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lightsoutletsgo · 7 months

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i told the stars about you — op.81 (royalty au)

pairing: prince!oscar piastri x lady-in-waiting!reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: angst? heartbreak, slightly inaccurate and semi-confusing greek mythology references, a spot-the-princess-diaries quote just bc i can

I actually wrote this listening to the bridgerton soundtrack... it's not what I usually write so I hope it's okay! please lmk what you think and if you'd like to see more like this. for extra heartbreak, listen to "love is a choice" from the bridgerton soundtrack on repeat while reading happy reading! love mimi 🤍

It was an accident really. Well, less of an accident and more of a cruel twist of fate if you had to summarise it. After all, such a cliche thing to happen. The lady-in-waiting to the Princess falls in love with the visiting Prince her future ruler is tied to in an arranged marriage.

Had any sensible person heard the predicament you were in they may have sympathised but still scoffed at how foolishly the two of you were behaving. Desperately entangling yourselves with one another despite the inevitable heartbreak that was bound to come any day now.

“Did I ever tell you how much I love the stars?” You led on your back on the grass underneath the night’s sky, delicately raising a hand to trace invisible lines between each star above you. Oscar chuckled next to you as his hand slid over yours, joining you in your night sky tracing, “I believe you may have mentioned it once or twice before…” You gave a faint smile as your arm grew tired, choosing to link your hand with his and rest them by your sides. “Have I ever told you why?” Oscar rolled onto his side, facing you as his eyes searched yours, smiling at the way they reflected the moonlight,

“Actually, I don’t think you have told me that.” You sat up quickly, always excited to share the story with someone.

Oscar sat up before he moved to sit behind you, pulling you to lean back into his chest as his arms encircled your body, head gently resting on your shoulder. “See that star up there?” You pointed to almost directly above you, “That’s the North Star isn’t it?” You nodded and turned your head to reward his correct answer with a soft kiss to the cheek. “Mmhmm! When I was a child, my mother used to tell me stories of the stars every night…” You sighed happily at the memories, “There was one story that I loved far more than any others. The story of Perseus and Andromeda.” “I think I learned about that a long time ago… During my classical classes…” “Show off…” You reached one hand up to gently flick his nose. “Well, the story goes that Princess Andromeda was a very beautiful woman. Her mother, Queen Cassiopeia, claimed her daughter was more beautiful than Poseidon’s daughters. As punishment for her vanity, Poseidon sent the sea monster Cetus. Andromeda’s father, King Cepheus, trusted the sea monster to disappear if they were to sacrifice her. Just before she was devoured by the sea monster, Perseus came by on his flying horse Pegasus. He was on his way home after one of his great adventures. Perseus fell in love with the beautiful Andromeda and struck a deal with her parents. Perseus would save their daughter by killing the sea monster and in return he would be allowed to marry her. Andromeda however, was already promised to marry another man, Phineus. A fight arose between the two which Perseus eventually won. And so Perseus and Andromeda lived happily ever after.”

Oscar smiled at the sight of your eyes lighting up as you told the story. He nuzzled his nose into your neck making you giggle as you carried on, “All of the people in the story were placed in the sky by the gods, so their story would never be lost. Perseus and Andromeda are still positioned close together in the sky, where they rotate around the North Star, see?” Oscar’s eyes followed to where you were pointing once more. He kissed your cheek as you gave a happy contented little hum.“Mother always used to say that lovers who needed advice or guidance would talk to the stars… And that those confessions of lovers to the stars meant that their love would last forever, just like Perseus and Andromeda…” You reached for the bouquet of daisies you’d picked earlier that evening.

“You know..." Slowly, you plucked each petal off of the daisies you carefully held. "I told the stars about you." Oscar chuckled, not expecting to hear such words from the lady sitting with him. "What did you tell them?" You turned to look at him and smiled, staring at his brown eyes. "I told them you have your own constellations on your cheeks." Your stare landed on the faint few freckles dotted on his face. He laughed, "What? What does that even mean?"

You showed him a half smile before looking down at the daisies and plucking the petals again. "I told the stars you have more stars in your eyes than there are stars in the sky"

His smile slowly faded, instead he looked almost like he was holding his breath, like he didn’t dare breath incase it ruined the moment, "I told them that you are the moon that shines brightest in my eyes when I'm surrounded by darkness. I told them I always wish for you on a shooting star." You gave him the daisies you had been holding since you’d sat next to him. All petals now plucked. Oscar looked confused as he took the flowers, about to open his mouth.

"Do you want to know why?” You cut him off with a sweet smile before he could even open his mouth to answer, “Because I got tired of asking the flowers if you love me or not." “Y/N…” Oscar’s voice was barely above a whisper. You spoke softly, "Do you know what the stars replied?"

"W-what?" He thought he’d lost his voice for a moment.

You smiled.

"Go after him."

Silence. “So will you…” “I'm in love with the King-to-be, and I'm inquiring if he loves me too…” Oscar’s eyes lit up and in that moment, you felt as if all the air had been taken from you. One of your hands gently cupped his face as your thumb rubbed over his cheekbone, “You really do have stars in your eyes.” “And your eyes hold the whole galaxy, my love.” Oscar pulled you close to him and sighed in contentment as you shyly buried your face into his shoulder, the stars twinkling at you both from above, as if centuries of lovers were sprinkling their blessing on the two of you. In hindsight you supposed it might have been a warning, that heartbreak would ensue no matter how much you loved him 　 ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆　　　

“I told the stars about you!” Oscar cried out.

You stopped. “I told the stars about you,” he repeated, trying and failing to hold back tears that were already falling, “I told them that I would never let you become one and end up so far away from me, I told them how you said you would always stay by my side, and...” Oscar looked back at you, where you were now facing him.

“I told them I loved you.” Your eyes widened slightly before your face fell again.

“...We always knew this was going to happen. We cannot change what our fate is, Oscar, I mean…” You looked back down at the ground, clenching your fists tightly before you spoke again. “Your Highness-”

“Don’t call me that, Y/N.” Oscar said immediately, rushing up to you. “Y-you’re not a lady-in-waiting. I'm not a Prince. We’re just Oscar and Y/N, two people who fell in love the instant they saw one another.” He stared at you, not fighting the tears anymore. “Two people who fell in love under the stars… I want that Y/N back.” Your heart broke as his voice cracked, overcome with emotion. “Please my love…”

But still you said nothing

“Where’s the Y/N who would tell me she loved me, the Y/N who vowed to be by my side forever, and… the Y/N who would tell the stars about me?” You finally looked up at him, and Oscar searched your eyes desperately for a shred of his Y/N in you. A lone tear spilt over and fell down your cheek. Sparkling in the moonlight, it almost looked like a shooting star. ‘How ironic.’ He thought to himself bitterly. You wiped the tear away and as quickly as it had appeared it was gone.

Oscar’s eyes darkened, and he wiped his face, his expression hardening, “My apologies, Lady Y/N.” He said, his voice cold. “This has been rather inappropriate. I believe you must have somewhere to be?” “My apologies, your Highness. Permission to leave?” It was time to accept that the old Y/N was gone, leaving a stranger in front of him. And if his Y/N was gone, there was no reason to keep taking up a stranger’s time.

“...Granted.” You began to move before you hesitated, leaned into his side, whispered something, and left. Oscar’s eyes widened once again, and a tear fell down his cheek.

“I never stopped telling the stars about you.”

Oscar quickly turned around to watch you leave. A pained smile slowly spread across his face. He didn’t try to stop you. You wore a similar smile as you forced your feet to walk away. You wanted nothing more than to kiss him once again, but that was a dream you couldn’t have anymore. It was a dream you’d have to tell the stars about.

#mimi.writes #f1 x reader #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri angst #f1 x you #oscar piastri x you #f1 angst #f1 fic #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri oneshot #f1 oneshot

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nectardaddy · 3 months

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best friend's demon - okkotsu yuuta

synopsis: is it normal to have a best friend who has a demon attached to him? is it normal that you know it's there?

cw: talk of the occult, demons/ghosts, paranormal happenings, reader is a little strange

notes: non curse au but with a spooky twist, plantonic relationship, I listened to the beetlejuice soundtrack while writing this, this idea seemed perfect for my sweet baby yuuta, og thoughts here

He's not normal. Far from it. So sick, so twisted, so naive, that it made you want to vomit. The dreadful wave of wretched emotions washing over and you succumbed to the wave and slipped under. You heaved for air, but were granted none, lungs gnashing in your chest just for the slightest bit of oxygen. You couldn't - you wouldn't. It stung, it burned, it created an overwhelming sense of dread with every breath. The air was thick and dense, dizzying as you choked under the pressure; and you wondered what in the hell could create such a powerful presence.

A pale face, with dark eyes, and dark hair was your only prognosis. Okkotsu Yuuta was the only reason why the tone of the room was flipped on its head. A foul, loathsome, choking feeling upon entering any room; he was none the wiser.

You just had to know what on earth was wrong with him.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The second hand of the clock moved painfully slow, drifting past the face all the while the minute hand hadn't seemed to move. Your eyes glazed over, encapsulated by the fluidity of the clock hands, you had completely tuned the world out. It was an odd feeling to be so calm, so secure, without worry of the outside world - or the world beyond. You couldn't remember how long you remained like this, so enthralled by the movement and a moment of peace.

A gentle tune hung in the air, humming to yourself absentmindedly as you stared stone faced. It wasn't a specific melody, but one that you knew of, a familiarity within the soft drone from your lips. A haunting scene really. Staring into the void all the while humming appealing chords. But your musings ceased as a tightness entered your chest; blinking, and letting a sigh pass your lips, you came back to reality.

There had been a shift, a significant one, within the room you occupied. A thick, malevolent presence taking you by the throat and squeezing relentlessly. A crumbling feeling that made you feel completely overwhelmed, a crushing sensation on your shoulders as they dropped. An eerie silence replaced the soft tick of the clock, one could hear a pin drop if they chose, and your skin crawled at the sudden change.

"You're late," you breathed out, raising your voice only slightly. Eyes flickering over the vacant room, a quant study room with only a table and two chairs, you watched as the door handle swung downward. Door opening only to reveal a sorrowful expression on tired, sickly pale, features.

"I forget every time you can tell I'm here before I even open the door," the voice was frail, an almost feminine twang. "Sorry I'm late," the man gushed, giving you a sorry smile as he joined you at the table. "Today has been terrible," he added. Dark eyes finally met with your own, swirling with a peculiar emotion you could never quite put your finger on. Guilt? Hatred? Self pity?

"It's pissed off today," stating so nonchalantly it made his smile falter. "More than usual," you tagged on to which he softly groaned. "That's probably why your day is shit."

A nervous chuckle fell from the man's lips at your words, truly not knowing what to make of them. "Wonderful," he sighed. A pause fell between the pair of you, noticing all too well that the clock's repeatative tick failed to hit your ears anymore. It was worrying the amount of control whatever was attached to the man had within, its hellish claws sinking deep well beyond the veil. It wasn't normal. It was dangerous. "Do you ever get tired of it?"

His question caught you off guard, coming back from within your own mind to register what was spoken. "Huh?" You posed, furrowing your brows in confusion, "tired of what, exactly?"

"Sensing things you can't see?" He corrected, eyes looking into your own for even a hint of an answer. "I don't know how you do it," letting a sigh pass his lips once more, he leaned back into his chair. "Constantly feeling like someone is there, watching and waiting."

"I'm used to it," you shrugged. "But," you began, letting out a small breath before continuing, "your's isn't normal. Usually demons want to hurt, try to possess, or at least traumatize their benefactor. It's like it's protecting you, in a fucked up sort of way." Your explanation made his features fall, now holding a neutral expression. "I've never felt so off put by some else's attachment. It's like it doesn't want anyone around you."

Tick. Tick. Tick.

It answered you. By means of the clock starting up again - it agreed with you. The notion caused your stomach to churn, flicking your eyes towards the device and turning your head to look past the man in front of you. The quick, fluid motion caused his breath to hitch in his throat, swallowing hard as he knew your reactions were never in vain. It was strange how comfortable, or rather desensitized, he was with your off putting reactions; though he was concerned with the amount you had around him.

Although nauseous from the presence, and frankly the revelation as well, a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. A chilling smile, unnatural for the situation you found yourself in. "I'll be damned," you mumbled to yourself, leaving the man before you baffled and confused. "Greedy little thing, your attachment is."

"You're making that face again," he spoke with a tense chuckle. He was all too accustomed with your frantic mind, wry smiles, and dark chuckles; a familiarity he found within himself that he was absentmindedly drawn to. At first, he was well too uninformed as to why he found himself occupying your presence. But you toed the line of peculiar and macabre, as did he, and he found solace in the fact you were just as sane as him - which your sanity in itself was very thin. To him you were an absolute treasure of a comrade. A friend he wished he had sooner in his life.

"Of course I'm making this face!" You laughed, a cackle that made him sink in his chair with a small breath. He rather enjoyed your tangents about the paranormal and the occult, but being as his day was already wrecked; however, made him refrain from speaking ill of the very thing that havocked it. Slinking down in his seat as a means to make himself smaller, hoping that the entity attached to him would perhaps feel pity on him. "Yu, does it ever talk to you?" Utterly ignoring his dainty complaints and physical reaction, once you were on a roll there was no stopping.

Pale hands that once rested on the table in front of him, now moved to his lap. Grabbing at the side seam of his pants as his mind began to race, "not explicitly?" A questioning tone as his voice raised a twinge at the end. "I get weird dreams about it, but it never really talks to me."

"What kinds of dreams?" Your eyes flicked back to the man sitting at the table, finally taking in his anxiety riddled form. Far too intrigued by the clock only moments ago, you felt a pang of guilt wash over you. "Too much?" You asked shyly, a sorry smile creeping on your features to replace your wild one, retreating from your latter statement and shoving it to the back burner of your mind.

"Too much."

Two words, simple enough, leaving your skin less prickled, a bit more oxygen filling your lungs, and the crushing weight easing its clutches on your shoulders. Was this all it took? A caring word to the man?

