders.

"Yoongi." Sera whines, grabbing for his wallet.

He takes a sharp breath through his teeth, widening his eyes at her. "Never touch my wallet. Never touch my son's pictures." he seethes, pushing himself across to the opposite seat.

Sera swallows thickly, watching his anger expand ten fold. He really loves his baby… As any father should.

"Please don't tell Jin!" she whines, gripping her clutch to her breasts.

He can sense her fear, he can practically see her shiver and it humors him.

"Why not? He already knows you're a bitch." he jeers, lowering the window.

She's an incessant whiner. Apparently when it comes to Seokjin.

"But, I don't want him to look down on me for it."

"And why not? Everyone that knows you already does?" Yoongi jeers.

What's with her being so nervous? Does Seokjin actually mean something to her?

"I want him to… see me differently." she replies, turning her nose up to her husband.

"Then change how you behave. Men don't want a fucking brat every day of their lives. All the men you liked, all the men you've had under your skirt… They didn't really like you. They just wanted your attention for a little while. You have to change yourself. That's what would make a man want you." Yoongi murmurs, throwing his cigar out the window.

"You liked me!" his wife accuses.

"That's before I knew who you actually are. You'll never get a real man if you continue on this way. You'd better make sure Seokjin knows how much you want to be with him or like him for that matter… he will leave the mansion if you don't."

Sera opens her mouth to retort but she can think of nothing. Because Yoongi is right. She's always been this way.

"We're here, Sir Min." Sera's driver announces and he hums in agreement.

"I don't know what the fuck happened to you when you were a kid Kim Sera. But be a better person." the CEO announces, gripping onto the door handle.

The constant bulbs of flashing light remind him of where he is and he groans long and low, shoving the door open.

You really don't want to do this. You struggled against Seokjin the whole way he dragged you to his car.

"If you look upset when you get there, the camera will catch it. What will you do if your son looks back at these pictures from tonight? He's going to see how sad you were, Princess." Jin chastises, pulling up to the large museum.

You're more than grateful for the black tinted windows that shroud you from the flashing lights that seem to assault from all angles.

"God, I hate pictures." you breathe out.

"Just smile and wave, you're an upcoming artist. Think of it that way. Instead of worrying about Yoongi and Sera. Okay?" your best friend asks.

That's a good idea.

"Sesame, we're going to see daddy in a few minutes. Okay?" you whisper, putting your hand to your stomach.

Jin chuckles gently, smoothing his hair down in the rear view mirror. "Good. I like that, just keep thinking about the baby above all." your best friend says finitely, opening his door.

You watch him round the car, smiling and waving handsomely to the many cameras that capture his every move. You take note of this. You can remember a time when you ran away from cameras with Leena around… Maybe you should embrace them this time.

"Okay, let's go bid on some overpriced garbage, Sesame's mom." Seokjin jeers, opening your door.

Planting your foot outside of the car, you accept your best friend's hand to help you climb out. The flashes from the cameras are positively blinding.

"Jesus," you whisper.

"Just smile and wave. Like you own the universe," Jin whispers through clenched teeth as he waves.

You take his advice, smiling and waving to the multitude of people that call for different angles of you.

"MISS THING!"

You turn quickly to the scream, a genuine smile plastering to your face. "Leena Beena!" you whine happily.

She practically throws herself out of the Bugatti she arrived in. You were so nervous about tonight that you didn't even ask who would be here, but now that both of your best friends from childhood are here you can maybe relax. Just a little bit.

"Look at you!" Leena cheers, pulling you into a tight hug.

Her hands falter to your belly and you roll your eyes at her excitement.

"My nephew is getting so big!" she coos, pulling you towards the entrance.

"Yu Leena," Taehyung calls her, getting out of the Bugatti.

"Look at her belly!" Leena calls back, stamping her feet on the ground.

You give Taehyung a small wave and he does the same, flashing a large smile.

"Come on!" your best friend cheers, pulling you into the museum.

The loud classical music that sweeps through the entire hall makes you feel as if you're at home. You know Yoongi really cherishes classical music, it was a way for him to keep calm after interacting with his parents when he was younger.

"You just stick with me the whole night!" Leena announces, hooking her arm underneath yours.

There's so many faces and so many different colors that you could practically have an overload on your senses. If Leena wasn't practically joined at your hip, you'd want to run away almost immediately.

Your eyes linger on all of the pieces on sale for auction, they're all lined up on carts with white fabric draped over them for secrecy.

