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bbyheedeungie · 4 years ago

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Fluttering Machinery | Robot! Sunghoon AU

Genre: Fluff, mild angst

Pairings: Robot! Sunghoon x Reader

Warnings: Character death, little suggestive content

Synopsis: Sunghoon was a humanoid built by your father, with the sole purpose of taking care of you once he passes away. But it seems like taking care of you came with discovering emotions that wasn't necessary for cooking, cleaning, and keeping you safe. What is this warm fuzzy feeling that resonates deep inside Sunghoon's mechanism?

It's been months. 6 dreadful months since your father has passed away. The doctors have warned you that he didn't have much time left, but that didn't make the goodbyes hurt any less.

You were 4 years old when your mom left you and your father for another guy. A more successful guy. Your father was bright, with an insatiable hunger for discovery and invention. But his field of work didn't always bring food to the table. And so on most days you had to, well, compromise.

But you loved your father so much, and still do. Although you didn't grow up to be a scientist like him, you knew the basics on automation and robotics. You were 11 years old when you first saw it, the humanoid that he worked on for years came to life before your own very eyes.

He had no skin nor face that made him look human yet. Just a chunk of metal with a head, arms and legs that moved mechanically. Nevertheless, you will never forget the joy and pride in your fathers' face as he watched his creation. The humanoid was a work in progress and you knew one day he's going to change the world. Unbeknownst to you, he was going to change your world.

And now here you are, years into the present as you stood infront of the humanoid who had his eyes shut. Yep, he's a he now. He is Humanoid SH-1282. Your father made him for the purpose of serving the community, to help people. But when he discovered his illness, he started making alterations to his design. He made SH-1282 to serve as the perfect companion, but only to you.

He filled the humanoid's hard drive with everything that he'll need to help you and take care of you. He input cooking, cleaning, and even martial arts. You sighed, remembering your father's last words.

"I'm gonna leave him in your care now, err leave you in his care or whatever. Take good care of each other okay? I love you both so much."

You were such a crybaby, holding on to your father's arm as the nurses were ushering you to wait outside because the doctors are about to perform surgery.

"You'll be okay." Your father mouthed as he smiled knowingly in content.

You reach for the humanoid's neck to find the power button, finally deciding to activate him after holding it off for months.

You held your breath as his eyes open, immediately scanning his surroundings. His eyes land on you, a smile forms on his lips.

"Hi, I'm SH-1282. It's nice to finally meet you, Y/N." He said naturally, offering his hand. If you didn't know any better, you would think he was a normal boy.

You let out a shaky breath as you accept his hand. He frowns, it seems like he is studying your facial expression and posture.

"You seem like you are in distress. Are you alright?" He asks in concern.

"Yeah, I am." You reply weakly.

"Will a hug improve your mood?" He asks. He was programmed to know about the benefits of physical intimacy, but he was also programmed to know consent and so he will not do anything unless you want to.

You contemplated, biting your lip.

"No, thank you." He simply nods, stepping out of his charging port.

"Will you show me around the house?" He asks and you nod.

"Damn this feels so awkward." You think to yourself.

"So here's the living room." You say as SH-1282 takes a good look around the area, his eyes falling to the dirty coffee table with tons of papers stacked messily. The couch looked greasy, with breadcrumbs stuck to the sides of the couch cushions. He scrunches his nose, involuntarily adding a new emotion to his database: disgust.

And as you led him to the kitchen, this emotion intensifies as he sees the containers of Chinese takeouts and cup ramen littered around the counter. He walks to the fridge and finds it empty except for a carton of milk that you put into your cereal for breakfast.

This awakens another emotion for the humanoid, frustration. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he contemplates on what to do with the mess, aka you.

"This won't do. You have been living unhealthily which may reduce your chances of living a long life."

You scoff, "Excuse me?" He gives you a dead stare, an eyebrow raised.

"No, excuse me while I clean up all this. I'll leave you to your own devices, thank you for showing me around today." He says sassily as he goes to find where you hide your cleaning utensils. You stood there dumbfounded.

"Unbelievable." But you let him be anyway. He wasn't wrong, you've been a total mess this past few months but that was all because of the grief. You basically had no family now.

And so for the rest of the day, you lock yourself in your room and do homework. About 5pm, you hear a soft knock at your door.

"Hello, it's me. Can you spare me a minute? I have something to ask of you." You inwardly groan, not really wanting to face the humanoid.

"Can you accompany me to get groceries? I swear this will only happen one time. It is only because I am not yet accustomed to my location. But after I mentally note the directions, you won't have to come with me next time." He didn't really want to bother you, but he knew that going out by himself and getting lost will be much more bothersome for you.

"Sure thing, just let me change into— oh no, you have no other clothes. It's kinda chilly outside today." You mentally facepalm yourself. Why didn't I go shopping for men clothes first before activating him?

"That is fine, I am immune to any temperature." He says as-a-matter-of-fact. You roll your eyes.

"I know that but people will probably get suspicious to see a man walking around in a shirt and jeans when everybody else has coats on. We need you to fit in as much as possible."

You search for your father's old coat that you refused to throw away even months after he's passed.

"Sorry dad, but he kinda needs this right now." And so you dress the humanoid in your oversized university sweatshirt (which surprisingly fits him perfectly) and your father's old coat.

"How do I look? Will I fit in now?" He asks as he scans his appearance in the mirror.

"You look—" absolutely breathtaking. You had every urge to slap yourself. Your father really didn't play around when he made the humanoid's face. He could pass up as an idol. And the cute little mole on his nose was a good addition to his features that made him even more realistic.

"Great. People won't suspect a thing."

The two of you head out. Contrary to your expectations that he would marvel at everything he sees outside, he just casually looks around. You ride the bus together, and the humanoid processes everything that you do, noting how everything works.

What caught you by surprise though, is how he immediately stands up in instinct to let an old lady sit down in his place. He sure was programmed with manners and chivalry. You smiled at the thought.

You made your way inside the grocery store, only intended to grab a basket but the humanoid insisted on a push cart.

"We have so much to buy, I've taken a mental note of everything we'll need." You simply roll your eyes and let him push the cart around as you wandered behind him. You look around as he reads the nutritional facts of every single thing he sees.

"This is definitely going to take a while." You muttered.

"Y/N? Is that you?" A voice squealed. You hissed and attempted to turn away, pretending you didn't see her. The humanoid saw how you reacted and swiftly rushed to your side in a protective stance. The stranger eyes the humanoid, her eyes sparkling at the sight of such a gorgeous man.

"Why hello there. Y/N you didn't tell me you've been busy with your boyfriend, we haven't hung out in a while." Both of your eyes widened at the misunderstanding.

"Oh, no he's not— we aren't—" You tried to explain but she just laughed out loud.

"Look how flustered you are. You know what, it's okay. But we have a lot of catching up to do!" She said, squishing your cheeks in a playful manner.

"So what's your name, handsome stranger?" She asks, turning to the confused humanoid.

"I'm S—"

"Sunghoon! His name is Sunghoon." You blurted out. Sunghoon was the name of your childhood crush when you were like 7 but that'll have to do. Unfortunately, it seems that the humanoid got even more confused.

"I am Y/N's—"

"Neighbor. He lives next door to my apartment. I was just showing him around because he just recently moved into the city." You say quickly. She can't know that you're living with a guy. Even if said guy wasn't human.

"Awww how sweet of you to go shopping with your neighbor." She said, winking at you. She's definitely not convinced.

"I'm Yeonmi, Y/N's friend." She introduced, offering her hand to Sunghoon. He took her hand reluctantly.

"You mean my super obnoxious friend." You roll your eyes.

"Shut up, you love me." She teased. Admittedly, you've been avoiding her for months now. Ever since your father passed, it was as if you didn't want to deal with anyone anymore, with the fear of being left behind again. So you shut everyone out. You know it was a very selfish move and must've made everyone worry, but you have yet to figure out how to fix things back to how it is.

You said your goodbyes not without a long, tight hug from Yeonmi and Sunghoon noticed from his scanners how your vitals greatly improved from it. This made him feel another new emotion: relief. He was very thankful for your friend who made you feel better.

You continue venturing down the aisle of food, and you find the humanoid smiling to himself. He notices your attention on him and he shakes his head, as if shrugging his thoughts off.

"What?" You asked.

"You gave me a name. Although I'm unsure if it is necessary, thank you." He says genuinely as he smiles at you, your heart skipping a beat.

"You're welcome, Sunghoon." You smiled back.

He picked up lots of fruits and vegetables, with you whining the whole time. Your whines unlocked another emotion of his; annoyance.

"No wonder her father thought she is in need of taking care of, she acts like a child." He concludes, running his fingers through his hair as he lets you get an ice cream of your choice. Oddly, seeing a bright smile on your face as you show him what flavor you got seems to put him at ease.

The two of you got home at dawn, with quickly stacking up the groceries into the cabinets and fridge, with you slumping down on the now squeaky clean couch.

It had been quite a long day and you found yourself dozing off. You woke up from the light tap on your shoulder, eyes fixating on Sunghoon with your apron wrapped around his torso.

"I could get used to this." You thought, admiring how adorable the humanoid looked but quickly pushing the thoughts away.

"Sorry to wake you, it's time for dinner." He announces and you lazily nodded, not before yawning and stretching your arms.

"Uhh, what is this?" You asked, eyeing your plate.

"It's your dinner." He says nonchalantly, expecting you to start eating. Your face shows utter disgust at the plate of vegetables.

"Please don't make me eat that." You begged. Sunghoon rolls his eyes; a trait he adapted from spending just a day with you.

"Don't be dramatic, vegetables are good for you." He states, taking the plate from you and attempting to feed you.

"Come on, say ah." He says playfully. After realizing how much you acted like a child, he researched on how to take care of children and downloaded it into his database. You scrunch your nose, leaning away from the food and shooting him a glare.

"Sunghoon, I'm not a kid." You deadpanned.

"Oh, but you won't get your ice cream if you don't eat this." He says, pouting at you teasingly. He's really good at this. With a sigh, you open wide and allow him to feed you.

"Yep, definitely a kid." He thinks to himself as he smiles in satisfaction, another emotion unlocked.

That night, you decided to move his charging port (with his help) from the lab into the spare room of the apartment.

"You know, I'm completely okay with staying at the lab." He reasoned but you quickly hush him.

"Nope. That is no way to treat a person. You deserve your own room, okay? A room that you can fill with your own stuff and decorate with your own preferences. End of discussion." You sassed as you fix his charging port into place. Sunghoon blinked at you, unable to express how grateful he is of how kind you are to him.

"She wants to treat me like a real human being." He thinks, his mechanical heart overwhelmed with gratitude.

Days went on with a routine, with him cleaning all day and you attending online classes. There were occasional bumps in the road, with you getting annoyed with how much of a neat freak he is and him getting irritated with how lazy you are at taking care of yourself. You've also taught him how to watch tv, deciding not to let him use the internet yet because he might gain too much unnecessary information online.

And so on a saturday night, you sat together on the couch as you watched figure skating competitions. Sunghoon was at complete awe the whole time, studying how the skaters moved through the ice.

"I want to skate too." He states absentmindedly, attention still on the television. You smiled, thinking how it was the first time he actually said he wanted something.

"Then let's do it, let's go skating tomorrow." You say, his head immediately shot to you.

"What, really?" Sunghoon asks in disbelief, his eyes widening.

"Yes, really. Although I'm warning you, I don't know how to skate." You laughed, with him chuckling as well.

"Then we'll learn together." He promises.

What a total lie that is. He didn't need to learn, as you watched him move swiftly against the ice, the wind in his hair as he circled around, his focused eyes twinkling in the fairy lights. He looked ethereal. You could have sworn there were tears there as you cheered him on like a proud momma. Ah, they grew up so fast.

People at the park also stopped to watch Sunghoon, whispering about how talented the young man is. His eyes caught yours, and you weren't sure if you were seeing things but you thought you saw him send you a wink and smile.

"The TV been teaching him things." You muttered, blushing but not from the cold. Sunghoon skates towards you, pulling you with him. You're eyes widened in fear.

"N-no Sunghoon I can't—" but he was already leading you through the ice, eyes never leaving yours.

"You can." He whispers, taking you by the waist as he spun you around. You giddily laughed as you threw your arms out, savouring the chilly air. You didn't even notice the people watching and cooing at you as some joined in as well.

That night, Sunghoon felt something he never felt before, and you in a long time. You felt happy.

"Say aaaah~" Sunghoon said as he fed you chicken soup. You caught a cold from skating yesterday and now you're wrapped in a super cozy blanket with Sunghoon worrying about you.

"You know I can feed myself right?" You said, swallowing the food.

"I know, but I just feel responsible because I was the one who wanted to skate. You got sick because of me, and that kinda defeats my purpose because I'm supposed to be keeping you healthy." He rambled. You roll your eyes at him.

"Colds are normal, okay? Besides, I haven't had that much fun in a while. Thank you for that, Sunghoon." You say, reaching up to tussle his hair playfully. He froze, cogs in his mind unable to process as something inside him stirred, but in a pleasant way.

"So you dance while rubbing your body on a stranger?" Sunghoon questions, but he's not sure if he wants to know the answer. Tonight, you wore a simple black dress that teasingly showed a little bit of cleavage and a decent length of fabric that hugged tightly around your upper thighs but had a daringly high slit. Sunghoon approves and disapproves at the same time.

"Yeah, it's kinda like that. But don't worry, I won't be doing that. I'll just stay by the bar the whole time." You reassured as you struggled to put on your strappy heels. Sunghoon kneels down infront of you and helps you clasp the straps around your ankles, handling it very delicately. Your heart thumps as he looks up at you.

"Are you sure you don't want me to accompany you?" He asks for the fifth time as he follows you around the house like a puppy. You sigh, actually considering it. Although it was supposed to be a girl's night according to Yeonmi, you thought maybe having Sunghoon tag along wouldn't do harm.

But it did. It did harm to you, alright. And you wanted to harm those girls who kept on grinding their asses onto Sunghoon as slow, sexy music played. You were fuming, regretting dressing Sunghoon in such fashion that screamed big D energy. Why am I being so possessive? But then again, Sunghoon does look uncomfortable. I should go save him. Yeah, I'll do that.

"Hold my drink." You tell Yeonmi as you made your way to Sunghoon.

"You go girl! Get your man!" Yeonmi cheered drunkly.

Your train of thoughts were blurred by the alcohol as you struggled to walk straight. You had only one clear thought in mind: Sunghoon. I need to get to Sunghoon.

Sunghoon stood uncomfortably, eyeing the girls who rubbed their bossoms and derriere all over him. Is this supposed to be fun? He thinks innocently. He sees you walking towards him, swaying your hips side by side as you strode towards him like a predator.

Girls hovering around him going unnoticed as you were the only one he could see.

Stunning, beautiful. He thought.

"Hey handsome, care to dance?" You asked, pulling him to you before he could even answer. The girls spat at you, telling you to 'get in line' but you just shot them a smug look.

"Sorry ladies." Sunghoon apologized, but his smile told otherwise as he let you pull him away from them.

"You don't know how badly I wanted to get away from—" He froze in his spot as you wrap your arms around his neck, inching closer than ever before. You felt bold, but maybe that was just the alcohol in your system. And as you started moving your body against Sunghoon, you knew it wasn't just you who felt the heat. His large palms go down south, resting on your swaying hips as both of you moved to the sultry rhythm.

His mechanism was going nuts, threatening to malfunction as his sensors detected your very close proximity to him. Whatever you were playing, it was dangerous. But Sunghoon couldn't help but to want more, to desire more.

"Y/N." He whispers, and you look up at him with half lidded eyes. And damn did he find you so sexy right there, under the strobe lights. No girl in the club could ever compare.

"Home?" You suggested.

"Home." He agrees.

As you got in the cab, you immediately find yourself half straddling Sunghoon's lap as you attempt to kiss him. Luckily, Sunghoon can think clearer now and concludes that a drunk Y/N is a very horny Y/N. And though the thought that it was only the alcohol that made you want him made him feel sad, he knew it was wrong to demand such things from you.

And so with your futile attempts to get into his pants, he gently lays your head on his shoulder and hugs you to keep you still. But even that couldn't stop you from squirming to get away from his hold, trying to get some action. He chuckles as he held your hand tightly in his to prevent it from landing into his crotch.

"Now now, you have to stay put. I won't be taking advantage of your state." He scolds gently. And by the time the cab had stopped in front of the building of your apartment, you were fast asleep in Sunghoon's arms.

Times like these were when Sunghoon is glad he was made of aluminum. He scooped you up in his arms like a pillow as he walked up to your apartment. You snuggled up into his chest, looking so innocent as you soaked up his warmth. Sunghoon cooed about how adorable you are, talking to you in your sleep.

He placed you delicately on your bed, contemplating whether to change your clothes or not. He decided not to, noting how your privacy is important to you. You're too drunk and asleep to give him permission right now anyway. He took off your heels and wiped your makeup off very gently, and tucked you in properly.

Long minutes pass as he studies your face, stroking your hair softly as the corners of his mouth lift up unconsciously. He really loves taking care of you. He loves you.

This realization hits him like a truck of overwhelming emotions, but it all makes sense to him now.

"I love you, Y/N." He whispers, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead before retiring to his own room.

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puppypeter · 4 years ago

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-----

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-----

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-----

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#stucky #steve rogers/bucky barnes #bucky barnes/steve rogers #stucky fics #stucky fic #stucky fic rec #stucky fic recs #stucky fics rec #stucky fics recs #stucky fan fiction #stucky fiction #stucky ao3 #stucky complete #stucky au #adorable stucky fics

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coastcrimson · 3 years ago

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Communication pt.1

pt1 > pt2

Woody is a nomal teenage boy,except for one thing-he cant speak.But what happens when he starts crushing for the schools popular guy and they cant communicate well? human au

Word count: 728 I think

Authors Note: Ive never written actual fan fiction before please go easy on me *sobs * ,I didn't proof read this or anything and uhhhh ill finish it and make a part two soon I hope

Woody was like any other teenager,shy,quiet,smart,and fairly good looking,but there was one problem. He wasnt able to speak,the most he could manage was a barely audible "weh". This had put him at a fair disadvantage as a child. But this year was going to be diffrent,he was going to try and get over his all his irraional fears and make a new friend or two! At least,thats what he thought,but as soon as he stepped foot into the YoyleHighSchool,his fears had come back to haunt him.

Woody sighed,it had been a couple weeks into the new school year,and he still hadn't been at all social. Any time he tried to reach out to anyone,there was a little voice in his head stopping him. "They're going to think you're weird" the voice said, "Nobody cares about you," "you cant speak,you don't belong here,weirdo". This time,these thoughts struck in the middle of the hallway. Lost in his own thoughts,he accidentally ran into a tall red head,also known as the most popular guy in school. Well,apart from loser and winner.

"Oh my gosh,I am so sorry..-im sorry,whats your name?" asked blocky. The brown haired boy just continued to walk to class. Running into the popular boy and getting the chance to talk to him was a dream come true for a lot of people. But woody wasn't one of the people,nope,he would rather avoid the embarrassment of not being able to respond to him and get to class. But even then,woody could help but remember how nice blocky was. Even somebody asking what his name was was rare,and the more he thought about it the more he wished he could speak.

Maybe if he could speak he would be popular. Maybe if he could speak he would have friends. Maybe he would even have a girlfriend,or boyfriend,or whatever really. Maybe if he wasn't such an out of place loser,he's have a place to stand out in.

Blocky,on the other hand,was pretty outgoing. He was pretty funny,and even hs his won section in the school newspaper and news show,which was dedicated to pranks and funny doings. He was well over average looking too,and there wasn't a girl who wouldn't love to be with him. But even then,he had never been in a relationship. It's not that he didn't want to,don't get me wrong. Its just,girls weren't really "his type".

So then what was his type? Men,shy,cute,smart and nice men. Thats right,one of the most popular people of YoyleHighSchool was gay. And there's absolutely nothing wrong with that,its just that he wasn't at all ready to come out yet,due to the group of homophobes around the school,all lead by the extremely strong and mean snowball. In a setting like that,it was best to lie low and not catch feelings for a guy. And it had been going pretty well. Well,until woody was brought into blockys eyes.

"Gosh why is he so damned prettyyy" complained blocky to his pals,eraser and pen. "Damn who is this guy and why is he the one you end up falling hard for?" asked eraser. "Thats the problem,I dont know," groaned the redhead,"one second I'm bumping into this guy and asking his name and the next he just ignores me and continues walking to class!" blocky was so frustrated,ow could he manage to make any girl fall in love with him but the one guy that catches his attention is impossible to talk to? It didn't matter. With those good of looks,he was bound to be taken. "Anyways,blocky did you see woody today?He was so much more distracted and quiet than usual!" said pen. "Whos woody again?" "You know,the guy that cant speak? Wears cardigans and knitted sweaters that he bought from flower?" and then it clicked. The guy he saw was woody,they were describing him! He was wearing one of flowers itchy sweaters,he cant talk either.it all made perfect sense! But now the hard part was finding him again,and even more,talking to him and getting him to talk back.

#bfdi #bfb woody #woodblock bfb #bfb blocky #bfdi blocky #i need mental help #gay moment #battle for dream island #i need to stop #shipping #animated objects #battle for bfdi #bag3l #bfdi woody #blocky bfdi #object shows

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screamingatanemptyroom · 4 years ago

Text

Please Fix the Story Pt 19 - Sci Fi

The new part is here. I've struggled with this story a little bit recently, but I wanted to continue this, to share it with you.

Master Post linked here

Enjoy!

_________________________

“Bel…”

“BEL!”

The world around me was pitch black, empty except for voices I didn't recognize, shouting a name I couldn't remember. I blinked, trying to clear my vision without success.

“Hello?” My anxious shout faded into the nothingness around me.

“I have to do it, Bel. It’s how the story goes.” A blurry figure stood in front of me, his facial features unclear behind his blond hair, but his tone contained frustration and regret. “You know what happens to a world when the story is incomplete. Sacrifices have to made.”

“Who are you…?”

“That’s our fate, we just have to accept that.” He faded away into the darkness, leaving me alone again.

“Come back! Explain what you meant!” I screamed at the disappearing figure. “WHAT SACRIFICE? WHAT FATE?!”

"YOU MUST ACCEPT YOUR FATE."

“Are you lost?” A new voice spoke up, strange, yet completely and utterly familiar.

I spun around, but there was no one behind me. “I’m… I’m lost.”

“No matter where you go, who you become… I’ll find you, Bel. I promise.” The voice was a whisper in my ear. “Fate can’t tear us apart. I won’t let it. Even if I have to destroy fate itself.”

“But I can’t find you. I don’t remember who you are!” I was crying, my tears disappearing into the surrounding mist.

“I’ll find you.” The words were quieter, as if the owner of the voice was fading away.

“DON’T LEAVE ME!”

“I promise.”

“NOT AGAIN!”

"You must accept your fate."

"Bel..."

"You must.."

“…I promise…”

_________________________

“LIAM!”

I woke up, screaming a name that disappeared from my mind as soon as the sound as faded, tears and sweat staining my cheeks.

I curled up into a ball, my head resting on my knees, trying to catch my breath.

Who am I?

Finding no answers, I eventually steadied my nerves, getting up, showering and changing. I looked up at the clock on the wall, wincing as I realized that I was running late for class.

Great, now I’m going to miss breakfast, and I'm starving.

I put on my uniform jacket, lamenting silently my lack of time to fill my empty stomach. As I left my dorm, however, my eye caught something sitting on the floor right outside my door. It was a small plate with a peeled apple and a note with Alaira’s name on it.

I thought Alaira was supposed to be loner… This has to be a trap, right?

It had been several weeks since I woke up in this strange world. It couldn’t be more obvious that she didn’t have any true friends or allies. No one who would care enough to send breakfast, definitely.

Maybe it’s from whoever has been following me around?

Since the second day, I had noticed a shadowy presence following me at a distance. Whoever it was, they never attempted to try to speak to me, or interfere with me in ay way. But it was always nearby, always watching.

So now they’ve upgraded to leaving me food?

I picked up the apple, looking around, and scanned it with the personal computer on my wrist, which showed no drugs or other abnormalities.

Well… I am hungry, which outweighs the possible grim outcome of death by poison, I suppose.

Shrugging mentally, I took a bite. The taste was sweet. I sighed with satisfaction and took another bite. As I chewed, a thought occurred to me, confusing me all the more.

How did they know I like peeled apples?

As far as I could remember, Alaira had never liked apples. It was considered an ancient fruit, more of an oddity than a dietary staple. She had tried it once or twice and hadn’t been impressed.

But I liked it…

I liked apples a lot… but only peeled ones. It was something almost instinctive I had felt whenever I thought about the fruit. But… I hadn’t eaten any apples since I woke up as Alaira.

So how do they know? Does this sci fi story come with mind readers?

I took another bite, feeling confused.

_________________________

“Why the hatred for the apple peel?”

The young man seemed genuinely curious from his tone of voice as he handed me a freshly peeled fruit.

I shrugged, taking a bite. “You try living as a princess in a lower fantasy realm. I bit into a poisoned apple once and the inside was glowing green.” I shuddered. “Ever since then I can’t stand to bite into an apple with the peel still on.”

The man had already started peeling another fruit, and paused in his actions. “Did the prince have to kiss you to break the spell?”

“Why, are you jealous?” I grinned.

“N-no… I’m just asking.” His head hung down, as he seemed to stare intently into the apple in his hands.

I patted his head. “I took an antidote ahead of time. Didn’t fall asleep. Instead, I beat the crap out of the witch.”

He laughed at that. “Didn’t you get in trouble for changing things?”

“Of course. But it was so worth it.”

_________________________

I stared down at the partially eaten fruit in my hands, feeling overwhelmed at the memories surging through my mind.

I keep seeing these memories, but I can’t connect them to anything. What are these lower realms? Is that what I’m in right now? Who is this person I keep seeing?

I felt incomplete, a large part of my memories, my emotions, were missing. What was worse, I wasn’t even sure what was gone, what I should be sad about losing.

I grabbed my bag and walked out the door.

“Alaira.” A voice called out, stopping me in my tracks. Turning, I sighed with odd sense of disappointment at the person standing before me.