Was it possible to play nice with your best friend's demon?

oooooh I might make a part 2 I love this

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #okkotsu yuuta #yuuta okkotsu #okkotsu yuta #yuta okkotsu #platonic relationships #jjk yuta #jjk yuuta #yuuta okkotsu x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #okkotsu yuta x reader #this was so fun to write I really got into it

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zimms · 10 months

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new york city

you called me last night on the telephone and i was glad to hear from you cause i was all alone you said, "it's snowing, it's snowing! god, i hate this weather" now i walk through blizzards just to get us back together

Derek twists the telephone cord around his finger, straining to hear Will's words down the phone. "Sorry, you're cutting out. The landline's a little dodgy."

He definitely doesn't fail to hear the crackle of Will's laughter down the phone. "A landline? What is this, Nurse? The eighties?"

"Shut up! My moms prefer it for some reason. And, I don't know, it has a bit of je ne sais quoi, a bit of nostalgia, a bit of style, y'know." To emphasise the point, even if only to himself, Derek winds the cable around his fingers a couple more times.

"I don't, but I'll take your word for it."

Derek huffs his own laugh before softening his voice. "Look, the point is that I missed what you said the first time. Please could you repeat it, babe?"

Will's voice comes through the phone. "I said that it's snowing here."

"Isn't it always snowing in Maine in December?" Derek says, "Like I thought that was a given?"

"Yeah, but it's the first time I've seen snow since I last saw you." Will's voice goes quietier. "I miss you."

"That was literally two weeks ago, Dex." Derek rolls his eyes, knowing full well that Will can't see him. "You can't possibly miss me that much; you literally went almost two years without talking to me between leaving Samwell and the spring." He sighs and grins to himself "But- I miss you too."

we met in the springtime at a rock and roll show it was on the bowery when it was time to go

One second Derek is bouncing along to the song that the band is playing, the next, his gaze is fixed on a very familiar head of red hair that's darting through the crowd at the gig.

Dex?

Derek is too packed in by the surrounding crowd to do anything but watch, tracking the figure of a man who, two years ago, he never thought he'd see again. Well, maybe not never, after all they'd been to two weddings together this summer alone. But the point is, it would never be just the two of them again.

He allows himself to be swept back up in the words of the song, singing along with the rest of the crowd, but he never truly stops staring at the back of Dex's head. It's fine; Derek will catch him at the bar after the show. He has to.

The gig is in a tiny bar that masquerades as a club/concert venue, packed to the brim with people here to see bands make their first stumbling steps into the music industry. Derek first listened to these guys in his Senior Year at Samwell and fell head over heels in love with their music. They were even the soundtrack to his alarms for the year, greeting him before every 5am practice (because Dex was a total hardass).

After the final song, the crowd starts to disperse and Derek seizes his moment to chase after Dex.

He can't let him slip away from him.

Not this time.

Derek pushes through the crowd, apologising every step of the way, until Dex is finally within reach. Naturally, as soon as Derek goes to close his hand around Will's shoulder, the man in question takes a step forward and Derek takes a big handful of just air. "Dex! Hey! Dex!"

Will spins around and suddenly they're chest to chest for the first time in- Derek doesn't even know how long.

He forgets how to breathe.

"Nursey?" Dex's eyebrows furrow in that familiar way: the way they would when he couldn't figure out the problem with a particularly tricky bit of code, or when he was trying to figure out the best way to shut down the opposing team's attack. Derek hasn't realised until now just how much he missed that expression.

"Dex!" he says, trying desperately to sound normal and not at all breathless and relaxed. "How are you? I didn't- I didn't know you were in New York?"

Dex rubs the back of his neck. "I'm, erm, I'm not really, but I guess, I am?"

"Dex, I say this lovingly, but genuinely what the fuck does that mean?" Derek takes the opportunity to step back, breaking the physical contact between them at last. He can finally breathe.

"I'm living over near Lincoln Park, but I'm working for a start up here."

Derek laughs. "Dude, you could have just said that!"

"I was suprised to see you, okay!" Dex mumbles. "Though I'm not sure why I'm that surprised considering that you were the one that got me into this band, but it's whatever."

Derek pauses and considers what to say for a second, looking Dex up and down to try and gauge how much interaction with him Dex would be willing to stand. He takes another second to throw all of that consideration out of the window and just say fuck it.

He grins up at Will. "Can I buy you a drink?"

we kissed on the subway in the middle of the night i held your hand, you held mine, it was the best night of my life

One drink turns into two and two turns into four and so on and so on until the two of them stumble out onto the Bowery and into the open air at 3am.

Derek doesn't know how to describe it, but everything always feels easier at 3am. As they walk along the street towards the subway station, he brushes his hand against Dex's once, twice, three times until finally Will takes his hand in his.

They tangle their fingers together, relaxing into the easy rhythm that they lost at some point during senior year, and falling into each other's orbits yet again.

Derek tugs Will towards the Houston Bowery Wall, gravitating towards the explosion of colour in the night light. "C'mere." He squeezes Will's hand. "This is the Bowery Wall Mural. It's one of my favourite pieces of art in New York, especially this one."

"This one?" Will's voice trembles a little as if they're in a holy place rather than stood on the intersection of two busy streets in New York.

"They change the wall every so often, a constant fresh start, constant new opportunities. Sometimes they decide that a mural has had its time, sometimes other people decide for them, covering up the work with graffiti, showing the world what matters to them. But the wall always comes back with a newer piece of art, a never-ending cycle of hope and new beginnings."

Derek looks down at his and Will's interlocked hands and gives them another squeeze. "Last year, they decided to stop commissioning new murals because they kept being destroyed, but out of the ashes came this mural."

The wall is painted in a bright array of portraits, depicting people of all shapes and sizes. It takes Derek's breath away as he looks at it, even though he walks past it every week; there's something different about bringing Will here.

Will's voice catches in his throat. "It's beautiful. Thank you for bringing me here."

Derek grins back at him. "Thank you for coming with me."

Will's expression shifts and his eyes begin to dart around. "I should be going."

"What? All the way back to Jersey at this time? You're not going to get back until like 8am. Seriously, come back to my place; you can take the guest room."

(Internally, Derek kicks himself.)

"No, no, I can head back; I wouldn't want to impose."

"No, seriously I insist," Derek says, slowly beginning to steer them towards the subway station. "We're like ten minutes from my place on the subway; way better than going back to Jersey."

Will huffs a sigh, knowing that he's lost this battle. "Okay, fine. But I'll pay you back somehow, y'know."

Derek smiles at him as they enter through the ticket barriers. "I know."

(Derek will unashamedly admit that they made out in the empty subway carriage. Like c'mon, how could he resist waiting until he got home?)

because everyone's your friend in new york city and everything looks beautiful when you're young and pretty the streets are paved with diamonds and there's just so much to see but the best thing about new york city is you and me

Derek wraps his arms around Will's waist and pulls him in closer, letting their bodies slot together in the warmth of the bed. "I'm so glad that I spotted you at that gig," he whispers into the crook of his neck. "I couldn't let you get away again."

Will leans back into the embrace. "I'm glad you found me too." He wriggles a bit, getting more comfortable. "It feels like I was stumbling blindly around the city before you found me. Like New York and you are so intertwined; you are New York, New York is you. It was weird to be in the city without you, to be honest.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.” Will turns around to look at him. “Seriously, Derek. I’ve loved the past four months of you dragging me around the city.”

Derek tickles his sides and Will squirms in his arms. “Drag?! I seem to recall you were the one that made a whole list of places that you wanted to see, including Co-Op City.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Will mutters, ducking his head. “Maybe we shouldn’t have trekked all the way out to the Bronx just for it, but I thought I should see it, okay? It was a big case study in my urban planning class.”

“I know, I know. I’m just teasing you.” Derek leans down to kiss his boyfriend. “I think it’s sweet, honestly. Especially considering you didn’t think to do any of this stuff in your first two months of living here.”

“I was getting used to a new city! I wasn’t trying to sight-see; I was trying to survive!”

Derek hums to convey his total belief in Will’s statement. “Uh, huh.”

“It’s true!”

Derek hums again and grins down at him. “Anyway, do you still have that list somewhere? I need to figure out what’s left on your New York bucket list.”

Will blindly flails his arm onto his bedside table. “Yeah, yeah. Lemme just find it.” He rummages around a bit more, before finally producing a crumpled-up piece of paper. “here you go.”

statue of liberty, staten island ferry, co-op city, katz's, and tiffany's, central park, brooklyn bridge, the empire state, where dylan lived, coney island, and times square, rockefeller center

“Okay, I think I have the perfect idea for what our final stereotypical New York sightseeing trip will be,” Derek says.

“Mhhm, am I allowed to know what it is?”

“You’ll find out in, like, three months, I promise.” Derek can’t resist and gives Will another peck on the cheek. “It’ll be worth it.”

wish i was there

Derek finally removes his hands from where they’ve been covering Will’s eyes for the past ten minutes. “Surprise?”

They’re stood just outside the Rockefeller Centre ice rink, which is filled with a hurricane of screaming children and couples desperately trying to keep their balance whilst holding hands.

Will chuckles. “I’d say yes, but somehow the fact that you blindfolded me when you caught me looking at a sign for the Rockefeller Centre says otherwise.” He pauses. “Also, the fact that I caught you stealing my skates from my apartment the last time we were there.”

“Okay, you got me,” Derek says, “but it was good choice, yeah?”

“Yes, definitely.” Will threads his hand in Derek’s. “It was a great choice. Plus it’s like full circle, y’know. We first met at an ice rink and it’s nice to bring the list to a close with an ice rink too. Especially considering how much our relationship has changed over the past seven years, though it was a bit touch and go for a while, eh.”

Derek can’t help himself; he laughs. “Eh? Have you been spending too much time with Jack, huh?”

“Shut up.” Will lets go of his boyfriend’s hand so that he can elbow him instead. “I’m trying to be romantic and poetic and shit; don’t make fun of me.”

“Okay, okay.” Derek says. “You said exactly what I was gonna say, is all.”

“Oh?” Will mock-gasps. “So, I was in fact being poetic and shit?”

Derek kisses him – mostly to wipe the smug grin off his face – and then pulls back. “Are you ready to go and show these kids and tourists how it’s done?”

“Aren’t we technically tourists for this exercise?”

“Shhhh.” Derek kisses Will again, just for the fun of it this time and as they break apart, he feels something wet on his cheek. “Wait, are you crying?”

“No, you idiot, it’s snowing.”

Oh.

So, it is.

Derek feels a little stupid right now, but he can’t tell if that’s because of the kiss or because he was so obviously wrong.

Will taps him on the shoulder. “Come back here, idiot. This feels like a pretty perfect ending to my first year in New York.”

Derek waggles his eyebrows at him. “Yeah?”

He’s met with an eyeroll, but Will also rewards him with a “yeah” and another world-stopping kiss.

Derek has to agree with Will: with the snow falling down on them and the hubbub of the city around them, it does feel like a pretty perfect ending to their first year in New York together.

you wrote me a letter just the other day you said, "springtime is coming soon so why don't you come to stay" i packed my stuff, it's on the bus, i can't believe it's true. i'm three days from new york city and i'm three days from you.

Will has to laugh when his mom hands him the mail stack, an envelope with his name on it sat on top. Did Derek seriously send him a letter for the two weeks that he was back in Maine? Well, yeah, clearly – that much is evidenced by the fucking letter in his hand.

In fairness, the gesture does have Derek written all over it.

He carefully rips open the letter, thankfully not wax-sealed like some of the love letters that Will had watched Nursey send in his earlier years at Samwell, and the contents spill out.

Will pick up the letter first and begins to read it.

Dear Will,

It’s hard to believe that it’s only been nine months since I found you again at that gig on the Bowery; it feels like we’ve been exploring New York together for years. But springtime is coming soon again and I’m hoping that I’ll never have to find you again, but instead that you’ll always be in easy reach by my side. You know how you said one night that to you New York is me? Well, in the past nine months, New York has instead become You and Me. I feel like you’re pulling back the curtain and I’m seeing the city I’ve lived in for my whole life in a completely different light. Everything is suddenly so much brighter and more beautiful with you around. I hope that this new light continues with the dawn of this new spring, a third new beginning for us perhaps, but just to make sure, would you do me the honour of moving in with me? I mean, if nothing else, it saves you (and, rather selfishly, me) the commute the Lincoln Park every other night.

I know it’s only been a week, but I miss you so much.

I love you.

Derek.

The other item sitting on the kitchen table in front of Will is a keyring with two keys and a picture of the one of the windows from the current Bowery Mural. The keys are engraved with the numbers #24 and #28 and Will can’t quite hold back the mistiness that begins to gather in his eyes.

Of course, after everything, Derek brings it back to hockey, back to Samwell, back to that period of time when they were inseparable, but constantly at odds with each other, so similar, but so different.

Will carefully threads his old keys onto the new keyring. A third and final new beginning sounds perfect to him.

#based on the song by cub/they might be giants #but yeah uhh new nurseydex fic just dropped ig #nursey and dex #my writing #its like 3k?#omgcp #nurseydex #i'd post this on ao3 but my boyfriend just found the account lol and they will take the piss out of me for this #so this will probs make it to ao3 eventually

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bukvarsbitch · 10 months

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An unofficial, very personal to my tastes, and unnecessary ranking of all of the songs in Nerdy Prudes Must Die

(typed on my laptop so you know shit's real)

I think it goes without saying this is all my opinion. All of the songs are genuinely good, even the ones I don’t love/like! That being said, here’s my ranking just because I’ve been thinking about this a little bit and I want to put it outside my brain.

15: Dirty Dudes Must Die Look, I get it. It’s a twist, it’s a time for Angela to slay. That’s all good and fine. I just don’t love the placement and it didn’t feel like an ending to me. That being said, “darkness will save my soul” goes HARD.

14: The Best of You People keep putting this high up, which I respect, but I can’t resonate with. Someone said it felt very DCOM to them, and I think that might be why I don’t love it; it just feels really tonally different, and not in the way that Just for Once is that’s a clear differentiation for a whole slew of reasons. It’s a totally fine song, I just don’t love it as a fake-out closer. It just doesn’t work for my brain.