"How much of my money are you going to spend?" you hear Taehyung jeer.

Your best friend clicks her teeth, grabbing a champagne glass off a tray as a waiter whizzes by.

"As much as I'd like to, Kim Taehyung." she replies, flashing him a brilliant smile.

"As you wish, my lady." he replies sweetly, winking at you for extra effect.

You find yourself giggling at their silly interactions before your eyes reach your boyfriend. Your stomach rolls at the sight of him hooking his arm around Sera's waist. He doesn't seem to be paying attention to her though, he's having a heated conversation with Jeongguk. Your heart aches at the sight, especially when Sera's hand, adorning her large engagement ring, slides over his shoulder.

To comfort yourself your hand slides below your stomach but it doesn't stop your anxiousness.

It's hard to rip your gaze away. But you only do so when someone calls your name.

"Y/N? Is that correct?"

You feel pitiful when Yoongi doesn't notice you. Like he's in his own world and he couldn't care less about anything around him.

"This is her!" Leena exclaims, turning you towards the voice.

"Y/N, this is So Kyulsoo. He's a very famous art distributor who works with upcoming artists." Taehyung notifies you.

You bow your head to him, trying to find something to smile about. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. So."

"It's me who has the honor! I saw your paintings at Luck Art Studio and I was floored at how simply gorgeous they are." Kyulsoo gushes.

The compliment makes the tips of your ears burn. It's so rare to hear compliments and want to accept them. But the man that stands before you is chic and unyielding.

"Thank you so much, that's so sweet to hear. I'm so glad you liked them." you whisper, clutching onto Leena harder.

"I'd give you my business card but that would be rude at an event like this. I'll call Myeyoung on Monday to talk about buying some of your art!" Kyulsoo says happily, grabbing an hors d'oeuvre off a waiters plate.

"That'd be wonderful. She's also creating the art for the new Gangnam Mall and Hotel." Taehyung announces.

You are so not great at business talk but you're grateful for the hotel CEO at this moment.

You watch as Kyulsoo's eyes widen at the news. "Well! I'll have to buy as much art as I can! I think we have a new famous artist coming up in our midst!" he cheers and you smile gratefully.

"There's a piece up for auction tonight," Jin adds, rubbing your upper back.

"Well my wife will have to deal with losing a couple thousand, won't she?" Kyulsoo jeers, winking at you.

Your giggle makes the others around you brighten up and you're incredibly grateful for your friends.

You give the art distributor a wave goodbye before turning back to the large crowd who continues to chat loudly.

When you spot Yoongi's grandmother, you bow your head to her and you don't miss the coy smirk she gives back. She's on the arm of an older man that you deem to be your boyfriend's grandfather. He looks incredibly serious and dominating.

"Please don't come over here," you whisper under your breath.

Turning back to the CEO, you watch as he laughs with Jimin. His arm is still nestled around Sera and his fingers are splayed out as if he's comfortable.

"Why don't we go mingle? Hmm?" Leena asks, noticing how wrought you become on her arm.

You scoff gently turning away from the sight before you.

"He doesn't even notice that I'm here." you accuse, grabbing a sparkling water.

"I'm sure he does, he's just playing a part, princess." Jin assures you, pulling both of his best friends away from the sight.

"Can you let me go?" Yoongi seethes through his teeth, trying to wriggle his arm out from beneath Sera's.

"No." she says simply.

He scoffs loudly, looking away from Jimin to search for you. You're nowhere to be seen and it fills him with dread.

It's been maybe twenty minutes since the start of the night and he feels so empty.

"I should introduce Anna to Y/N before we leave." Jimin calls the father of your child.

"If you can fucking find her, I've been looking for her for forever." Yoongi whines softly, turning to his friend.

"She was watching you but I don't think she liked what she saw." Anna announces.

Yoongi's heart plummets at her words. Jimin shushes her gently, placing his hand on her large stomach.

"Anna." he chides softly, pushing some of her hair behind her ear.

"I'm just saying. Why spend your time with a peasant when a queen is in your midst." Anna calls loudly, kissing Yoongi on the cheek goodbye.

Sera looks over with wide eyes, sneering at Jimin's pregnant wife.

"It's… It's the pregnancy hormones." he bleats, widening his eyes to his friend as an apology.

Your boyfriend chuckles, gripping onto his estranged wife's side and pulling his arm away from her.