Who was I expecting?

I forced a grin and made a rude gesture. “Hey Chris, how awful to see you this morning! Terrible of you to stop by.” I checked my personal communicator and shrugged. “Fortunately for me, I’m running late and have no time for your nonsense. So we’ll save your annoying ranting and raving for a later date, okay?”

He ignored my words, stepping closer with an excited look. “Have you heard the news?”

“Even if I say yes, you’re still going to tell me, right?”

“Don’t pretend, it’s not fooling anyone!” He glared at me. “You’ve been hoping to trap me as your Connector since the match results came back!”

I sighed. “At this point, it’s not even funny anymore. What can I say that will possibly convince you that that is NOT the case?”

“You won’t be able to stop my dreams, Alaira! Next time I’m going to win!”

“Yes, you’re the absolute greatest.” I rolled my eyes. “I cry myself to sleep each night over the fact that we aren’t partners, and I will never feel anything in this life but anguish and despair… now can I go to class?”

He looked ever angrier at my sarcasm. “Just wait until the next match. You’ll see that I’m good enough to be a Guardian. Because I’ve got…”

“Okay, buddy. Sounds good.” I interrupted, walking away.

“Wait, you didn’t finish listening…”

“Yep. See you next match.”

I left him behind, ignoring his rage induced sputtering.

Met an idiot first thing... but hey, at least I'm not hungry anymore!

_________________________

A few days later, the next round of mock Mech battles began.

As the winner of the prior fight, I was slated to go first, completing the first four battles with relative ease. As the day wore on, however, the drain on my body from using the Mech was increasing exponentially. Fortunately I was on my last scheduled fight of the day… even if this was the hardest so far.

A light headache was throbbing at my temples as I scanned the field around me. The arena stood as a large stadium, featuring a high-class barrier shield that extended up to twenty stories in the air. Hundreds of seats surrounded the fighting field, all equipped with holo screens that played the footage taken by the referee bots floating around the fight.

The excited screams from the audience were slightly muffled by the protective screen, and the remaining noise was filtered out as I focused on the fight ahead of me.

My opponent this time was a third year A level Guardian, an experienced fighter, who fought along side a D level Connector. Alaira had faced off with them multiple times in the past, and she had always struggled to win despite the difference in strength of abilities.

There was no denying the advantage that a Connector brought to the fight.

I grinned, ignoring the draining sensation of operating my Mech, the headache and weakness that quickly came on each time I made the Connection. The pain was severe, like a knife stabbing through my eye, but I forced myself to ignore it. As I fought, I couldn’t help but feel bitter.

It’s not like I haven’t been looking for a Connector.

Each day I went to the Matching Center. Each day I endured the laughter, the stares, the whispers and pointing. Each day I was faced with the same words: “No match available.”

Do I need to come up with a different plan? But I can’t fight the Hive without a Mech, and I can’t operate a Mech without a Connector… unless I want to slowly destroy my mind like Alaira did.

I sighed, not seeing any easy answers, and focused on the fight ahead of me. Although I had Alaira’s memories, and operating the Mech came as almost second nature with my S level alpha waves, I had run into an unexpected obstacle:

Alaira’s weapon of choice had been dual wielding energy pistols.

What a waste of the cool looking sword on my back. My physical body was suspended in the Connection chamber, a shielded globe filled with suspension gel. Although the Mech was controlled through alpha brain waves and the Connection, the closer I was to the Mech, the easier that control was. Thus the space for the Guardian was always in the center of the Mech.

I wore helmeted mask monitoring my vitals such as oxygen saturation and heart rate, adjusting the air composition and breath volume to accommodate my body’s stress reaction during battle. A skintight silver suit covered me, interacting with the gel to provide me physical feedback that the Mech would feel. My vision was shared with my Mech’s video system; I looked down and saw the pistols resting in the robotic hands. It was strange, I was obviously inside the robot, but the sensation of the ground beneath my feet, the guns in my hands, was all too real.

The physical sensation made it easier to fight, but it had an obvious drawback, which was that I felt any blows that my Mech sustained. During the fight I was the Mech, and it was a part of me. I tightened my grip around the energy weapons, feeling tired.

Something felt off about using these as my weapons.

I still had no memories about my past, but as I had practiced with the Mech these past few weeks, I had noticed a familiarity with fighting and battles, even more than what Alaira had in my memories after a lifetime of training at home with her father and then in the academy.

Am I some kind of warrior or something?

It didn’t seem right, but I couldn’t explain the comfortable sensation of judging my opponent and fighting with them. But that comfort and familiarity did not extend to dual wielding pistols.

I just wasn’t a great shot.

We had already been fighting for ten minutes. My headache had worsened and I felt tired, but I had only managed to score a few hits on non-vital areas. The only benefit was that the opposing Mech had only been able to strike me twice with the energy-enhanced spear he carried.

“You seem a little off today, Alaira, everything all right?” My opponent’s voice came over his speaker, shocking me. It was technically considered bad etiquette to talk during battle, but it was hard to fault him, as he seemed genuinely concerned about my less than ideal fighting state.

I shook my head, raising my pistols once more. “I’m fine, let’s continue.”

I rushed forward, taking advantage of my superior speed and maneuverability to get closer, trying to make it harder to miss my shots. The opposing Mech jumped backwards, but it was too late. Its hand was within my grasp. Turning and using its significant weight to my advantage, I flipped the robot over my own’s shoulder put the barrel of my gun against the metal head.

My final shot through its temple destroyed the key mechanisms within it, rendering it immobile and finishing the fight.

That was too close… I’ve been practicing with the pistols since I’ve woken up in this strange world, and seen no improvement… what am I doing wrong?

As the referee called out my victory, I backed away, letting out a sigh of relief. It had been a harder fight than it should have been, but at least it was over.

I need a nap.

“I WANT TO CHALLENGE ALAIRA!”

An extremely annoying voice spoke up, causing my already bad headache to worsen.

... Why me?

I turned towards the speaker. “Chris. Didn’t we agree that we were going to avoid each other? … Or was that just my wishful thinking?”

His all white Mech landed in front of my own, holding a large, oversized sword. He swung it back and forth, and although I couldn’t see his facial expressions, the smug tone of his voice through the Mech’s speakers were enough to make me wish I could make my Mech roll its eyes.

“Surely the legendary S level Guardian Alaira isn’t SCARED to fight with a mere D level Guardian such as myself, right?”

“Guardian Chris, please retract your challenge. Guardian Alaira has already finished five consecutive mock battles, and needs time to recover.” The instructor’s face was stern on the holographic screens around us, leaving no room for disagreement.

Chris laughed mockingly. “Oh, I thought she said that even with all the advantages and luck she could still beat me? I guess it was just empty arrogance.” His Mech shook its head. “With such a weak personality, no wonder you can’t find a Connector to match you. Who would want to endure such a woman?”

“…”

CLANG!

My Mech’s foot connected with the other’s crotch, and I heard a high-pitched squeal of pain. Ha, shared sensation with the Mech comes in handy sometimes.

“How dare you?!” His pained shout made me grin.

“Less talking, more fighting. I accept your challenge, Chris.” I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the feeling of my head splitting apart, as well as the light ringing in my ears. I had reached the limit of how long I could safely operate the Mech.

But the sound of his smug satisfaction infuriated me.

Every night, I was haunted by nightmares. Sometimes it was fragments of memories of unfamiliar worlds and people. Most nights, however, I dreamt of Alaira’s end. Alone, broken, terrified, a horrific death for a lonely girl.

And this idiot had watched it happen.

It might not be smart, but I just really want to beat him up. I took a stance, brandishing the pistols, feeling off kilter once more at the light weight in both of my hands.

In the meantime Chris had recovered from his inconvenience, and had resumed his taunting. “Oh, yeah, you ran away so fast the other day, I never got to share with you the good news:” He paused for what I assumed was dramatic effect. “I matched with a Connector earlier last week.”

He obviously meant this to be a huge blow to me, but Alaira’s memories had already warned me this would happen. A beautiful young woman, one of the many who competed for Chis’s affection. This one is a princess… Ilene, I think?

Unbidden, my mind was filled with the thought of the serious, quiet Prince William. I hadn’t seen him since that first day in front of the matching center. So he would be her brother?

I felt a moment of concern at his absence, and then confused, I shook my head, dismissing the thought. I had no reason to see him. Why would I worry about a stranger? Shrugging, I waved casually to Chris’s Mech.

“I welcome the princess to the battle. Sorry you’re on the losing team!”

“…”

There was a moment of shocked silence. “You already know?!”

I winced at Chris’s ear piercing shriek. “Know and don’t care.”

“But… I have a Connector.”

“Yeah, you said that.”

“So I won’t be YOUR Connector!”

I sighed. “We’ve long established that. Look, buddy, it’s been a long day and I’m really tired, are you gonna keep talking about your boring personal life, or are we gonna try to crush each other with massive robots?”

“... Fine then! Keep pretending you don’t care!” Chris seemed really upset at not eliciting a bigger reaction from me, but fortunately turned his attention to the battle as well.

As the hologram around us signaled the start to the fight, he raised his sword and moved towards me, but I had already moved behind him.

BAM!

A shot hit his shoulder, blowing large metallic pieces into the air. I frowned, frustrated. I was faster and stronger than him, but my shots just weren’t going where I wanted them to.

Chris ‘s Mech turned around to face, me, the oversized sword’s momentum swaying the robot from side to side. His movement accuracy and speed had tripled from our last encounter. Clearly, he and his Connector were well matched, well over the required 50%.

But I was still faster.

I ducked under his blow, aiming upwards at his elbow and firing another couple shots.

BAM! BAM!

I missed. Cursing, I recovered, dodging another blow as I increased the distance between us.

Stupid guns.

_________________________

A young man threw up his hands, clearly frustrated.

“Why are you so stubborn? Every single world you insist on using a sword. We were in a laser battle for goodness sake!”

“Swords are more dependable.”

“Oh come on…”

“Plus I’m a terrible shot.”

He sighed. “Fine. But what if one day you don’t have me watching your back?”

“It will be fine.” I grinned. “Don’t you love saying that everything is according to fate? Maybe a sword is just mine?”

“... It doesn’t work like that.”

_________________________

A brief memory flashed in my mind, confusing me.

During my distraction, Chris’s Mech tried to strike again. With no time to dodge, I raised my gun, blocking the blow with the barrel. The weapon cracked under the edge of the sword. I pushed him back, relying on my superior strength and jumped backwards, throwing away the broken weapon in my hand. Glancing down at the remaining gun I had, I felt a warm liquid drip from my nose. It was bleeding, a sign of the increasing strain of the Connection.

I was breaking down. I wouldn't last the rest of the fight.

I had to surrender.

Screw that!

I holstered my remaining gun, drawing the large sword on my Mech’s back. As I held it in front of me, I suddenly felt at home, completely comfortable, as if I had held a sword many times before. I stared at Chris’s Mech, feeling excited.

Now, this feels like a fight!

I raced forward, swinging my sword in a horizontal strike.

_________________________

I was standing in a group of zombies, my sword cutting through the neck of the closest monster.

_________________________

Chris dodged, stumbling backwards. I used the momentum of my first swing to smoothly transition into a downward slash.

_________________________

I was an elf, dancing in the forest, my blade striking down shadowy creatures in the midst of a large battle.

_________________________

THUD!

A robotic hand fell to the ground as I cut it off at the wrist. Chris let out a moan of pain, cut short as I controlled my Mech to kick him in the face, knocking him on his back.

_________________________

I was a vampire, holding a sword made of darkness, fighting humans with elegance and grace.

_________________________

Chris tried to stand up but my foot on his chest prevented the movement. I rested the tip of my sword at his Mech’s throat.

“Do you surrender?”

_________________________

“Surrender?” I smiled as I spoke, staring down at the man on the ground. I couldn’t see his face clearly except for his dark blue eyes, which stared at me without a hint of embarrassment despite his defeated position.

“I surrender.” His voice was warm. “You’re pretty amazing with a sword.”

“After all the realms I’ve fought through? I would have to be.” I shook my head. “Don’t you use swords when you travel?”

“I’m not permitted to travel anymore.” He grinned. “I keep refusing to play my role.”

_________________________

I blinked, focusing on the partially destroyed Mech in front of me. Not hearing his answer, I dug the tip into his neck slightly, only stopping when he let out a groan.

“Do. You. Surrender?”

“I surrender.” His answer sounded like it was forced through gritted teeth.

I could hear muted cheers from the crowd behind the shield as the holographic screens around us displayed my name as the victor.

“Good.” I moved my sword and turned away. My body felt drained, every muscle screaming in pain. I tasted blood in my mouth, my head hurting worse with each passing second.

“I’LL BEAT YOU ONE DAY!” Chris called out behind me. “I’LL GET STRONGER, AND I’LL SHOW YOU!”

“Tell it to someone who cares.” I didn’t turn around, and left the arena.

At least I won. Now if my head would just stop hurting...

As soon as I reached the docking area, my legs crumpled beneath me, and my world faded into darkness.

_________________________

Where am I?

I woke up in a white room, on a plain, clean bed, wearing a hospital gown.

This isn’t a different world, is it?

I carefully searched my memories, but didn’t feel anything different. I sighed, realizing I must be in the school infirmary. In my memories of her life, Alaira had helped bring her fellow students there in the past, but had never stayed to be examined. Deep down she had known that without a Connector she was breaking down, and was afraid the school would prevent her from fighting.

It might have saved her life if she had.

I sat up, rubbing my forehead tiredly. It was still throbbing.

“Are you okay?” A soft voice spoke up, startling me.

I jumped, looking to the chair beside my bed, where a dark haired young man sat. His dark blue eyes studied me carefully, his face expressionless.

“…Prince William?”

“…” After a long silence, he nodded slowly.

“What are you doing here?”

He stared down at the floor silently, and just when I thought he might not respond, he reached out, handing me a peeled apple.

I took it, feeling dazed. “Umm… thanks.” I took a bite, and after swallowing, asked the question on my mind. “Were you the one leaving food outside my dorm room then?”

“…hmm.” His gaze never left the ground.

What the heck kind of answer is “hmm”?!!

“How did you know I like peeled apples?”

“…” A look of genuine confusion crossed his face, but quickly disappeared as he shrugged silently.

“Okay. Well. Thanks.” I pushed myself up, trying to swing my legs to the side of the bed.

He stood up, his face concerned. “Wait. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, my head hurts, but otherwise I feel great.”

“…You should rest.” He frowned as he looked me over.

“It’s just strain from a prolonged connection.” I sighed. “I’m used to it.”

“You haven’t matched?” He seemed mixed, as if happy and disappointed at the same time.

“Nope. Not for lack of trying though. ” I looked him over. “Are you a Connector? Have you matched yet?”

“I…” A look of agony distorted his features.

“He can’t. He’s broken.”

A young woman stood at the door of the infirmary, a mocking smile on her face.

I studied the newcomer carefully. She had long black curls framing a heart shaped face, and large blue eyes that looked down on me with pride. Given the similarities in features to Prince William next to me, it wasn’t difficult to figure out her identity.

“I’m assuming you’re Princess Ilene?”

She ignored my words, walking closer to her brother, whose face had become expressionless once again.

“He can’t Connect. His mental barrier is too strong.” She stopped a few feet away from him and raised her hand, knocking on what looked to be empty air. It made a solid noise, her hand stopping at the same invisible point. “He can’t put it down even if he wants to.”

I thought back to the first time I met him, remembering people being pushed aside.

“A useless Connector who can’t make the connection. A Guardian who can’t match. Two failures together.” She smiled at me. “Sorry I took away your only possible chance at matching Chris, but you needed to see the reality of the situation. He’s a better Guardian than you.”

“…Remind me again who ended up flat on their back at the end of the last fight?”

Her eyes narrowed in annoyance at my comeback. “At least he will be around a long time to help fight the Hive. You, on the other hand.” Ilene pointed at her head and turned her finger in a circle. “You have no future. But on the bright side, at least my useless brother can keep you company while your mind slowly breaks apart.”

BAM

William stood up, angry, and with the loud sound of an impact, Ilene was pushed by an invisible barrier out of the room. Her face enraged, she slammed her fists against it while her mouth made motions as if she was shouting. I stared at her, confused as to why I couldn’t hear her.

“…I sealed her out of the barrier.” William whispered. “Her voice can't make it through either.”

“Oh.” I nodded with satisfaction, watching her shout silently outside the doorway. “Thanks.”

“I can expand the barrier… but she’s right… I can’t drop it.” His eyes dropped down to the floor again. “I can’t Connect… I can’t help Guardians… useless…” His voice slowly dropped in volume, until it was barely a whisper.

“Well, you’re helping me out right now, and I’m a Guardian. So I’d say you’re a pretty useful guy.” I gave him a thumbs up. “I know that not hearing her is already making my day better.”

He stared at me silently for a few moments. “… Are you hungry?”

“Kind of. Why? Do you have more apples or something?”

William shook his head. “No… cake.”

“Please tell me you are serious.”

He solemnly set a container with a piece of cake on the table next to me, along with a napkin and utensils.

I stared at it in shock, motionless.

“… Do you not like it?” His nervous tone broke me out of my stupor. I quickly reached out and held the container close, grabbing the fork and taking a bite.

“Oh, this is amazing… totally worth passing out after my fight.” I took a few more bites, noting him relaxing visibly as I showed my enjoyment. “…Why are you being so nice to me, anyways?”

“Why?” William blinked, looking shocked as if he hadn’t considered it before.

“Yeah. As far as I can tell, I haven’t met you outside of running into you in the hallway once. Why go out of your way to leave me food and sit by me in the infirmary?”

He finally looked up, his dark blue eyes staring into my own. “…I’m not sure. “ He shrugged. “Whenever I see you, I feel happy. I want to help you.”

I leaned back against the backboard of the infirmary bed. “Well… I guess I could always use a friend.”

“Friends?” A trace of a smile crossed his face, before it disappeared into expressionless once more. “Really?”

“Yeah. So let me introduce myself officially, Prince William.” I started to reach out a hand to shake, but remembering his barrier, I pulled it back. “I’m Alaira. Level S Guardian but unable to match, and your new friend.”

He stared at my hand with a look of regret before looking back up. “I’m a Level S Connector… but can’t connect. I’m your new friend… “ He hesitated. “Can you call me a nickname instead?”

“Sure.”

“Then call me… Liam.”

_________________________

“Are you lost?” I woke up in a strange world to the sound of an unfamiliar voice, laying on my back, confused.

“Seems a good description for my current situation.” I stared into a pair of dark blue eyes, smiling despite the dizziness. “Nice to meet you, Stranger.”

He grinned, reaching out a hand to help me up. “Call me Liam.”

“Nice to meet you, Liam.”

_________________________

I blinked away the memory, smiling at the timid young man in front of me. “Nice to meet you… Liam.”

#writing #please fix the story #sci fi #world hopping #memory loss #giant robots #aliens #more memories #call back to the peeled apples from the zombie arc if anyone remembers that far back #so happy to post this part finally.#weight off my chest

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literate-lamb · 4 years ago

Text

can I kiss you on the dancefloor?

Steve Rogers/Reader

One year into a relationship, yet still dancing in secrecy. Steve thinks he’s protecting you.

When a civilian and a hero fall in love, anything could go wrong. But not in the way Steve would have thought.

Or how the media play with the lives of superheroes.

►word count: 7.6k

► warnings(!): slight angst, alcohol

A/N: My gift to @blue-like-barnes for the Hoelentines Fic Exchange! I’m sorry it took some time, giftee. I didn’t expect this to turn into a monster (yikes). Thank you for hosting @amythedvdhoarder @chrissquares @drabblewithfrannybarnes ! Dividers from @firefly-graphics and GIF from Giphy

On his day-offs, Steve Rogers was a man full of disguises.

When they first started, it was the baseball cap and thick-rimmed glasses. He liked it, it was simple, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before someone would notice. How could one not when his face was the one plastered in old war propaganda, in the museums commemorating his achievements, and even flashes on the telly when you walk past the local electronics store.

Hence, it wasn’t a surprise when the tabloids posted a photo of him in his disguise, waiting at a crosswalk on a cold night.

‘Captain America spotted on a midnight stroll’ came the next morning. It was taken after he was done walking you home, thankful they didn’t catch a glimpse of you.

“So capsicle, where were you off to last night?” Tony greeted him at breakfast, offending paper in hand. He unrolled it, opening and making a show of reading, displaying the front page for all seated to see. “Nice reading glasses, wasn’t aware you needed them.”

Striding into the room, Natasha came and snatched the tabloid. She gave it a critical eye, judging, before turning towards him.

“Hmm, recycling disguises, Rogers? I’m disappointed.”

Steve just groaned in reply.

The second time it happened, he had gone to the Black Widow herself for advice. He had expected sound advice coming from a former KGB spy who spent her paycheck on hair, but all he got was a stick-on mustache. Something about ‘needing to blend in rather than pointing the obvious’.

“I don’t know what you’re up to, Steve, but at least it’s better than that nerd get-up,” she smirked.

You had liked it. Giggling every time he kissed you, the fibres tickling your lips. He had ‘a caterpillar’ on his upper lip as you called it. And Steve had learned to get used to the itch.

But it wasn’t long before his new look was the star in barbershops.

‘Captain America’s new look takes the world by storm.’ They had caught him again in another paparazzi shot. Tony had teased him for days after.

He couldn’t shake it off easily, constantly reminded of it when he walked the streets. Seeing them on screens when he’s channel-surfing. Even when he’s training new recruits, his vision filled with a sea of unshaved cadets, their hairy upper lips a prominent fixture.

He knew he had to do something when Bucky and Sam came in one day sporting twin mustaches.

He discarded the strip of fibre in the bin. Reminding to pay Natasha a visit.

The third time he decided, he seeked out the help of Scott Lang, who was a master in keeping out of sight during his burglary days. Scott had given him a black beanie and told him to grow out his facial hair.

The beanie hid his golden locks and the beard made him look rugged. You loved it, your thighs quivered when it was him and you in the four walls of your room. Uncontrollable groans as he went down. ‘Beard burn’ you had called it. Whatever it was, he loved the sounds you let out.

Four months. That’s how long the disguise lasted. His longest disguise to date.

Before he became a trend.

‘Captain America is the new style icon.’ The internet sleuths found out where he got it too. ‘The sale of Walmart beanies skyrocketed by 70% thanks to Captain America.’

Tony had bought everyone in the compound a black beanie for Christmas, including the receptionist.

“Our grandpa’s a trendsetter, who knew,” he announced. Steve had smacked the back of Tony’s head with the beanie before retiring the disguise.

Now, sitting in The Sleeping Cat, Steve had opted for aviators and a Nasa baseball cap. He still kept his beard after your pleads, and he liked the look, he admits. It was back to basics for him and this was one of the only places where he was safe from prying eyes. Afterall, it was in this very café where he had met you.

The Sleeping Cat was a quaint little thing, a hole in the wall in a quiet part of the city. Not many knew of its existence, the entrance obscure, a blink and you’ll miss it. Which made it all the more perfect for him. The baristas knew him and minded their own business, offering him a smile every time he visited. ‘You’re safe with us’ they seem to say.

He could say the same about the patrons. Most that frequented were regulars like him, they seemed the same, looking for a place to get away from the overbearing world. They seemed to share an understanding, paying him no mind as if he was just another man they passed on the streets. And that’s how he preferred it.

Just a boy from Brooklyn.

Ding!

The chime of the door pulled him out of his thoughts. Facing the door, he saw you, smiling as you came through.

This was the best part of his days.

You had met Steve Rogers at the most unexpected of times.

Terminated from your previous job at a small gallery, dumped by an ex-boyfriend after a 2 year relationship, you were at an utmost low. To escape your roommates —in case of pitying or prying, but if you were honest with yourself, it was to escape your own humiliation— you left the apartment on weekdays under the guise of going to work. In reality, you were at The Sleeping Cat applying for jobs on your laptop.

It was during one of the afternoon hours when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Turning to your left, you were greeted by a pair of startling blues. They were bright but worn as if they’ve seen too many. Looking at the bigger picture, you took him in. Hair hidden under a cap, a sharp jaw and an equally sharp nose, and if you looked closely, you thought you could spot a few moles on his cheeks. He looked familiar, but you couldn’t put a finger to it.

Eyes fleeting to his lips, you realized he was actually talking.

“Huh?”

“I was wondering if this seat’s taken?” He smiled, gesturing towards the empty seat opposite. He was clearly amused.

“Yeah, sure, sure,” you nodded, making room for his things.

The following days, it became a routine and an arrangement. You would be at the café as early as the owner would allow, laptop in hand. While he would come in the afternoons in a different jacket each day, a sketchbook in hand. You would be propped up, sending application after application, praying for luck. While he would quietly sit, churning sketch after sketch, in a relaxed demeanour.

Sometimes you would peek over your screen and watch him draw for a few minutes, lost in his strokes. When you look up, you’ll find his eyes locked with yours, and you’ll immediately reimmerse yourself behind the screen, embarrassed.

It was a comfortable routine. You came to expect him everyday. And on the days that he didn’t make it, you felt a bit forlorn looking at the empty seat. You both didn’t talk much, yet you were getting comfortable in his presence.

Until one day, he broke the silence.

“So, what is it that you do?”

You stared, dumbfounded. Looking around there wasn’t anyone nearby.

“Were you talking to me?” you asked.

“Yes,” he chuckled. “It’s just that you’re always on your computer…” he trailed off.

“I’m an assistant curator at an art gallery— or, er, used to be,” you explained. “Long story short, I lost my job and now I’m looking for a new one, that’s why I’m here.”

He seemed to ruminate before replying, “So you know a thing or two about art?”

You both started a new routine; one with a lot of communicating. He would ask you about your mundane weekends and interests and in turn, you would ask about his. Except, he was anything but mundane.

On the days he was absent, you learned Steve was away on a lot of ‘business trips’. When he returned, he had never failed to present you with a souvenir. From matryoshkas to sarongs, it was always a surprise accompanied by a tale.

“The pattern on the sarong is called a batik, and it’s amazing how they’re drawn using wax like a liquid crayon. It’s an interesting art form.”