13: Cool as I Think I Am (Reprise) I love a sad reprise as much as anyone else; for some reason, this one just really doesn’t vibe with me. No thoughts about why, I just always skip the last three songs on the soundtrack because I don’t love them.

12: Go Go Nighthawks Okay, so we’ve finally gotten past the songs that I just don’t like lol. I actually really like this song! I think it’s cute tonally and it gets off the really artificial and saccharine world that’s about to come crumbling down. Also, the “squawk squawk” always gets stuck in my head for some reason. It’s only this low because it’s not one that I’d put on repeat.

11: The Summoning Someone’s going to dox me for this, but I really don’t love The Summoning as a whole number. It goes hard, don’t get me wrong; I actually ADORE everything before the Lords of Black come in. Mariah, Angela, and Joey’s vocals blend SO beautifully, and the ensemble whispers are HAUNTING. I love, love, love it. The rest of the song is still awesome and I get why people like it, but I don’t love it until the ensemble comes back in towards the end. I also don’t love the start-and-stop of it; if they were going to do that, I feel like keeping everything singing would’ve worked better? I just feel a bit like the energy falters a little. That being said, I still really really like this song.

10: Just for Once I’m a sucker for this genre of musical; my favorite musicals are almost all from this era, and I really like this song on the soundtrack. I don’t actually love it in the show, but I really appreciate it as a number on the soundtrack. It made me understand Ruth a lot more (I liked her before, but I really GOT her after), but I didn’t love how it fit into the show at first, I think because Lauren’s vocals are a little different on the soundtrack compared to the proshot. A banger!

9: Cool as I Think I Am It’s a solid act one number! I’m actually fairly neutral about it, but I still love the way it sounds so it’s higher just because I’m more likely to put it on repeat. I also just love this occurrence of “I’m not a loser” and its later recurrence.

8: Bury the Bully Everyone seems to not like this and bully the bully??? I really like these songs; I think they’re super catchy and they’re a great comedic song for Angela to really get Grace into our hearts (more than she already was). This one’s only lower because I prefer the way the lyrics flow in bully the bully.

7: Bully the Bully I could listen to this song for literal years. I love it so much. Justice for bully the bully lol.

6: If I Loved You I’ve listened to this song SO MUCH. Firstly, Joey and Mariah’s voices go together SO FUCKING WELL. Secondly, “sure, I’m a sapiosexual, you’re intellectual, but I cut my lover losses when I can” is not only one of my favorite lines in the show but it also SO BEAUTIFUL. I think this song is just a great addition to the second act, and I really love it.

5: Dirty Girl Okay, so I will admit: when I first watched the show, I skipped this song. And then, after I finished the show, I went back and listened. I was so wrong, y’all. This is not only a god tier song, it’s also a great way to establish Grace’s absolute fucking insanity alongside Max’s (also) fucking insanity. Grace’s “I’m a good girl”s are such a good addition to the song and her character. I really, really love this song, and I think it’s a great place to start for my top five lol.

4: Hatchet Town SOMEONE’S GOT THEIR HAND ON THE HATCHET HANDLE SWINGING ON THE YOUTH IT’S A HATCHET SCANDAL CAREFUL OR YOUR FOLKS WILL END UP A CANNIBAL’S PLATE IT AIN’T GREAT YOU’RE BETTER ON THE RUN THAN YOU ARE HIDING SUDDENLY THIS QUIET TOWN’S EXCITING

God tier lyricism genuinely and it sounds sO GOOD. I love a “and here’s what the town thinks” song, and this is a great one that goes SO HARD. The chorus sets the tone so well. As I told my friend, it’s like if the Riverdale adults got a musical number, and I LOVE that.

3: High School is Killing Me This, to me, is an example of a genuinely perfect modern musical opening number. It sets the mood of the show so well, and it comes back to haunt you as the show slowly kills off its characters in a way that’s so satisfying. Of course, Mariah and Joey are hitting it out of the park; for me, though, the real star of this song is the ensemble. In any show, my favorite character is the ensemble, and this song is a great example of why. Lauren and Jon do a great job introducing us to the world (and their voices together are beautiful, GOD), and the ensemble makes it feel lived in and sets you up for the whirlwind you’re about to go on. Also, the harmonies. MWAH. (Also, “a cesspool faux democracy, it’s one hell of a normal abnormality” has been stuck in my head since I heard it; one of my favorite lyrics in the show).

2: Nerdy Prudes Must Die Love when the bully comes to kill you but it’s camp! Firstly, Will’s voice is GORGEOUS. Genuinely, I want him to play every single high school bad guy in a musical; he does such a good job. I just adore this song’s placement, tone, lyrics, sound, everything. I really love the way that “I could give two shits that you buried and left me, defiled my body, you pushed me off the edge” sounds, plus obviously the entire will you pray for me bit, ESPECIALLY WHEN THE ENSEMBLE COMES IN. Also, Jon’s absolutely fucking stuNNING “I’M NOT A LOSER.” God, it’s just so good. 100000/10.

1: Literal Monster I feel like this might be unpopular? But, I LOVE this song. It’s another one of those “and here’s what the town thinks” songs (in a way), the harmonies are beautiful, the GUITAR RIFFS, Will’s voice, the way it sets up Max’s entire being and everyone’s relationship to him. I already liked the song before Will comes in, but his voice adds such a wonderful tonal shift to the song with the HUH HUHs and then he just really goes for it, and I love him for it. His “a predator of my size, cross your heart hope to die, you can watch as I rise, I will claim what is mine” is genuinely one of my favorite sounds of the year. MWAH, chefs kiss.

#nerdy prudes must die #npmd #this isn't even a tag i've used before #i don't think #i just literally haven't been able to do work to anything besides this soundtrack or the alice is missing playlist lmao #i wrote an entire ethics paper to if i loved you and high school is killing me #now i'm writing a paper for my performance theory class to literal monster and dirty dirty girl #my academics are just indebted to this musical now ig

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epic-song-lyrics-showdown · 11 months

Text

Random Assorted Artists with songs in the showdown Pt. 1

This is the first list of random artists that have been submitted. This is pretty much anyone that didn’t get many submissions. If you see a song and are like hey this should be somewhere else the answer is no. Unless there is a repeat of a song somewhere or the artist shows up on another list they are meant to be here. Check out the other lists here.

Sail - AWOLNATION

Sinners - Barns Courtney

My Frankenstein - Kody Kavitha

An Alien’s I Love You - Utsu-P

Beneath the Brine - The Family Crest

Gladiator - Jann

Light - Next to Normal

Gut Punch/Don’t Meet Your Idols - Everybody’s Worried About Owen

Us - Chxrlotte

It’s the end of the world as we know it - R.E.M.

Trouble - Valerie Broussard

A Meadow - Open Book

Serenade - Kamelot

The Bard’s Song: In the Forest - Blind Guardian

The Weekend Whip - The Fold

Achilles Come Down - Gang of Youths (Four different lyric submissions)

Farewell Kabarista - Vagabond Opera

Tango Dancer - Dave Malloy

Cold Day in Hell - Delta Rae

Still… - Sophia James

Mirrorball - Elbow

Waltz #2 (XO) - Elliott Smith

One More Try - Mariam-Teak Lee & Jordan Luke Gage

Marie - Townes van Zandt

City of Lights - The Music Tapes

Bloody Motherfucking Asshole - Martha Wainwright

On Melancholy Hill - Gorillaz

Don’t Let’s Start - They Might Be Giants

Touch - Daft Punk ft. Paul Williams

The Hounds - The Protomen

Infinite Lives - Mega Ran ft. D&D Sluggers

Nights Like These - Bears in Trees

Slumber - Slløtface

gum v6.4 - Devon Again

head - Devon Again

Dissociate - Atlas

Introduction to the Snow - Miracle Music

Wait for It - Hamilton Musical

Ice To Never - The Black Queen

Progress - The Dear Hunter

Warrior - Paradise Fears

Windowpane - Opeth

Voodoo Dust - Urfaust

Yen - Slipknot

Order - Heaven Pierce Her / Hakita

VI: Sons of Fate - The Protomen

Charlie’s Inferno - That Handsome Devil

Paradox - Survive Said the Prophet

This Too Shall Pass - Danny Schmidt

Light - Chonny Jash

Mad IQs - I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

Worms - AlicebanD

The Mighty Echo - The Family Crest

Ride - Bligh

Jesus Christ - Brand New

Your Heart is a Muscle the Size of Your Fist - Ramshackle Glory

The Summoning - Sleep Token

In The End - Black Veil Brides

Don’t Break Me - Milo Murphy’s Law Soundtrack

For You - Barenaked Ladies

Sober - Tool

Bullets - Archive

Relay - Fiona Apple

Let Me Stay - Heather Maloney

New Radio - Bikini Kill

The Marriage of Bigfoot and Mothman - The Forgetmenauts

What’s With You Lately - Car Seat Headrest

Armarillo - Gorillaz

Dark Lover: A Love Song To A Vampire - Tempest

Smile Like You Mean It - Tally Hall

Fine, I’m Fine - Chonny Jash

Rightfully - Mili

Give It to Me - The Northern Boys

We’re All Leaving - Karine Polwart

Matches - SIFU HOTMAN

Unbroken - Man on the Internet

Hell’s Comin’ With Me - Poor Man’s Poison

Necromancin Dancin - Bear Ghost

I Got No Time - The Living Tombstone

Labyrinth - Miracle Musical

Hello and Goodbye - JT Music

A Poem - AJJ

People 2: The Reckoning - AJJ

Your Voice, As I Remember It - AJJ

The River - Bruce Springsteen

Jungleland - Bruce Springsteen

You Only Know - PhemieC

Girls in Love - PhemieC

Evidence - DaisyxDaisy

Portrait of a Woman on a Couch With Cats - Michael Cera Palin

The Moss - Cosmo Sheldrake

Found (Forever) - Caamp

4 Morant (Better Luck Next Time) - Doja Cat, Com Truise

Box Fort Baby - Papa Jake

Flowers - Eva Noblezada (Hadestown)

You - Keaton Henson

rock + roll - EDEN

Tourniquet - Leanna Firestone

Close to Home - Vienna Teng

Spring and a Storm - Tally Hall

You’re the Reason I Don’t Want the World to End - The Wonder Years

I Earn My Life - Lemon Demon

Twisted - Team Starkid

Time, As A Symptom - Joanna Newson

The Party - Regina Spektor

I’m Just Your Problem - Rebecca Sugar (in Adventure Time)

#epic song lyrics showdown #songs in the showdown

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izzy-b-hands · 2 years

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34 & 44!

Connie!!! Thank you!! 💖💖💖💛💛!

34. is there a song you know every word to by heart?

This is where the Autism kicks in akdnfkgng, even if I dislike a song (like actively hate lmaooo) if I hear it enough it will be stuck in there, fully remembered, forever. I can't remember my cousin's bdays without it being marked already on a calendar, but if someone asked me to sing any song I hate for karaoke? (Let's go with Blurred Lines because I watch an old Big Fat Quiz ep and guess what they played more than once 🙃): I could do it. It might not sound good, but by god every word would be there.

On the plus side, songs I love also stick in there easily, which means there's also a selection of MCR, anything that's ever been on a Saints Row soundtrack, the entire OFMD soundtrack (literally have not relistened to The Chain because it's been in my head on repeat since I watched it 😂)

Fuck the Autism also kicked in on this answer (and the next im so sorry ilu) what a book, forgive me for these lmaooo

44. you get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it?

Okay so I'm v stoned and got waaay too deep into this question ngl like. considering who and the concept of revenge and vigilante justice and would seeking the other person's death really create an overwhelming sense of fulfillment and peace, or simply mutate the current grief into something twisted and painful that haunts one until their death? Then thinking if I undertook manipulation to ensure the death of someone else but had to spend time in their company as a result am I then no better than them for having taken their hospitality which comes from their horrific actions?

Then I realized the best answer is probably Thomas Hardy or (and hoo boy am I a little scared to note this one hence writing it to evade tags) J./K./R./

The first because I hate having to read his sad sack books and like. I think it would be a mercy to kill him and put him out of his fucking misery. "Because we are to meny" fuck u Tommy Boy that shit destroyed me

And the second because her work was a huge part of my childhood. I loved that shit; I still have merch from my middle school days even that is in storage to be burned later. At one point I had planned a tattoo of a fave line even (I'm glad I waited, but had I gotten it I think now I would just be figuring out a good cover up design. That's just me personally tho cuz like. who tf gets a fun fandom tattoo and then expects This Shit from the author, ya know? I didn't as a kid, planning for that tattoo while I reread the books.)

As a result of who she's revealed herself to be and what she believes, I've cut that part of myself out like a cancer (tearing up the old books and using them for art projects, the merch burning is probably going to be done this or next summer or whenever we aren't in a damn drought with bonfire bans) but bits of it linger, ya know? Like I'll think of a song from middle school and then be blasted with the memory of how I played it on repeat while reading the latest in the series, and then remember Why i haven't been able to listen to the song in years

I wish i could literally erase all of it from my memory, never see the books or merch or the movies (on streaming sites too) ever again. But since I can't, though I keep on trying, I would settle for doing to her what she thinks should happen to people like me

However she also seems like a scrapper and she's taller than me so tbh I dunno if I would be successful or if it would be a mutual fight to the death, but I would be fine with that too. Not a win-win, but not every situation is in life lol

#text post #ask box things #the killing one got dark lmaooo but im v stoned so i actually took the time to consider it and #briefly got stuck researching ppl to choose best #sorry connie u brought out the English major/history minor in me ajsbfjgna #cringe but hopefully im still as kissable and fuckable as before to everyone interested #just maybe bring a bar gag and don't talk abt literature at all lmaoooo #or history which considering someone info dumping abt their historical knowledge is a turn on...u see the problem

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niamhsperformancelab · 1 year

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Week 8~ Nature and Performance Lab

I didn't make any progress on the soundtrack as intended over the weekend. On the Monday, I spent the day making up for lost time. At this point, I was getting bored of the soundtrack as I aimed to have it 10 minutes long (approximately 2 minutes per scene) and was mainly manipulating samples instead of creating a soundtrack of just musical instruments which is what I am more familiar with. I have never made a soundtrack let alone a full song (using a midi keyboard as well) so I was really pushing myself out of my comfort zone. Since I was working on this remotely as it was easiest to do in a quiet environment where there were no interruptions, it meant the collaborative aspect to this section of the project was removed. Ultimately this was down to not having the time to get constant feedback/ make many alterations to what I was making, it just had to be done in time. I feel as though my group were understanding of this and trusted me to do a good job of this part of our performance. I was also using the storyboard I had made during the first two weeks of this semester as a constant reference to make sure what I was creating related to what was happening within the performance and to make sure it linked back up with all of the other story boards.