"Min Yoongi." she seethes through her teeth, turning away from the group of girls that have flocked around her.

"I need more liquor to be in your presence." he replies with equal grit.

He fixes his suit jacket, looking over the crowd. Shaking his head, he sighs. You must be upset… And his heart breaks at the thought.

When he approaches the bar, he's grateful for the small freedom he's gotten.

Hearing Sera talk so incessantly is like having a mosquito constantly flying by your ear that you swat at it but it doesn't ever go away.

"Whisky on the rocks." he tells the bartender, turning towards the large crowd.

He's said hello to most of the people that litter the floor but not all of them and he dreads knowing he'll have to.

"Yoongi."

The sound sends chills through his body.

"Mother." he addresses, grabbing his glass of whisky.

He can feel his whole internal system shutting down. No one puts fear in him like his parents. It's just a conditioned response to fear them at this point.

"I hear you're ruining our family." she announces.

His tongue licks at his lips nervously and he doesn't know if he has the strength to look at the woman who watched him get beat without a second thought.

Sometimes he can't remember what she looks like and it's the most comforting feeling in the world.

"Oh?" he asks, keeping his back to her.

"Will you continue to cower in front of me? People might think you hate me." she scoffs.

His shaking hand clutches the whisky glass tighter and he downs the burning alcohol in two large gulps.

"One more, please." he practically begs the bartender.

"What do you want?" he inquires, turning to look at the crowd.

He can see her out of the corner of his eyes and he can feel his stomach become queasy.

"An explanation." she says simply.

"I'm doing what's best for me and what's best for my family." he insists, pushing off of the bar.

"Well. Looks like you've grown into a man with my help." his mother says, folding her arms.

He lets out a loud laugh. "You mean Maya's help. Stay away from the mother of my child, Mother. She isn't one for you to think so lowly of." he threatens, walking away.

"Are you threatening me, son?" she calls to him, pulling his arm to look at her.

He's taller than her by all accounts and so it's easy to look past her and keep his eyes trained there. He couldn't stomach looking at her.

"I'm not threatening you, Mother. We all live our own lives. You live with your four young boyfriends and your decisions and I live with my decisions. I hope you have a safe flight back to France."

He bows his head to her and the scoff she emits makes him want to whimper.

"Well… I guess I'll send you a wedding present when the time comes." she says, fixing her shawl.

"Please. Don't bother." he seethes through his teeth, catching sight of you.

He sighs with great relief, heading off towards you.

"I have so many new pieces of furniture you must see!" Go Artemis gushes.

You've become fond of this woman in such a short time. She went to school with all of you and you never noticed how absolutely quirky she is.

"I'd love to see them." you reply earnestly, sitting down on the marble bench.

Your ankles were really starting to fucking hurt.

"I'll send you a catalog!" Artemis cheers, pulling her phone out of her handbag.

"Okay, Art. Take a breath. This isn't the last time you'll be seeing Y/N." Yoona says with a laugh.

Artemis nods happily, clutching onto her handbag tighter. She seems to be vibrating on a frequency you've never seen before.

"Alright, cousin, why don't we get you a glass of champagne." Namjoon says, pulling her away with a smile.

"Bye, Y/N! See you later!" Joon's cousin exclaims.

"Bye Art!" you reply with a giggle, waving her off.

"She's fun," you tell your best friend who leans against the marble column.

"You should see her at family dinners. I learn every single material a piece of furniture can be made from." Yoona jeers, nudging Leena.

"Little dove."

The voice makes you want to weep. You stand up quickly, meeting eyes with your boyfriend. He looks flustered and completely incapable of standing on his own.

"Are you alright?" you whisper, widening your eyes at the CEO.

He looks around quickly, making sure no one notices him before he's pulling you away from everyone.

"Yoongi!" you hiss, looking back at the crowd.

You notice his grandmother narrowing her eyes at the both of you and you swallow thickly at how much in trouble you could get in.

You let yourself be pulled by him throughout many hallways until he reaches a blocked off room. He shoves the door open, pulling you in with him.

There are old Greek and Italian marble statues that sit artistically dotted around the large room.

When he closes the door without a sound, he turns to you. His eyes are soft and his expression looks so terrified, you don't know what to do.

"Baby," he whimpers and you open your arms immediately.

He accepts the invitation, wrapping himself in your embrace.

"I saw her. I was so scared." he gasps, burying his face in your neck.

Your eyes flutter shut at how his body wracks within your grasp. "Who?"