Outside of your little routine, he was an enigma. You barely knew about the Steve outside of The Sleeping Cat. Sometimes he threw the names ‘Bucky’ and ‘Sam’ a lot —out of exhaustion— without giving away anything, remaining tight-lipped. While his mysteriousness should’ve been a cause of concern, you couldn’t help but gravitate towards him, wanting to peel more of his layers, like the shell of a matryoshka.

The routine went on for a few more weeks, with calls of interviews and business trips in between. Before you received a phone call.

“I got a job! At the Whitney!” you squealed, shaking his shoulders over the table, oblivious to the other patrons. Steve endured it, smiling.

“Congratulations,” he said when you’ve calmed down. “I guess this is the last time I’ll be seeing you?”

You froze, high coming down, realization settling in. After a few weeks of secret meetings, of getting to know him, of having lunch together, of sharing laughs, you’ve come to see Steve as a good friend. And maybe, there was the birth of something more.

“Let’s exchange numbers,” you said, opening your phone. “This way, maybe we can hang out again. Have lunch sometimes?”

“I’d like that.” He smiled.

And the rest was history.

Making your way towards The Sleeping Cat, you amused yourself with past memories. Memories from almost over a year ago.

Steve had come to give a speech at the opening ceremony of an exhibition at the Whitney. Your first exhibition as a curator. An exhibition on art from the war times. When they had announced his title, a loud ‘oh’ was the only thing you could muster.

The ‘ding’ of the bell resounded, announcing your arrival. Heading in, you saw a head perked up, beaming, baseball cap securing his golden locks and aviators hiding his mesmerizing blues.

This was the best part of your days.

But maybe, you were getting a little tired.

If someone were to ask you months ago if you were happy and content with your relationship, you would’ve replied with a swift yes in a heartbeat. No hesitation, no reservations, no doubt. Now, sitting in the same cafe, the same one you frequent on dates, the same one you both met in, you weren’t sure of the answer anymore.

As Steve gets up to order for you both, your eyes wander to his sketchpad. It was filled with sketches of random objects; the flower on the table, the pastries on display, sometimes the patrons of the cafe, and occasionally, you.

“You’re my favourite subject, so far.”

It was not for the lack of love or the lack of affection. Steve was the most loving; loyal in so many ways, gentle when asked, and protective to a fault. Maybe the protectiveness was the cause of it all.

Staring at Steve’s back, your mind shifted to a memory from the past week, when your roommate pulled you aside from a get-together at the ice rink.

“Hey,” she called your name, taking a hold of your elbow. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Sure, what’s up?” you followed her, leading you to the sides.

Her eyes conveyed her worry. It amplified with the chewing of her bottom lip, a nervous tick.

“Are you and Steve… okay?” she asked, her brows perked. “I’m not sure if you notice, but today, it’s full of couples.”

You looked towards your group of friends. There was your roommate’s girlfriend tying her skates, your other roommate and her boyfriend talking to another couple —their friends— and they were all holding their significant other’s hand. Oh.

“I don’t want to throw you out of the loop, but there would probably be a lot of double skating involved today,” she said, widening her eyes, looking comical. “Do you want me to talk to Steve? Maybe I could convince him to come, y’know?”

Out of your two roommates, she was the only one who knew of your paramour. Having walked in on you and Steve making out on the couch. She was sworn into secrecy, with the promise of autographs from all the Avengers.

“Look, it’s okay,” you assured her. “I can handle skating alone, and you know why he can’t really come here with us,” you shrugged.

“Okay, but aren’t you tired? Of all this sneaking around? Don’t you want to shout to the whole world ‘I’m fucking Captain America!’” she flailed.

You shushed her, muffling her mouth with your gloved hand.

Part of the secret was how Steven Rogers was an engineered superhero. A superhero with many enemies, leading him to fear for his loved ones, and that included you.

You went into the relationship whole-heartedly knowing the challenges; discreet rendezvous, kisses in the dark, minimal contact in public. You were his secret and he was yours. It was for your own good, wasn’t it?

“What’s got your little head wrapped up?” Steve’s voice startled you, bringing you back to the café. On the table, two cups of coffee and a slice of cake was served.

“Hmm? Oh, just thinking about this party the museum’s throwing this weekend,” you took your cup, blowing, contemplating your next words.“Say, how about you and I, I don’t know, go as dates?”

Steve crunched his brows. “You know that’s a hard thing for me to do, especially with your colleagues around.”

“I know! But maybe… maybe, you can go in one of your disguises this time? Remember that one time we went to Central Park?”

Steve exhaled, he remembered that afternoon. It was the one-off that you both ventured on a date in the outdoors.

Decked in his beanie, casually strolling through Central Park with you beside him. Although he was still wary, keeping his hands in his pockets, fighting the urge to hold your hand.

No one had recognized him; not the ice-cream man, not the kids running around, not the mothers pushing strollers. No one.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

You leaned forward, pecking him on the lips multiple times. “Thank you!”

“You sure this looks convincing?”

“Trust me, punk. Grade A assassin here, thank you very much,” Bucky boasted while fixing the wig on his scalp, untangling the unruly strands.

Steve had sought Bucky for help, with the belief that assassins were good at hiding in plain sight (and maybe, he just didn’t want to go to Natasha twice). Bucky was also his most trusted confidant and he knew about you, Steve trusted him not to tell. But now looking at himself in the opposite mirror, he wasn’t so sure of that anymore.

Long dangly tresses hung on the sides of his face parting in the middle, a trimmed beard leaving a bit of goatee, and to finish it off, Bucky dressed him in a checkered shirt consisting of random coloured squares. He looked like he just stepped out of the 60’s.

“Oh, wear these,” Bucky handed him a pair of large wire-framed glasses. “Done.”

Steve took a look in the mirror. A seedy pimp was the first thought that crossed his mind.

“Thanks Buck, I owe you one.”

“Sure Stevie, just bring me around next time on one of your dates, I’d like to meet her,” Bucky winked. “Or make it double.” He wagged his brows. “Like old times.”

Steve snorted.

“Okay, I got—“ Steve’s words halted when an alarm blared overhead. It demanded their attention.

“Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes, your presence is required in Prep Room six,” called the disembodied voice. “There’s been a breach of extraterrestrial energy in the airspace of Sweden.”

Steve exited and rushed through the hallways, Bucky following close behind. He made it through the living quarters, trudging to the training wing before entering one of the many prep rooms.

“Nice costume, Cap. Halloween already?” Sam quipped. Almost everyone was present, they were equally amused.

Before anyone else could follow, Tony strided in immediately, grumbling. “Okay team, there’s been an E.T synthezoid putting holes in the ozone layer. I’ll fill you all in the quinjet. Suit up and meet me at the hangover in 10.”

Everybody gathered their equipment and hurried to leave, passing by him. Before Tony could, he took notice of Steve and did a double take. And then a third.

“What’s with the pimp daddy get-up, Capsicle?”

Steve huffed, ignoring the jab. “I have something that I need to attend. How important am I in this, Tony?”

“We need all hands on deck. We don’t really know what we’re up against, Fury’s still running recon,” Tony explained, squaring his shoulders. “Whatever it is you have, Cap. It can wait. Lives are at stake here.” With that, he left, not standing by for a response.

“Darn it,” Steve cursed, removing the glasses and the wig.

He left the prep room with his shield in hand. With one hand, he shot a text to you. He’ll make it up next time.

Loverboy [6:30 PM]: Emergency mission

Loverboy [6:30 PM]: Can’t make it, sorry

You switched the screen off, sighing. Around you, the party was in full swing. Invitees mingling with refreshments in hand, discussing the pieces on display tonight, and bidding on the pieces they find exquisite. Hors d’oeuvres and champagne were being served, brought around by servers on silver platters. You’ve been munching on them non-stop, grabbing one every time a server comes your way, needing something to occupy you.

Surrounding you, you’d see the occasional couple walking around, enjoying their time. The palms of their hands locked in each other’s as they navigate together, rarely straying afar.

You clenched your hand, reminded of how empty it felt.

It was inevitable, you were warned of this, you were told to expect this. Dating a superhero meant that he was never solely yours. You were sharing your boyfriend with someone, except that someone was the world.

“Hiiii!” a shrill voice broke your thought, calling you by name. A blonde woman, followed by a brunette emerged from the gathering of art-goers, headed towards you. “It’s been a long while!”

“Hey! Yeah, it’s been awhile,” you waved, recognizing the two.

When they reached you, you were aware of the slight tension in the air, leaving the three of you standing awkwardly. After all, these two were your ex-colleagues and you didn’t exactly leave the previous gallery on good terms. Tonight was a night with masks, it seemed.

“So, how are you two doing?” you decided to get it over with.

“We’re fine, everyone’s fine! But how are you? We heard you worked here now, pretty impressive,” the brunette —Claire— winked at you. You laughed.

“Yeah, it’s so nice seeing you again, and at the Whitney? The pay must be good, you know what I’m saying?” Hilda chimed, knocking her elbows with yours. You didn’t appreciate it but you endured.

“Say, what are you doing over here far away? Why not you join us over there,” Hilda pointed, towards a mounted canvas at the end of the hall. It was occupied by two men in a discussion among themselves. “Chat a bit to catch up, a bit of art philosophical debate in between. What do you say?”

You contemplated her offer, not wanting to seem pretentious, but thought about the false flattery and ego-stroking that would sure ensue in their company. The thought of it drained you.

“It’s okay,” you waved them off nervously. “I have to call my boyfriend sooner, gotta check up on him and let him know I’m... alright.” You held up your phone, playing on convincing.

“Oh? He isn’t here tonight?” Claire seemed to feign worry.

“No, he got caught up with something. He’s a busy man,” you cooked up an excuse. No one could know.

“Okay… In that case, we’ll leave you to it. Maybe we’ll bump into each other sooner.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you guys soon.”

They waved before backing away into the mass of patrons. You let out a breath you didn’t know you held in.

While the interaction was unexpected, this was what you had to deal with when it came to the question of your relationship. The excuses, they became second nature to you. The lies. The deceit. Anything to protect Steve’s identity, and inadvertently, you.

Throughout the night, you mingled with any clients interested in a work of art, all the while stepping out of Hilda and Claire’s line of sight. You didn’t wish a repeat of the earlier evening.

When the crowd started dwindling, signalling the end of the night, you were relieved of your duties. You headed straight for the restrooms after, one getaway before leaving. You huddled yourself in a cubicle, locking it shut.

Seconds in, you heard the creak of the restroom door followed by the clicks of heels.

“Can you believe it? Someone like that got the chance of working here.”

You recognized the nasally tone. It was Claire.

“Yeah? Not like she deserves it. I mean look at her? Demure, slow. It’s like talking to a mouse. I bet she’s a prude too.” That was Hilda.

The gushing of the faucet muffled their voices, but their sharp words were clear as day, your ear catching every snark and hiss.

“And when she was talking about her boyfriend? He probably doesn’t even exist, it was just to get off our backs,” Hilda paused. “Last time I heard, her boyfriend dumped her. So, I guess she’s creating imaginary ones now.”

They both cackled.

By now, you knew they were talking about you. Their words didn’t hurt as much, you knew the colour of their hearts beneath the masks. But was that how people viewed your hidden relationship? A facade? A farce?

Once the door clicked shut, and the tapping of their heels faded, you left the restroom, heart feeling heavier.

(y/n) [6:45 PM]: stay safe stevie ! remember to hydrate

(y/n) [6:46 PM]: punch those meanies

(y/n) [6:46 PM]: (`⌒*)⍟-(`⌒´Q)

Steve chuckled when he turned on his phone, amused at your texts. You always sent him good luck messages every time he went off for missions. Although he didn’t seem to get the emoticons that you sent, even after being taught by Peter Parker. He just didn’t get them.

Steve dialed your number, sitting on the edge of the bed as he dried his washed hair. Beeps ringed before you picked up, your smooth lilt permeating the speakers.

“Hello? Stevie?”

Steve smiled, missing the caress of your voice after a day filled with explosions and cries.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he greeted. “How’s my girl been?”

“Great, now that you called,” you teased. “But are ‘you’ fine?” you emphasized.

On the other end of the line, you mirrored his position, sitting on one corner of the bed. Picking the newspaper in your lap, you observed the front page: ‘Avengers saves the Arctic!’

“Same old, same old,” his voice carries. “Listen, about yesterday—“

“It’s okay,” you interrupted him, other hand gripping the newspaper. “You have to protect the Earth and that also means me. You don’t have to apologize, I knew what I signed up for.”

Did you? Or was it now a hollow statement to convince yourself?

“I still want to make up for it, my girl deserves that much,” he responded.

You slowly unclenched the paper. It left Steve’s form crinkled.

“If you want to sooo bad,” you exaggerated. “There’s a Valentines charity ball for our arts program in three weeks time. You think you could make it this time?”

“You know no promises, but I plan to, even if I have to do everyone’s laundry for a week.” You heard rustling on the other line. “What’s the exact date? I’ll put it on my calendar.”

“The 16th.” Scratchy scribbling filled your ear, the sound loud in the silence.

“Done. Can’t wait to see you all dolled up, sweetheart.”

“Me too, baby,” you said. “At least put on a nice moustache this time.”

He laughed. Your heart felt lighter. To him, it was probably nothing, but to you, it was a form of reassurance. A reassurance that what you had was real.

“Steve, you got a moment?”

The aforementioned man turned around, taking a glance over his shoulder. Sharon Carter slowed to a stop, a small smile on her face. As always, she carried an air of superiority, matching that of Steve’s wavelength. Yet today, it seemed dim.

“I think we need to talk, you have time for coffee?”

Glancing at his watch, he nodded. “Sure, Sharon. Lead the way.”

She took them outside of S.H.I.E.L.D and into the chilly air of DC, navigating through streets and crowds while huddling in their coats. They chatted, breaths puffing as they caught up, the familiar scenes passing by.

He hadn’t been in DC in awhile, it felt good to be back.

“We’re here.”

Sharon headed in first, holding the door for him. He thanked her. They ordered and got seated. A smile was shared, strained as it seemed.

“Better just rip the band-aid off,” Sharon sighed. “I miss us.”

“Sharon—“

“Please, hear me out first,” she insisted, showing her palm. “We probably shouldn’t have done what we’ve done after Aunt Peggy’s funeral. I just lost someone I looked up to the most, and you lost the woman that you loved. We were both grieving. It wasn’t fair to the both of us.”

“While I do miss us, I know that it wasn’t meant to be,” she continued, shooting a sombre smile. “I understand that now. I guess, what I wanted was closure.”

Her hand quivered on the table between them. Steve clasped his over hers, offering to soothe.

“I don’t regret what happened in Germany. While yes, it should have not happened, it was what we thought we needed at that time. We both lost someone we held dear,” Steve explained, hoping his words reached her. “None of it was a mistake, Sharon. You’re still someone I trust and hold dear, remember that.”

Steve clutched her hand tighter, running his thumb over her knuckles in circular motions, attempting to calm and show understanding.

In his efforts, unknown to the two, the shutter of a camera went off across the street.

Something felt off. Everything that could go wrong, went wrong. At first, you thought it was your own anxious mind running.

You woke up late on a work day, burned your eggs and toast, accidentally wore unmatching socks, and your roommate was acting weird. All jittery when you entered the hall, stammering her words, and performing this bizarre dance when you walked past the living room. You gave her no mind when you passed the threshold and slammed the door, phone gripped in hand.

Loverboy [6:00 AM]: Good morning, dear

Loverboy [6:01 AM]: [image]

A photo of Steve, sweaty after a run showed on the screen. He was smiling, shirt stained and clinging to his chest. You had taught him how to take selfies.

You [7:20 AM]: morning, handsome

You [7:20 AM]: 😍😍😍

The morning texts were the best part of your morning commute. It made the arduous and packed journey worthwhile. Even when you almost tripped at the doors, it couldn’t take away your joy.

You made it just in time and clocked in, meeting clients and discussions with artists throughout the day. It was uneventful, although the bad luck seemed to have followed when you spilled your coffee on the concrete.

It was when you left the museum that your day took a turn for the worst.

On the ride home, the man opposite you was reading a newspaper. Nothing unusual, but at a glance, you thought you saw a familiar face printed on the corner. Before you could take a closer look, the man folded it in half and got off.

A few minutes later, you arrived at your stop, exiting the station with the fast-paced crowd. That’s when you were bombarded.

Lining the streets, your vision was filled with the scattering of a crowd of papers. Every face you saw was plastered in them.

‘The Good Captain In Love?’

‘A Superhero & A Civilian Romance?’

‘Captain America’s Girl? Mysterious Woman Sighted’

The sight of them left you in a panic, your anxiety spiking through the roof. Your world started spinning, everything —buildings, trees, faces— blending altogether. Everywhere your eyes deflected, a headline invaded your sight, imprinting itself on your retinas. Had they found out?

Composing yourself, you headed towards the nearest news stall, mind boggled with too many questions and not enough answers. How? Why? When?

Only, it wasn’t your face they were publishing.

‘“Oh Captain, My Captain” America in love? Spotted last week in DC was Captain Steven Rogers with a mysterious lady. They seemed to be cozy with each other, an eyewitness told Us Weekly. Story on Page 11.’

The photograph showcased Steve with a blonde woman, sitting in a café with their hands clasped on the table. Your heart shattered at the sight, remembering how empty yours have felt lately.

Was he purposely out with this woman in public? What did that mean for you? Why were you shadowed?

“Are you and Steve… okay?”

“She’s creating imaginary ones now.”

“Aren’t you tired? Of all this sneaking around?”

“You know that’s a hard thing for me to do.”

“Hey lady, you gonna pay for that?”

You were shaken out of your stupor. Looking down, you were clutching the magazine too hard, ripping the image of Steve and the woman in half, right in the middle where their hands met.

You apologized to the man and paid for the magazine. Immediately discarding it in the next trash bin you saw.

“So… you and Sharon?” Sam had asked him after training.

“What?”

“You, and, Sharon,” Sam emphasized, pronouncing each syllable. “Are together. Man, when were you gonna tell me? I thought it was over.”

Steve froze before replying, “Because it is. A long time ago.”

“Well, this seems to say otherwise.”

Sam showed him his phone, the screen displaying an article; ‘Captain America’s Girl Revealed. A Family Affair That Transcends Time.’ On top of the article was a photo of him and Sharon at the cafe in DC, his hand atop of hers on the table. A zoomed in version of their hands were provided, fueling the tabloid’s narrative.

Steve paled at the sight. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was his fears manifested; his anonymity taken, his privacy invaded, but his worst fear was putting his loved ones in danger. And if it was due to their association with him, it would leave him racked with guilt.

While the tabloids were wrong, he knew that Sharon could defend for herself. You on the other hand…

His heart rate rose, a new wave of anxiety spiked. Steve wondered if you’ve seen this. No, you must’ve seen this.

Fishing for his phone, with clammy hands, Steve quickly dialed your number, anxiously waiting for the beeping to end.

‘The number you’ve dialed is not—‘

“Damn it!”

His outburst surprised Sam, shocking him. Sam gave him a look, inquisitive.

“Sorry Sam, I have to run.”

He left, heart in his throat.

When Steve arrived at your apartment, he was almost out of breath. He was still anxious, the ride here not doing much to his addled mind. But he was determined.

Rapidly knocking on your front door, Steve composed himself. When it opened, he was met with the sight of your roommate -- the one that he has never met before.

“Ca-Captain America?” she yelped, shocked to see him on the doorstep.

“Is your roommate in?” he steeled.

“Which one—”

“Steve,” a voice interrupted.

The door pulled further, widening the entrance. Steve was met with your familiar roommate. She was tense, arms locked across her chest, eyes full of fury. Steve detected something else in them; worry.

“You fucked up,” she said. He winced.

“I know,” he admitted. “And I’m here to make things right. Can I please see her?”

She sighed, stepping in, nodding towards your room.

Steve hastily walked in, stopping in front of your door. He knocked thrice, signalling you, before turning the knob. It was unlocked. The room was dark when he entered, every source of light switched off, except for your curtains.

Sitting on the edge of the bed was you, figure illuminated by the street lights against pitch black darkness. When he stepped in closer, you looked up, eyes meeting his.

Steve turned on the lights and closed the door. He took a good look at you; hair frazzled, eyes bloodshot and dry, nose red. You were the image of heartbreak.

“Are you ashamed of me?” you asked, eyes locked with his.

“What? No, I—“

“Is it because I’m not strong?” you cut him off. “I know she’s Peggy’s niece… a-and I know how much you loved her. She was your first love.”

“She and I, it’s all in the past. She moved on and lived her life, and I… did too.”

“But did you really, Steve? Move on?” you whispered, getting up. You stood in front of him. Steve could see how puffed your eyes were from crying. “Or was I just… a rebound?”

“No. No, you were never a rebound,” he took hold of your forearms. “I care for you, too much.”

“Then why?!” you shrieked, shocking Steve. “Why the secrets? Why the hiding? Steve, you’ve never even introduced me to your friends. Shouldn’t they know?”

“I wanted to protect you!”

“Protect me from what?!” you roared, eyes full of fury. “The Avengers? If they knew about me, they would protect me. Don’t you think so?”

Steve had no words to that, his mind a jumbled mess.

“I’m… beginning to think that you’re embarrassed with me,” you sighed. “We’ve never been on a date publicly, as each other. We’ve never held hands in public. I want you to meet my friends. I want to introduce you to them, and maybe soon, I want you to meet my family.”

“B-but, I’m tired, Steve. Tired of all the hiding. Of all the sneaking around. I want to tell the world that I’m in love with Steve Rogers, not Captain America,” you sighed, shedding a few tears.

You waited for his reply, only to be disappointed.

“You know I can’t do that.”

You saw red. All you saw was red.

You started pushing him, swatting him in the chest. Steve didn’t fight back, letting you unleash your anger, your disappointment. He took your hits, letting you release your pent up emotions. He began backing away when you started advancing, back against the door.

“Get out! Get out!” you screeched, pushing him.

When he unlocked the door and crossed, you immediately shut the door in his face. Steve heard sobbing from inside, his heart shattering at the sounds.

“This way, Captain,” your roommate approached him, showing him to the door.

Steve relented, shame flooding him. He fucked up.

You stopped visiting The Sleeping Cat, wanting to avoid him at all costs. You blocked his number. You immersed yourself in your work, prepping for the upcoming charity gala.

Sometimes you find yourself thinking about him when sleep proved to be difficult. It’s when you’re laying at night that you missed him the most.

But it was for the best, you reasoned. For you and him.

The Avengers PR had pushed for a fix-it, publishing a story that spoke a truth. ‘Just Friends: Romantic Allegations Proved False’. Steve had hoped you’d seen it.

He called you every day but found himself blocked from everything. He still tried, hoping you’d come around one day. He came by The Sleeping Cat every other day, sitting in the same spot, hoping to catch you.

But you never came.

You clasped the necklace in place, admiring how it sat on your clavicle through the mirror. You took a step back and took yourself in, smiling at what you saw. It didn’t reach your eyes.

Today was the day of the Valentines gala and you weren’t feeling particularly giddy about it.

Opening your phone, you stared at the one contact that stood out, finger hovering over his name. That name used to give you so many feelings, but today it was a reminder that you were going alone, again.

Sighing, you threw it in your purse and left. Another lonely night, and on an even celebrating love.

Days turned into weeks, and soon, before he knew it, the day of your Valentines gala arrived.

Steve stared at the calendar. The heart-shaped doodle he drew called out to him, reminding him of fond memories. Fond memories that seemed like a distant dream. But then, he went back to last week, and it all came crashing.

He had hurt you. While thinking he was protecting you, he hadn’t realized he was inadvertently pushing you away. He had no one to blame but himself.

He loved you. No, still loves you. You grounded him, gave him the normalcy that he craved. Reminded him of a distant time before he was Captain America.

You made him feel like the boy from Brooklyn again.

While he was ruminating in his feelings, Steve was caught off-guard when the door burst open with Tony Stark coming through. From his peripheral, he could see Bucky and Sam peeking through the frame.

“Heard from the Manchurian Candidate that someone has a case of the achy breaky heart,” Tony said, smug.

“Leave me alone, Tony. I’m not in the mood,” he grumbled, setting down the calendar.

“And leave you wallowing like shit while your girl is out there probably equally miserable? I know a thing or two about women, Rogers, and it’s that they don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Tony snapped his fingers and from behind, Sam came in with a tuxedo in hand.

“Thought you might need this,” Sam said.

Bucky came out behind him, with a brush and can of hairspray. “And I still know how to do hair.”

“And I have friends in places,” Tony quipped. “I can get you in.”

Steve was surprised. His friends had surprised him. You would’ve loved them. He was left speechless.

“What are you waiting for, Cap? Suit up.” Tony winked.

Swirling the glass of rosé, your gaze fell towards the dance floor. An upbeat song was being played as people flocked near the middle, letting their bodies take charge for the night. You saw your former co-workers among the throng, hands thrown around their significant others, having the time of their lives.

The gala was in full swing, if the crowd and chatter was any indication. Red and roses were the main theme, with a red carpet stretching from the grand staircase towards the main hall and roses lining every corner and wall. Taking it all in, you were proud to see your ideas visualized and work came to fruition.

You sipped your rosé, enjoying every bit of the gala as you could. From the sidelines, you spoke with a few potential clients and art collectors. Their presence made you feel your importance, and if you dared say it, a little less lonely.

It was during one of your little chats that you didn’t realize when the hall suddenly fell quiet. You turned around when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Hi folks, mind if I crash your party?”

Steve smiled at Tony’s antics. They both had arrived at the gallery dressed in their best, and with Tony’s connections, they were granted access.

Stepping down the grand staircase, Steve felt all eyes on him. He paid them no mind, the thought of you the only occupant of his racing mind. Gazing over the crowd, Steve spotted you to the side, occupied in a chatter.

Taking deliberate steps, Steve soon found himself behind you. He admired your gown and hair, it entranced him. You still hadn’t registered his presence, even when your partner had ceased chatting and was now staring at him.

With a tap on your shoulder, he was taken away as immediately as you spun around. Steve took in your whole image; your dolled-up face, your intricate dress, your styled hair. It left him floored.