(Tuesday)

We were very aware that our Nature Lab outcome was being neglected at this point in time so we decided to use this week to complete as much of it as possible. Upon inspection, the wire we had asked Hemza to buy from hobby craft was on the thinner side and would need reinforcement in order for it to withstand having things attached to it. Our solution to this was twisting each pice of wire around itself to make it double the thickness. Some longer pieces we repeated this process to make them even more sturdy and to make the intended form more secure. It needed this structure as the tubing and the leaves would be attached to the wire frame base. Once we me and Zoe had twisted enough separate pieces of wire, we combined them to make one whole structure:

After dividing the leaves equally, attempting to give a similar amount of blank ones, ones with roots, ones with bark and ones with mushrooms to everyone, I began to fill my own in. While the others selected watercolours as their medium, I opted for pro markers as their leaves started to buckle under the water content of the paper. We chose not to use acrylic paint, oil paint, or anything similar as we were aware that once these had dried, the water would not be able to penetrate the paper in the way that we needed it to. While using pro markers meant I was slightly more limited on my colour choices in comparison to the others, I was still able to use the colour palettes made by Liz on each leaf.

After lunch me and Zoe had our meeting with the head of school. This meeting had been on my mind all throughout grad+ week and while I was nervous about it, I was keen to find a solution to the issues we were having. I felt as though while I could have made more of an effort to repair things with Amie after the meeting, I didn't have the energy to do so and my priority was to make sure everything was completed in time for our hand in. I also like to think that I am a nice person, capable of separating friendships and work so that if we were to work with each other in the future there would be no issues on my end. This whole situation has reminded me of how well I can carry myself. Being polite, articulate, knowing what is appropriate and raising valid concerns to my peers as well as higher authorities.

(friday)

We had group tutorials with Lara and Sarah which was a good way of listing out everything that needed doing in order to be ready for our hand in next Friday. Sarah went through the items she could share with us from her own project meaning we wouldn't have to buy new resources and could recycle her scraps. We also had another discussion of how to get the water throughout the piece which we narrowed down to either buying an Arduino motor pump or buying an IV bag of sorts. Sarah also gave us suggestions for different connectors that would allow us to divert streams of water through the tubes.

As I could paint my leaves at home, I wanted to focus on things I didn't have access to, such as the coding for the Nanopixels. Sarah set me up with the laptopand showed me how to use the libraries and presets/example codes for the lights. These gave me insight into what was possible. My aim was to have the colours blue, green and purple, maybe even red, on a twinkling effect to mimic how when light hits a starling, those first three colours reflect. To begin with I tried getting the blue, purple and green to fade smoothly into one another. This was because at the start, there would be a break in the code causing the lights to switch harshly or briefly turn off. What I found most difficult about this section of code was understanding the whole "i" variable and how the line of code would effect the way the colours fade. I feel as though my knowledge of maths definitely helped me come to terms with the phrases and by the end I understood what each term meant. I stayed at the school of Art until 8:30pm that night as I wanted to have some success from the day of coding. Here are the results:

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angelguk · 3 years

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OMg angst thoughts for jock couple...one of them (probably oc) most likely got stood up for a date bc jk has trainings so oc goes on a spiral thinking abt what if theyre just in this relationship cos its comfortable for them and like theyve known each other the longest and maybe theyre dating bc of some twisted ver of stockholm syndrome n oc gets all 😔😔💔😡 and starts ignoring jk for some time

i have been mulling over this for awhile (i think you also sent a follow-up angst ending but lets set the scene first shall we)

pairing: jock!jk and oc

warnings: angst, poor communication, oc being insecure and jk being clueless (and kind of an asshole)

soundtrack: antidote by gas dapperton

(titled — bite the hand that feeds the heart)

You’ve tapped your phone on roughly ten times now, narrowed eyes staring at the time with each lighting of your screen. Every minute that ticks by sinks deep into your heart, clawing something open there, ribs struggling to keep your feelings contained. But you can feel them swelling at the brim of your gaze, eyes blinking harsh under the subdued tawny glow of streetlights. You kick you shoes against the ground to speed up time, pressing your back into the hard brick wall behind you, searching for some sense of support. Even with your mindless excursions, the time still drags on, shifting from ten to fifteen to thirty idle minutes waiting for your lover.

He turns the corner the second you decide to give up and go home.

“Hey!” Jeongguk’s hair dances in the night wind, delicate curls lifting gracefully. “Sorry–sorry! Coach kept us late for a team meeting and then Yoonoh wanted to borrow my notes and then I found out I had an essay due which I had no ide–”

“It’s okay.” You cut him off with an iciness, kicking yourself off the wall, your dark sweater coddling your frame. Autumn was seeping in, once vibrant green trees falling into hues amber and gold. This was your favourite season, the slow quiet onset of winter warming your heart. But that feeling is absent now, your face sent in a scowl as you trudge towards the nearest convenience store, eyes focused on the bright white luminescence of it not bothering to check if Jeongguk is following you.

You can’t see it but he’s staring at the back of your head strangely, lips twisting down with concern.

When he grabs your arm, easily linking it with his, you nearly shrug him off.

“Hey,” Jeongguk tries, tone ginger. “I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to be late, but today was he–”

“You could have texted.”

“I–I I know, I just for–”

“It’s fine, Jeongguk,” you snap, finally giving into the urge to shove him away. “It’s fine. You just keep doing this and I hate it.”

You steady walk forward is interrupted by him yanking you back, twisting you around to face him.

“Doing what? Is it my fault that I’m busy all the time?”

“No,” you spit. “I understand that. But you keep thinking I’m just gonna be around waiting for you forever, Jeongguk and that’s not fair!”

The sigh that drifts from his lips irks you. Like you’re the inconvenience to him when all you’ve done is rearrange your world to fit him at the centre.

“God what is your issue? I’m late a couple times and suddenly I’m the villain?” His eyes are hard, jaw set like this has been stuck in his throat for a while and the words are ecstatic to be let out.

“Literally fuck off,” it’s there already, the edge you’ve been slipping on since this all started. At first it was a quiet worry, mulling at the back of your head, but lately, ever since Chayoung opened her big fat mouth it’s grown louder. Insistent to be heard, demanding to break this gentle thing in your hands. “You’re being a dickhead right now.”

“Me?” Jeongguk huffs. “You’re the one complaining about something useless.”

“Useless? My time is useless to you?”

You see it flash in the honey of his eyes, quick enough that you might have missed it had you blinked. “What the hell is this about?” Jeongguk whispers. He’s reaching out for you, hands looking for an anchor. “Why are you so cryptic all the time? Why can’t you just tell me what the problem is?”

Maybe he’s right, because you’re not being honest here. But admitting it to him means admitting it to yourself and you’re too afraid to do that. Too afraid to lose the most precious thing to you, to your heart.

“Cryptic? If you even fucking listened to me for one sec–”

“I do!” Jeongguk returns, eyes narrow. “You just say things and never mean them.”

That gets you, heart stopping dead in your chest. You suddenly wish you could take it all back; the kiss on the rooftop of his apartment, the nights you spent in his bed learning the taste of him, the murmurs of love you’d left on his skin. Because did they mean anything? Did you even truly love him?

That question burns in your head, splits your heart right open, bleeding through the cracks of your ribs.

“You should go home,” you finally murmur. Jeongguk blanches, doe eyes wide.

“What–what? Y/N what the hell are you talking about?”

“Go home,” you repeat, twisting your head away. You can’t look at him cause if you do you’ll cry and you don’t want Jeongguk to see you like that. He grabs your shoulder, you rip his hand away. “Go home, Jeongguk! I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

For second there’s a moment of silence, you take it and start walking forward, up the to convenience store. A whisper in your head tells you he’ll follow, force you to talk to him, share the secrets mauling your heart. But then you hear the scrap of his sneakers against the pavement, fading away instead of drawing close. You walk until you’re at the top of the hill, frame illuminated by the stores bright lights. You look back then, hoping he’s still there. Your gaze finds an empty road instead, copper leaves skipping through the breeze. He’s gone, left you alone to drown in this, like the louder voice in your head knew he would.

#au: jock!jaykay #jungkook x reader #jungkok angst #well....#not all sunshine and rainbows for this couple unfortunately #hope i got ocs sudden realisation of... do i love him or is he just familiar to me right #bts x reader #bts angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario

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jakesguitarstring · 3 years

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let our hearts be the only sound || j.m.k

summary: movie nights with josh are a ritual. until one thing changes everything you’d ever known... a little friends to lovers with my favorite front man.

words: 2.8k

warnings: this is basically pure smut {18+ minors DNI!}

He normally picked the movie for your annual movie nights. He was the film buff after all. And in all of these years he had introduced you to films, directors, and even genres that you never would've discovered on your own. And there was also the added bonus of his expert commentary through the whole movie. Especially since you were one of the very few who enjoyed his rambles during the film, which was how movie nights had started with you years ago. Normally someone would tell Josh to stop interrupting and ruining the movie, but you never stopped him because you loved to watch his eyes light up with passion as he pointed out a camera trick that was invented on that set or a particular line that was inspired by a line from another movie no one else had ever heard of. Josh knew it all it seemed and you loved nothing more than learning from him, so you became his go-to for movie nights. Tonight Josh had picked an underground horror movie. It was a little more gruesome than you normally liked, so you found yourself staring at Josh for most of the movie.

"But the soundtrack for this is incredible isn't it?" he expressed with a huge smile. You murmured an agreement, although you didn't really remember any of the soundtrack. "And you know the director of this actually went on to direct..." he stopped and turned to you. He was silent.

"What?" You stared back at him.

He shook his head. "No... it's nothing."

You poked his rib playfully. "Aw, come on Josh. Tell me."

"Well, I just realized you're not really into this one." He looked a little embarrassed.

You shrugged. "I like it."

He smiled again and poked you in your ribs. "Now don't lie to me. You're a terrible liar."

"I am not!"

"So you admit to lying?"

You rolled your eyes. "The movies fine. Maybe a little too bloody for me."

"You're not afraid of a little gore are you?" He teased.

"Woah. Who said anything about being afraid? That isn't what I said."

"It's okay to admit it." He moved closer to you. "I'm here to protect you."

You laughed heartily. "I don't need protection. And besides I don't think you'd be the first I'd turn to."

He feigned hurt as he put his hand on his chest. You rolled your eyes.

"Can we just finish the movie please." You said.

He leaned even closer to your face. "As long as you promise not to be too scared." You pushed him away and tried to focus on the movie, which had now moved the plot from a murderous co-ed to the twist of her actually being possessed by the spirit of a serial killer from the seventies. It was a little derivative but the scares we good and now you were starting to get into it. Maybe a little too into it. Because you heard a noise on the window and you jumped and clambered into Josh's arms. He grasped onto tightly.

"Did you hear that?" You whispered into his chest.

"It was just a tree branch against the window," he explained softly. You lifted your head to look at the window to see the branch in question repeat the sound.

"Oh." Your heartbeat started to return to normal and you started to feel a little embarrassed about flinging yourself onto Josh.

He chuckled. "I guess you did need a little protection huh?" You looked up at him, your faces only inches apart.

"If you tell anyone about this I'll shatter your kneecaps." You seethed.

"My lips are sealed." Your eyes dropped to his lips when he mentioned them.

"They better be Joshua." The energy changed between you two, the playful banter fell into reverent silence. You should pull away from him, but you couldn't move. His arms were tight around you and you felt safe and that safety felt too precious to separate from. You looked up to his eyes, but they were focused on your mouth. His face only inches away, it wouldn't take much movement for your lips to touch. And you both knew it. "Josh." You whispered.

"Tell me to stop." He murmured and lowered his face toward yours, pausing when your lips barely grazed his.

You felt breathless. "Don't stop."

His lips were on yours before you could blink, soft and sweet. You tightened your fists into his shirt and leaned further into his kiss. Somehow you felt grounded and more alive than ever before, but also you felt weightless and in a dreamlike state. His hands grazed down your sides to you hold onto your hips, setting your skin on fire in their path. When his grip tightened, you couldn’t help the moan that fell from your lips, but it made him pause. He pulled away from you, his lips were pink and perfect. But he shook his head. “I shouldn’t of done that.”

Your heart sank. “Why?” You whispered.

He rested his forehead on yours and laughed breathlessly. “Because I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

“Then don’t wait any more.”

His eyes were closed and you wanted nothing more than to kiss every part of his face. You pressed your lips against his cheek tentatively and he let go of a breath. You kissed his other cheek and then his forehead and his nose.

He sighed. “If we start, I won’t be able to stop.”

You lifted your head and adjusted yourself so that your legs straddled his hips and you pressed your palms onto his chest, feeling his heart’s rapid beat, a twin to your own heart. He opened his eyes and looked up at you. You stared down at him. “What if I said I never want you to stop?” You asked.