"My mother." he breathes out and you sigh gently.

You hug him tightly, running your fingers through his hair.

When he feels your fingertips against his scalp, he thinks he might be able to breathe again.

"I c-couldn't… I had to… I needed you." he whines, running his hands over your back.

The simple terror in his voice makes you want to cry. He's so fragile.

"I'm right here." you whisper, kissing his cheek.

He nods softly, running his hands from your back to your belly. He scoffs gently, kissing the soft skin of your neck.

"You must be so mad at me." he murmurs, pulling away to look at you.

You were annoyed, you were hurt but now when he's in your arms like this… it isn't possible to be upset with him.

"Not anymore," you reply honestly.

He hums gently, cupping your face with both of his hands.

"I love you." he breathes out, leaning in to kiss you.

"I love you, too." you reply.

His lips are gentle and soft against yours, you could feel all of his emotions so far from this night passing to you and you accept them willingly.

Then from his soft touch, it becomes needy. It becomes sharp and demanding.

"Little dove," he gasps, shoving you back against the closest wall.

His forehead presses to yours and his hands are absolutely quick with lustful intentions as he balls up the skirt of your gown in his hands.

"God. I've been so fucking lonely all night." Yoongi groans, running his fingers over your soft inner thighs.

"Yoongi, we shouldn't, someone could catch us!" you whisper fiercely.

Your head lolls back when he cups your pussy.

"I don't care. I feel like I've been away from you for years." he seethes, kissing down your neck.

You whimper gently, your back arching off of the wall at his touch.

"I'm so upset that you were mad at me, I'm so sorry, little dove." he groans, running his hands over your bump.

You gasp gently, eyes fluttering shut at how sensual his hands are on your skin.

"HI MRS. MIN, I'M LOOKING FOR YOUR GRANDSON!" you hear Jimin scream.

Yoongi takes a sharp breath between his teeth, backing away from you in an instant. He fixes your dress, eyes on your face as he cringes.

"As am I Park. Have you seen him?" Seyoung asks through the door.

Yoongi holds his breath, pulling you behind a large statue. You cup your hands over your mouth, looking up at your boyfriend with wide eyes.

"No, I haven't but if I do see them, I will let you know!" Jimin calls to her.

You can hear her muffled hum through the door and the distant sound of heels clacking on the floor.

"You're safe, you perverts." Jimin whispers fiercely through the door.

You smack Yoongi's chest a multitude of times before looking back into his eyes. There's silence for a second before both of you burst forth with a case of the giggles.

"Oh my God," he chuckles, pulling you towards the door. "Come on, gorgeous."

It's gotten a little easier to be alone with your friends without Yoongi.

It's just the simple fact of knowing that you had a secret rendezvous not long ago that keeps you going. You notice that he's also made an effort to look at you from time to time, even secretly.

"Hey guys." you hear from behind you and your whole party turns to look at him.

"Hey Yoongles," Yoona cheers, setting her glass of champagne down.

"A lot of people have been coming up to me about the artwork for the mall." he quips.

And everyone realizes this is all a ploy to be able to talk to you.

"God, it's like we don't even exist." Leena teases, pulling her boyfriend's arm around her waist tighter.

"Looks like you're already more famous than we thought." the CEO quips, sipping his whisky.

"Oh yeah! Speaking of famous. Kim Bongjoo came by the office yesterday and was very interested in my latest painting." Namjoon announces, raising his glass of brandy.

"THE Kim Bongjoo?!" Taehyung gapes.

The lawyer nods, nudging you with a smile.

"Kim Bongjoo is so famous, even his kids that are in kindergarten are held to a higher esteem than the President!" Leena gushes, leaning into the group.

"Guess my woman will make more money than me, hmm?" your boyfriend whispers conspiratorially to the others.

You roll your eyes with a snort, elbowing him.

"Why are you over here anyway?" Taehyung quips to the father of your child.

"Because I'm all by myself with the leech, all of my friends have left me." he whines.

"That's because we'd rather spend time with the baby. No one wants to hear your… whatever she is, bitch and whine all goddamn night." Leena retorts, earnings nods from everyone in your group.

Yoongi sighs loudly. "Fine. But you guys fucking suck."

But then finally, as if the Lord was tired of keeping up the charade, you all finally hear the words that will get you out of here quicker.

"Everyone, the auction is about to begin! Please have a seat!"