You always did manage to take his breath away. Was this what he had been missing out all this time?

Taking your unoccupied hand, Steve pressed a small kiss before meeting your eyes.

“May I have this dance?”

Giving away your drink, you took his hand as he pulled your towards the centre, taking space among the crowd. A slow number started, and before you realized, you were swept in a slow dance. It didn’t take long before you felt the sensation of his two left feet.

“Sorry, a hundred years and you’d think I’d know how to dance,” he said.

A small smile lightened your face. Steve savoured it all he could. Gulping, he took the first step.

“I’m... sorry for what I’ve done. I realize now that you were right,” he started. “I thought I was protecting you, but now I see that all it did was push you away. You have all the rights to be mad at me. I was being an idiot, a selfish one. I didn’t think about how you felt about it.”

You winced. Steve had stepped on your toes again. He murmured an apology, resorting to swaying instead.

“Can we start again? No more hiding. No more disguises,” he breathed, keeping his eyes locked on yours. “ We can meet your friends, you can meet mine. Bucky’s been pestering me to bring you to the compound, he wants to meet you.”

You laughed. How Steve had missed the tune.

“How can I make it up to you? How do you want to take the first step? A picnic at Central Park? Dinner at the compound? A trip to the beach?”

You seemed to contemplate, a thoughtful look on your face. You both failed to realize all the eyes on you two.

“How about now?”

“Right here? Right now?” he asked.

“Yes, right here, right now,” you said, determined.

Without hesitation —no more— Steve dived in, planting a kiss on your wine-coloured lips for the whole world to see. Your first kiss in public, yet it felt as if it was only the two of you there, lost in the moment.

You both didn’t notice the gasping crowd nor the clicks of cameras from photographers nor the booming laughter of Tony Stark. You both only felt the other in your orbit, and that was all that mattered.

“Can you put that down? You’ve been staring at it for the past hour.”

You pouted, setting the frame on the side table, where it has been designated since its publication.

“I can’t help it, I think it’s a good shot. Don’t you think so, Alpine?” you petted the snowy white cat lazing on the arm of the sofa. Its’ purrs intensified.

“Dinner’s ready!” Bucky shouted.

You and Steve left the room, joining the others in the dining room for dinner. On the side table, the framed article sat neatly, showcasing the tale of the famed occurrence that took place at a charity gala.

‘America’s Girl: The Modern Woman of The Captain’s Dreams.’

Fin.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #fluff #angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #happyhoelentinesday2021

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emwritesstuff · 4 years ago

Text

as the world caves in | ch. 7 | bucky barnes x reader

synopsis: You are a ghost story. A former Air Force pilot who had her plane shot down by Germany in 1945, but here you were in 2023, alive and frozen in your 25-year-old body.

You haven’t seen Bucky since the 1940’s, before his fall, before you went on a suicide mission only to come back alive. You aren’t sure reliving those memories – and being a living memory of everything the man has lost – is the best for him.

But you and Bucky won’t be apart for long.

This will loosely follow the plot of TFATWS - so spoilers ahead, specially regarding episode five. Thread carefully!

masterlist | AO3

notes: i got wordy with this one, lol. But there IS fluff and revelations in there somewhere

(warnings: mentions of death, blood, injuries, weapons) (word count: 5K)

seven: timing

You’ve seen death before. It’s inevitable, when you’ve lived an entire century.

You’ve died before, when half of the universe did too, crumbling into dust and fading into thin air. You’ve seen it during the war, during missions, you’ve done it. Yet, you might never get used to it, not like this.

A shield is objectively a protector in nature. Captain America’s shield, once the symbol of salvation, had been tarnished with blood.

Bucky and Sam looked at you when you turned back to them, after watching John Walker ran off from the square. Their silent conversation from seconds before communicated to you through a look.

Walker couldn’t carry the shield. Not anymore.

“We have to take it back.” Sam said, and you and Bucky nodded at the same time.

“He has to have gotten his hands on the serum somehow. He’s too strong.” You made your way through the crowd hastily, having to shove people out of the way, everyone still in slow motion due to shock.

“That means it won’t be easy.” Bucky added as the streets had gotten empty enough for you to start running freely.

“It never is, is it?”

Sam led the way on air while you and Bucky ran, following his coordinates. A fine rain fell over Riga, and it did good of seeping through your hair and clothes, though you didn’t register the cold in the moment. The warehouse you ended up in was empty except for industrial lifts, the lot abandoned and overgrown. A good enough hiding place.

John Walker marched over to you somewhat casually, and your eyes met Bucky’s as Sam stroke up conversation.

“What? You saw what happened. You know what I had to do. I killed him because I had to!” You held yourself from flinching when he raised his voice. “He killed Lemar!”

“He didn’t kill Lemar, John.” Bucky said calmly. “Don’t go down that road. Believe me, it doesn’t end well.”

Your fingers brushed Bucky’s metal ones lightly, them twitching in response.

“I’m not like you.”

That much was right. Sam stepped forward to try and reason with him, you and Bucky staying behind.

“Bucky—” You whispered, urging him to look at you.

He offered you a small strained smile. “I know.”

“Okay. Good.” This time you linked your hands fully, icy skin on Vibranium. You squeezed for a second and let go, forgetting that it probably wasn’t bringing him the comfort you intended. You hoped the message got across, at least.

“We don’t want anyone else to get hurt.” Sam’s voice drew your attention back to Walker and the imminent conflict. “John… You gotta give me the shield, man.”

Walker looked up at you three, a smirk gaining on his face. “Oh, so that’s what this is. You almost got me.”

“You made a mistake.”

“Don’t make another.” You said, your brows furrowing.

“You don’t wanna do this.”

“Yeah, we do.”

When Bucky said that he, you and Sam advanced into Walker, surrounding him as he swung the shield in every direction.

He lunged at Sam, sending him to ground. You were smaller, but that got you to land punches at his side and ribs, which he blocked a few of. You wondered how much more he could take, one against three.

A kick to your abdomen launched you back. He was terrifyingly strong, and you think that this serum had to be the most advanced yet. On top of that, he was completely deranged.

You helped Sam up while Bucky kept Walker occupied, then using the fact that Walker had him pinned against a lift you ran behind him and landed a knee to his spine.

“Why are you making me do this!” Walker flung Bucky first, and your eyes widened in horror when he crashed violently into a metal pillar. You were second, the shield hitting your head and flinging you towards the same direction as Bucky, your body sliding on the concrete floor.

Spots swam before your eyes. You blinked once, twice, trying to get them to focus again. You felt warmth on the side of your head. Blood.

Bucky was still limp on the ground, his metal arm sparking and twitching wildly. Your breath hitched in your throat and your eyes started to fill with water and fear.

“Bucky? Buck—oh my god, Bucky, come on,” Still dazed, you held his face in your hands, watching it twitch along with his arm.

You looked up to Sam altercating with Walker and Bucky stirred in your grasp.

“Y/N.”

A relieved sigh escaped your lips, along with a couple of hot tears that Bucky caught with his flesh hand. “Y/N, the shield—”

Looking up again, you saw what Bucky meant. The shield, seemingly forgotten as Sam and John Walker scuffled on the ground. You ran to it, swaying slightly, and stomped on the edge so it would go up into your arm.

As Walker ripped Sam’s wings out you flung the shield at his back, it flying back to your arm like a boomerang. You had his attention. He ran at you, nearly howling, and you stopped his lunges using the shield.

“You. You’re strong. You’re a super soldier too.”

“I have been… since 1945.” You panted, trying to catch your breath. Walker frowned at you.

You went at him again, not giving him time to process the new information. He grabbed the shield, trying to wrestle it out of your arm. Bucky tackled him before you could crumble, but as they stumbled down and away from you so did the shield, John Walker’s hands still gripping is viciously.

Somehow, he managed to have it strapped to his arm again, hitting Bucky with it as they threw punches.

You and Sam reached them at the same time, one to each side of Walker, taking him off of Bucky. Sam moved to remove the shield from Walker as you and Bucky pinned him.

There was a crack.

Sam took the shield off, rolling away with it, and you let go of Walker when you felt he stopped resisting due to the pain. Bucky spat red, and you cleaned the blood off your face with your sleeve.

Your head was throbbing, and you felt your balance wavering once again.

“It’s mine.”

“It’s over John.”

You tried jogging to Sam’s side, but all you did was limp the quickest you could. Suddenly, your knee was in fiery pain again. You would probably need a new replacement soon.

“It’s mine!” Walker moved on Bucky who was closest. You took a step toward them, but Sam put a hand on your shoulder to stop you.

“He’s got it.”

You turned to him, wondering if you really looked that much in bad shape.

Bucky really did get him, tackling Walker and hurling his body against Sam and the shield. The three of them fell to the ground.

It was over. You finally let your knees buckle, wincing once they hit the floor.

You closed your eyes for a brief second, spots swimming in your vision, and once you opened them again the men were still heaving on the ground. Bucky was the first to get up, picking up the shield and dumping it next to Sam.

He walked over to you, offering his hand. You took it gladly and let him hoist you up. His deeply concerned expression was the same as yours.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Buck.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Let’s go clean up, sugar.”

A shower and your clean civilian clothes got you feeling good as new.

You ended up going back to Zemo’s place, Bucky making you answer too many pointless questions as the both of you tended to your injuries, even though you had assured him you did not have a concussion.

“How’s your knee?”

“Could be better. It’ll be fine, though. I just hope we don’t have to fight Walker or anyone again in the next few days.” You shrugged, pressing an antiseptic tissue to Bucky’s nose. He hissed. “Don’t be a baby.”

You chuckled when he glared at you, slumping his shoulders.

His jaw tensed. “We wouldn’t have fought if Sam—”

“Bucky, don’t start this again—”

“— hadn’t given up the shield!”

“James, none of what happened was his fault. Did you even try to understand his side of things?”

You threw the tissue in the bin and checked your phone. Sam had replied, confirming that he was okay, and that he had managed to find a ride home with a friend. You and Bucky weren’t going just yet, since you still had to find Zemo and give him to the Dora Milaje.

You sighed. “The shield is just an oversized Vibranium frisbee. It’s nothing without the right person behind it.”

Bucky shook his head. “Why are you defending him?”

“Because you aren’t. You should be the first to take Sam’s side.”

“He gave it away like it was nothing. This Vibranium frisbee it’s all we have left of Steve, Y/N!”

“Not it’s not. We have an entire life worth of Steve, Bucky. The shield is just… an object.”

“If Sam was Captain America, Walker wouldn’t even have been nominated.” He grumbled.

You sat beside Bucky and took his metal hand in yours, tracing the golden seams on his palm. He sighed, and you knew he was close to resigning.

“The government didn’t even consider Sam before nominating Walker. Hell, they didn’t even talk to him.” You pursed your lips, feeling Bucky’s eyes on you.

“How can he be Captain America if America’s gonna treat him like that? And it wasn’t a one-time thing, either. So, I get it. I don’t like how things turned out. But I get it.”

Bucky looked at the floor. “Yeah. I want to understand. I’m—I’m trying.”

You beamed at him. It had taken you a while to understand too, and you still struggled sometimes. But you were proud of Bucky, for at least being open to listen.

You met Sam the next morning at the displacement camp. Or, at least, where it had been. Sam explained that the GRC was conducting raids in search for Karli, arresting people and closing their lodgings, but without much success.

“They searched this camp and just like the last camp, nothing.”

“Well, she’ll be laying extra low after…everything.” You frowned at Sam’s old gear, wings now a broken mess of carbon fiber and wires.

“She’s gone. We’ll never find her.” Sam’s voice was grave and littered with anxiety.

“We will. She’ll move again. She won’t just stop.”

You looked at Sam and he shook his head. From the other side of the room, Bucky sighed.

“Hey, you uh, you got your sleeve back.” A new voice piped in, and you recognized its owner as the soldier from the hangar the other day. “Oh, it’s you—hi, I’m Torres. Joaquin Torres.”

The boy had a nice, gentle smile. No wonder he and Sam were friends.

“Y/N.” You smiled back at him and shook the hand he extended to you.

Bucky headed to the door without a word.

“Are you off to take care of Zemo?”

You nodded at Sam and gave him a quick hug. “He can’t be running around causing trouble, can he now? Take care, Sam.”

“You too.”

“Alright, good to know you survived.” Torres said at Bucky’s back as he disappeared through the door.

Sam smiled down at you and you let yourself be content with that for now. You still had Zemo to worry about, so you rushed to catch up with Bucky.

“So, I’m thinking we should go to—”

“I have intel he might be in Sokovia.” Bucky shot you a confused look that made you shrug. “You forget I was a spy for more than 40 years, Buck.”

You smirked a little. Retired, sure. But that kind of thing was like riding a bike, and you knew better than to drop all of your hard-earned contacts.

“Did you contact Ayo too?”

You shook your head, and started leading Bucky to the hangar where your plane was waiting. “No, I figured you might wanna do that.”

It was another good fifteen minutes of walking before you arrived, and there it was. Your baby. An Eclipse 500, a pretty little thing with a red stripe and caramel leather seats.

Bucky whistled. “When you said you flew in…”

“I flew in.”

You smiled brightly at Bucky once you were on air, and it was safe to hit the autopilot. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

Bucky chuckled, looking at you. “Yeah.” His smile widened as he turned to watch the nose of the jet cutting the clouds.

Your chest ached with something unwelcome. Oh no. Not this, and not again. You wished for the feeling to go away, so you could just love him as your best friend, as a brother – but your heart wasn’t keen on listening.

“Sometimes it’s hard to remember you’re not that tiny, spunky girl who picked too many fights.”

“Well, that little girl is still in here somewhere. Except now I could say I have a bigger chance of winning those fights.”

Bucky smiled. “You always had a mean right hook.”

He was looking at you in some sort of way you couldn’t exactly determine and you decided not to think too much about it. You couldn’t.

“And now, what? You work for the UN, you have an airplane—you still live in New York, right?”

That was the moment when, after all that you’ve been through the past days, you realized that you and Bucky haven’t had a chance to actually catch up with each other. Everything had been a blur of conflict and stress, and although you knew most of what had been going on in Bucky’s life through Steve, Bucky knew virtually nothing about yours.

“I do, actually—do you remember those rowhouses in Columbia Heights?”

Bucky knitted his eyebrows. “The ones with the… sculpted flowers on the doorway?”

“Yeah. I bought one of them in the 60’s.” You grinned.

“We used to say that we’d live there, remember? Make it big, you, me and Steve.”

You nodded. It was one of the silly things you held on to – your dreamhouse, back when you had no idea that either Bucky or Steve were still alive. Back then, your house made you feel like you had fulfilled some sort of promise. The iron fences and the flowerbeds made you feel less alone in the world.

And then Steve came back. And then Bucky. And now Bucky was back in your life, and Steve was gone. Your eyes watered every time you thought of him.

“I remember, yeah. Gosh, I miss him.” You wiped the corner of your eye.

Bucky nodded, his eyes downcast. “I do too. I guess—guess that’s why I was so hung up on Sam giving up the shield. But you were right.”

“Oh? That’s new.”

“Shut up.” Bucky chuckled. “I’ve been thinking… and I still don’t fully understand. But Sam deserves at least an apology.”

You gave Bucky one last look before turning off the autopilot. What he was saying – that he was willing to understand Sam’s choices, and apologize – made your heart swell.

“Oh my, pigs might fly today!” When Bucky let out a tired exhale, you giggled. “I’m proud of you, Bucky. Really.”

He watched you for a long time while you brought the jet down to Sokovian grounds.

Bucky had gone off to change into new clothes before the two of you headed to find Zemo at the memorial. At least, that’s where he had been seen most recently. You had stayed to speak to the manager of the small airport you had landed in, the jet needed to be fueled and stationed somewhere before you headed back to the US.

“Alright, they’ll take care of her until we—”

You rounded the nose of your jet and faced with Bucky in a well-tailored black coat, his hair was styled and he’d shaven too, now only a faint stubble darkening his jawline. He cleaned up well, to say the least. Your heart skipped a couple of beats.

“—why, don’t you look dapper.”

Bucky smiled. “Have you seen Zemo in that coat of his?”

You laughed. “Alright, hold on a minute now.”

When you returned to him, you wore heeled ankle boots, a dark skirt and a silk blouse, all over your trench coat. Bucky’s Adam’s apple bobbled up and down as he took you in and you twirled, smiling sheepishly.

He offered you an arm.

“Come on, sugar.”

Sokovia was barren land now, most of the old city had gone up in the air, leaving a round crater in its place. There had been some rebuilding efforts, but everything was still quiet and empty. The memorial was right at the center, and as you and Bucky approached you saw him.

Zemo stood with his back to you, in that familiar overcoat, reading the inscriptions on the marble. You wondered if he had been waiting.

Bucky stopped walking, turning to you. “Ayo’s already here. She and the Dora will be waiting for my signal.” He took your hand. “Wanna come with me?”

“Do you need me?”

“I… should probably do this alone.”

You patted his hand with your free one before letting go. You drew a heavy breath when Bucky took out a pistol, then smiled when he emptied the bullets on his metal palm.

He raised his irises at you, a small frown making its way on his brow. “You said you were proud of me?”

You gave him a reassuring nod. “Always. I’ll be here.”

All you could do was watch now that Bucky was making the rest of the way to Zemo. If the Dora were watching somewhere, Bucky was probably safe, but you couldn’t keep your chest from constricting in apprehension as you watched him and Zemo interact.

Bucky raised the gun with his flesh hand, and with the other he dropped the bullets on the ground. That was the signal. The Dora Milaje came from behind Zemo, and Bucky looked over at you.

When they start walking off, leaving Bucky and Ayo behind, you approached.

“We will take him to the Raft, where he will live out his days.” Ayo said, greeting you with her dark eyes as you took place at Bucky’s side. “It would be prudent to make yourself scarce in Wakanda for the time being, White Wolf.”

“Fair enough.”

“And I hope to see you soon, Y/N.”

You and Ayo smiled at each other. “Same to you.”

Bucky gaped at you, and you had to stifle a laugh.

“Hey!” He called Ayo again. “I may have another favor to ask of you.”

You looked at him quizzically, and he smirked before closing the distance between him and the Dora Milaje, discussing something before walking back to you.

“It will be waiting for you once you get there.” She announced, and turned away. You raised an eyebrow.

“What is it?”

“Something for Sam.” Bucky said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You couldn’t help but lean into his warmth, and pulled him a little closer.

“How mysterious. Are we paying the Wilsons a visit, then?”

Delacroix was a close-knit community just south of New Orleans. It was sunny the day you and Bucky arrived, so much so that you’re able to ditch the heavy coats– you, at least, because Bucky had run back to get his jacket.

You didn’t mind much, that arm was a dead giveaway, and what truly mattered was him being comfortable – but you smiled once you noticed he didn’t have his gloves on.

You let Bucky go ahead and give Sam the favor he had asked of Wakanda by himself, despite his pleads for moral support. You figured it was a peace offering, and that being the case Bucky should deliver it himself.

When you finally approached them, greeting probably Sam’s sister Sarah with a smile, Bucky was busy tightening a pipe.

“Why didn’t you use the metal arm?”

“Well, I—I don’t always think of it immediately.”

“He’s right handed.” You quipped from behind them. Sam turned to you in surprise.

“Hey! I was wondering if I would have to deal with his grumpy ass without you.” He wrapped you in a hug and you laughed against his arm.

You smiled when Bucky rolled his eyes. “He’s actually in a good mood today.”

Bucky cleared his throat.

“So this is the boat, huh?”

“This is it.”

“It’s nice.” Bucky was looking around, rocking in his heels. “Want any help?”

Sam raised an eyebrow at you, and you simply shrugged.

“He was pretty handy in our time.”

Sam studied Bucky for a good two minutes in complete silence. Then, he relented, nodding and walking to the front of the boat.

Bucky stayed behind, looking up at Sam’s sister. “I’m Bucky.”

“Ah. Sarah.”

You raised your eyebrows once you realized just what he was doing. The sly dog. 106 years and he was still the biggest flirt to ever walk the earth.

You rushed to ignore the slight pang of jealously that hit you. You were debating following them when Sarah extended a hand to you.

“You must be Y/N. Thank you for offering the safehouse to us.”

You shook her hand, thinking that you couldn’t really blame Bucky for flirting – she was really pretty. Hell, maybe you should be flirting too.

“It was the least I could do.” You smiled.

“Does he… do that often?” She asked, looking in the direction Bucky had disappeared to.

You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve heard that, from hopeful girls who wished for more than just a date and a dance with Bucky. But you weren’t in the 1940’s anymore, though, and you had a feeling that flirting wasn’t really something he did often now.

“I’ll guess, no?” You shrugged, and she shook her head. “Serious!”

“Okay, okay. You go, I won’t keep you anymore.” Sarah nudged you with her shoulder. “Nice to finally meet you, Y/N!” She said, walking away and waving.

“You too, Sarah!” You waved back.

Sam was inside the wheelhouse when you found him. He was fiddling with a bunch of wires that looked more like a plate of noodles than something that was supposed to power a machine.

“And what’s going on here?”

He huffed. “I can’t get the panel to turn back on. Are you any good at this?”

“Technically I only know my way around flying things. But I can try.” You waved your hand and he stepped to the side, allowing you to start sorting out through the wires and try to see what could be connecting to what.

“You know, I think I like staring Bucky better than flirting Bucky.” Sam said in a serious tone, and you smirked.

“What a protective brother, you.”

“No, no—I’m a protective friend too. You made a face when Bucky started being all flirty with my sister.”

You furrowed your brows, looking at him. “No I didn’t.”

“Uh, yes you did.”

“Did not—” You sighed. “We’re just friends, Sam. Always have been. And that’s what we’ll continue to be.”

You connected a couple of wires and the panel flickered.

“Look. Even before I knew you two were a pair of old relics from the last century, I had a feeling you two would be good for each other.” Sam looked out of the window as Bucky walked by it, busy with scraping the paint off some wooden bitts. “And I am a great wingman.”

He winked at you, proud of his own pun, and you rolled your eyes.

“We are good for each other. Good friends. Best friends, if I may be so bold.”

The panel flickered again, then went out again. You groaned. You were so sure that would get it to work.

“It’s no use. Thing’s busted.”

“If I get it to power on, will you drop the cupid thing?” You stared at Sam with raised eyebrows, a challenge lingering in your eyes. He narrowed his, then turned to the panel.

“Deal.”

You tried again, this time joining a different set of wires, and the panel lit up. And stayed.

You smirked. “All done!”

“No no no, no— you set me up! Deal’s off! You tricked me!”

“No dealing off! You’re welcome!”

You laughed, exiting the wheelhouse and stepping into the warm sunshine. You spent the rest of your afternoon like this – helping Sam fix the boat, looking at the engine but still not getting it to work, scraping off paint and laughing at Sam and Bucky’s antics.

The sun had started to set when Sam called in for a break, offering you and Bucky a beer and a breather.

“What’s in the case?”

You raised your shoulders, just as in the dark about it as Sam was. “Dunno. It’s your gift, you’ll find out when you open it.”

“Well… gonna catch my flight tomorrow.” Bucky started, getting up and taking the last swig of his beer. “Get a hotel room for the night. Crash, you know?”

You knitted your eyebrows. Sam began chuckling. “So you’re just gonna set me up like that, huh?”

“I don’t wanna make it weird for your family.”

You hid your face in your hands. So smooth, Bucky.

“Just stay here. The people in this town are the most welcoming people in the world. They don’t care if you wear small t-shirts or if you have six toes or if your mom’s your aunt.”

Sam trailed off, but Bucky chuckled, raising a hand to stop him. “Okay, I get it. I mean, you know, the people are nice.”

Sam started laughing and stopped himself quickly. “But don’t flirt with my sister. ‘Cause if you do I’ll have Carlos cut you up and feed you to the fish.” He deadpanned.

You snorted. Sam elbowed you in the ribs.

“Okay.”

“Alright boys, I should get going, though. I can fly myself out still tonight.”

“Ah ah—no, he’s not staying here if you aren’t. C’mon, Y/N.”

The two looked at you expectantly. You sighed.

“Fine. But I am leaving first thing in the morning. The GRC vote is soon, and I have not been benched.”

On the contrary, actually. You knew the bubble was about to burst and so did the government. They needed all the help they could get to keep things running well, with so many international representatives coming over to New York for the vote.

Sam’s family home was a cozy three-bedroom facing the water and surrounded by green. It was homey, and the minute you stepped inside you felt at ease.

It was a Wilson thing, really. The house only reflected it.

You and Sarah had hit it off quite well, becoming quick friends after bonding over being completely done with Sam and Bucky’s incessant banter. They even had a staring contest, like the children they were.

“So, Bucky doesn’t flirt often… because you are into each other.” She said playfully as you cleaned the dishes from the dinner.

Your jaw slacked. “What—he’s not. Sarah! We’ve been friends for so long, that’s all.”

“Oh, come on, I see the way he looks at you. And you look at him. Also, Sam told me—”

“Sam was supposed to drop that! I can’t believe he told you.” Actually, you could. You set a couple of glasses on the dish rack, groaning.

“Hey, he told me not to tell you! But I did anyways.”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “Enjoying the double agent life, huh?”

She laughed, and you went along with her.

“I just think you should tell him how you feel. Before Samuel tries to parent-trap you.”

You knew Sarah was probably right – You should know better than not telling him before it was actually too late. You should, and yet the words die in your throat every time you looked at him.

You were in love with Bucky Barnes again. There was no going around it, but as it turned out, you were a coward. You were a coward, because you needed him to know. He deserved to know too – but you didn’t want to scare him off. Not now, that things were finally good. You’ve come all this way, and you promised him you wouldn’t leave.

This longing – this love – was only going to be a huge problem.

“I can’t. I don’t want to mess things up.”

She sighed at you and turned around to put the dishes away. “So you do have feelings for him.”

You looked at her, your eyes wide. She smiled big.

“Maybe you should date him.” You raised your eyebrows and crinkled your nose as she turned back to you, hands on her hips.

“Ah—no, don’t drag me into this.” She swatted you with a dishcloth when you raised your hands in defeat. “Let’s find you a place to sleep, girl.”