A ghost of a smile crossed his features and he started to rub the back of your thighs. “I think that can be arranged.” And his right hand was on the back of your neck and pulling you down toward him. The world around you disappeared and the only thing left in the universe was your body on top of Josh’s and his perfect lips against yours. His thumb massaged the back of your neck as he kissed you, he was slow and patient and loving, but you wanted more, so much more. So you deepened the kiss. He was surprised at your forwardness, but quickly caught up as he shifted beneath you. His other hand held onto your hip like a vice grip. He was holding himself back. Always a gentleman. He would never go any further than you wanted. He would let you take the lead. But you knew what he wanted. You could feel the desperation in his kiss, his lips reaching for yours every time you pulled away to breathe, his tongue exploring with reckless abandonment. He wanted you and you wanted him. Both of you had sat on opposite sides of this couch for years, silently begging the other to finally admit the magic between you, but it never happened. And now you had to make up for lost time. You ground your hips into his. He moaned and you trailed kisses across his jaw and neck and slipped your hand under his shirt.

“Touch me Josh.” You said as you moved your hips again, feeling him at your core.

His hands made quick work of both your shirt and bra and then they were lighting your skin aflame as they traversed your body. “So soft,” he murmured to himself. He palmed your breasts and you whimpered. He looked up at you and pinched your nipple, your head fell back with a deep moan escaping you. His mouth quickly replaced his fingers and you dug your nails into his chest. His arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to him and his other hand gave attention to your other breast. Heat coiled deep within you.

“More. More.” You said, not even caring if you sounded needy. He lifted his head to look at you.

“Tell me what you need.” He instructed.

You needed him. All of him. Desperately. Your hips moved again unconsciously. He smiled and he unbuttoned your jeans and slipped his hand in, lightly grazing your sensitive nub through your underwear.

“Is this what you want?” He asked, applying more pressure. You jerked your hips into him, his fingers moved to your soaked center. “Fuck,” he breathed. His eyes looked up into yours as his fingers continued their steady movements. He shifted and pushed himself up so he was sitting upright and then his mouth was on your other breast. You could feel the pleasure building deep within you. His fingers moved your panties to the side and then gathered the wetness from your core and circled your clit. Your head dipped into his neck as you moaned in pleasure. You kissed and nipped at his neck and jaw. And then he slipped a finger inside you, immediately searching for the most sensitive spot within you. He found it quickly and pressed deeply and perfectly. You fell forward into him, not being able to control your body.

“Can I feel you come on my fingers, please.” He begged. You couldn’t speak, but you nodded. He moved himself off of you and helped you lay down on your back on the couch. As he kissed your stomach, he took off your pants and underwear. Your hand absentmindedly massaged your breast. He bit his bottom lip as he looked at you, laying completely bare in front of him. There was not an ounce of self-consciousness in you as you watched his eyes fully take in your body because you knew he only saw beauty in you. You could see it in his features. You had never felt so wanted in your life. He was desperately hungry for you. You parted your legs for him and he was between your thighs instantly. His fingers found a steady rhythm quickly as his tongue lapped and swirled on your clit. It was heavenly. And you were coming undone before you even had time to think. Your hands tangled in his hair and your nails scraped his scalp. He moaned into you and you felt it vibrate through your whole body. You murmured and babbled his name and curses and praises as your mind completely cleared and all you could focus on was how good he felt. You clenched around his fingers as the crest of your pleasure began to overtake you. You came with his name on your lips in breathless ecstasy. His lips helped you surf the waves and slowly come down back to earth. You pushed his head away when it simultaneously became too much and not enough. His eyes connected with yours as his dripping fingers entered his mouth and he savored the taste of you.

“Josh, I need you.” You panted. He pulled away from you and sat back on his heels. His eyes were full of lust and want. He needed you just as much as you needed him.

“Condom.” He murmured. He nodded and swallowed, trying to clear his head. “I need a condom.” You smiled and nodded. He clambered off the couch and disappeared to find a condom, you assumed probably in his room. Your mind wandered and you wondered if he was the type to keep it in his dresser, hidden like an old habit from his teen years or if they were stored in his night stand for easy access in the throws of passion. You smiled to yourself. He came back quickly and shed his clothing. You stared at him and couldn’t help but think about how perfect he was. It was the only way to describe him. Your core clenched thinking about him inside of you finally.

He leaned down and kissed your lips with such care that you thought you were maybe in love. You’d known him for years and knew you loved him with every part of you, but having his lips on yours changed everything. He had your heart and you never wanted it back. He broke the kiss and you stopped yourself from whining.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asked. You wanted to laugh, but didn’t. You knew he was serious. That after all of this if he even had an inkling of you hesitating he would stop.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted,” you reassured him and caressed his cheek with your hand. He nuzzled your hand for a moment and climbed back onto the couch. You propped up on your elbows to watch him fumble with the condom, but his hands were shaking. You bit your bottom lip and sat up fully. His hands stopped as you lightly took them into yours.

“I’ve got you.” You smiled and took the condom from him. You swiftly opened the foil wrapper. His eyes were trained on your hands as they pinched the tip of the condom and rolled the rest down his length all the way to his base. Your mouth almost watered as you thought about wrapping your lips around him and taking him into your mouth instead, but there would be plenty of time for that later, so you kissed his stomach instead and then laid back again. His fingers grazed up your leg and spread them apart. He took himself into his hand and teased your entrance with his tip and brushed it up to your clit. You let out a breath and arched your back to him as he circled the nub. Then his lips attached themselves to yours again as he positioned himself at your entrance. He was slow and gentle as he eased himself into you. He filled you so completely it was almost overwhelming. Once he had pushed himself into the hilt at last, he paused and you breathed each other in. When you couldn’t take it any longer you moved your hips, hoping to prompt him to move. He understood and began an easy languid pace in and out of you, like you had all the time in the world… and for now you did. This was all that mattered in that exact moment, nothing else in the world could possibly take precedence over sharing this part of you with Josh. He didn’t take it greedily. He took it with patience and admiration as he held your face between his two hands, so that he could watch the pleasure play across your face. Your hips matched his pace as you met each other over and over again. This was all you’d ever wanted, but it was so much better than you could have ever thought. He knew you inside and out, he’s seen the very best of you and the very worst of you, and he still wanted you. Not only did he want you, but it felt like he needed you. That his very world would collapse if you weren’t in his arms. So you kissed him. You wanted him to know that you would never let go. That you would cling to him just like you were now for all of eternity. That the wind could come and knock down everything around you, but you would still have him. You weren’t building a house of cards with him. You were building a world, a universe together. Only the sun burning out and disappearing could possibly put an end to you two now that it had begun. He kissed you in return. He understood. He held you like an oath, like something sacred that he couldn’t bear to ever set down. In his arms you were his promise to give everything he had to you and you accepted it all with open arms. You would take it all and make room for more. You would become his safe haven and he would become your lighthouse.

One hand gripped tightly onto the couch cushion, the other held onto his shoulder, undoubtedly leaving crescent marks from your nails. You nipped at his other shoulder as his hand created patterns on your swollen bud. Your name was a repeated prayer from his lips as you both reached your heights. He stilled within you, hands tight on your hips and your legs wrapped around him. He kissed you with breathless pants and you kissed him back. This is exactly where you were meant to end up. Every decision you both made through your lives lead you right up to here, in each other's arms.

Later that night you laid in his bed together and stared up at the ceiling. His arms were a solid fortress around you as you two talked about the future. You talked about what all this meant between you. But you both knew that this was right. You could stay in his arms forever. And for now, that was the plan.

#greta van fleet #greta van fic #greta van fleet smut #josh kiszka #josh gvf #this was supposed to be a lot shorter but i got a little carried away oops #lmao #ive been trying to write other stuff but josh is really just on my mind 24/7 #so really this is his fault #my writing

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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Losing You Twice / 1: If I Hated You

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day weekend, and it turns out Y/N isn’t the only one struggling with the breakup. Category: Smut (18+), Angst Content Warnings: Language, drinking/getting drunk, penetrative/unprotected sex (If I missed anything, please let me know!) Word Count: 5,538

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

“My bedtime is the darkest, that’s when I’m brokenhearted. The nighttime is the hardest. It’d be easy, if I hated you.” —FLETCHER, If I Hated You

FEBRUARY 13th

It was Valentine's Day weekend, which sucked this time around. Every year for the past three years Y/N looked forward to Valentine's Day, but that was when she actually had someone to spend it with.

Well, someone she actually cared about, anyway... Whether or not Spencer actually knew it, she did really care about him. She was just stupid and didn't say it when he needed to hear it the most.

And now Valentine's Day was on Saturday and Y/N was still without him. Not alone, but still without the man who'd spent the significant holiday with her for the past three years. Memories of their dates and 'afterparties' flooded through her mind as she got ready for work like a montage, a cheesy love-song playlist she'd found on Spotify acting as the soundtrack.

Eventually she sighed and turned it off, opting for something more loud and obnoxious, and therefore not tainted by Spencer's memory. She applied what was left of her makeup and added a pair of earrings before turning the music off altogether and shoving her phone in her bag alongside her keys and other necessities.

Even though she wasn't emotionally prepared for all the cheesy Valentine's things she'd see and hear and experience throughout the weekend, it was still kind of nice to see that things in the bank never changed during the holidays— Everything in her life was so severely different at the moment, that if Marjorie had somehow decided to throw out all her elaborate decorations for each holiday, no matter how small, Y/N would have thought the world was truly ending.

Speaking of, she was met with Marjorie's brighter-than-the-sun smile almost immediately once she set her things in the breakroom.

"How's my little macaron this morning?" she chirped, Y/N chuckling slightly at the nickname— She brought macarons from the bakery down the street on her first birthday she spent at the bank, and ever since then, the older woman had adorned her with the namesake.

"She's alright, Marj... Better now that she's seen you..."

"That boy still on your mind, hon?"

Obviously Marjorie's intentions were good, but Y/N couldn't stand to think about the situation at all, least of all at work... So, setting her jacket on the rack, turned away so that her coworker wouldn't see the visible discomfort on her face, Y/N squeezed her eyes shut and cleared her throat. "So, what are your plans with Geno tomorrow night? Anything special?"

There was a brief pause before Marjorie cleared her throat as well. "Nothing short of our usual dinner plans, my dear. He's been so caught up with work at the Mill lately, I think we're just going to spend the night relaxing."

"Hm," Y/N said shortly, finally turning around and giving her the best smile she could. "Maybe I should take a page from your book and stay in..."

"You weren't going to?"

"No... Britt's been nagging me about getting out there so we're going out tomorrow night. We both haven't been single in a long time, so... Should be fun."

Marjorie didn't look convinced. Either way, she nodded with a smile and walked over to Y/N with something glittery and bright red in her hand— A cheap beaded necklace to clip her nametag onto. She draped it over Y/N's neck and patted her shoulders. "Well, I want you to have fun. And remember that you still have to come to work on Monday. Whatever shenanigans you get into should be reserved for Saturday night only so you can rest properly on Sunday, got it?"

Y/N laughed, thankful for the playful tone in Marjorie's voice. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Oh, I joke, I joke," the older woman said with a bright laugh, turning to walk out of the break room. "A little..."

The smile on Y/N's face only really lasted until after Marjorie was out of sight, then she went into her bag and clipped her nametag onto the red beaded necklace with a sigh.

Was she excited to have a good night out with Britt? Of course. Hell, had it been literally any other day of the year, she would have been practically bouncing off the walls with excitement at the idea of going out to a bar, letting men hit on her until she finally let one of them take her back to his place for the night.

But it just felt like it was too soon.

Either way, she was glad that she'd get to see Britt again, after she'd been on vacation for Christmas and New Year's to see her family and only got back a few weeks ago. She'd seen her on Facetime of course, and they met up once for coffee right after Britt got back from her trip, but a well-needed night out and quality time getting ready together was something that had been missing from their friendship for almost a year.

Y/N knew Britt would most likely spend her time trying to hook them up with end-of-the-night dates, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad...

Even still, sleeping alone the night before was probably one of the worst spells of loneliness she'd ever had. It was normal to be sad spending the first Valentine's Day in years away from a significant other, but knowing how things ended between them—bitter and stained with words left unsaid—this time was just... cold.

And that was putting it lightly.

Y/N laid in bed that night, her eyes wide open and staring at the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars that adorned the ceiling. They used to give her comfort, but now they just reminded her of all the nights she'd spend with Spencer, listening to him tell stories about the constellations. They were some of the most peaceful memories she had.

And now those, too—those stars that had grounded her pretty much all her life and reminded her of the better days—were tainted by her inability to properly communicate.

She almost thought about taking them down.

But if she was really going to get over him this time, for good, then she'd have to learn to make new memories with the stars. Even if it was painful. Even if replacing those memories and writing new ones over them absolutely tore her soul to pieces.

And, as if that pain wasn't enough, that night Y/N dreamt of him, making love to her amongst the stars in every galaxy, only to wake up the next morning cold and alone.

FEBRUARY 14th

She promptly decided that she hated his guts.

It was Valentine's Day, Y/N was respectfully buzzed, and courtesy of two beers and four shots of tequila, she'd just deleted Spencer's number from her phone.

"I'm done," she said, waving a hand at Britt and shoving her phone in her purse. "He doesn't deserve my wallowing."

"Yeah!"

Britt was significantly the more drunk of the two, resulting in a fit of giggles after gaining some stares from the people around them at her sudden outburst.

Y/N smiled, finishing off another shot and shaking her head. "We need more!"

"More shots!" Britt hurried off to grab them, leaving her friend behind with a half-drunken smile that also only felt half-genuine.

Sure, she decided she hated Spencer's guts, but her heart didn't exactly agree well with that sentiment. Even after deleting his number from her phone, after downing all that alcohol, her heart still ached.

Y/N knew deep down that getting over him was going to take some time. A lot of time... But maybe one night of distraction would help.

So the shots kept coming, and by the end of the night, Y/N was just about at her limit.

Which was near black-out drunk. And when you're that drunk you tend to make decisions you wouldn't soberly condone.

Britt got into a cab, and she begged Y/N to come with her, but she assured her friend that she had someone to come pick her up. Eventually the cab driver got tired of their inability to decide, and when Y/N told him to go, he did, leaving her alone on the side of the street at 1am.

Unfortunately, it was incredibly cold, and she didn't really have anyone to come pick her up. And that's where the bad decisions started.

Y/N pulled her phone out, a long sigh escaping her as she dialed the number by heart.