Somehow, in some way, Yoongi sat down right beside you. It's comforting to feel his knee pressing into yours even if it's just the slightest touch.

The only annoying thing is that Sera is sitting beside him.

"Whatever you want, little dove, just bid on it and I'll transfer the money over to your account." Yoongi whispers softly.

His wife scoffs loudly, folding her arms. "I fucking hate the both of you." she seethes through her teeth.

"Fucking relax, mouse. Don't start a scene where there shouldn't be." Seokjin seethes from behind you all.

She huffs out softly, rolling her eyes.

You lay your head on Leena's shoulder, watching as the first item up for auction is revealed.

"This first item for auction comes from Go Artemis. It's from her latest collection of furniture from 2021. This piece of furniture is a black and grey chaise lounge with pure diamond and cerulean beryl studs that compliment whatever room you would choose to place it. We'll start the bidding at fifty thousand dollars."

The price practically makes you choke on your own spit but you try to hide your surprise. Yoongi chuckles beside you, tilting his head in your direction slightly.

"Money is nothing here, little dove." he whispers.

You stare at the chaise lounge and your boyfriend speaks your thoughts for you.

"Baby boy's room." he whispers and you hum in agreement. It does go with the aesthetic.

But you can't bring yourself to raise your hand, the thought of spending that much money makes you feel sick.

"Leena, do the honors." Yoongi whispers to your best friend.

"No! Wa-" you gasp as she raises your hand high up in the air.

"One hundred thousand. Going once… Going twice-"

You cringe in anticipation, elbowing Leena when you hear her giggle.

"Sold to paddle 73!"

You sigh loudly, pulling your arm away from hers. "Are you crazy?" you hiss, folding your arms.

"Naturally," she jeers, raising her champagne glass to you.

The constant ebb and flow of money being released in the room is a complete contrast to how you've lived your life. You've spent your life saving money and these people spend it on fancy dog collars and one day trips to vineyards in California like it's nothing.

Yoongi has even purchased some items that you don't deem necessary like the finest cigars and a trip to a secluded spa and hotel in Japan. When you shook your head gently at the price he'd just repeat the same thing.

"It's for charity."

While you can try to understand, it's pretty much going over your head.

"The next piece we have is from Kim Sera."

Sera's eyes widen and she sneers at Yoongi when he snorts into his whisky glass.

"What have you done?" she growls softly.

Her estranged husband shrugs and you sigh gently at their childish tit for tat.

"Having fun," he quips, leaning back in his chair.

"This is a one of a kind Alexander Shin piece made of pure diamonds. It was her first wedding present from her husband Min Yoongi. It was given to her two days before their wedding and it's said that Alexander found it so beautiful he almost couldn't sell Yoongi the necklace. We'll start the bidding at three million."

"My prized necklace?!" she hisses, shock written all over her face.

When paddles go up immediately, you cringe. Yoongi is being a brat.

"Yoongi." you mumble embarrassed and he shrugs in reply.

"I have four million. Going once. Going twice-"

"Six million." Seokjin announces from behind you and you turn around to him with weary eyes.

You can see Anna and Jimin chuckling amongst themselves and you hold back the great sigh that threatens to tear forth from your body.

How absolutely petty of your boyfriend.

"Sold to paddle 81!"

Jin looks over at you, sticking out his tongue with a wrinkled nose.

He too couldn't give a fuck about money.

"Finally the last piece of the evening belongs to an upcoming artist."

Your head whips around and you try everything you can to make yourself smaller. This feels like you're being called out in class to answer a question, you know nothing about.

"This art piece entitled Glass House," your cheeks heat up and you feel quite faint in this very second. There are a multitude of eyes on you from strangers that you don't yet feel comfortable with, "was created by Y/N. She is creating the art for the Gangnam Mall coming into creation soon. And she also has gorgeous pieces at the Luck Art Studio. Many say she's on the list to become one of the greatest expressive and artistic minds of this generation."

WHAT?!

This man cannot be serious. How could he say such high praise about you when he doesn't even know you?!

"Oh jeez," you murmur, cupping your stomach.

"We'll start the bidding at two million."

Oh, that price.

You're going to faint. You're about to pass out.

Holy shit.

"I have two million. Anyone for two and a half?"

Your breathing slows down and the voices in the room seem to echo in your ears. This is an out of body experience like you've never had before.

You paint for fun and now one of your pieces is going for millions!? It's absolutely insane!

"Five million. Do I hear five and a half?"