After much insistence on your part, Sarah agreed to let you sleep on the couch instead of Sam’s bed. You didn’t want to strip them off their comforts, so you settled on the couch, and Bucky took a mattress and placed it next to you on the floor.

The setup is familiar. You’ve slept like this before, you on either the bed or the couch and Bucky on the floor. Only thing left was Steve, your third piece. You’ve been trying not to spend all of your time missing him, but quiet nights were especially hard.

You tossed and turned for a while until Bucky reached for your hand, another of those old habits that had been resurfacing ever since you two started spending time together. With your hand secure in his, you drive the grief away and let sleep take you.

You woke up with the sounds of two kids making their own fighting sound effects. The smaller had the shield on his arm. Maybe it wasn’t just metal, after all. Maybe it could be more.

Bucky watched them from his makeshift bed, a grin on his face. “Hey.”

You giggled as the boys hurried to put the shield back in its case and ran back further into the house, startled by Bucky’s voice. “They’re so sweet.”

“You ever wanted them? Kids, I mean.”

You’re caught by surprise by Bucky’s question. Taking a deep breath, you processed it, trying to find a good way to answer it.

“I did – still do, I guess. It was never the right time. Or the right person.”

You closed your eyes, thinking that your person was laying right under you, on a mattress on the floor.

Strange thing, timing – you were born in 1918, and spent most of your life believing that your time with Bucky had come and gone. Now you both were more than one hundred years old, living way past your time frame – perhaps completely different people than what you used to be, but together again nonetheless.

Timing wasn’t right then – you wondered if timing could be right now.

Opening your eyes, you glanced at the clock on the wall. It was early, still barely 6.

“I have to go.”

Bucky was sat up, looking at you with a little frown. “No breakfast?”

“Well, I don’t want to abuse Sarah’s welcome. I’ll get it on the way.”

Bucky got up with you, his eyes following you as you gathered your things and he folded the blankets you two used during the night. He followed you to the door, then out to the front lawn, then to the start of the road right at the edge of the property.

“Don’t forget to have that talk with Sam, okay?”

“Yeah. I won’t.” He looked back at the house, and then at you. “I’ll see ya’ back at the city?”

You hummed. “You know where to find me.”

Bucky pulled you in, kissing your head, and you hugged him back tightly. His heartbeat was strong and steady.

“Take care, sugar.”

“You too, Buck.”

You turned back twice as you were walking away, finding Bucky on the same spot the first time and making his way back to the house on the second. Your eyes met both times, and you had to keep yourself from running back.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader

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eternally-writing · 4 years ago

Text

chain reaction 02 | jjk

genre: fluff and angst

rating: PG

pairing: Jungkook x reader

theme: college!au , enemies to lovers, series

word count: 4.6k

warnings: light swearing

synopsis: A semester with your mortal enemy, Jeon Jungkook, as your lab partner was bound to be an experience to remember.

banner by me!

read part 1 here!

If you want to be tagged in future parts, send me an ask!

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡--

When you had imagined what Jeon Jungkook’s apartment would look like, you had definitely thought it would look something like an evil lair (except messy, because Jungkook definitely struck you as the messy type).

However, upon stepping into his surprisingly well-finished apartment, you found the exact opposite case. Before this, you had planned to make a ton of jokes based on whatever you would find in Jungkook’s apartment. And the truth was, you still could.

Jeon Jungkook was an absolute neat freak. You watched the way he subtly shuddered as a fleck of dirt from your shoes travelled off of his doormat and you took note of how his kitchen counter was so clean you could probably eat directly off of it (which was especially rare from someone in college). If he had a roommate, there was no trace of him right now, as the apartment pretty much looked like a showhome.

“I didn’t know you were such a clean freak, Jeon,” you said with a smirk.

For the first time, you saw Jeon Jungkook look the slightest bit timid.

“I like to keep things tidy, I guess,” he said while rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand.

He gestured for you to enter his quaint but somehow spacious living room as he sped to the kitchen to grab you a glass of water (he may not like you, but he’d be damned by his mother if she found out he let a guest into his place without giving them a beverage).

You had a very clear game plan when it came to entering Jeon Jungkook’s apartment: Enter. Talk about the project (and nothing else). Grab the chemistry notes from the class you missed on Monday. Leave.

It definitely seemed like an easy peasy 4 step plan - except that all seemed to flow out the window once you saw the photo Jungkook kept on his coffee table. From what you could decipher, it looked like a high school aged Jungkook in a music studio, right in front of the mic, with some of his friends around him. You had never seen Jungkook smile as big as he was in that picture, and it even managed to pull at your heartstrings.

Before you could open your mouth to ask about it, Jungkook had already come over to you and slammed the picture to be face down on the table, leaving smiley high school Jungkook out of sight.

“An invitation into my apartment isn’t an invitation into my private life, Y/N. Don’t get it twisted.” he said coldly, dropping the glass of water hashly onto a coaster by the picture frame.

To be fair, you kind of deserved that (and looking into Jungkook’s personal life definitely wasn’t part of your 4 step plan to seeing him today), but he didn’t have to be that mean. As a peace offering you moved as far away from the photo frame as you could.

“Let’s just get this over with, Jeon. I have a pilates class in an hour on the other side of campus.”

Now Jungkook couldn't pass up that opportunity to make a joke.

“Pilates, mmm.” He let out an overexaggerated moan to make his point.

“ Think you can slip my number to the hot girls there Y/N,” said Jungkook with a smirk.

“In your dreams Jeon. You’re lucky if any girls will still want your number if you fail organic chemistry, which is what you’re going to do if we don’t work on this project.”

“I think you’re forgetting Y/N.” he said as he bent down, bringing his lips to your ear - “if I go down I’m taking you with me sunshine”.

Ignoring how his close proximity to you was making your heart race (it was probably due to anger, right??), you jumped away from him and pulled out your macbook.

“Our group contract is due tomorrow so let’s just finish that up and then I’ll be out of your hair okay?” you said with an air of desperation and potentially sexual frustration.

For the most part, you and Jungkook worked in silence besides the occasional sound of you typing or clearing your throat. Looking at the live google doc in front of you and the progress you both were making, you were starting to think that working with Jungkook might not be the worst thing in the world.

Jeon Jungkook and Y/N L/N : CHEM 251 LAB PRESENTATION CONTRACT

Topic - Green Chemistry

1. Answer all communication from your partner (emails, messages) within 24 hours

2. Complete all portions of assignments at least 1 day before it is due.

3. Any changes to your availability should be communicated to your partner.

4. Y/N will handle the background literature and introduction of the presentation.

5. Jungkook will look for future applications of Green Chemistry and direct applications of course material in the field of Green Chemistry.

6. Don’t fall in love with your partner.

As soon as you saw Jungkook type the last point on the document, you glared at him beside you on the couch.

“Seriously Jeon? I forgot you have the mindset of a 13 year old boy,” you muttered as he looked at you cockily.

You took a deep breath as your internal monologue started to run:

Okay, Y/N. you’re not here to let Jeon Jungkook mess with you. 3 strikes and you’re out of here - there’s no reason to need to keep up with his bullshit (especially since at least the first part of your project was over).

Jungkook had then had to add more rules to your group contract.

7. Y/N will give out Jungkook’s number to any hot girl at her pilates class.

You groaned and hastily deleted off the document.

That was strike 1 for Jungkook. 3 strikes and he’s out.

Jungkook was still relentless in his attacks.

“Seriously though Y/N, do you really not think I’m attractive at all? You really don’t want a piece of this?,” he said as he wiggled his eyebrows and gestured to his body all too suggestively.

“Cut it out Jeon, I’m not dealing with your shit today,” you hissed, your eyes shooting metaphorical lasers into Jungkook.

Strike 2: He’s getting close.

“C’mon Y/N, what’s the chance that you’ll ever be able to bag someone as hot as me. I mean, look at me and look at you!”

Strike 3: you were DONE with Jeon Jungkook today.

Not even stopping to put on your shoes fully, you took one last glance back at him before you walked out the door.

“Fuck you, Jeon Jungkook.”

The glass of water he got you sat untouched on his coffee table, drops of water spilling onto the photo frame beside it due to his apartment shaking from you slamming his door.

Mirroring the new droplets on his coffee table, you found tears starting to drop across your face as well.

--♡--

Even though you loved your chemistry lecture, you’re not sure why chemistry labs had such a bad vibe to you. The most obvious explanation for this would be having Jeon Jungkook as a lab partner (especially after your last meeting, the situation speaks for itself). But what could be is probably at least part of the reason is because of what happened in your first year 8AM chem lab. After getting through a grueling 3 hour titration (that you messed up and got no results for in the end), you walked back to your dorm to find your (now ex) boyfriend Jimin in bed with your roommate, Soomi.

Needless to stay you left that day with one less friend, no boyfriend (and you had also gotten 16/30 on that lab… yikes), so chemistry labs did leave a little bit of a bad taste in your mouth.

It had been months since that incident, but even after getting a new lease and cutting any ties you remotely had to Jimin, you still carried the insecurity that Jimin instilled in you by cheating on you with someone who you thought of as a sister.

You had yet to run into Jimin against post-breakup, and had managed to successfully avoid him, until now.

“Y/N?”

You knew that voice all too well. Turning around, you were met with the sight of your ex, Jimin. As if that wasn’t bad enough, as you looked him over you noticed your old roommate, Soomi, hanging off of his arm. You had no clue that they were still together (you had lost all contact with anyone remotely related to Jimin), and somehow seeing them together hurt you even more.

Jimin looked even prettier than you had last remembered him; his prince-like hair shone in the afternoon sun, his charming smile seemed even brighter. Knowing Jimin was still with Soomi made you feel that he didn’t even feel a pang of regret for cheating on you, like he didn’t need to take some time by himself to reflect (like you definitely did) or stop to grieve your relationship. From your point of view, it seemed like you never even mattered to Jimin.

You suddenly felt self conscious of everything under the judgmental gazes of Jimin and Soomi. Those baby hairs that you didn’t bother to pin down with a bobby pin this morning now felt like they were sticking straight out of your head and the pimple that was poking through your concealer on your forehead suddenly felt like a volcano. In your mind, compared to Soomi, you looked like a hot mess.

Your brain was on autopilot for all the small-talk you made with the two of them, and you didn’t snap out of your trance until you heard these words from Jimin.

“I only wish the best for you Y/N”

You internally scoffed at this statement. Who the fuck was Park Jimin to say that he “wishes the best for you”. You took months to get over him and the hurtful words he said to you. Every mean comment and snarky comparisons he made to you felt like it was tattooed onto your skin and stuck with you forever. But now he was standing in front of you like nothing was wrong?

In a different world, you probably would’ve slapped Jimin across the face. But instead you rose above like your mom taught you to.

“You as well Jimin.” you said courtly with a nod, trying to stop the tears that were pricking at your eyes from escaping your tear ducts.

After receiving a small nod from Jimin as a response, you turned around as if you had somewhere to be (in reality, you didn’t have class for another 2 hours).

Getting as far away from Jimin was all you could think about at the moment, and you moved as far as your legs could take you in whatever direction you thought would take you out of your college’s quad, even as the tears falling from your eyes blurred your vision.

You didn’t know how to feel. You had imagined what seeing Jimin for the first time after the break up would look like; maybe he would grovel at his knees and beg to have you back (it’s not that you wanted to date him again or that you had feelings for him, but it would feel nice to feel wanted), maybe you would just throw a drink in his face and walk away like a bad bitch, maybe you could’ve flashed a new boyfriend in front of his face.

All of a sudden your phone started to ring. Your first fear (and somewhat hope) was that it would be Jimin calling you, but little did you know that it was something so much worse.

Incoming Call: Jeon Boy

“as if this day couldn’t get any worse,” you thought to yourself as you pressed decline. You had yet to talk to Jungkook since that day at his apartment (you didn’t even call to congratulate him on his

Incoming Call: Jeon Boy

You groaned and hit the decline but at the speed of lightning again.

Incoming Call: Jeon Boy

Seriously, could this guy not take a hint? You were tempted to turn your phone off all together, but settled for hitting the decline button again.

Incoming Call: Jeon Boy

You realized that for whatever reason, Jungkook was not giving up, so you either had to answer him or listen to your ringtone of “Love Killa” by Monday X play every 10 seconds. Praying that your voice wouldn’t betray you, you took a deep (albeit shaky) breath and tried your best to wipe your tears before clicking “answer”.

“Look Jeon, I’m - uh - sorry but I really can’t do this right now okay? I’ll call you later.” you choked out, your voice obviously wavering as you tried to be as professional as possible.

Before you could press the “end call button” you heard Jungkook’s concerned voice through the speakers.

“Y/N, wait, you don’t sound too good. Are you okay?”

Ah yes, “are you okay” - probably the most loaded question a person could ever ask.

You probably could’ve kept it together if he had asked any other question, but his “are you ok” truly pulled at your heartstrings.

You felt your chest tightening but you tried your best to help the feeling subside. You had yet to show weakness about how Jimin had affected you to anyone, and you sure as hell weren’t going to start with Jeon Jungkook. Clutching at your chest and taking a few deep breaths in an effort to calm your racing heart, you continued on.

“Is that genuine concern I’m hearing from you Jeon? Be careful, you’re losing your bad boy persona,” you said as you tried to make a joke to distract him.

“Y/N, no. I’m serious. are. you. okay.”

You couldn’t handle it anymore. Sobs broke free from your chest and you heaved into the phone, your whimpers and whines striking Jungkook on the other side of the phone.

“I, I can’t- I just-“

The words barely broke through your sobs. Your chest was tightening and you could barely hear Jungkook through the ringing in your ears.

“Y/N where are you, I’m coming’” said Jungkook. You could hear the jingling of his car keys and the rustling of him putting on shoes.

As if mother nature felt your pain, the rain started pouring down on you at the same time.

You barely got out any more words to Jungkook, but he didn’t hang up on you. He just kept whispering comforting phrases, trying to calm you down from afar as you could hear his car engine roaring in the background (in another world, you definitely would’ve yelled at him for using his phone while driving). You barely even registered that Jungkook was there at all. Every memory of you and Jimin seemed to reopen like a fresh wound, and you couldn’t feel anything except the pain. All you could do was sit on a random curb by the edge of campus, your wails probably reaching the sorority houses nearby.

You felt broken. The sound of the thunder overhead mixed with your cries as the rain pelted you, soaking your thin sweatshirt. You don’t know how much time passed there. In your head, it felt like time was frozen, while for Jungkook it felt like he was wasting hours zooming through campus (he truly was zooming - a month later he found out that he had accumulated 3 speeding tickets trying to find you, but he would never tell you that).

“Oh, sunshine,” he murmured, voice laced with pity and concern as he pulled over his car on the curb in front of you.

You and Jungkook hadn’t even said a word to each other since the feud at his apartment, and you had absolutely zero clue how he even managed to figure out where you were through your jumbled phone call. But all you knew is that right now you needed him. You needed someone to give you a bit of comfort, and Jungkook was somehow here to do that for you. Despite everything between you twom you couldn’t hide the feeling of relief that ran through your body as you looked up and saw Jungkook in front of you.

Coming to your side, Jungkook crouched beside you.

“Jungkook”, you wept as he pulled you into his chest. It was probably one of the first times you had actually addressed him by his first name, which came as a surprise to him.

Holding you closer, Jungkook couldn’t help but feel protective over you. He couldn’t help but hurt with you as he saw your fragile figure shaking in his arms.

“You’re gonna be okay now Y/N, okay? I’m here. I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere.”

And in that moment, on a dirty curbside off campus, you weren’t Jeon boy and little miss sunshine, mortal enemies and chemistry lab partners. Instead, you were just Jeon Jungkook and Y/N., and nothing else seemed to matter at the moment.

--♡--

To your surprise (and the surprise of anyone else who knows you), you and Jungkook had not been stepping on each other’s toes as much. What had started out as extreme, extreme dislike had turned into a mild dislike (maybe even a very slight enjoyment of his presence, although you weren't about to admit that anytime soon). And of course, you both refuse to acknowledge the “Jimin incident” that had occurred a week ago and you both refuse to believe that it may have had something to do with you and Jungkook not hating each other. Your emails stopped being signed off with “do your part Jeon, or else” and instead now usually started with “Hey Jeon!” and “Thanks, Y/N”

That brought you here, in your apartment on a Friday night, eating old pizza in an old sweatshirt, no bra, and some comfy shorts that had definitely been through the wash one too many times. Researching for your chemistry project, you chuckled at how much of a londer you would look to an outsider. Sending off the articles you found on Green Chemistry to Jungkook, you closed out the email with some casual pleasantries and then turned to continue rewatching episodes of your favourite kdrama. You definitely weren’t expecting a response from Jungkook until Monday. You were sure that someone like him was at a frat party (was he even in a frat? You had no idea). Either way, Jungkook probably was lounging around in some party house with like 6 girls on his arms, while you were doing quite the opposite.

Surprisingly, Jungkook was actually doing quite a similar thing to you. Instead of watching kdramas, he was watching Iron Man (for what was probably the 50th time), and was huddled under a makeship blanket fort like a child and scrolling through reddit. Don’t be mistaken though, Jeon Jungkook was definitely a partier, but he also knew when he needed to give his head (and liver) a break.

He saw his phone chime with a gmail notification. He took a brief scroll through the articles you had sent over to him (those were definitely work for another day since there was no way he could digest academic jargon without at least 3 cups of coffee in him), but he was pleasantly surprised with what you had come up with.

At the same time, the Facebook tab he had open on his Macbook also lit up.

It’s Y/N L/N’s birthday today! Leave a message on her wall to celebrate!

Jungkook’s jaw dropped.

It was your birthday and you were sending him chemistry research papers?? Jungkook chuckled because he could already think of 1000 bad jokes to make fun of you, but he also felt some other feeling that he couldn’t quite place.

Jungkook’s mother had always taught him that it was important to celebrate birthdays, and that is was bad luck that it was He wasn’t sure if it was just a farce that his mother had come up with to make sure that he still attended those family-wide facetime birthday celebrations once he went to college, but either way, he still believed it to some extent.

He had no clue why he was doing this, or how he even got here, but somehow Jungkook found himself in sweatpants and a hoodie in front of your apartment door at 10pm on a Friday night, cake in tow in one hand, his other hand out ready to knock on your door.

On the other side of the door, you were equally astonished. It almost felt like you were seeing a hallucination, as if your email to Jungkook had somehow summoned him to your door. You couldn’t help but rub your eyes in disbelief, just to make sure he was actually there.

“Jungkook?”

Bashful Jungkook seemed to make an appearance again as he tapped his feet in anxiety. And before he could stop himself, words were already tumbling from his mouth”

“Happy birthday?” he said as a question , posing it as if he didn’t know whether facebook was just playing a prank on him (which he honestly didn’t know). “Can I come in?”

You didn’t even really know how to process this situation, but all you could mutter was a “uh, thank you?” in a similar inquirable tone and gesture for him to step into your apartment. If Jeon Jungkook showed up at your door at 10pm on a Friday night, he probably deserved to be heard out.

“You can make yourself comfortable on the couch. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting company otherwise I would have cleaned up a bit.” You were sure that Jungkook’s neat freak brain was probably frying itself into overdrive based on the empty now-empty pizza box sitting on your coffee table and stray utensils and crumbs on your kitchen counter. You felt a little embarrassed that he had to see this.

Mirroring Jungkook’s hospitality last time you were at his place, you brought him a glass of water and hoped that this evening would go a LOT better than the last time you and Jungkook were alone together in an apartment.

Jungkook’s cake was still held in his hands. It was a little cake from the 24/7 cafe on campus; he could only find one that said “happy” with little sunflowers and smiles, so hopefully the “birthday” part of it was implied.

“I, um, I brought cake - for you. I mean your birthday.”

You sat down across from him.

“Oh you didn’t have to Jungkook, uh that’s really nice but you didn’t have to do that,” you said as you leaned further away from the cake, as if it was an item that scared you. “I’m not big on birthdays anyways, just usually me chilling in my apartment!”

However, Jungkook was not planning on taking no as an answer. He tried his best to plead with you, but was still getting nowhere.

“you… you have to do it for my mom!” he said as he thrust the cake even closer to your face.

You tilted your head in confusion at his statement.

“I mean uh-, my mom says that it’s bad luck if you don’t blow out candles on cake on your birthday and that if you don’t do it then you won’t live to your next birthday. And um- i know we’re not friends Y/N but I’d rather see you alive next year”.

Jungkook tried to look as nonchalant and cool as possible, and when he realized his statement was a little too thoughtful he followed it up with a “i mean you could do whatever you want i don’t care it doesn’t matter to me”.

You were beginning to like this side of Jungkook, the one that was more thoughtful than he was a selfish, inconsiderate dude.

Taking the cake softly from his hands, you muttered a soft “thank you”. At this point Jungkook didn’t know whether you took it from his hands to throw it on the ground or actually use it for its intended purpose. As you leaned over to grab the lighter by your candles on your coffee table, Jungkook let out a breath of relief.

Throwing open the cake box, you lit the candle in the cake and stared patiently in front of it.

“Well Jungkook, I believe if I am going to be blowing out candles there should be singing too, no?” You joked with a silly smile on your face.

Knowing he had no way out of this (and to be honest, he secretly wanted to anyways), he began to sing.

You had never heard a more beautiful rendition of happy birthday in your life. Jungkook turned the most mundane song, one that you didn’t have many happy memories with, into a tune that made your heart start to swell with joy. You wished the song was longer, because as he stopped to sing you wanted nothing more than for him to keep going.

“Make a wish, Y/N” , he whispered.

You didn’t know what to wish for. There were a lot of things that needed to be fixed in the world, and lots of things that you needed too (like a new toothbrush, or the experience of true love). It seemed fitting that since you were only blowing out these candles because of Jungkook, you should at least dedicate the wish to him. So all you wished for was for you and Jungkook to get along just like you were in this moment.

You looked up at Jungkook from the cake, and from there all you could say was a sincere “thank you”.

The moment was all too sincere, and you and Jungkook could feel the atmosphere shift to one that was all too intimate and friendly for your relationship. As moving away from a hot flame, you both picked up your phones and mumbled excuses to move away from the situation.

Jungkook was the first to break the ice again.

“I don’t know how good this cake is going to be, the expiry date was at least a week and a half ago”

“Well Jeon Jungkook, if you brought an expired cake into my apartment, it feels like a right of passage that you have to try this cake with me.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from picking up a piece of cake on a fork and shoving it into his mouth. Immediately, his face scrounged up in disgust, and you could pretty much see him gag.

“That cream is… very creamy to stay the least,” he said as he thickly swallowed it down, grimacing the whole time.

His expression made you chuckle. There was something about the way his naturally fluffy hair seemed to move as he swayed like a piece of seaweed on your couch (a mannerism that you had picked up on quite quickly), that made you feel warm inside.

“Considering me sacrificing myself to this cake as a birthday present to you, Y/N”

The laugh that bubbled out of your chest almost made that gross cake worth it to Jungkook. And some words of sincerity slipped out before you could hold them in.

“Best birthday present ever, Jungkook, thank you.

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡--

Taglist: @apollukee , @mrcleanheichou , @monvieesdaebak

If you want to be tagged, please send me an ask!

If you liked what you read, please interact/follow! Thank you for reading♡

- Emily

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onewithnomightypowers · 4 years ago

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clandestine (chapter 1)

PAIRING: Tom Holland x fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Y/N is an up and coming actress, married to a once hotshot actor, Harrison (Haz). What happens when her co-star, Tom, makes her realise that she is stuck in a loveless marriage. A marriage starts crumbling and a new romance stars brewing.

Chapter 1: too wise to trust

A/N: y/n is bisexual but not paired with a women. the characters have been aged up. the characters in no way portray how these ppl are in real life. i do not encourage cheating. i hope you guys like it as much is i do. if you want to be tagged them pls tell me. also comments are appreciated as they motivate me to write more and i love to know how you guys feel about the story.

warning: cursing, mention of miscarriage, mention of sex, mention of cat calling, angst. fluff?

word count: 1.4k

important: character thoughts are bold and italic, flashback is in italic

masterlist series masterlist chapter 2

She picked up her makeup bag from her vanity and started walking towards her empty suitcase which was wide open on her bed. “What time is your flight?” Haz asked while walking into their bedroom. “I think it’s at 6:30 in the evening but the car will be here to pick me up at 4”, she replied whilst folding her clothes.

“So we have at least an hour to us”; he pulled her by the waist and started kissing her neck. She tried pushing his chest away but failed miserably. “Haz, I’m not in the mood, please stop”

“Fine. But you have been saying that for months now”, he was frustrated.

She ignored his words like always.

He was right. They hadn’t had sex for at least five months now and it was starting to gain on Harrison. Their marriage, which had been ‘couple goals’ according to the internet, was now slowly falling apart. It was clear that Y/N was falling out of love but she couldn’t find grounds for it. She couldn’t reason it by making him the villain because he was a good man who, in theory, had done nothing wrong. Though, to her, it felt like he had. Maybe he didn’t love her enough or maybe all had gone astray when they had lost their baby last year.

“Will Tom be there?” his words felt like venom, entering her bloodstream.

She placed her hand on her forehead, trying to indicate that she did not want to have this conversation or the inevitable fight, again.

“Of course he will be there, he is my co-star. You should get off the internet, it’s feeding you poison”, she said in an almost nonchalant way. Trying her best not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction to his name. His name, which did not mean anything to her. Tom was her colleague whom the internet liked to ship her with, but he was just a friend. Haz found it hard to believe this because the internet told him so. Their relationship was so far gone that he had no other way of knowing what was going on in her life.

His wife was so far gone. She was as distant as the sun is from the moon. The distance left coldness between them. The kind of cold that you feel when you pass a stranger. She was a stranger to him and the only reason he could think of was that she and Tom were having an affair. This was not true, but the ache in his soul found comfort in painting Tom as the villain.

“I don’t believe you”, Haz spat out.

She threw her heels inside the suitcase in anger. “What do you not believe? That Tom is my co-star? Is that what you don’t believe?” her voice was louder than before.

“I don’t trust him.” Haz matched her voice.

“Do you trust me?”