Would he even pick up? He hadn't answered any of her calls or texts before, so why would it have been any different now? Not to mention it was Valentine's Day Weekend. With her luck, he was probably in bed with someone else. Someone who wasn't her. As she listened to the dial tone repeating in her ear, images of him wrapped up with somebody else—sleeping in the bed she'd slept in many times before—clouded her drunken brain and made her more angry than anything.

Her gut twisted, and she almost hung up.

But then the low buzz of the dial tone abruptly stopped and in its place came his voice.

"Y/N?"

Her name on his lips, even through the phone, was grounding, the anger in her system melting away and revealing a coat of drunken relief.

"Spencer! You answered!"

"Yeah... Are you— Is everything okay?"

"Pff, yeah, 'm-fine. Just really fucking cold."

"You're not outside, are you?"

"Duh, I'm outside... I wouldn't be cold in-side... Besides, I didn't call t'alk bout the weather, I need you t'come pick me up."

There was a brief pause, and for a moment Y/N didn't think he was going to say anything she wanted to hear. She swayed on the sidewalk, shivering and praying that he would throw her a bone, even if she'd regret it all in the morning.

"Where are you?" he said finally, and despite herself, she smiled.

FEBRUARY 15th

Spencer couldn't believe he was picking her up at near two in the morning.

Honestly, he'd initially thought about ignoring her call again, but remembering the day it was and taking note of the time, he figured she was most likely in some type of inebriated trouble.

His instincts were right, of course, but he wished that he could have been wrong. He wished she'd only been calling to drunkenly ramble on about how she missed him or maybe how he was stupid and she never wanted to see his face ever again, because that was normal. At least then he could have hung up after she was done and never thought about it again— it was a normal step in any relationship that helped move things along. They could have gotten on with their lives and it would have all been over.

But of course it was never that simple.

Y/N was never that simple.

He pictured her on the street near some bar, alone and cold and drunk, and of course he would have been the only one she could call to rescue her. After all, he'd been pretty much the only thing she'd ever known to make her feel safe.

Still, he wished he was capable of only giving her a ride home and then leaving.

But again, it was never that simple.

It was easy getting her into the car— that wasn't what he was worried about. Rather, it was the fated moment where she'd ask him to stay after he finally got her tucked safely into bed that worried him. Because it was bad enough that it was Y/N... It was her in all her alluring glory, and he'd never been able to deny her anything no matter how badly he tried or wanted to.

Now add on the fact that she was drunk, and most likely sad on their first Valentine's Day apart, and it was a recipe for disaster.

Even if she'd broken his heart, Spencer still cared about her.

Which is why he inevitably agreed to stay, at least until she fell asleep.

He knew her well enough to know all the ways she'd try to get him under the covers with her, so it was a familiar amusement that settled in his being when he was finally able to get on top of the covers with her underneath. But as he entertained her silly little questions with the right answers until she fell asleep, Spencer noticed something else accompanying that amusement.

Guilt.

And then anger for feeling guilty about her sadness— sadness that could have been avoided had she just gotten over whatever was holding her back and either returned his "I love you" or told him she wasn't feeling the same way just yet.

All she had to do was talk.

He had a right to feel upset about Y/N holding back when he'd been nothing but patient, spending almost every year of their relationship trying to make her see that she had nothing to be afraid of. He'd given her every chance to talk about what she was feeling, whether it was happy or not, and every time she pushed it all away in favor of sex.

That wasn't what he wanted in a relationship, so he ended it. And there was absolutely nothing wrong with that.

So why was he feeling so fucking guilty?

He blamed his good nature and innate need to please people, to make them feel good and happy. But he also blamed Y/N and her adorable drunken sleeping face.

He watched as she slept, willing himself not to forget the way she hurt him. She'd completely stolen his heart and shattered it at the same time, and if he was being honest, she still held some of the pieces. But he couldn't get them back, not if he didn't want to risk shattering her own heart in the process.

It felt like they were tied together by some strong, invisible force that wouldn't break unless both of them broke right along with it.

So... maybe he could afford to leave those pieces of his heart with her. He'd have to if they were going to get out of this alive. Not unscathed, sure, but alive nonetheless.

Once he was sure she was deep in sleep, Spencer quietly and carefully got off the bed and navigated through her apartment, getting her a glass of water and leaving it on the table next to her bed. And because he couldn't help it, he cleaned up some of the clothes that were scattered around her floor, depositing them into the hamper and straightening out a few more things that were out of place.

He looked over at her sleeping figure one more time, sighed, and then left, keeping her bedroom door open just a crack.

***

Spencer knew he shouldn't have stayed longer.

Despite his better judgement, he'd plopped himself down on her couch after making sure she was sound asleep, hoping to catch his breath and sort through what he was feeling before he got behind the wheel. But of course, it was 2am and he was exhausted, and he couldn't stop himself from closing his eyes and drifting off.

And now he was sitting up, looking around the apartment through the lens of morning.

Though the curtains were sheer, they didn't provide much light, but enough of it showed him just how familiar the space was. Y/N hadn't moved anything around. The same art was on the same walls, the potted ivy plant on her mantle sat un-watered and withering, and every book and record and DVD on her shelves was in the exact same spot as they'd all been the last time he was there in December.

Meanwhile, after the breakup he'd re-arranged everything. He was so sure that they were through for good this time around that he wanted a clean slate. Not that he wanted to rid himself of her memory completely, but if he was going to move on from the hold she'd had on him, he had to do something...

And yet, he ended up at her apartment the morning after Valentine's Day all the same.

He heard the shower running faintly a couple rooms away. You didn't have to pass the couch to get there, so maybe she hadn't seen him sleeping and he could get away cleanly.

Spencer scrambled off the couch, thankful that he hadn't removed his jacket or his shoes and that he could just sprint towards the door without having to find any of his belongings.

But as luck would have it, the second he took a step, the shower turned off. He had to get out of there quickly, but if he did then she'd definitely know he'd stayed overnight. But if he went quietly, he wouldn't have enough time before she caught him.

Maybe I could hide...

He shook the thought with a roll of his eyes, settling on the clearest course of action, which was to make as quick of a getaway as he could. He'd try to be quiet as well, though the creaky door was going to be nearly impossible to get through without a sound.

His hand was on the doorknob when he heard her voice.

"You didn't think you could spend the night and then leave without saying goodbye, did 'ja?"

The pure amusement in her tone made his stomach churn, and it wasn't unpleasant in the slightest.

Spencer turned and smiled softly, avoiding looking at her completely. "Sorry. Didn't want to bother you."

"You're never a bother."

That sentiment held less amusement and more sincerity, which was what guided his eyes to meet the woman who said the words.

His stomach twisted again when he saw her, exactly like he knew she'd be— wrapped in nothing but a thin towel with near-dripping hair cascading down her back. Her legs were bare and exposed, the towel not only thin but short, which meant that her chest was also practically spilling out of it. Despite the obvious and inevitable hungover look in her eye, there was also a good splash of that mischief that'd always been there— the kind that spelled out trouble.

He needed to get out of there.

"Well, um... I'm glad I got you home safe," he said, clearing his throat. "I should... I should go."

"You sure you don't wanna stay for breakfast?"

Spencer could have sworn she was teasing him, dangling her body in front of him like a meal they both knew he wouldn't be able to resist. But then she added, "I've got everything I need for your favorite omelet," and he exhaled with a small smile, exhausted with his own mind for convincing him that she was out to pull him back in.

Still, he declined. "No, I... I shouldn't. But, uh, thank you..."

"You sure?"

This time when he looked up at her, she was closer. She was gently striding forward to meet him, and he half thought about backing up towards the door until he realized he was already there.

"I—I'm sure. Really."

"But you drove around all night just to take me home when I was drunk, the least I can do is feed you..."

"Eh, it's alright. It's... Nothing I haven't done before."

She stopped then, her eyes briefly dropping to the floor. It was like her whole demeanor changed—just for a second—from the prowess she'd always been, to what seemed to be a woman filled with sadness and regret. It didn't last long though, just enough for Spencer to notice it before she looked back up at him with that wicked gleam in her eye and a remark right at the tip of her tongue.

"Still. I feel bad, making you do all that for me... Especially now."

He wasn't sure what to make of this... It seemed like she was sincere, but she was also alluring, calling to him like a siren leading him to his ultimate demise. And while he'd come to know that as merely a part of her nature, he couldn't help but shake the feeling that she was doing it on purpose.

She was in a skimpy towel, after all, and she definitely knew how to use that to her advantage.

It didn't help that he didn't have the courage to leave. Everything inside of him right then longed to drop that towel and indulge himself once more. Putting aside all the heartache and the differences they shared, all he felt in that moment was the need to touch her— to get lost in her and never be found again.

She was his fatal flaw, and it was painfully obvious.

Spencer knew he shouldn't have stayed longer...

He was over to her in just three strides, throwing off his jacket and tossing it aside before cradling her face with his hands and bringing their lips together for the first time since Christmas Eve.

The small whine in her throat signaled that she hadn't expected it, but welcomed it all the same. The moment she lifted her arms to wrap around his neck, the towel fell to the floor, and there was no going back.

"What about breakfast?" Y/N breathed out once they pulled away for air.

Spencer contemplated, studying her face, seeing the way her eyes sparkled, and decided on the two words that sealed his fate.

"Screw breakfast."

Their lips were melded together almost as soon as the words left his mouth. And it wasn't long before every other part of their bodies were melded together as well.

Y/N helped him take the rest of his clothes off as they danced around the entryway and the living room. Everything was open, no walls separating the living room from the kitchen, so to compensate for the lack of breakfast they'd be eating, they migrated to the kitchen counter once Spencer had off everything but his boxers.

He trapped her against the cool marble of the countertop, her back hitting it solid and sending a shiver up her spine. Meanwhile his hands roamed her body, unsure of where to be other than on her at all times, whether it be her waist, her stomach, her arms, her breasts, or her ass. He wanted to feel all of her, and quite frankly she wanted the same.

She even told him so, in her own way, by bringing one of her legs up and wrapping it around his waist, pulling him closer to her as she wove her fingers through his hair and tasted his tongue with her own.

The action elicited a groan from his mouth, low and desperate. Spencer settled his hands on her waist and gripped it tight, silently telling her what to do.

So she jumped up and he helped guide her swiftly onto the counter. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist again, and he found himself grinding into her hips, urgent to feel every part of her. And thankfully she was feeling rather desperate herself, because she rolled her hips up into him in return, breaking their mouths apart just briefly to speak.

"Fuck me..."

There was so much he wanted to say to her in that moment— how badly he was feeling about keeping her entertained while he was slowly deteriorating inside from her emotional detachment and rejection, how much she frustrated him, and more prominently, how she was so goddamn impatient and that he was getting there...

But all that he could manage was a broken, desperate whisper of her name.

It was all he'd ever known.

All that frustration... All that anger, heartache, passion, and time apart combined beautifully into those few syllables that made up her name and tore him apart from the inside out.

And his hands were just as destructive.

Spencer deftly dropped his boxers to the ground and pushed forward, almost losing all sense of self the moment the head of his dick finally made contact with her cunt. He made his way inside of her and then used both of his hands to grip her waist and bring her closer, their mouths connecting harshly as they found one another once again.

His grip was bruising— not possessive in any way, but desperate, like he had to cling to her for dear life or he wouldn't live to see another day. He held himself inside her, sighing and whimpering into her mouth as she clenched around him. It was so familiar, so comfortable and exhilarating that he almost didn't even want to move. He thought about staying there, still inside her forever.

But as always, Y/N was insatiable.

She wrapped all her limbs around him and held on, rolling her hips and seeking friction in any way possible when she briefly tore her lips away from his.

"I need you, baby, please..."

Even as his heart started to rumble in his chest, well aware of the fact that she still probably didn't love him the way he loved her, Spencer gave her everything. He pulled out and snapped his hips forward again, setting a strong, steady pace that had Y/N's eyes rolling back, and the payoff of hearing her sigh out his name was more than enough to keep him going.

Her nails dug deliciously into his shoulders, the faint sting adding something reminiscent of gasoline to a fire. The flames grew taller and brighter the more he fucked her, and with each gradual increase of volume and intensity, it was a wonder the whole kitchen around them hadn't literally burst into flames.

That's how they always were.

Together like this, so lost in the high of each others' bodies, it was easy to forget the things that made their relationship so hard. It was easy to let all the negativity slip away into the throes of pent-up, well-needed sex. The high they gave each other was merely that— A high...

A distraction.

And while that's exactly what Y/N needed, what she preferred in most cases, it's what Spencer recognized as completely unhealthy, despite his coming back to it every time.

It's also why he dreaded the moment ending. Because once they came down from the high, all that's left would be sadness, regret... Guilt... Their fire burned hot, brightly and wildly, but in the aftermath would lay only a thick layer of deadly smoke between them— hard to navigate, and nearly impossible to breathe in without suffocating.

So they simply burned and burned and burned...

Spencer gripped her so tight he was sure to leave her with bruising. And in turn Y/N dragged her nails down his back and dug them into his ass, her palm laying firmly over the muscles that aided in fucking her into the marbled surface. She whined out curses and moans, and he cried out broken whispers of her name, pet names, and curses alike.

Even once she'd come, he kept going, willing himself to hold on as long as he could. She whined into his ear at the overstimulation. And rather than keeping her legs wrapped around his body, she decided to spread them wide, perching her heels up on the counter as far as she could go and anchoring her fingers through his hair.

And though she might not have had enough orgasms in her to keep up with him, she welcomed it all the same—She welcomed the burn just as much as he did.

Even still, no fire can burn forever.

All concept of time was lost by the time Spencer finally collapsed forward, completely spent and barely standing on weak legs after coming twice. Y/N held onto him tightly to keep him upwards, lightly massaging his scalp with gentle fingers and closing her eyes as she focused on his breathing— the way it fanned over the skin of her bare shoulder and how it sounded, perfectly in time with hers...

It was the most peaceful she'd been in a long time.

She felt him pull out of her, the both of them groaning at the feeling, and a little at the mess it would make.