When you met Yoongi… you certainly didn't think this was going to happen! You didn't know anything would transpire and now look at you. Pregnant, cowering in a comfy armchair while people bid on a picture of a glass dome filled with roses. It's completely ridiculous!

"Jimin, buy me the painting!" you hear Anna whine.

Turning to her, you shake your head. "I can just make you one!" you whisper fiercely.

She giggles in turn, pointing to the painting on stage. "I want that one." she says with the flourish of her hand.

"I have nine million. Do I hear nine and a half?"

Sera scoffs and for once you agree. This is completely absurd. When Yoongi raises his paddle with a humorous expression, you elbow him without a care for others.

"It's for charity." he murmurs, chuckling above the lip of his glass.

"I hate you," you mumble, looking around at all the raised paddles.

"I have thirteen million. Do I hear fourteen?"

"Just put me out of my misery." you gasp, rubbing your stomach as your son kicks inside of you.

"Twenty million!" Anna calls loudly, shoving Jimin's hand high up in the air.

You groan long and low, putting your shaking hand to your forehead. She cannot be serious.

"Sold to paddle 95."

You give a small smile as people clap demurely turning their heads to look at you. When you meet eyes with Min Seyoung, she sends you a small wink.

"Good girl," she mouths, turning back around.

You want to run and hide quite soon after that but the amount of people that come up to you and congratulate you are too many. After the wild display of money, people make you out to be the next Van Gogh or something.

"Anna!" you gasp, bowing your head to all the people surrounding you when she grabs your arm and tugs you away from everyone.

"If you want her art, you can find it at Luck Art Studios!" she calls to them.

"I can't believe you just spent so much money on one painting. I could just make you one!" you gawk as she pulls you towards the entrance.

"I wanted it for the nursery. Besides, you make money when people flaunt theirs. This was my last hoorah before I give birth next week!" she giggles, waving over Jin.

He rushes over, shaking both hands happily at you. "You did it Princess! You're famous!"

Slapping him with your clutch, you narrow your eyes at him. "Shut up! You're embarrassing!" you bark out, looking around with shy eyes.

"Come on, let's get you home. I'm sure today was just a whirlwind for you."

Anna waves at you, accepting her fur shawl from her doting husband.

The night chill is welcome as you wait on the steps for Seokjin's car to arrive from the valet.

A whirlwind is right but maybe you could equate more to whiplash than anything. You can understand just how this was supposed to set you up for success when the time comes for Yoongi to leave Sera but you didn't think it would be this explosive.

"Well, looks like you're coming up in the world."

The voice is not one you've heard before and you turn to it without a second thought.

The woman is simply gorgeous with a younger man clasped to her arm. Her dark blue gown with sapphire accessories stand out to you and she looks like the epitome of money.

"I'm sorry I-"

"Yes, of course. You don't know me, but I know you." she says, stepping down the marble stairs.

When she gets closer, her facial features resemble Yoongi's almost perfectly. Your blood runs cold at the sight of her.

This is Yoongi's mother.

Oh no.

"It's nice to meet you Mrs. Min." you say softly.

Her eyes light up and she points her clutch bag at you with a wide smile. "So you are a smart little bird."

You'd hate for Yoongi to see her talking to you. You know how much he despises her.

"Well, I guess I'll welcome you into the family. It's not like I have much of a choice, what with my grandchild in your belly and your legs being spread for my son." she muses, accepting a long cigarette from the boy toy on her arm.

Jin goes stiff by your side, eyes widening at the pavement at her truly free mouth.

"What's the gender?" she inquires, pulling from the cigarette.

"A boy." you reply as kindly as you can.

"Good. Then you won't have to try again. Lord knows I was over the moon when Yoongi came out of my twat and I was finally free."

You shiver at how completely crude she is. No wonder Yoongi hates her. You hum gently, giving her a pleasant smile.

"Cars here." Seokjin says quickly, putting his hand to your back.

"It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Min," you say, bowing to her.

"Yes. And you… small bird." she mumbles amused, turning to her boytoy and patting his suit jacket.

You can't get to the car fast enough and when you climb in, you can feel your body shuddering with weeping intentions. Your hands shake as you put on your seatbelt.

"Jesus Christ! What the fuck is her problem?! Holy shit!" Seokjin breathes, putting on his seatbelt and backing up as quickly as he possibly can.

You open your mouth to reply but nothing comes out. You're truly stunned in silence.