Trust? Her? How can I trust a stranger?

It was his turn to ignore her.

She zipped her bag, put on her shoes, and left the room. “Fuck you”, she cried before slamming their apartment door and leaving for London.

Y/N had first met Tom at a cast and crew dinner in New York, six months ago. Greta, the director, had invited both her and Haz but he had decided to opt-out of the ‘fancy’ dinner. Y/N was excited to meet her new co-stars and mark the starting of a new project, a new phase in her life.

It was cold in New York, she figured she shouldn’t wear a dress. She put on black stockings underneath blue bell-bottoms to keep her warm. She wore a dark grey American Eagles t-shirt and over that, a tan leather trench coat. She liked commuting via subway because she believed ‘nobody gives two shits about who is sitting next to them on the train’; and a town car was much slower, especially when it had been snowing. She stuffed her heels in her purse and wore her commuting shoes.

Tribeca to West Village was a good ten minutes train. Her travel was mostly uninterrupted except for the catcalls which felt like the usual to a native. Just before ringing Greta’s doorbell, she got out of her Converse and wore her heels.

Y/N entered a packed house. Almost everyone was there and she was late. But someone was to arrive even later than her. She examined the room, everyone was mingling with each other. She didn’t know anybody there except Noah Baumbach from the time she auditioned for ‘marriage story’. She didn’t get the part but still loved the movie. She realized Tom was missing.

Greta pulled her into a conversation about when the production of the movie would start or something like that. She wasn’t really paying attention. She was so eager to meet Tom that her eyes couldn’t stop roaming around the room, trying to find him, and just when she thought he wouldn’t show up, he did.

Everybody’s head turned towards him when he entered the living room. It was as if every person in the room wanted him, including her. His dark brown hair, falling into place like a domino, had snowflakes in them.

“Excuse me”, Greta gave a small smile to Y/N and walked over to Tom. She greeted him and politely touched his back. “Now that everyone is here we should take the party to the dining hall”, she said in a loud and cheerful tone.

Following Greta, everyone started moving towards the dining hall. Tom sat right across Y/N on the grand dining table. “Hi, I’m Tom”, he introduced himself in his thick British accent. “And he’s English”, Y/N said, adding to her list of things she found captivating about Tom.

“And?” Tom gave her a confused look.

Shit. I said it out loud.

“I-I mean hi, I’m Y/N”, she tried to cover up her mistake.

His dark brown eyes on her, made her thoughts run wild. It was wrong enough to feel right. The dinner was served and small groups of conversations were taking place. Somehow the whole table took on the topic of bisexuality. Y/N felt obligated to take part in the conversation, being part of the community herself.

“I think bisexuality is a gateway to being gay”, Tom said to the whole table.

“You’re being bi-phobic, Tom”, Y/N called him out. All eyes were on her now.

“And how do you know that?” Tom asked Y/N.

“Because I am bisexual, and any decent human being would know that”

“Are you calling me indecent?”

“No, I’m calling you bi-phobic”

“But aren’t you married to a guy?”

“That doesn’t change my sexual orientation, and you’re being bi-phobic. Again.” There was silence, everyone was listening carefully.

“Okay, so please explain to me how I’m being bi-phobic?”

“Just the fact that you believe bisexuality is a gateway to being gay and me being married to a guy, means my bisexual card has been revoked, portray your biphobia”

“I am a little confused”, Tom said while reaching for his wine glass.

“Someone who is bisexual is attracted to both men as well as women. It isn’t a gateway to being gay, it is a legit sexuality of its own”,

“Hmm, I suppose I stand corrected. I’m sorry if I offended you or anyone. I will go home, do the research and try to be more open-minded”, said Tom, smiling.

“Good”, Y/N said, feeling accomplished and impressed by Tom’s ability to accept his mistake.

Haz would have never accepted that he was wrong.

Y/N felt wonderstruck. Blushing all the way home. She hoped Tom knew how enchanting it was for her to meet him. She wondered if someone was waiting for him at home, like someone was waiting for her. She wasn’t quite sure whether Haz was waiting for her to reach home or not.

She reached home to an empty bed. Not knowing what to make of it, she got ready to sleep. 2 AM and Haz was still not home. She didn’t try to reach him because she knew all phone calls would go straight to voice message and all messages would go unreplied. She closed her eyes, feeling indifferent towards Haz. Even in her sleep, her mind echoed Tom’s name. She was unaware of the treacherous road ahead of her. And that gave her comfort. His thought gave her comfort.

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helenazbmrskai · 4 years ago

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It’s all timing - pjm

– If you’re searching for a light and fluffy read well, this won’t be your cup of tea so continue with caution darlings! –

Title – It’s all timing

Pairing – cold husband! Jimin x clocksmith! OC

Genre – fantasy, romance, extreme amount of angst, time travel, smut, marriage, established relationship, Ceo, exes to lovers

Summary – I learnt the hard way that marriage can change a person. I would have never thought that an old watch will let me have a glimpse of my ex-husband’s world but don’t be mistaken I’m not here to fix things. I’m here to change it.

Warning(s) – Jimin is not a loveable character here (until way way later), cheating, mentions of emotional abuse and manipulation, falling in and out of love, the past and present clash a lot, different timelines that may be confusing, this is going to be a wild ride girls and boys, themes of depression and sadness, feeling of worthlessness, and self-image distortion, numbness, discussion of not wanting to have children. Unedited.

Word Count – (5.2k)

[21st March 2021]

Things between us were not always complicated. Our friendship was always exceptional even when friends fought and sought different ways after freshman year at the local Community College, Jimin and I were glued to each other’s side and maybe that’s why no one was surprised as we announced our plans to get married after we graduated.

The new world that greeted us after we finished high school only seemed meaningful because I had Jimin by my side. At that time I had no idea I’ll fall for him this hard, he literally became the extension of myself, my arms and limbs and the lungs that kept me alive. He was my first serious boyfriend even though I dated a few guys here and there before him but none of those relationships seemed to work out either because of me or the guy. Jimin is someone who could easily have his ways with words so when he decided to show interest in me as in more than friends, it was inevitable that I would give in. He was a wonderful lover in the beginning. Passionate and loving, we had many movie nights that ended up with his hands down my pants as his thick fingers rubbed my clit. He bought me flowers and comforted me when I had a bad day.

His cunning smile could get him out of a lot of trouble. Maybe that’s why I never saw the other side of him that sometimes peeked through his carefully crafted mask. I decided to ignore all the red flags until I found myself in a loveless marriage with a man that I couldn’t recognise anymore. Once I realised what had happened it was already too late.

[12nd November 2018]

Jimin hated the fact that I was a heavy sleeper. He even threatened me once that he’ll sleep in the guest room if he had to wake up one more time to my alarm relentlessly ringing while I showed no signs of waking up any time soon.

My workspace was on the other side of town. The rent was cheap so it was worth the extra miles and the full tank of gas in my car but because of it I had to wake up extra early so I could finish showering then I would go to the kitchen to make lunch for Jimin to take with him to work and still have enough time to get ready with a freshly brewed coffee in one hand and toast in the other. Even after our first year in marriage passed by like a flash, Jimin continued to be his affectionate self, he showered me with kisses and felt needy for my touch.

It was one of our best years together. Jimin started to get more involved with his father’s company and my workshop began to gain more popularity to my greatest surprise. While I was working on an old clock that was brought into my shop by an old married couple a few hours ago my focus kept wandering back to this morning. Smiling under my nose as I thought back to why I was late to open up my little workshop this particular morning.

Jimin likes to be spontaneous he always calls me a bore when I hesitate to try out new things but this time he did not have to do much convincing before I agreed. It was weirdly satisfying to wake up to Jimin’s head buried between the juncture of my thighs, shaking and aroused even though I couldn’t feel or hear him do all those sinful things to me while I was asleep. I didn’t feel him take off my panties or lift the covers to expose my bare centre to his hungry eyes and when our gazes met he proudly told me how well I took his fingers even while I was unconscious.

Experimenting was not something I was willing to do before Jimin showed me the appeal of trying out new things. With him by my side, I felt invincible like I could conquer the world if he stays next to me holding my hand tight.

We outlived all expectations. They said high school sweethearts don’t last, well, we did. Even though both of our parents were against the idea of us marrying each other so young we ended up doing just that. Jimin proposed after we got our diploma and I said yes. We lived together as roommates throughout all those years we spent together studying and we moved in together after both of us got our first jobs as postgrads.

I was happy it felt like we were at the top of the world but if I had known that after that year everything will go downhill I would have tried to be happier.

[24th December 2019]

Do you know what are the telltales of cheaters? Well, it starts with subtle changes in his behaviour, you begin to see him less he makes up excuses of having too much work to do or stress so that he could avoid your advances.

He tries to make it up to you with expensive gifts but they mean nothing after the tenth impersonal present because all you would ever want is his attention and love instead of those pathetic attempts of showing their devotion with empty words. The last and most important one on the list is the new anonymous contact on his phone that shows several phone calls and text messages back and forth for hours.

Jimin did all of those.

He stopped experimenting with me. He would fuck me from behind even when I told him I want to see his face. No foreplay, no more cute nose kisses and breathless laughs between the acts of lust and playful wandering fingers.

He no longer cared if I finished first or not at all because after he was done it meant it was over. Jimin took a shower and crawled into bed facing away from me now that this task was taken care of. After the fifth time that he left me hanging, I gathered all the courage that’s left in me to stop his hands from dipping under my pants. I felt disgusted and used he made me think I’m a mere fucktoy that he can discard once it lost its appeal.

I had one of the worst days at work. The clock I was working on was missing a crucial part that I could only import from abroad and the man who wanted it fixed told me to don’t bother because he can’t afford such an expensive repair. It was not something that I could control, the clock was antique for fucks sake. He left without paying for my services even though I told him it was not the only part that I needed to change.

On my way home, a drunk man almost crashed into me with his Sedan and it left me a little shaken up, it was justified to feel the way I was and when Jimin tried to make a move on me by groping my breasts without asking permission first I just snapped.

Not one to back up he snapped right back and it led to one of our ugliest fights. I couldn’t believe the words he so carelessly let out from between those poisonous lips. We had quarrels before every couple has that, it’s normal to disagree to some extents but he went too far this time around. It’s not just the words that left me a crying mess on our bedroom floor with snot stuffing my nostrils, sniffing and rubbing the tears from my swollen eyes. I broke down once I heard the front door shut with a force that made the windows shake. It was past midnight when I heard shuffling and muffled voices, I knew Jimin was back so I cracked the door open just enough to peek into the dark living room.

It was not just Jimin, the smell of alcohol penetrated my nostrils as I watched my husband with disgust, making out with a girl in our shared apartment. I couldn’t believe the audacity he had to bring this chick back where we’re supposed to live together, it was just too much. Hearing him ram into her from the guest bedroom while I cried in our shared bedroom with just one wall separating us. I bet he didn’t even hear the front door closing while I dialled my friend’s number to pick me up. He couldn’t have heard that over that girl’s loud moaning.

I don’t remember when I finally stopped crying in my friend’s arms. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her what happened. It was enough humiliation to witness my once loving husband come home with a quick fuck after a fight, it doesn’t matter that he was reeking of expensive shots of alcohol. It didn’t make his actions any less painful.

My heart broke into a million more pieces when I saw him calling me the next day. I didn’t have the guts to pick up, all I could see was him kissing another girl. I bet he was so drunk that he couldn’t remember anything, I wonder if he yelled at the girl in the morning to get the fuck out once he realised it’s not me who lays beside him. Wishful thinking on my part, he probably fucked her in the morning too just before he called me.

Somi finds my body doubled over her toilet throwing up water since it’s been a while I last ate. She helps me through it and gently gathers my hair into a loose ponytail so I won’t get any in my hair as beads of sweat and tears are rolling down my face. My body works on autopilot going through the cleaning motions as I take a burning hot shower and then lay down to get some rest. My body aches and the fatigue is evident in every lazy flutter of my lashes.

I hear his voice, pleading to my friend to let him see me. Now it’s dark outside, it must be hours that I slept through. Somi denies that I’m here and I’m thankful for her quick understanding, the last thing I want right now is to face him. Even though I never told her what happened between us she could sense that it’s more than just a little lovers quarrel.

Our second anniversary would have been next month but instead of roses and kisses next to a dimly lit dinner table, there’s only a big envelope with papers. Divorce papers. The first time he sees me after a month of silence is to have his signature that would end this relationship for good. Today should have been a nice memory filled with laughter and passionate lovemaking. Maybe we were never meant to find each other. Better off as friends, these simple yet powerful words might have saved our future back then if one of us were brave enough to say it.

Jimin looks worn out, it’s obvious he rushed here from his office once you called, he wears his formal attire. He didn’t think you would show up even though it’s supposed to be the day that you should celebrate another year of marriage.

The papers lay heavy on his side of the table as he skims through the content he sees that you already signed your part. He picks up the pen that I prepared in advance, his hands are shaking almost crushing the poor stationery in half with the strength that he holds it.

”I don’t want to d-divorce.” It’s the first sentence that he says to me. His lips are quivering and fat tears are rolling down his cheeks by the time he dares to look into my eyes. I’m however are past the point of shedding crocodile tears. I cried over him enough times to make my face feel numb and puffy with the amount of sadness that poured out of my body in pathetic waves. I can’t keep eye contact for long as his face keeps reminding me of that night I tried so hard to erase from my memory this past month. A part of me is furious seeing him cry, he was the one who sealed out fate. He has no right to feel sad or plead with me to give him another chance.

”If you ever loved me, you will sign it. I give you a week to do the right thing.” With those last words, our anniversary ended.

[13rd October 2020]

”It’s been a whole year after your divorce, don’t you think it’s time to get yourself out there again?” So this is why she wanted to see me I realise.

I know Somi means well, but I dread those words coming out of her mouth every once in a while. If I think about it she was always good at choosing the worst timing to bring the subject up. She’s not aware that this particular day holds a lot of those sour memories that I once cherished. This day was once one of the most important days to me, to us.

Today is Jimin’s Birthday, it’s the first time since we became friends and then later lovers that we don’t spend this day together anymore. I don’t know how to feel about it yet. I used this new year to heal from my wounds that the love of my life left behind. Getting used to living alone after living with someone for so long was tough. I caught myself making more food than I needed or when I was shopping I got those yoghurts that Jimin loves so much even though I’ve always hated the taste of those. I end up throwing them out at home. I blocked his number and any kind of social media that I could think of from the top of my head. The silence between us was crushing at first, I thought that there are no more tears left to shed but when I got our divorce papers from my attorney I couldn’t stop the new waves of tears from escaping.

Yet all my efforts seem to be in vain as my mind keeps going back to him. I catch myself wondering how he’s doing. If he feels as shitty as me even after a full year apart. If he ever wished things would have been different between us. I just wanted to know if he ever regretted destroying our marriage because of another girl. I don’t know if they are together or not or if he dates her now that I’m out of the picture but it’s better left this way. I’m already heartbroken, seeing him again would just open up my barely healed wounds.

”Can we not talk about this today? I’m feeling kinda low right now.” I sigh, shaking my head habitually if only it would make me stop thinking about him. There’s an old fashioned watch with a silver-coated socket in front of me, it’s pretty. A middle-aged woman brought it to me today telling me that it was a gift from his grandfather but it was never in working condition. She went to several locksmiths over the years but no one could fix it so she asked at last that I would be willing to pay for it. I found it interesting so I agreed to buy it from her. I started working on the old watch and at the beginning, it didn’t want to tick even when I made the necessary changes. I just couldn’t figure out what was wrong with it when seemingly it didn’t have anything that needed to be fixed.

On my way home after a rough day at work, I bought some soju from the corner convenience store so I could at least get drunk enough to sleep through the whole night. The pills my therapist prescribed for me doesn’t seem to work at all nowadays.

I placed the watch down onto my bedside table and pulled the comforter over my drunk head. I heard the loud ticking of a clock but I don’t remember having one on the wall. I thought that my drunk mind probably was still hung up on the fact that I couldn’t even fix a simple watch so I shrugged the noises off and closed my eyes until red dots filled my vision.

I just need some sleep.

[13rd November 2018]

”Wake up, baby. You’ll be late again.” There’s a kiss on my shoulder then on my temple as warm hands turn me around in bed. It feels oddly familiar to have two hands around my waist that pulls me into a hard chest, blond fluffy hair fills my vision once my eyelashes flutter open.

I’m back in our shared bedroom at his lavish apartment that’s a lot better than the shitty apartment that I was able to afford after our messy divorce. Divorce? Wait. A. Fucking. Minute. What is Jimin doing here holding me? It’s been too long that I saw him but he looks oddly young here, the Jimin I last saw started to get wrinkles and lost a bit of weight but this man reminds me of the boy I fell in love with. I remember getting drunk last night but I’m sure even at the state I was in I couldn’t get here on my own and I don’t remember getting a taxi or even getting up from my bed last night. I frantically search for my phone that I conveniently find on the nightstand, speechless as I watch Jimin stretch like we just didn’t share a bed together after one year of not seeing each other. He shouldn’t look so relaxed while I panic internally.

Then I see the date as my phone screen activates with my touch. I don’t use this phone anymore, I got another one after I blocked Jimin’s number because this device was a birthday present from him that kept reminding me of, well, him so I decided to change it even though I couldn’t afford a similar model like this with my single salary. I remember this day like it only happened yesterday it was around the time that he got a good position at his father’s company and we were both invited to a found raiser event. I bought this beautiful red dress that he eagerly ripped off of me once we were back at home slightly buzzed on the champagne.

It doesn’t make sense though. The only explanation that I can come up with is that I might be still drunk and I’m hallucinating of some sort after all it was just yesterday that Jimin’s birthday made me think about us again.

I lock myself into the bathroom. Sighing in relief once I am able to get away from Jimin’s inquiring eyes. He looked so confused when I refused to kiss him on the lips. I always kissed him goodbye before I went to work when things were still good between us. I just don’t know what to make of things right now, I’m so confused. It doesn’t feel like a dream at all and Jimin acts like he’s my husband rather than my ex-husband who cheated on me.

I splash some water on my face to calm down my nerves and I gasp when I look at my reflection in the mirror. My hair, it’s long. I got rid of those long locks after our divorce was done, Jimin liked my hair like this, long and curly, so I decided to cut it short.

”Baby, did you bring your work home? I don’t remember seeing this old thing on our nightstand when we went to sleep.” Eyes widening I rip open the bathroom door startling Jimin as I grab the old watch out of his hands. The digits are frozen one at eight and the other at one. 18. 2018? Jimin catches my hand mid-air as I try to slap myself so I could make sure this is not a dream.

”Baby say something. You’re scaring me. Are you alright?” Jimin holds my hand gently thumbs rubbing my skin as his eyes express his worry. It’s been a while since he was so affectionate. He stopped caring for me after he found that girl. I let him pull me into a hug, I missed this. I missed him but this moment doesn’t change the fact that the Jimin I loved so much cheated on me.

I left to go to work earlier than I used to around this time and I know Jimin noticed. I told him to get some takeout for lunch too.

I worked on the clocks hoping that it will distract me but it just made me think of what happened this morning more. Doing it the second time around made the process easier, I knew what was wrong with the clocks before I get them into pieces. I even remembered the young couple who brought an expensive watch to get it more fitted to his arms and he accidentally left his bracelet on my working bench after trying on the watch to see it fits after the adjustments.

Jimin sulked a little after I denied his kisses but he didn’t force me and for that I was thankful. He nagged me even when we were surrounded by his father’s workers at the found raising event to tell him what made me ’mad’ at him because he wants to apologize properly if he did something wrong. I didn’t say anything, I couldn’t just tell him he should apologize for something he will do in the future, it will just make me the weird one.

I was nervous to go home after the event because I remember how this night was supposed to end. My hand tightens around his arm when I see her approach us. I feel my stomach sink when she smiles at the both of us, introducing herself as Jimin’s coworker. I didn’t remember meeting her here but at that time I had no idea she’ll be the one who my husband cheats on me with. It was dark that day but I remember her blonde hair and her voice. I remember her moaning Jimin’s name.

”Y/N?” I snap my head towards the sound of his voice. He looks concerned it’s not the first time tonight that he had to repeat what he said. I feel sick, my body subconsciously leans on him to get a grip of reality.

I realised this is when it began. Her smile is anything but genuine as she fakes her concern, I can see the jealousy in her dark orbs as she watches my hand around my husband’s arm. She wanted him for herself all this time. She just doesn’t know yet that she succeeded a year after. A tear slid down my cheeks but I aggressively got rid of it before it could reach my chin. Jimin caged me between his strong arms drawing soothing circles onto my back but it doesn’t affect my body positively how it used to I cried harder inside his arms.

Jimin excused us and she relented even though it was clear as day that she wanted to send me daggers through her stare rather than her wishes for me to get better. The car ride was silent, he didn’t let go of my hand and I let him. I let this version of Jimin comfort me because he didn’t do anything wrong, not yet. He had no idea that this was our last happy years spent together before everything went downhill after that.

He held me in his arms.

[5th March 2019]

After my revisit of 2018, I realised a few things. Firstly, I can travel between time with that old watch that only seem to works for a short period of time until it stops at the year I want to visit. The second thing I learnt is that Jimin can be manipulated with the right words. I decided after that night I saw her face raging with malice and jealousy that I’ll find out what really had happened between them. I know Jimin loved me even though I had doubts about it after our divorce. I knew him well we spend so much time together as friends even before we started dating. However, I never thought he would go so low as to cheat on his wife.

He was always gentle and understanding with me. Accepting the fact that I didn’t want to have children. He loved them but accepted me for who I was and never questioned why I felt this way. He was a good man, a good husband.

So I decided to watch him from afar and when she thought no one was looking, she showed her teeth like a venomous snake planting ideas into Jimin’s head talking shit about me, twisting my actions and words; going as far as telling him she thinks I am cheating on him! I know those pictures were fake as I did no such thing. I was so in love with him I would never betray him like that.

Then I remembered his odd change in behaviour, how he treated our once lovemaking sessions as fucking. How he couldn’t look into my eyes while he buried his dick inside my cunt made sense in a way now.

He thought I was the one who played him. He let himself believe that I was late from our dinners because I was fucking someone behind his back and when I told him I’m not in the mood to have sex. He got even angrier he thought that if I lied to his face he will show me what pain feels like by fucking that snake in our guest bedroom. My head was swimming overwhelmed with this information.

The truth hurt like hell.

I thought I will feel somewhat better once I discovered the truth but I feel even shitter. Jimin believed her, he didn’t bother to ask me if I was indeed cheating on him but can I really blame him? I didn’t ask either when I suspected it. We let our insecurities and that jealous bitch stand in between our marriage making it crumble down to pieces. I was angry, raging as my hand shook with it and it led me back to that day it happened. It felt too late to fix things so I closed my eyes and turned the clock. Leaving everything behind. Once and for all.

There’s nothing left for me to change in our past, I can’t fix our past mistakes but maybe I could change things in the future. Starting with exposing that snake. I wasn’t even surprised to see her as the head of the newly developed department.

[11st April 2021]

Jimin took over the firm after his father fell ill as I got to know from her assistant. I could tell she was surprised to see my face but even more surprised to realise it’s not Jimin’s whereabouts that I want to know but rather hers.

I shouldn’t be this smug about the fact that he cut all ties with her after our divorce. Deep down he was still a good man who couldn’t believe the fact that he fucked someone else while his wife cried next door with just one thin wall separating them.

I pictured this moment in my head a lot after I came back from the past. I’m way past the hurt and anger that settled in my bones for a full year and even before that. Instead, I felt eerily calm for someone who’s here to put up a show for the employees. I don’t even care if they think I’m crazy because once I locate her in her cubicles and dig my hair into her scalp pulling her hair hard with my iron grip all I could feel is utter satisfaction.

”I hope you enjoyed your good fuck. Was it satisfying to make my husband a cheater? I bet it was. Did you think I will never find out that you fed him lies and spread rumours about me sleeping around with men?”

Even the security watched as I pulled her by the hair the commotion around us almost drowned out the crying noises she made because of the pain. I didn’t pull that hard though, I hate her with every fibre of my being but I’m not a malicious person like her. She would deserve worse than what I’m doing but I never want to go down to her level ever again so I let her go.

”How did you found out?” She looked pale as a ghost. I know she was scared she had every right to be because I’m sure I have that crazy look in my eyes.

”It doesn’t matter. What does matter, however, is that now I know what you did to him. All for what? Just to have him all to yourself? Look how that turned out for you.” The people around us fell silent that’s how I knew Jimin is here. So I took a step closer to her and smiled.

”I never cheated on him but you know this well. This is not even why I feel so angry. The reason why I want to rip your hair out right this instant is not because you spread lies and badmouthed me but because you made him a cheater.”

It’s his first time seeing me after our divorce but I’ve been seeing him these past weeks thanks to the old watch. This time around I was able to look into his eyes and see that boy I fell in love with. We went through so much together, maybe.

Maybe we can overcome this too.

#jimin angst #btsghostie #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bts angst #jimin fic #jimin fanfic #jimin fanfiction #jimin x oc #jimin #bts

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drmmyrs · 4 years ago

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Caught in the Act (Becca x MC)

My first smut fic you guys!! I’m very new in the tumblr/writing community so I’d really appreciate feedback/constructive criticism. Also, English is not my first language so forgive me for any grammatical errors. Hope you enjoy and if not, thanks for reading anyways :))

P.S. Should I do a part 2??

Pairing: Becca x MC (Emily)

Word Count: 2300

Warning: Smut and some swearing

A/N: In this scenario, Becca and MC didn’t hook up during freshman year.

You were just about to leave when James stopped you with a book in his hand. "Can you give this to Becca? She left it in class this morning." You placed the book in your bag and bid James goodbye.

***

When you arrived home, you remembered that Zack, Kaitlyn, and Chris will be out late tonight. "I wonder if Becca's home," you mumbled to yourself. You grabbed Becca's book from your bag and proceeded to walk to her room. As you near her room, you noticed that her door is slightly ajar. You heard a whisper of your name coming from behind the door, barely audible that you weren't sure if you heard it right. Curiosity got the best of you, and you slowly crept towards the opening, your eyes widening at the sight in front of you. Becca is lying in bed in her underwear with one hand under her brassiere and the other underneath her panties, her hips slightly hunched upwards. When she noticed you at the door, her eyes widened but before she could say anything, you shouted, "sorry!" as you darted to your room. As soon as the door is shut, you pressed your back against the door, heart beating out of your chest as you processed what you just saw.