Spencer gently peeled his body off of hers, sniffing once and avoiding her eyes. "Sorry... You just got out of the shower..."

"It's fine," Y/N breathed. She begged him silently to look her in the eye, but he remained still... Most likely thinking. She could practically see the cogs turning in his brain.

So, in an effort to lighten the mood a bit, she added with a breathy laugh, "Besides... It's nothing I haven't done before."

The callback to his words—and memories of all the times they'd found themselves in this position before—got Spencer to laugh a little, but he still wouldn't meet her eyes.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "I'll... I'll grab the wipes?"

"Oh. Sure," Y/N returned with a thankful smile. It was hopeful, too, though the moment he was out of eyesight, it turned rather sad.

She'd known that behavior before, seen that hesitation in his movements and that sound in his voice.

It was guilt.

Regret.

Probably a bit of self-hatred, too.

When he returned, a pile of her clothes in hand and the bag of wipes on top, she took them from him with a kind smile and cleaned herself up while he put his clothes back on.

The silence was more uncomfortable than anything either of them had ever experienced.

So much so, that Y/N couldn't even muster up the courage to ask him to stay for breakfast— and she always did after one of their post-break hookups.

Maybe this time really was different.

Spencer was just at the door again when she stopped him.

"Thank you," she said. Her voice was so small, he almost didn't hear it. "For bringing me home..."

But he paused, turned, and finally looked her in the eye.

He almost sunk to his knees right there...

Seeing her, arms crossed like she was trying to keep warm, as her head hung low and she looked up at him through sad, hooded eyelids...

It reminded him of the woman he fell in love with.

But in his peripheral, he saw the towel on the floor and was reminded of the woman who'd shattered his heart.

Spencer cleared his throat. Once upon a time he might have returned her thanks with, Anytime, but... Honestly he wasn't sure there could ever be another time. For his sanity, he'd have to avoid 'anytime' at all costs.

So, he settled on, "You're welcome."

He was glad to see her return his kind smile with one of her own, even if it was tainted with sadness, and a small wave goodbye.

Maybe this time it would stick.

Even still, as he closed the door behind him and made his way to the parking lot, for some reason it didn't quite feel like goodbye.

And some of that deadly smoke that settled in his lungs as he drove further and further away from her apartment was inclined to agree.

***

Neither of them could sleep that night.

While Spencer stared out the window of the jet, a little annoyed to be called out on a case so late but at least thankful for the distraction, Y/N laid in bed, staring at the stars on her ceiling.

The same constellation caught their eye.

Columba.

The Dove.

She hadn't even meant to arrange the stars like that, but one night after a date, they were laying in her bed and Spencer pointed out that the cluster of plastic stars right in the corner of the ceiling looked like Columba.

Y/N fondly remembered Spencer telling her about how it was originally named to represent Noah's dove, which searched for dry land during the great biblical flood and returned carrying an olive branch to make news of its recession— of peace at last.

The memory made her smile. It tugged at her heart and made her dreams of him even more vivid.

All the same, Spencer noticed the constellation outside the jet window and remembered that same night. The smile on her face as he told her the story, the feel of her fingers gliding softly over the bare skin of his forearm...

It was the first night since he'd met her that he thought it.

I love her...

He almost told her then, too, but he was afraid it was too soon. So he refrained.

Looking back, Spencer was starting to regret that— Maybe without that extra time together, breaking up would have been easier. But instead, he gave her more time. He gave himself more time to fall deeper in love with her, and in the end it still wasn't enough.

Now they were both looking at the same constellation, one made of plastic and the other of gas, wondering if their flood would ever recede.

And in the event that it did... Who would be the dove, and what would be their olive branch?

“You know I dream about getting back together in the future, I could focus on you. But if I leave right now, I hope that you don’t find someone that touches you the way that I do...”

***

SERIES TAGLIST: @reidyoulikeabook @yourmisosoup @fortheloveofcriminalminds @bellzo17 @altsvu @flipperpenguins @mcumorningstar

TAGS NOT WORKING: @reid-to-me @totallyclearwitch

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds angst #losing you twice

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honeyatsu · 3 years

Text

Loner [Junpei x f!reader] 3

warnings: minor mentions of bullying, minor blood.

Summary:

Junpei was suspicious of you. He always felt the world was filled with people who were naturally evil in some way, until you came into his life and challenged his theory.

crossposted here

masterlist

unorganized soundtrack

The sky’s the limit – a feeling that felt so far away to you, finally came back after years, while being at the top of the cheer pyramid, the crowd cheering you on for your team; for you as you strike the high-V pose, smiling at the crowd. It used to be scary, having to be at the very top, being the flyer, having to deny your body to react to the natural fatigue of bouncing around, repeating the same memorized routine, stunts, and cheers – only showing a smile and perfectly synched show to the crowd.

It used to be scary, having to trust your team to be able to hold you without dropping you. It was scary being brought into an environment where you were a part of a team, having only done sports where you would rely on yourself and your trained skills alone. To have a team where trust was such an important part of making things work, being at each other’s mercy when tossing you into the air, was horrifying to say the least. The act of trusting itself is scary.

Your eyes scanned the crowd slowly, subconsciously blurring them all out, it felt weird seeing all those eyes on you from that up high. Taking deep breathes you tried to steady your breathing, focus on being still and present and not let your mind wander because anything that goes wrong could lead to you falling down and being the cause of your team’s loss.

If you were being honest, you hated cheer – at least you did in the beginning. Admittedly, you were done with sports. You’ve been done with sports for a while, it’s not that you hated pushing your body past it’s limits, it’s not like you didn’t enjoy getting stronger, faster, more resilient.

But while being at the very top, while catching your breath and trying to be as still as you physically could, you couldn’t help but feel the excitement bubbling up in your chest by thinking about sitting with that black leathered sketchpad and a pencil. Honestly, a few years down the line, you found a new passion. The moment your pencil stroked along the first paper of the new sketch pad you’d gotten for your thirteenth birthday, you were hooked. It almost felt ludicrous, as if you’d be a part of an affair. Dedicating so much of your youth to athleticism, that being all you knew, your passion was led elsewhere while sitting on your bed with the fondest memory of your father teaching you basic sketching techniques.

But then are moments like this – the way the crowd would cheer for you, your team, the bright eyes beaming at you do what not everyone is willing to work hard enough to do, seeing the admiration of younger girls in the crowd, this feeling was enough for you too.

(You remember after your first martial art tournament, a young girl no older than the age of nine years old came up to you, saying when she grows up, she wants to be strong like you. Strong, that’s a word you would have never used to describe yourself as, but if sports are what brought the trait out of you, just leaving would be leaving a piece of you behind you weren’t sure you’d get back.)

You knew you would cause a minor deduction for your team, looking down at the dangling gold chain that slipped out of your cheer top, not keeping the eyes on the crowd for a mere few seconds can cause a strain in performance points along with the noticeable uniform violation. Mentally cursing yourself, you shot your head back up as you were thrown up in the air, performing the stunt known as the basket toss before landing on the ground. As soon as your feet touched the ground a familiar feeling of anxiousness flowed throughout your body like a stream, being done and awaiting the results were almost horrifying for you – knowing your small distraction could be marked as a huge slip-up. One thing you’ve gotten from being an athlete is you’re expected no less than perfection and being so new to this specific sport, you weren’t sure you were able to offer that, but it didn’t hurt your ego any less.

Waiting was the hard part – and that could be said for your entire team.

The motions of you and your teammates chest were shaky and slow, holding on to each other’s hands as you waited for them to announce first place. In your mind, the crowd was becoming larger while your team shrunk as their eager eyes gazed upon you, almost as nerve-wrecked to hear the results like you; every passing second, your team felt smaller and smaller. The saliva in your mouth becoming sticky and thick, rolling your tongue around trying run from the dry feeling surrounding your mouth. Your free hand subconsciously made way to the uniformed skirt, squeezing tight to the fabric– anything to physically release the unease churning in your stomach. For a moment everything was silent, you were so nervous that you put the world on mute as your eyes shut tight, anticipating the results that seemed to take too long to come.

The first thing you heard were the cheers, the announcement from the judges slipping your mind. In slow motion, you felt your team mates huddle around, crying, yelling, cheering, you all have just one first place to one of the most challenging competitions of the year.

You tried your best not to look at the section of your school, it’s been years since your mother has been to any of you sporting events; due to her heavy workload. A part of you was hoping to see one familiar face in the crowd, but you knew the chances were slim considering these types of things weren’t exactly his cup of tea. Before giving up your short search, you spotted the same brown hair you like to play with while sitting under a tree during lunch, the same long bang on the right side of his face that you want to push back so bad to get a full view of his angelic face he insisted on hiding from the world. He was sitting alone in an isolated row, far enough to be away from the large crowd but close enough for you to get a good view of him giving you a bright, wide smile, cheering for you loudly and proudly. You take it in – you almost forgot how good it felt to have someone cheering for you, it’s been years since seeing someone close and dear to you come to support you in these types of settings. You beam at him, waving frantically and cheering, giving him a smile that was so new to him, your cheeks high and corner of eyes wrinkled, a smile that says thank you, and he gave you a sheepish smile back, reassuring the same way you’ve been there for him, he will for you, even if it means coming to events that are out of his comfort zone.

After bowing and thanking the crowd for supporting your team, you guys head off to the back to go to the locker rooms to change and get ready to leave. Your teammates were chatting amongst each other while you were stuck in thought, how long it’s been since you’ve been in a competition that intense. You were used to being alone, not even having a consistent supporting system for a few years, it felt good to win alongside a team – a family that was given to you.

Before you made it to the locker rooms, you hear heavy footsteps frantically making their way to you. You turned on your heels as you see Junpei running towards you, out of breath and sweat dropping from his forehead. In a swift motion, he let his arms out and nearly tackled you – giving you the tightest and most affectionate hug he ever has in your time of knowing him. With him so close to you and squeezing you so tightly, you hope he missed the way your heart beat rapidly increased, you hope he missed the way that your body heated up feeling his chest so close to yours, feeling his heavy hot breathing trailing down from your ear to neck.

The few agonizing seconds was put to a halt as he pulled way, staring down at you, stars in his eyes with an enthusiastic smile, not even caring that he just ran the most he ever has in his life, not caring that catching his breath seems impossible, not even caring at those familiar glares from those girls you like to call your friends eyeing the two of you up and down with scowls on their faces.

“You did so good! You looked like….an angel! When they threw you in the air, a literal angel or fairy – or something.” He blurted out, the volume of his soft voice going a bit louder than you were used to. The laugh you let out sounded like warm honey, a laugh you weren’t even sure you could make anymore. Opening your mouth to thank him for his kind words, you were interrupted with sour snicker from behind you.

“Your new best friend is totally looking at your tits, babe.” Tsubasa said from behind you.

Your body tensed as her scratchy voice echoed in your ears, her sour voice matching the wicked personality she possessed. Your eyes followed where Junpei was looking towards, and you see that he’s taken notice to the golden locket that he hasn’t seen you wear before. You turn your head slowly, your face twisting as you saw the smug look on the girl’s face.

“It’s my necklace.” You spat back at her, “Mind your business.” You look back at Junpei, seeing the look of grimace on his face – you held in your chucked as you noticed the way his mouth was twitching, holding in his tongue trying not to let Tsubasa in the way of his personal celebration with you. The thing about Junpei, as soft spoken as he was, he always spoke his mind, always spoke up for himself, and if he didn’t vocally say anything, his face always gave away what he was thinking. You often wondered if he realized that or not, but you knew to save the question for another day.

Tsubasa resorted to rolling her eyes; deciding that snapping back wouldn’t be worth her time. She trotted away, disappearing into the hall – you wish she would disappear from your life, cheer captain or not, she was aggravating and bitter to say the very least.

Directing your attention back to Junpei, you place your hand on his shoulder, feeling his stiffened body and face relax at your touch, giving him a small reassuring smile, “I’ll meet you in a few, let me shower and change.”

The locker room was quiet – too quiet for a team that just won a competition that was this big. You kept your head held high making your way to your locker to grab your belongings to freshen up, not caring for the not-so subtle glances being suck towards you as you walked past all the girls. To be fair, after befriending Junpei you quickly knew why he was so antisocial and why you never met him before, even though you’ve been going to the same school since the first year. His avoidance tendencies no longer became a mystery to you when your friends would groan at the mention of him, the constant whining and reaction of disgust when you would leave them for him. It wasn’t long until you would see the subtle teasing he would endure because of your friends – it made you feel sick that these were your friends, it felt like you didn’t really know them after witnessing those small moments. But Junpei never mentioned it to you, never going further than ‘‘your friends are just jerks’’, since he never brought it up, you were sure not too, knowing how sensitive of a topic it was.

Once you stepped out of the shower, you hear the cheers and praises being sent back and forth between your team mates. Remembering the intense match, acknowledging their win and hard work being paid off. As you began to dry your body off you hear them mention going out to eat to celebrate their accomplishment as a team. Bringing your head up after drying off your legs, your eyes locked with Tsubasa’s and a sinister smirk spread across her face before she opened her mouth, “Don’t bother inviting (y/n).” she snickered, applying a thick coat of cheap sticky gloss to her chapped lips. “She’s gonna be with her boyfriend.” The word boyfriend being spat out venomously.

Along with the sneaky remarks being echoed throughout the locker rooms, bouncing from the walls you didn’t miss the hollered laughter, each shriek being equivalent to claws slowly inching its way down a chalkboard – being annoyed would be an understatement, “who knew you were into weirdos.” An underclassman on your team snorted out, that being the last straw for you.

You let out a load groan, frowning at the girls around the room with a sharp glare, “Can you guys just shut the fuck up? Are you guys sure you aren’t the ones who like him?” you said slamming your locker shut – causing the girls closest to you jump, nearly dropping the grip onto the towels that were covering their soaked bodies.