"No wonder Yoongi grew up the way he did! His mother is the fucking devil!" Jin gawks, driving towards home.

You were first to get home and it was such a relief to take off the heavy gown.

Now laying in your comfortable bed, you can't hold on to a thought long enough before you're on to the next.

The night feels like such a blur. You were introduced to so many new people, you mingled with some of the richest people in society. Your boyfriend spent more money than you would know what to do with. You met his absolutely despicable mother. You were mad at him for some reason or another in the beginning… It's all just so fleeting.

But the one thing that's probably stuck the most with you is how high of a pricing one of your paintings went for. It wasn't the most perfect painting, it wasn't your greatest piece, but it still went for twenty million dollars. All of the emotions from that moment still resonate deep within you.

You find yourself thinking that maybe you can do this. Maybe you can be worthy of Yoongi and his lifestyle. Maybe this fate is pure and as grand as you'd like to think.

"Where's my babies?"

The sound of his deep voice makes you smile and when he steps into your bedroom, all of your worries just melt away.

His body is highlighted by the great moon that hangs high in the sky.

His gummy smile breaks your heart to bits as he pulls his tie off with a quickness.

He strips down to his briefs in what seems like seconds and you can see the utter joy and excitement he feels to lay in bed with you.

"Look at the greatest expressive and artistic mind laying in our bed." he quips, pulling back the covers.

You giggle gently, giving him a second to get comfortable before laying on his side. He sighs gratefully, putting his chilly hand on your warm belly.

"God, this is amazing. To come home and lay in bed with you like this beats everything in the world." he breathes out, kissing the top of your head.

You hug him tightly, laying your head on his shoulder.

"My little dove."

His voice is filled with warmth and love. And now you know that no matter how things start to shape and form, the end of the road always ends with your boyfriend.

"Missed me, kiddo? Daddy missed you and mommy a lot." Yoongi mumbles sleepily, burying his face in your hair.

The comfortable smirk that sets onto your lips is welcome and you're thinking of your family as you drift off to sleep.

Next Chapter ------>

Third Wheeling Taglist - @wickizer, @imluckybitches, @slothykreuger, @claireelise19, @ggukkieland, @rspbrryy, @iv-bts, @bambuzlee, @chanelbts, @mxxngxdss, @bluewhale52, @milesjeon11, @diamonddia-mond, @vinylphwoar, @xnxy97, @hubbytaehyung, @140503at-dawn, @bts-7beauts, @jadeblackwoll, @sunshiine-hobii, @creatorspalace, @eclectically-esoteric, @nikkiordonez12, @kaitswrld, @skamlover200, @sevgilove98, @kooeuphoria, @jikooksgirl19, @hobbledehoy26, @singular-itae, @dchimminie, @lowlifeoeuvre, @sugaslittlekookies, @bloopbloopb, @pjmcth, @softysuho, @codeinbelle, @jaiuneamesolitaiire, @betysotelo18, @jeonmisha, @iwanttohitmyself, @ayyyocee, @neverthefirstchoice, @itsbangtanoclock, @little7bitchh, @veryuniquenamegoeshere, @deathkat657, @firstlovesuga-93, @namjoonia, @paperpurple, @muzikabijou, @liebeoppa, @veronawrites, @kleff03, @ruinsofangels, @brightwingr5, @leekanchol, @rkivemagic, @ithinkileftmycoatoutside, @melaninkpops, @y00ngisbabygirl, @ungodlyjoon, @prochnost513, @dunixxd, @athenakyle, @igotnotype, @chxmachxps, @tinymintyoongi, @vangameren-blog, @alpaca1612, @ohcarolinamin, @thegreatestsushi, @eltrain80, @btsmylife21, @deeepvibes, @httpminyg, @deliciouslydisturbed365, @rkchmestizangmaldita, @jimin-chu, @pimpnameyannie, @preciouschimine, @daughterofthequeen, @monetsberet, @vanillamyg, @aamxxrii, @kooafraid, @ladykadyrova, @singjisu, @yazanii, @moonlitmyg, @justzeera, @absolutefantrash, @whocaresarchives, @loosewindmill, @vantesfx, @bt21chim, @flowerboyhobi, @kozuume-kenma, @taepiper

Sorry for those it didn’t tag!

#third wheeling #thebtswritersclub #btswritingcafe #ficswithluv #ceo!yoongi #ceo!bts #ceo!au #min yoongi #smut

548 notes · View notes