***

Hours go by as you contemplated going out of your room to have dinner. After you had mustered enough courage, you crept towards the kitchen, hoping and praying that you won't run into Becca.

As you were about to eat, you heard faint footsteps coming down the stairs and a few seconds later, Becca comes into view. When your gazes met, she quickly looked away, seemingly frozen in place. She looked as if she was contemplating if she'd rather starve than face the embarrassment of the earlier encounter. As she started heading back upstairs, you lamely said, "wait! I made dinner and... uhh.... eat with me?"

Becca slowly turned around, her eyes still not meeting yours. After what felt like forever, Becca finally decided to join you. You both ate in incredibly uncomfortable silence which you tried to alleviate by making small talk. "So... how's your day?"

"It's... okay," Becca said awkwardly, stabbing at her food.

You winced at her response. The Becca you knew would have already made a sassy remark about some girl's mismatched outfit or how some creep had tried to ask her out or anything that had annoyed her really, which is, to say the least, a lot. Ever since her fall out with her father and friends, you became the primary receiving end of her rants and annoyances, which you don't mind at all, as long as you're not the source. In fact, your playful banter with the blonde is something you had grown to look forward to. However, the recent encounter might temporarily halt your daily ritual, and the thought didn't sit well with you. She shouldn't be embarrassed, really. It's normal. You do it too. Not that you'll ever say that.

As the silence that followed grew and became deafening, you scrambled to say something, anything. "You left a book in your class earlier, and James asked me to give it back. That's why I was..." you trailed off. Really? You couldn't think of anything better to say?

Thankfully, Becca said, "so, where are the dorks?" successfully changing the subject.

"Kaitlyn has practice, Chris is hanging out with the team, and Zack said he was sleeping over at Grant's tonight."

"Right."

"Do you wanna watch a movie later?" you blurted out. Maybe if you hung out and talked about other things you could both forget about what happened.

"... what?"

"A movie... there's this movie I wanna watch and... I mean only if you're not doing anything." You held your breath as you prepared for the impending rejection.

But then Becca said, "sure, why not."

After you finished cleaning up, Becca settled on the couch as you prepared the snacks. "Do you want some wine?" you called out.

"Uh-huh," Becca answered absentmindedly while scrolling on her phone.

You sat on the couch beside Becca, handing her a glass of wine, and pressed play. You tried to focus on the movie, but your mind kept drifting back to a certain sight much more captivating, a sight that left you hot and bothered ever since. It didn't help that beside you was Becca, wearing a tank top and a tight skirt that hugged her curves in all the right places. You've always known how hot Becca was but you've never allowed yourself to think of her that way. After all, fantasizing about someone who had clearly despised you would only end up badly. But seeing her touch herself, whispering your name... no, not your name. You must've misheard, right? Right. There's no way she thought of you like that.

You didn't realize how much you've been drinking until Becca grabbed the bottle from your hand and said, "quit hogging all the wine."

Halfway through the movie and bottle of wine, you and Becca became more comfortable, exchanging commentaries about the movie, the earlier event seemingly forgotten. Except that you haven't forgotten and, frankly, you didn't want to forget.

"So, you're saying that he's potentially the most intelligent being, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Doesn't look intelligent to me. I mean he could've just wiped out all the assholes and we'd be in fucking paradise. Not to mention, people were half as many before, and it wasn't really a better time then, was it. The number of people isn't the problem here nor the lack of resources."

You raised your eyebrow at Becca. You have never seen her so riled up at a superhero movie before. No, you haven't seen her so riled up at anything but America's Most Eligible before. "Okay then, Aristotle, what do you think the problem is?"

"It's the selfish, rich assholes being selfish, rich assholes, duh."

You couldn't help but laugh. "Like you weren't once a selfish, rich asshole."

"Once? Are you saying that now I'm a selfless, humble angel?" Becca mused, sporting a dazzling smile.

"No, I'm saying that now you're just an asshole. I'm definitely the selfless, humble angel." And then you both burst out laughing.

As your laughter died down, Becca scooted closer to you and rested her head on your shoulder, the sudden move of affection rendering you frozen. You didn't know what was more intoxicating, the alcohol or Becca's perfume. After a brief deliberation, you reciprocated the gesture by leaning your head on top of hers.

"So, tell me, if you had any superpowers, what would it be?" you asked.

"I'd like to be able to fly. When I was a kid, I'd see Lily flying and imagined I was flying beside her."

"Okay. Where will we go?"

"We?"

"You're not leaving me behind, are you?

"Of course I am. You'll just drag me down." You raised your head, shooting Becca a playful scowl.

Becca rolled her eyes. "Ugh, fine. You could be my sidekick."

You shifted closer to Becca as her head nuzzled against your neck. "What crimes would we be fighting?"

"Crimes of fashion, of course."

"Like you didn't commit one when you had those awful bangs," you teased.

"Careful, Emily. We're gonna be a thousand feet in the air. We wouldn't want someone to accidentally fall, would we?"

You chuckled. "Like you would do that."

"Oh, you don't think I can?"

"Come on, Becca. We both know you'd be lost without me."

After several beats of silence, Becca lifted her head to face you, her face serious all of a sudden. "You're right. I would be." The air in the room immediately shifted as she proceeded to caress your face, her touch sending your senses into overdrive. Her fingers trailed down to your lips, and your breath hitched from anticipation. "Becca, I-" Before you could finish, Becca pressed her lips against yours, muffling your next words. The kiss was slow and sweet at first but quickly became more fervent as you pulled her onto your lap with one of your hands at the small of her back and the other behind her head. Becca looped her legs around your waist as she ran her fingers through your hair, flicking her tongue against yours in a hot, open-mouthed kiss. When you pulled apart for air, you trailed kisses down to her neck and nipped gently, eliciting a moan from Becca. Becca then placed her hand under your shirt as she pulled her body closer to yours, the space between you two becoming nonexistent.

"Emily," Becca groaned, her voice a hoarse whisper. Becca saying your name is nothing new. In fact, you have heard her say it in anger, annoyance, disgust, tears (not your fault), laughter, more annoyance, but never in a million years have you expected to hear her say your name with so much want and desire; it was utter music to your ears. She was now grinding against your lap, her wetness seeping through the fabric of her panties matching your own wetness. You pulled her in for another kiss, roughly gripping her hips as she continued to grind against you.

"Should we move this to the bedroom?" you panted between kisses. Becca unhooked her legs from your waist and planted her knees on both sides of the couch, hastily removing her top and then helping you out of yours. I guess that's a no then. The thought of someone walking in on you ravishing each other naked both thrilling and terrifying, fueling your arousal.

You pulled Becca in for another kiss, your hand darting to the hook of her bra and expertly unclasping it in one swift motion. She attempted to do yours but you leaned hard against the couch, blocking her efforts, earning you a frown. "In a while, Becs. I just wanna see you first."

Becca pulled back from you, giving you a better view of her body. You reached out and slowly pulled down the straps of her bra, your fingers grazing her skin as your eyes locked with hers in a heated gaze. As you finished removing her bra, your eyes were greeted by a breathtaking sight, knocking you speechless. Sitting on you is a freaking goddess.

Becca smirked down at you as if pleased by your reaction. "As much as I want for you to ogle me all night, I believe it's my turn."

She leaned towards you and practically ripped your bra off. She then took a moment to appraise your body as her lips curled into a smile. "I can't believe you've been hiding this from me."

"I didn't really have a reason to be naked around you, did I?"

She raised her mouth towards your ear and sultrily whispered, "Well, now you do. And I'm gonna enjoy every. single. inch," before sucking a sensitive part behind your ear, and you swore you came just a little bit then. Overcome with desire, you placed your hands underneath Becca's skirt, grabbing her perfectly sculpted ass as you hoisted her up further, making her yelp as she staggered upward, her hands now gripping the top of the backrest with her breasts directly in front of you. Having better access, you brought one of your hands to her front, only a thin fabric separating you from her.

"You're so wet, Becs," you murmured as you started rubbing against the drenched underwear.

"Ohhh... god... Emily," Becca whimpered, her hips moving against your fingers to gain more friction.

"Tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it," you softly uttered as you brought your other hand to her breast, softly massaging it while your nose teased the hardened nipple on her other breast.

"Touch me. Fuck me... oh, please. Fuck me hard," Becca begged.

You swept Becca's panties to the side and inserted two fingers with ease, pumping them slowly, exploring her walls, her crevices, her depth, then gradually increasing the tempo as your mouth latched to her nipple, sucking greedily at the swollen tit.

"Ohhh fuck... yes... there... that's it.... ohhh that feels so good."

You slowed your fingers down a bit as you added a third finger, stretching her further, thumb pressed firmly against her clit. Becca was now gripping your hair tightly, pushing her breast further into your mouth as your tongue flicked vigorously against her nipple. Her other nipple was attended by your thumb and index finger, pinching and rolling roughly - the pain indistinguishable from pleasure.

Becca had now lost all inhibition to keep silent; her moans echoed throughout the house while she rode your fingers in wild abandonment. She was basically screaming as you quickened the thrusts, her body struggling to keep up with the pace.

"Emily... Oh god... I'm about to..."

You redoubled your efforts, wanting to give the blonde her release. After a few more thrusts, Becca exploded, crying out in pure, carnal pleasure as your pumps slowed down, riding the waves of her orgasm. After you finally withdrew your fingers, Becca collapsed to your lap, her head slumped on your shoulder as you held her in an embrace. You gently kissed the back of her head as you lovingly caressed her back. After a moment of recuperation, Becca finally lifted her head and gave you a long, sweet kiss. When you pulled apart from the kiss, your foreheads are touching and your eyes closed. You stayed like that for a while as you breathed in each other's presence. When Becca leaned back, her smile was mischievous, her gaze playful. "Now that that's over with, shall we move on to the main event?"

"Main event?" you asked, cocking your head in confusion.

"You didn't think you'd get away unpunished, did you?"

Read Part 2

#the freshman #the freshmen series #the sophomore #the junior #the senior #becca #becca davenport #rebecca davenport #becca x mc #choices #playchoices #play choices #my fanfics #my writing #my work

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mysterytickingegos · 4 years ago

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I’ve Created a Monster

Pairing: Darkiplier x Clairvoyant!Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2,480

Summary: After a bad date, you made a rather interesting friend. But better yet, you discovered something just as interesting about yourself. This something leads to a very exhilarating part of your life, but you learn the hard way that it’s not quite as glamorous an adventure as it may seem. The last person you’d expect is the one to bring you back to reality.

Anonymous Request: If I may request! :) Can I have a darkiplier x fem!reader fic with the prompts 37, 44, 45? After the events of wkm? Just some hurt and comfort to give me dem feelz 😀👍 Maybe Dark is the one saying it please? Much thanks!

Authors Note: Probably not what you were going for with the prompts but I hope you still enjoy it!

Want to read more?

[Image Description: A Gif of Darkiplier from the “horror” branch of “A Date with Markiplier,” speaking to the viewer at a table, while another image of him leans away and yells. End Description]

Junk mail, bill, wrong address, junk mail...

The usual. You weren’t sure what ‘cool thing’ you were expecting to get in the mail in 2020 but the disappointment was there anyway. Just as you shut your mailbox you heard somebody coming down the stairs and cringed, bracing yourself as you hoped it wasn’t who you thought it was. But of course it was.

Your upstairs neighbor, AKA the worst date ever. “Ah, hey Y/n.”

“Hi Mark...” You gave him a sad attempt at a wave, and he gave you a nod, walking over to his own mailbox.

‘How’s it going?”

“Great, yeah...you?”

“Good.”

And with that the room dissolved into awkward silence, and you took your leave back up the stairs. Funny enough these moments used to be filled with dumb jokes and flirting, that was until he finally asked you out. You had been overjoyed, happy that someone had taken an interest in you and glad that something was breaking your dull everyday routine. Little did you know the highlight of the date would be the end. He had taken you to an expensive restaurant only to reveal that he had ‘forgotten’ his wallet (which ended up falling out of his pocket in front of you in the theater.) Then he had been upset with you for accidentally falling asleep to what must’ve the most boring Rom-com you had ever been subjected to. You both seemed to be in silent agreement that this should never, ever happen again.

But unbeknownst to you and Mark, somebody else had been lingering around. That was the first time that specific somebody had decided to visit you, making a sucky date the least of your concerns. You spent the rest of your night watching compilations on YouTube and eating chocolate Ice Cream. You kept going from sad to angry over your horrible day in your head.

Were you only worth asking out for a free meal? A meal that for you took about half your grocery budget. You should’ve given that ass a piece of your mind.

You sniffed, wiping your eyes and scarfing down even more ice cream. “Damn it.”

“Aw, don’t cry, darling. It wasn’t that bad.”

You screamed and nearly jumped out of your skin, scrambling away from the man now next to you on the couch. The moment your feet hit the ground you grabbed your phone and locked yourself in your bedroom. “Who the fuck are you?!”

“Let’s say I'm a... friend of a friend. I thought I’d check up on you after that train wreck.” He spoke through the door. You heard a laugh layer over his voice, and wondered if somebody else was there.

“I’m calling the police!” You shouted back.

Then you heard the same voice just in front of you, clearly amused with the situation. “You’re welcome to do so, though I’m not sure they’d believe you.” It was the same man from the couch, smiling at you. You noticed how he seemed to be glitching, and how as his head tilted to the side his figure had duplicated in blue for a split second. “As I’m sure you can tell by now, I’m not exactly human.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I’d like to get to know you, Y/n. Is that so much to ask?”

The first few nights that you had stayed up a little too late and wound up speaking that deranged spirit again, you had been terrified. But soon enough you learned to enjoy his company. Sure, he could be a little unsettling at times, particularly when he was irritated and got...cold. Not just figuratively, which he was, but literally. The temperature in your apartment would drop a significant amount and you would change subjects shivering. But all in all, from what you could see behind that wall he had up, he was simply lost at worst, not exactly evil. And it was nice to not have to be so lonely all the time.

But during one of these visits, early on, you had decided to ask why.

“Why me, of all people?”

The man you had come to know simply as ‘Dark’ leaned in, lighting up as though he had been waiting on you to ask that this entire time. “Oh, Y/n. Don’t you know?”

“Why would I ask if I already knew?”

He let out an impatient sigh. ‘That’s...I was being...” He glanced up at you just in time to catch the smile playing at your lips after successfully ruining his aesthetic. “You know what? You can stay in the dark.”

“No no no, I’ll shut up, just tell me.” You turned to face him on the couch, tucking your legs under yourself.

He left you in suspense for a few moments, before dropping his voice down low when he spoke so you would have to lean closer in just to hear him. “Let’s just say you are...spiritually attuned to my world.”

“Spiritually attuned?”

“Yes, you are psychic, a medium, clairvoyant. Whatever you want to call it.” He explained. “You are a magnet to things outside the realm of the natural. A strange pair, aren’t we?”

And that was all it took, so many unexplained events from your past were now explained, and a world of possibilities was opened to you. You must’ve spent weeks researching how to harness your abilities, starting the second he left. Sure, most sites and blogs were absolutely full of it but you got the gist. With that and some common sense, how much could go wrong?

You started to take silly jobs on the internet, from old women who thought something was off with their mirrors to amateur ghost hunters who wanted a ‘consultant.’ It took you a while to gain some confidence that you weren’t just pulling this stuff out of thin air, that you hadn’t lost your mind. But after a few months, once you hit that learning curve, man it was fun.

Your latest job was a little more hardcore, a young family wanting help to push a poltergeist out of their new home. Their stories had chilled you to the bone, but you were happy to help. Your evaluation at the house went fine, nothing too far past what you were used to. Except, the entire time you were there you felt as though you had weight sitting on your chest. You could barely listen to the poor couple tell you what they experienced due to a faint scratching feeling at the back of your mind. You weren’t an expert yet but you could tell that whatever this thing was, it did not welcome you there. Worse yet, the feeling of being drained that the couple mentioned was certainly affecting you as well. Perhaps worse.

But all that accomplished was making you even more determined to rid the house of it. You took notes for your research later, tried to communicate in the most active part of the house (with no results,) and gave the couple the best advice you could at the moment.

“Until this thing is gone, it’s best you stay somewhere else.”

A few nights later, you had just finished packing your bag and begun heading for the door when you heard Dark just behind you. “Good evening, Y/n.” His voice was layered, followed by a subtle echo bouncing off the walls of your small apartment. When you turned to face him you saw he was already frowning, having realized you were on your way out. “Where are you off to so late?“

“I’m going to hang out with some friends. So I’m sorry, you’ll have to find some other way to entertain yourself tonight, instead of ya know, slowly but surely turning me into a nocturnal hermit.“ You joked, adjusting the tote bag on your shoulder.

He chuckled, bringing his hands behind his back. “I hate to break this to you my dear, but you were there well before we met.”

“Ha ha.” You turned to leave but were stopped short when you saw that he had apparated directly in front of you.

“What’s in the bag?” He asked, starting to reach for it curiously before you stepped back.

“Nothing.” You said, a little too quickly. “Just some party supplies, alright?”

He raised his brow, no longer amused. “...Convincing. Is it really so difficult to be honest with me?”

“Oh don’t even try and pull that card, you won’t even tell me why you’re haunting that jerk upstairs.”

His jaw clenched, and he looked away from you. “That’s different. Bringing such things to light would only do more harm than good.”

“Well, I may be wrong but...my thing is kinda the same. And I like what we’ve got going on so just let it go. Please?”

Dark stayed quiet, peeved off and clearly even more curious than he was before. Finally, he side-stepped out of your way, “Just be careful.”

When you got to the house, you were careful. Keeping lights on and keeping quiet while you did everything your research said you were supposed to. As you did, the spirit was also quiet, too quiet. And on your way home, you kept waiting for that heavy feeling on your chest to fade away.

Your apartment was freezing when you stepped out of the bathroom after your shower. Cold air brushed over your shoulders as you wrapped your arms around yourself. “Dark?” You called out, looking around for him. This wasn’t like him. He usually made you aware of his presence as soon as he showed up. You walked into your bedroom and when you locked eyes with another in the mirror, you froze.

This wasn’t like Dark, because it wasn’t him.

Instead, the person standing behind you was a very decrepit and very angry old woman, seemingly fading in and out of reality as she glared at you. “Y̸o̵u̶ ̴s̴h̷o̵u̶l̶d̸ ̸h̵a̵v̷e̷ ̵l̸e̴f̷t̶ ̷w̶e̶l̵l̶ ̸e̴n̵o̷u̶g̷h̶ ̶a̸l̶o̴n̸e̷.̴“

The mirror shattered and you whipped around to face her, but she wasn’t there. The air whirling around the place started to pick up, and picture frames flew off the wall at you, then other objects that had decorated your room. You tried to flee but your front door wouldn’t budge. You started to bang on it, crying in fear and praying that anyone would hear you. Next thing you knew though, you were flung towards the wall.

Finally, everything settled. The weight was off your chest, but there was plenty of pain there in it’s place. You slowly pulled yourself into a sitting position, then wiped the tears off your face with one hand and held the other over your ribs. You weren’t sure how long you sat there, waiting for something to happen and your heartbeat overpowered the ringing silence in your ears. You wanted to get your phone, to call for help but you were terrified of gaining attention again. You didn’t even really stop shaking until you heard a familiar voice.

“...Y/n?” Dark didn’t see you when he first showed up, just the disaster area that was your living room. Once had seen you, he was beside you in a blink of an eye. You didn’t even think about it before you wrapped your arms around him. He only gave you a moment of comfort before he pulled back, looking over you in concern. “What happened? Who hurt you?”

You couldn’t really get much out between pained wincing as he scooped you into his arms. “It was a -Ow- s-spirit.”

He laid you down on the couch as gently as he could, and you could see his face change from confusion to recognition to irritation. “Why, pray tell, would a spirit be here?”

“I may have taken a job to get rid of it...” You muttered under your breath.

“Unbelievable.” He shook his head, about to say something else before he stopped himself. Instead he moved his focus to your hand, moving it to reveal the dark bruise over your ribs.

“See, I knew you weren’t gonna like it.”

“You going off and messing with things you haven’t even begun to understand? Of course I don’t like it.” His figure glitched and layered itself in different colors before he got up and went to the kitchen.

You scoffed at his remark, trying to sit up. “Hey I understand more than you think, I’ve been doing this crap for months!”

He came back around the corner with an ice pack from your freezer in his hand. “Months?” He apparated in front of you, gently placing the pack down on the bruise, allowing you to squeeze his free hand until the shock wave from the pressure passed over you.

“I started looking into all this after you told me the truth.” You confessed. “I mean with the internet it wasn’t difficult, and I do my due diligence alright? I don’t know what went wrong.”

The aura behind him flashed pure red for just a moment, he approached his next words much softer than usual. “You can’t navigate things like this using the internet, Y/n.”

“Well I didn’t think you’d want to help me help everyone else get rid of their ghosts.”

He scoffed at you, beginning to raise his voice as the aura swapped back to blue. “You were right! I don’t understand why you would want anything to do with this, anyway. Why would you do this to yourself??”

“I thought...I thought it’d be fun-”

“This isn’t a game!”

“You know I really don’t get you, why-”

“Of course you don’t! Do you even know what I am?”

“Well, no...”

“Neither do I.” He growled. His words truly sunk in once you saw the pain behind his eyes. He collected himself, taking a deep breath before continuing, “What I do know, is that I was human once. And people screwing with things that they shouldn’t have for selfish reasons is what turned me into this. Over the years I’ve had to see other terrible things happen to well meaning people. I’ll be damned if you throw yourself into the fire for fun.”

You nodded softly, breaking the intense gaze between you to look as your hands. “...Okay.” You opened your mouth to speak again after that, but decided against it.

“What is it?” Dark asked, trying and failing to hide the impatience in his voice.

“I just didn’t think...well I really didn’t think you’d care. Well, about this part I guess-” You sighed, cutting yourself off this time, rather than rambling.

He was quiet for a moment, placing his hand under your chin and tilting your head up to look at him. “I care...more than you know.” It was the silence after that, that spoke volumes, and even more so the way he moved forward to press his lips to yours. “Now, if you’ll excuse me I have a poltergeist to take care of.”

#darkiplier x reader #darkiplier fanfiction #darkiplier fanfic #darkiplier x y/n #markiplier egos x reader

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itsclydebitches · 4 years ago

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ngl voyager gets a whole lot of very disproportional hate from the fandom and i'd hazard a guess that a lot of that is just garden-variety misogyny (and probably racism mixed in, considering how many of the most prominent characters are women, poc, or both). like, is voyager perfect? absolutely not. and no spoilers but there was a lot of executive meddling that wound up leading to the finale/conclusion being lacking and there's a lot of reasonable dissatisfaction with that--but again that was largely thanks to the execs fucking the show over and i recommend looking into that if you can once you've finished the show. but overall? voyager is trek right to its very core--it has heart, it's about family, and it never loses sight of that imo, even if some episodes are weaker or just duds (but, like, would it be a trek series without some episodes that just kinda suck but are still fun to watch???)

anyway, i absolutely love that you're getting into voyager, it is my all-time favorite trek series to this day for a lot of reasons, and i hope that ppl like that anon dont put you off bc i'd love to continue to see your thoughts as you watch the series!

Oh, it would take a whole lot more than some anons being salty that others enjoy things to turn me off :D

Thus far (I lost internet last night so I’m still only on Episode 7 of Season 2), Voyager is the Trekiest Trek I’ve watched. Which is a weird sentence, but I mean it in the way you said it’s “trek right to its very core.” What is Star Trek, if we strip the intent of the story down to its basics? It’s about exploration, discovery, that “wagon train to the stars,” wrapped up in the argument that life is fundamentally good. We have problems, but we can work past them. We have differences, but they strengthen us. Diversity is the lifeblood of the universe and the future will continue to improve so long as we embrace that.

Voyager is (again, from what I’ve seen so far!) basically a love song to that premise. I didn’t do too deep a dive because I’m trying to avoid spoilers, but I did look at a couple threads discussing why Voyager is so hated. Again and again I saw the same reason pop up: wasted potential. Now, a lot of fans left it at that (as if the answer to what potential Voyager apparently missed out on is self-evident. It’s not), but those who did expand on the idea consistently claimed that the show needed to be darker than it was, even if they rarely said it like that. Why aren’t the Federation and the Marquis at each other’s throats? Why isn’t the crew going crazy under these circumstances? Why aren’t characters getting killed off left and right in hostile space? “Anything could have happened out there and they played it safe!” but the “anything” here is always... awful. There’s this very pervasive idea that the world is inherently cruel, people are inherently divisive, that when pushed to the brink everything will fall apart... and that (while making for one kind of great story) is very much not Star Trek.

See, Voyager created an unimaginable scenario--lost in space, 75 years from home, forced to live indefinitely with strangers--and their answer to the question of “What happens?” is “People make it work.” They learn to respect one another, they uphold their ideals, they maintain a love of life and discovery, and they create a family. And that’s fucking fantastic. That’s Star Trek! I’m not going to pretend there aren’t problems with the show, with plenty more to come, I’m sure, but I don’t think this is one of them. Why do so many viewers think that hatred, horror, death, and growing jaded is the only potential here? Why would they expect that in a Star Trek show whose premise is the very antithesis of those things?

“But they don’t do enough with those things, even if they have happy outcomes.” They do plenty, they just do it in an episodic rather than serialized nature. I can point to multiple episodes where the replicator rations or Maquis differences are driving the characters’ actions. “But without that horror there’s no conflict.” There’s plenty of conflict. Hostile aliens aside, I just watched an episode where Tuvok and Chakotay are pissed as hell at one another because they fundamentally disagree over how to handle problems, but--because they’re adults with a well-tested respect for one another--they apologize and work through it. “But the characters don’t develop at all.” You mean they don’t grow harder. That’s not the same thing as no development. Tuvok is figuring out how to be more flexible, Chakotay is becoming more willing to accept cultures he doesn’t agree with, Harry is growing more confident now that he’s far from home, the Doctor is learning to see himself as a person, Paris is grabbing his second chance with both hands by making strong ties, and Janeway is learning to command and care for her crew simultaneously. I honestly believe that a lot of people think of “character development” as the character becoming a fundamentally different person, unrecognizable from where they started out. But characters can also grow into the people they wanted to be in the first place. “We’re far from home, in hostile territory, tempted to do horrific things to survive... but no. Right now at least, we’re holding onto who we are. We’re scientists, so we’re going to explore and learn. We’re peaceful, so we’re going to make friends with as many species as we can. We’re members of a society that teaches acceptance, so we’re going to form a family on this spaceship.” That’s incredible!! Did fans miss why Seska was an antagonist in the episode she was unmasked? Because she was trying to convince them to give up everything they believe in in the name of survival, an ends justify the means argument. And the crew said no, we will not give up what we believe in just to make it through. I legit saw a ton of fans saying some version of, “I can’t believe they were that far from home and actually followed Starfleet’s rulebook.” It’s because those rules don’t exist for the hell of it. Overlooking their practical function, they’re a philosophy that the characters believe in, and they’re figuring out how important that part of their identity is to them under these circumstances. Am I willing to steal a specie’s technology if it gets us home? Am I willing to die to help another uphold their own philosophy? (Chakotay in “Imitations”). What regulations should we bend or change to accommodate our new situation? The first two things Janeway does are a) giving the guy who just came out of a penal colony a rank and b) deciding that she needs to be more familiar with her crew than is normally encouraged for a captain because she’s essentially their mom now. Developing doesn’t have to mean characters do a 180 on their initial personality, or characters getting killed off when stuff gets “boring” so that others can do edgy things in response.

Voyager upholds Trek’s premise and runs it to its logical conclusion:

Voyager has the most literal trek--a trek back home.

Voyager has the most diverse crew--a woman Captain, Native American First officer, black Vulcan, Asian-American communications officer, and a White Dude pilot that realizes he wants to be soft and kind towards those who took a chance on him because Toxic Masculinity who?

Voyager has the most literal family--not just a 5+ year mission, but a crew who expects to raise the next generation. They have no choice but to work together, so they indeed come together rather than pulling apart

Except they do, of course, have a choice. In “The 37′s” the crew is allowed to stay on the Earth-like planet with a city of other humans and Janeway is convinced that a sizable number will choose that. After all, they may never get home and this is a safer, kinder future for them. In fact, the real question is whether so many will stay that they can no longer run the ship... but Janeway would never dictate her crew’s choices in that manner. So she swallows her worry down, opens the door...

... and finds that not a single person decided to stay behind. And the show has ensured we understand that this is not just because they all have some unshakable belief that they’ll get home (many don’t), but because this is their family now. This is home.

And fans want to toss that out for a generic, gritty, sci-fi adventure where hope is scarce, the universe is cruel, and people need to be pushed to the limit just to admit that they maybe, sort of, like each other?? Obviously like what you like, but that’s a hard pass for me. I’ll take the bridge crew comforting each other in “Twisted,” thanks. Besides, we already have shows like that. And we already have DS9 which grapples with many of those dark, pessimistic themes. Voyager feels like a breath of fresh air, even within the breath of fresh air that is Star Trek as a franchise. It’s a show that says, “Yes, when everything goes wrong people will come together. They will love each other. They will make it through.”

What’s more Star Trek than that?

#star trek #ST #mymetas #Anonymous

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underatedcharactersunite · 5 years ago

Text

The Power of the Goddess Unknown

Summary; Ivar has been away for the past several months conquering different lands. Back home, he left you, his best friend and most reliable confidant. An elderly woman comes to visit you, putting both of you on the right path. Pairing: Ivar the Boneless x Female Reader Word count: 2,855

Apart of @deansamore end of year challenge. Time to get back on track!

»»————-　♔　————-««

Ivar the boneless was a man of tremendous power. Ivar's name created uncertainty. Ivar the Boneless's name alone created uncertainty across vast seas and land. Foreign Kings and Lords alike, feared news of Ivar's conquests. They weren't foolish, they were aware one day Ivar the boneless could invade their lands. Ivar was ruthless, unforgiving and impatient to everyone around him. All except you.

You arose to be unique. You materialised to be the only one who was the only one capable of keeping Ivar calm. You often gave Ivar a comforting space to think strategies through . He listened to you and accepted your advice. Ivar trusted you with his life, in return, you delegated yours in his. Despite Ivar relying on you, Ivar had a hard limit. When you attempted to assist him unclasping the supports that aided him. You were Ivar's best friend, his greatest confidant. The woman of his dreams and his true love. Were you his? No. Ivar believed he was unworthy of your love. In his psyche, he persuaded himself you deserved a man who could whisk you off your feet. A man to fulfil your every desire, a man who could provide you with the world. Ivar convinced himself that was not him.

Ivar was oblivious to how untrue he was. You devoted yourself to Ivar. You observed Ivar for the man he sincerely was. The man behind Ivar the boneless, the ruthless Viking king. Who travelled through harsh weather and aggravated seas to conquer land and seas. Ivar, the man with the vibrant ocean blue eyes, whose smile illuminated a room. The man capable of loving deeply and passionately. You observed the beauty in all him, including his legs. In your eyes, Ivar's legs were not a disability, they were where his strength originated from. His uniqueness was his resilience.

Ivar's travel had taken him away for many months. This exploration was by far the lengthiest one yet. Every day, you hoped the thunderous howl of the horns would echo over Kattegat. Signalling the returning vessels, signalling Ivar's return. Each day occurred to be the same. Waking up in the early hours of the morning, you prepared for the day and took off straight to work. Each day you made jewellery or made adjustments to people's clothes. Whenever you got the chance you prayed to God's that you would hear those horns.

Ahead of Ivar's return, you worked tirelessly on a new dress for an elderly woman. She was more than appreciative for the dedication.

"They will return to us, I am convinced." She mentioned as you sowed the final part of the dress together, glancing up at her, you smiled.

"I hope you are right. As the days grow longer and the month's pass I fear the worst." As you stepped back to admire your work, the elderly lady grabbed a hold of your hand.

"My dear, I have encountered various days like this. The days of longing, missing the ones who we cherish the most. While they fight and conquer new lands across the seas, we can only pray of their safe passage. While we defend and maintain our home. I've observed your training early in the morning, he is proud of you. He knows you miss him terribly because the feeling's were indeed. reciprocated." Suddenly, you lost the capability to form a sentence. How could this woman know you were missing someone? Not once had either of you previously mentioned the raid.

"How did you know? I never spoke of anything before." You questioned, as you decided that you had the perfect necklace to accompany her new dress.

"I may be growing older my dear, but my eyes have not failed me yet. You and Ivar the Boneless's companionship are well documented. The two of you have been inseparable since the two of you first met. Just like all relationships, they either develop or fall apart. Yours certainly evolved. The two of you are endlessly and hopelessly devoted to one another" You realised the foolishness it'd be to question the elderly woman. Nonetheless, there was still one question that lingered on your lips.

"How can you be certain that Ivar returns my feelings?" Stepping down from the podium graciously, she cupped your face within the grasp of her hands.

"Expressing your love for someone can be conveyed by actions as sufficiently as words do. It's the way he invites you to sit next to him during feasts. The way in which men stare at their beloved while they proceed with the most mundane tasks. My dear, allow me to assure you, of one aspect I am sure of. Ivar the boneless son of Ragnar is devoted to you, with you in his mind he will return home safely."

"I hope you are true. I don't know what I would do if something happened to him."

"So what do I owe you?" As the elderly lady was ready to offer you something she had to trade.

"Nothing, your wisdom has been worth more than this dress's worth." With a final goodbye, the elderly woman left you with a plethora to speculate over.

Several days passed from your conversation with the elderly woman. You desperately attempted to distract yourself from your mind. What if she was correct about her presumptions? What if Ivar was overseas battling bloody battles? He was completely unaware of your affection towards him. Would he die without knowing.

As if the God's hear your thoughts, the echoing sound of the low rumbles of the horns cascaded over the lands of Kattegat. They were home. Quitting your work instantly, you ran with everything the last several weeks had accumulated. Each bouncing step permitted the appearance of the longboats to become clearer. A few more steps. The nearer you got, the further you endeavoured to get past the ever-growing crowd.

"Y/N!, Y/N!" A low friendly voice called out to you. You expected Ivar's voice to be the first voice you heard from the longboats. Rather, his brother Hvitserk. The moment he caught a glimpse of you, he commenced pushing people out of the way. By Hvitserk's solitary action it immediately allowed you to realise something was wrong. Hvitserk seized your hand as he aided you in navigating through the chaotic crowd.

Suddenly, everything appeared to slow down. Everyone around you was either commemorating the return of a loved one or mourning the loss of a loved one. Which one were you? Hvitserk leads you to one of the longboats, this one appeared to have an alcove of sorts. As Hvitserk leapt down into the boat, he was quick to grab hold of the waist to aid you down securely.

It was obvious that Hvitserk had led you to this boat for one peculiar reason. Ivar. Unsure of what to expect, you held back following Hvitserk closely. As you reached the door, Hvitserk turned and rested a hand tentatively on your shoulder.

"What you are about to see is not pretty. While we were away, Ivar battled ferociously, his wounds extensive. He's alive and as stubborn as ever." Walking through the oak door, you instantly crossed the room towards him.

"Ivar, you've come home." Kneeling on the wooden floor, you leaned down unable to prevent the tears that proceeded to fall.

"I promised you I would. So I came home." Your eyes began to examine all of Ivar's injuries that were visible to you.

I'll go fetch the doctor, he'll be able to help you." As you proceeded to get up from your place on the floor.

"No, Hvitserk will do that. I don't want you out of my sight. You may decide to leave my side permanently." "Ivar, I would never leave you. You are my truest friend. My loyalties have and always belong to you." Hearing the thundering of footsteps, you smiled at Ivar. "Since my departure all those months ago, there was not a sunrise or sunset where I didn't think of you. I need you to know that." Leaning down to press a delicate kiss onto Ivar's forehead. "Rest now my King. I am not going anywhere." Hvitserk allowed the doctor to enter, as he examined Ivar, you remained by his side. Well aware this was far from over, the doctor ordered Hvitserk to find some to carry Ivar. "I will walk! Kattegat does not need to witness their King weak. As he pushed himself up, it was apparent the intensity of Ivar's distress. "Their King needs time to heal and recuperate from his injuries. You have been away conquering new lands for us to prosper from, no one in their proper mind would dispute your claim as King of Kattegat. I will not observe you in pain because of your own pride." Turning to glimpse at you, Ivar attempted to prevent the smile from etching onto his face. While Ivar was away from you had certainly grown and developed. You were confident and bold. You conversed with authority yet the delicate softness remained.

Ivar sighed as he examined your opinion. If he was to examine every person in this room, you were the only one who did not have an alternative intention. Ivar's health was your only concern. "Okay, but I will not be carried like a child. I need the people to acknowledge I am well enough to be King. Y/N, you will stay close to me." With a plan securely in place, everyone attended to their various duties. Soon enough Ivar was being carried out of the boat towards his chambers. The people bowed as a sign of respect to their King. As you glanced around at the vast community of people, you recognised the elderly woman, with a small wave. Hearing Ivar groans in discomfort, your attention reverted back to Ivar. From the minute, Ivar was securely in his chambers, the doctor was rapidly at work. Thralls were in and out of the room providing the doctor with a variety of different ailments and pastes. You remained at Ivar's side until the Doctor inquired you to fetch him fresh water. You wandered throughout the numerous corridors in which you had memorised before you were able to communicate. As you filled the hefty jug with water, you appeared distracted to the Thralls who worked around you. As they were supposed to be preparing dinner for the returning men and women. "I suppose King Ivar will not be King for long. Word will soon reach the ears of his enemies, they will flock to invade Kattegat. The King will fall on the sword of his successor." "Enough!" Your hands slammed onto the wooden table, your eyes wild with rage. "The King has fought valiantly for the past several months. He has fought in gruesome battles to secure new lands. Let King Ivar's enemies come for him. Do you think the successor of King Ivar would behave toward you as kindly as King Ivar does? You dare to disrespect him in front of me, his oldest friend! If I hear so much as a sigh escapes your lips, you will experience the harshest punishment I can think of. Do you understand?" Silence. "Do you understand?" The Thralls nodded, as you left to return to Ivar. As you stepped through into the hallway, you almost ran into Hvitserk. "You know I wondered why Ivar was so besotted with you from an early age. Apart from the obvious, you have always been beautiful and affectionate towards him. Despite the innumerable times, he attempted to push you away. Hearing, you tell at those Thralls just now, exhibited to me that you will protect and defend anyone you love with your life. If Ivar doesn't marry you soon, I might have to steal you for myself." Hvitserk laughed as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. You assumed everything had calmed down as you wandered into Ivar's chamber it was anything but calm. Ivar was suddenly thrashing out at everyone. No one was able to halt his actions.

"What is going on?" You questioned, as you the group of men halted their current actions. "Thank the Gods, Y/N will you please tell my brother to allow the doctor near his legs. We need to get his supports off." You examined the dilemma carefully. "Everyone leave us for a moment." Ubbe trusted you with all his brother's life. Especially Ivar. "I need to attend to his wounds." The doctor exclaimed as you nudged past the crowd. "You will just give us a moment." Ubbe nodded as he began to file the people out of Ivar's chambers. Once all the men had left, you sat down on the end of Ivar's bed. "I know you're exhausted, and in a considerable amount of agony, but all they are attempting to do is help you. The quicker they remove them, the less discomfort you'll be in." "No!" Getting up, you moved to the top of Ivar's bed. Sighing, Ivar clasped your hand in his. "It's reassuring to know that while you were away, your stubbornness remained strong." Ivar fought against a smile that threatened to force itself onto his lips. “When I was away I thought you would forget about it. Sometimes I had these night terrors, someone had taken you away from me. I didn’t know what you were doing. You could have found someone or decided that everyone else had convinced you I was what others told you about.” "Why would I listen to everyone around me? While you were away, I got up out of bed and reacted the same day over and over again. Dreaming I would hear the echoing of the horns signalling your arrival. I regretted letting you leave without me. Ivar I missed you, more than you could imagine. So please, would you allow them to remove your supports.” Ivar glanced up to you. Perhaps this was his moment. Ivar could convince you how much you meant to him. “I refuse to allow any of those men near my legs. However, I will allow you to do it instead.” Your eyebrow raised skeptically as you could not trust your ears. Ivar the Boneless was about to allow you to take care of him? More so, Ivar was about to allow you to touch the one part of his body that he was most insecure about. “Are you sure?” Ivar nodded as a grin etched onto his face. You were familiar with that grin. Ivar the Boneless was up to a form of mischief. His smile made you flush as your mind was filled with childhood memories including that familiar smile. Nowadays that grin doesn't appear often. “I will allow you to help me with my legs on one condition. You give your King a kiss, on the lips.” You looked down embarassed, but you weren’t unwilling to kiss Ivar. If you were being entirely honest, you had desired to kiss Ivar for many years. “You have a deal Ivar.” Pushing himself up onto his forearms, you leaned down greating Ivar half way. The moment yours touched each other, it was suddenly if the entire world had connected together. Ivar’s hand ran up into the back of your hair threading his fingers through your wonderful locks. Neither of you could see nor feel anything else apart from the comfort of each other. As the two of you seperated, Ivar laid his head against yours, whilst he took in a deep breath of your intoxicating scent. Never again, would leave you in Kattegat while he raided and conquered these new lands. From now on, you were certainly coming with him. But first, there was something that he needed to tell you. “Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you. I’ve been worried about telling you for a long time…” Before Ivar said another word. You pressed your lips passionately on his once more. “I know Ivar, someone once taught me that sometimes actions speak louder than words. In those actions, our loved one’s express everything they’re trying to tell us.” Ivar smiled as your eyes twinkled in the candlelight. Slowly, you rose from your seat beside Ivar, moving towards Ivar’s legs. You crouched down on the end of the bed as you began to untie the buckles. You moved as gently as you, the sores on his legs from the skin rubbing against the metal. Your hands ghosted along Ivar’s legs. Each time you unbuckled one of the many buckles, Ivar hissed in pain. Where you could, you pressed a gentle kiss providing Ivar with soft reassurance. Even after you finished attending to Ivar’s legs, you refused to leave his side. When the doctor attended o Ivar’s injuries, you laid on the his bed proving to be a much required distraction for Ivar. What you didn’t see was the ederly woman standing in the doorway observing you and Ivar together. Satisfied with what she witnessed in front of her, she snapped her fingers and suddenly she was gone…

#ivar imagines #ivar imagine #vikings imagines #vikings imagine #viking one shot #Ivar one shot #vikings one shot #Vikings oneshot #Ivar the boneless imagines #Ivar the boneless imagine #Ivar the boneless oneshot #Ivar the boneless one shot

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angst-fairygodmother · 4 years ago

Text

Break My Heart Right: Flattery (Luba x Reader)

Word Count: 1873 Rating: T Content Warnings: poor communication, low self-esteem/insecurity, discussion of sex work, angst Cross-posted to AO3 Taglist: @seanfalco (let me know if you want to be added) A/N: Points awarded for "Fic Most Inspired by the Series Title Song" and with the least relevant individual title.

You sat on the counter, Luba positioned between your legs, hands cradling your waist, watching you curiously. Your fingers swept the high arch of his brow, tracing down his temple, across the curve of his gorgeous cheekbones, along his sharp, angled nose, and finally rested, tapping out a teasing pattern on that perfect, pronounced cupid's bow. Your other hand cupped his jaw, holding him in place despite the fact that you applied absolutely no pressure at all.

“God you are beautiful,” you breathed, inhaling sharply when your words made his grip tighten. “I wish I could sculpt a face half as perfect as yours.”

He laughed, the high musical sound skittering through the air, and the breath on your skin sending a pleasant warmth flooding through you.

“That is what they pay me for. Imagine if you could make others look this distinctive too. I’d lose all my appeal.”

“Distinctive wasn't the word I used.”

He shrugged. “Synonyms.”

“Not even close. There's not another word that covers it. Perfect,” you insisted, leaning closer to make sure his emerald eyes (another unfair, gorgeous feature) were locked on yours. “You are absolutely fucking perfect. And I don’t just mean physically.”

“We should order dinner before the good places get a queue,” he said suddenly, backing away from your grasp and fiddling with the nearby touchscreen.

“Luba…” you groaned, frustration leaching into your tone.

“Unless you want to skip dinner and go straight for dessert?” He batted his long lashes at you coquettishly.

“Why do you always do this?”

“Do what, Y/N?”

“Get skittish and deflect when I try to compliment you or tell you how I feel about you.”

“That's not true. I love it when you tell me how good I make you feel.”

“You know that's not what I mean.”

“I don't want to talk about this, Y/N.” His voice had a sharp edge to it, as close as he ever got to true anger.

You huffed a sigh. “Fine. Whatever you want.”

Later on, you were laying in bed, tucked against Luba’s side, his fingers dancing over your upper arm. Both of you should have been sleeping, but the argument earlier plagued your mind, and Luba seemed to be lost in thoughts of his own. Turning your head, you pressed a lingering kiss to his chest, the gesture pulling his gaze down to meet your own.

He hummed, recognizing the questioning look on your face. “Something to share?”

“Just making sure you’re alright. You seem...pensive.”

“Thinking about what you said, that’s all.” He shrugged, the movement rocking you as well.

You waited, unsure if Luba was planning to elaborate.

“Have you ever loved someone?” He asked after a pause, almost long enough to mark the start of a totally new conversation. “Someone else? Besides me I mean.”

You felt a lump forming in your throat, heart nervously clenching, as you thought over the people in your past. Of course you had loved people before. He knew that, or at least about some of them. Eventually, you shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess so,” you admitted, eyebrows knitted in a frown.

“How did you lose them?” his voice was small.

“I...I didn’t. Not really. We grew apart, or realized that love by itself wasn’t enough.”

You felt Naadirah hanging over the pair of you, her ghost still haunting his heart. You felt your ex-lovers there too, taunting spectres of a person you weren’t anymore. You nibbled nervously at your lip. You felt a twinge of anger in your gut toward them, followed immediately by a wave of guilt. It was hardly their faults that they had a lingering effect; it was on you and on Luba.

Luba was still silent. You glanced up at him. He looked crushed and afraid, face contorted sourly and eyes teary.

“Will you feel that way about me someday?”

“What?” you couldn’t believe what you were hearing, voice rising sharply in shock. “No.”

“I think it will happen. Laying on someone else’s chest, in someone else’s bed. You’ll tell the story of the prostitute you made love you, you convinced that you loved him.”

“Luba…” you frowned, hoping that the sound of his name would pull him out of this imagined future and remind him that it wasn’t like that.

“It would be a great story to tell. One hell of an achievement. After all, we’re not supposed to feel. We’re supposed to be the ones convincing other people we love them, not getting fucked over ourselves.”

“Where is this coming from?” you snapped, rising up on an elbow to try and better look him in the eye, but he didn’t seem to hear you, completely monologuing now.

“I don’t know if I can stand for it, darling, or stand it. I should never have let myself fall for you in the first place. I tried to resist after you said you loved me. Love just hurts.”

He was crying as he carried on, and you could feel tears of your own starting to stir. You wanted to shut him up, to stop this wild, derailed train and make it clear that it wasn’t real, could never be real. But a doubt lingered in the back of your mind. After all, you had loved others, so maybe he would be just another in a line of people you gave your heart to and took their heart from. It felt different with Luba, sure, but at the time, hadn’t they all?

Suddenly it felt like the walls were closing in on you, like the sheets tangled around your legs were snakes intent on suffocating you. You kicked and thrashed, trying to get them off and eventually threw yourself to your feet.

“Y/N?” Luba was puzzled momentarily, enough to break his melancholy musings, sitting up to watch you.

“I can’t. I can’t do this,” you muttered, raking your finger through the hair at your temples, feeling the sharp sting of your nails on your scalp grounding you. Slowly you drew a deep breath through your nose, letting it shudder out through parted lips. “Maybe I should just go sleep in my room.”

“Can’t do what? Have this conversation? I thought you were all about talking about our feelings?” You frowned at his tone, puzzled why he seemed to be getting angry with you.

“But we’re not,” you choked out past the tears and the crushing weight on your chest. “Not mine anyway. I don’t know who this hypothetical Y/N is in your head Luba, that’s going to move on and break your heart but it’s not me. I love you.”

“But for how long?”

“Is that what this is? You think I’ll leave someday, so you’re pushing me away first? Because that’s not fair.”

He was silent, arms folded over his chest and body angled away from you.

“Luba…” you sighed, sitting back down on the edge of the bed, half facing him. “You’re not just somebody, you’re not replaceable. If someone offered me the choice between everything I wanted in life but without you or nothing at all except you by my side, then the decision would be obvious. There’s no version of reality where I can stand to lose you from my life.”

His posture softened but still he didn’t speak or look at you.

“You are my best friend, and most of the time I think you know me better than I know myself. And you are a part of me. This thing between us is part of me. But I’ve had years for that to blossom and build. If you need more time, or I’m doing something wrong...or you don’t want this, then just say so. Please,” you reached out for one of his hands that was now resting on the mattress and squeezed it gently. “It’s scary, it’s a lot. I know. I’m scared too. Please don’t just shut me out.”

“I am scared,” he admitted. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted softly, finally looking at you, with eyes brimming with fresh tears.

“Do what?” you breathed, edging closer, drawn naturally to try and comfort him.

“Be loved.”

“Oh.”

“No one’s ever not wanted something from me.”

Your mind raced. Were you really the first person to care about him for his own sake? Or at least to make him feel that way? And if so, was it pushing too far simply to ask...no...hope that your love was returned?

“I keep waiting to wake up, or for you to finally ask for what you expect in return.”

“Is that why you duck my compliments and try to play everything off like some big joke?”

“Lots of people pay flattery. ‘Luba you’re so beautiful.’ ‘Luba you sound like an angel.’ ‘Luba you fuck me so nice.’ But at the end of the day, I am a thing, for their enjoyment and the praise is part of it.” He shrugged. “They could just as soon fuck the robots but I respond better. I don’t mind it. But sometimes when you start to sound like that…”

He shrugged, looking away again, as if he were ashamed of the admission. “Y/N, I think I love you...I know I do. And…I don’t know.”

You turned now to face him fully, catching his face gently between your hands. “It’s okay, Luba. I love you. And I’m sorry. I’ll try to be better from now on, and be mindful.” You smiled a little teasingly. “No more flattery, I promise.”

You hoped that the gravity of what you were trying to say was clear, even if you were covering it with a joke, the air in the room too heavy not to try to crack the tension. You would need to talk about this again, but not now, not while you were both already upset and tired. For now, all you needed was calm, enough to go to bed.

He laughed, the sound wet from tears and wobbly. “I never said that. And you couldn’t keep that promise if you tried...Geliébte.”

You watched the way his face twitched as he tried the new word, contemplating the way it fit in his mouth and sounded to his ears and then he grinned. You leaned, planting a kiss to the tip of his nose.

“You’re probably right, but I’m taking that as a challenge now, you know. Starting in the morning. For now I should go back to my room, yeah?”

“No,” he hummed, snaking his arm around your waist and pulling you back to him. “You should stay right here, geliébte.”

“That’s not going away any time soon is it?” you laughed as he fell backwards, tugging you down with him.

“Hm, no. I think I like it. Do you?”

He could be calling you a steaming pile of refuse and you’d like it, if it was in that free, comfortable voice he was using, or brought the kind of smile that was on his face. You snuggled closer to his side, pretending like you were thinking about it.

Your cheek fell naturally to rest above his heart, listening to it’s steady beat.

“Yeah. I do. I like it a lot.”

#Angst #with an open-ended but mostly fluffy ending #poor communication and low self-esteem are the killers here #Luba x Reader #past Luba x Naadirah #Mute (2018) fic #Break My Heart Right #also I was dozing off during the editing/formatting process so if I cocked it up I'll fix it tomorrow

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