“Wha- ? We’re just joking, (Y/N). Plus, how well do you even know him?” Tsubasa displayed an over exaggerated look of offence on her face, mouth slightly open with her finger twirling the few front strands of her hair. You pulled down your shirt, your golden locket usually kept hidden fallen out as it did earlier during the competition. Eyelashes down, you lightly hold onto it with your fingertips feeling the eyes of the girls around you fallen onto the locket as well. The atmosphere of the room slowly changing, no longer a place of distasteful jokes but one of sorrow. It made your stomach churn, although this was your first time on the cheer team, most of the girls here were already your friends, including Tsubasa. It wasn’t until her remarks towards Junpei and the teasing you’d catch her do when she was sure you weren’t around that you distanced yourself from her, causing her to act out in a way that you were too unfamiliar with. The memory of you crying on top of your bed with Tsubasa and your other friends flooded your mind as you tightly gripped the gold heart that was now on your palm, the sweet words of comfort that once warmed you now becoming empty lifeless words as you become more familiar with the dark side of their personalities that they would usually keep hidden from you. After everything they knew about you, after everything you’ve told them, telling them how no matter how much darkness has spread through your life, you knew there was light and can see the good in everyone. You often voiced how thankful you were for them, having such kind-hearted friends, you could laugh now at how naïve and stupid you were to think that. “— We’re just looking out for you. Sure, you seem happy – or whatever, I guess. But we were here first, okay? He’s just a little…too reserved and weird. We just want to have you back. It’s just some fun teasing, anyways.”

You don’t remember when your chest began to feel heavy, or when the hot tears began to fall down your cheeks. You let go of the locket, bringing your hands to your face to wipe off the tears that snuck their way onto your face, “You guys – You know better.” You managed to say without choking, putting the locket back into your shirt to hide from the world – pulling up your jeans and grabbing your bag before you head out of the uncomfortable space.

Throwing your towel into the laundry bin, a firm grip was on your shoulder. You turned to see Ino, her pink hair up in a ponytail and large hazel eyes boring into yours apologetically, “Hey, I think it’s great you made a new friend you like a lot. Don’t be afraid to bring him around, not all of us are like that.” She whispered out. Ino was a transfer student, you didn’t know much about her other than she was soft-spoken, like Junpei, and a bit more reserved than the rest of the team. Earlier in the school year you were eager to befriend her but seeing her fall into the group of friends you were distancing yourself from, you thought it’d be best to stay away anyways.

“Right.” You said picking up your sports bag, “See ya next practice.”

“And then seeing you fly up so high…!” Junpei exclaims, his laugh going through your ear like a melody. His proud smile being the closest thing to resemble to sunshine in your eyes, his excitement on being a part of a school sporting event sending him on a quick adrenaline rush, “– It just felt good, finally having someone to cheer for. Y’know?”

You just nod, taking in the flushed look on his face as he begins to stuff his face with the ramen in front on him. As your friendship grew, so did his comfortability with you. The first few weeks of you coming into this ramen shop he would barley touch his bowl; it’s amusing to see him practically stuff his face without a second thought now. You didn’t know if it was his excitement on going to his first school sporting event or if he was just not shy around you anymore, but you didn’t care. Any slight display of vulnerability in your friendship with Junpei was a moment of accomplishment to you, so you made a deal with yourself to never think too deep into it and just enjoy these moments of breaking down his wall little by little.

As guilty as you feel, his voice vanishes as you stare at him longingly, his praises going in one ear and out the other. You notice the wrinkle in the corner of his outer eye, the way his cheek bone rises with each smile he makes as noodles hang from his mouth, you wonder if his excitement takes away from the worry he usually has when your too quiet – either way it wasn’t a horrible reason for your silence. You were just admiring his brightened face, feeling the small smile form on your face as your body reacts without thinking, pulling out your phone and taking yet again another photo of him, smiling off-guard, capturing another moment of pure happiness you never want to miss out on.

You see his lips stopped moving, eyes blinking back at you as he slurps up the last of the noodles that were hanging on his lips. You stare back at him – unmoved and unashamed of your sudden action. You snort after a few seconds of the silent staring contest that happened between the two of you, causing Junpei to lightly smile and chuckle to himself before asking jokingly, “Again?” Remembering the first time he caught you taking a photo of him off-guard.

You shrug back at him, picking up your own chopsticks and finally bringing your ramen to your mouth, you were so infatuated with Junpei’s praise and reaction you nearly forgotten how hungry you were. Junpei gives you a toothy grin as he goes back to his own bowl, with each smile he gives you, you feel the barrier he had up against the world slowly shrink in size.

Your eyes shift to your tote bag placed next to you, taking up that entire side of the red booth. You feel heat flush throughout your body as you see the leather black notepad sticking out, making itself known to you. You’ve been meaning to talk to Junpei about a project you had to do – one you’ve been working on anyways without his knowledge. Your friendship with Junpei was solid at this point, you knew that much. You knew your feelings towards each other was mutual, you were best friends, you also knew you had a tendency to often be too intense with the people you cared deeply about.

“You’re in my bag.” You whispered aloud, unaware completely of what you just said, your nerves getting the best of you.

Junpei gave you a quizzical look, his one visible eyebrow scrunched up as he swallows his food.

“I mean – ” you start off, “Pictures of you. I sketched pictures of you. They’re in my bag.”

His excited eyes burn through you, screaming at you without words to show him the sketches you were talking about. You gulp, heat rising to your ears, you hope he doesn’t notice your shaky hands reach for the book as you plop it in front of him, the first page being the first picture you snuck of him while he was at his club. He takes initiative and flips through the rest of the pages, seeing some of him sitting in class with his head placed on the palm of his hands, or him sitting under a tree.

Junpei’s fingers lightly trace over a specific sketch – it’s a drawing of a selfie that you two took together during lunch. He slowly looks up at you and you quickly avert your eyes to avoid his gaze, the feeling of embarrassment slowly introducing itself to you, a feeling you weren’t too familiar with.

Taking a deep breath, you look him in the eye as you clear your throat, “For my art class – ” you couldn’t hide the way your voice trembled with each passing word, “I need to paint something that makes my day, like, something you wake up and look forward to. Well, sitting next to you in class and coming here after, ditching practice and hearing you talk about some gross scary movie, it – that’s what I look forward to when I wake up…”

Your heart twists as you see the way Junpei’s face heats up, his face displaying different shades of red with each word you shakily spit out. You knew Junpei was closed off, becoming his friend and teaching him to let his guard down to form connections wasn’t easy – it isn’t easy. You fear anything too intense would scare him off, you fear being too open would crumble the friendship you were most fond of.

“I gotta – I wanna ask if I can paint you? A canvas and everything.” You mentally scold yourself at your choice of words, obviously a canvas – it’s a damn painting. The word vomit coming out and being stronger than you attempt steady train of thought.

You sit there staring at him – waiting, this felt like something that could bring you closer or pull you apart – if following him around, dragging him to this ramen shop, sneaking pictures of him whenever you had a chance didn’t kill the friendship, something like this possibly could.

What wasn’t expected was the warm feeling sneakily make its way onto your hand, a slight squeeze coming right after. You stared wide-eyed, seeing Junpei’s hand draped over yours. You watch silently in your booth, his hand placed over yours, a sight you would secretly fantasize about but quickly push away. Whenever the daydream occurred you would remind yourself, friends don’t look at each other that way.

“I look forward to you every morning too.” Was all he replied.

Needless to say, you had permission to use him as your muse.

_____________________________

Your fingers graze upon the corners of the pages of the magazine you were holding onto your hands, sitting with your legs crossed on the table with the four boys you slowly formed a friendship with. You use your free hand to wave a cherry lollipop you snatched from Touya, one of the boys in the club with shaggy hair and glasses.

The chatter of the movie they’ve just seen and fallen in discussion to filled one ear while the music you were playing on your air pods filling the other, coming here to pass time by time has become a ritual for you. Once you’d gotten bored with the training that turned into gossip at the cheer club, you’d sneakily make your way to the Movie Club until it was time to go home, this place has become your safe haven. Here you have Junpei and the other boys, that you quickly made friends them, referring to them as your ‘sons’ as a joke.

You studied the pages from your favorite magazine – 6Teen— currently on the page of horoscopes. You usually skip these things, but the bright gold and purple designs caught your eyes, quickly finding your sun signs column, snickering to yourself at how generic these were. You weren’t one to go against the stars or the New Age spirituality that seemed to have your generation wrapped around their finger, but most magazine horoscopes were jokes themselves. You’d visit an astrologer before you ever took prediction meant to be read by their thousands of readers to heart.

‘ (sun sign),

You’ve been allowing your past to heavily effect your current circumstances. Keep an eye on those who keep their eyes on you, don’t be afraid of moving forward and allowing yourself to feel what you’re afraid of.’

You scoffed at the reading, bringing the cherry lollipop to your mouth and then releasing it with a loud ‘pop’! On instinct your eyes move up, catching Junpei staring at you and making eye contact with him. You see the flush spread across his cheeks, him seeing you twist and roll the candy around your tongue seconds earlier. The same feeling of butterflies fluttering throughout your chest caused you to quickly look down, avoiding his gaze that seemed to make you more nervous as each day passed by. Your eyes scanned the page you’ve just read “Keep an eye on those who keep their eyes on you…”, you quickly turn the page and pretend to bring your focus on the new article, on which hair style compliments you more based off the shape of your face.

Maybe you should think twice before mocking the stars and their messages – you thought – even if the messages are being sent through a magazine column.

You hear Junpei clear his throat as he goes back to his conversation, talking about how horrible the most recent Scary Movie was, something about how the franchise happened to get worse the more movies they made.

“Hey, what are you doing in here – (Y/N?)” You brought your head up, removing your air pod as you see a group of boys you were all too familiar with walk into the club room – their presence intimidating. Your eyes scanned them, remembering the moments you had laughing with them during lunch or after club hours, your stomach turning with disgust at these being the type of people you’d surround yourself with before you knew how they truly were, before you opened your eyes a little more and became a little less naïve with the idea that everyone was good.

“I mean, it’s our clubroom.”

“You guys aren’t in this club.”

You and Junpei replied in union, your eyes darted towards him, noticing his defensive stance. His trembling body didn’t match the stern look of assertiveness on his face. Good, you thought to yourself. A little teasing might not hurt everyone, but it was good to see him stand his ground towards the boys who would spit rude spiteful words to him in secret.

“Last time I checked, neither are you.” Shota said, the eerily forced smile he would impose throughout the day spread across his face– the same smile you learned to not trust when a classmate vented to you about him bullying him into doing his homework. The same smile you saw when he confessed to you, only hours after you heard him ridicule Junpei when he thought you weren’t around. “We were actually sent for you!”

You squint your eyes in suspicion, staring at the group of boys looking for any signs of malice. You don’t miss how two in the back hold in their snorting, trying to keep their eyes from you. “But – but no one knows I...”

Shota made his way towards you, bringing his head on top of your head and and patting it, “You aren’t as sneaky as you are pretty. I think you should head back before you get in more trouble than having us get sent for you.”

Your heads turn as you heard a slam on the table, Junpei’s teeth were gritted, eyebrows furrowed and griping onto the table, his eyes beaming with irritation, letting out an annoyed grunt seeing Shota get so physically comfortable with you and flirting with you right in front of him. Whether it was jealous – or your best friend simply being protective over you, it was hard to ignore the rapid beating against your chest, heat rising up through your body at seeing him get protective of you.

In an attempt to calm yourself down and ignore the racing thoughts, you take a deep breathe swatting Shota’s coarse hand from your head, “Right…” Collecting all your items you head towards the door, ignoring the snickering and whistles of the boys who began to uncomfortably surround you. “I’m gonna just go. See you after. Or just – just text me if you need me, for anything, okay?” You emphasize him needing you. Your stomach churned, feeling queasy as you prepared your leave.

Junpei just nods at you, his eyes not leaving Shota as you race your way out of the room.

The uneasy feeling never left you as you made your way back to the Movie Club room, and it only grew once you saw the sight of it. The chairs were spread across the room, one of the desks flipped over, and movies along with books scattered throughout the floor. Your mouth twists along with your chest, your vision going blurry and you began seeing red – red like the spots of blood you see splattered around the floor.

You dropped your bag as your legs reacted before you could process what you saw, tears forming in your eyes as you sprint towards the front of the school. The world around you became blurry, breathing frantic, you’re not worried about the strange looks from classmates or the ugly noises coming out of your mouth due to your drying throat. Once you make your way to the spot, your spot, you halt— the world around you still spinning, sweat dripping down your fingertips. The only thing going through your head is Junpei.

Junpei, Junpei, Junpei.

Where was he? Was he okay? Was the blood his?

He wasn’t at the spot in front of the school where you would usually meet at, he wasn’t at the club, and you didn’t even have his home address. You reach for your bag, cursing yourself as you noticed that you dropped it in his club room. Taking a few deep breathes you rush back, sprinting and ignoring the questions being spat to you when you pass the people you used to be friends with.

Once you got your bag you took out your phone, tossing your bag to the side as you shakily type out to him.

Sent: Why didn’t you wait for me? Told u to text me if anything. Are you okay? I hope you’re okay. Please just let me know how you are. Eat and sleep well for me, okay?

_________________

You lazily plop onto your bed, allowing your body to sink in the mattress. Your head was throbbing and throat scratchy, you cried your entire way home. You stare at the bag thrown across your room – coming home with no appetite you didn’t bother eating or making conversation with your mother. You decided your school work would have to wait until early in the morning.

Your mind was racing with questions, you turned and had your head facing the pillow, screaming into it while kicking your legs. Frustration took over your body, you didn’t even realize your eyelids slowly becoming heavier with each thought racing your mind.

You soon drifted off to sleep, not knowing that Junpei opened your message, leaving you on read.

You went to bed before realizing he was ignoring you.

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theshireisburning-so-mordoritis · 3 years

Text

All I Have To Give

Day 7 of the Seven Nights Of Sin - Series Two

Pairing: Llewyn Davis x F!Reader

Prompts: 1. "Eyes on me baby. I want you to watch whilst you fuck me." 16. "I want you." "Then take me." 20. "Tell me you want me." Requested by: @ophelialoveshandsomemen

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: 18+. Smut. Soft sex. Unprotected p in v sex. Blowjob. Little bit of angst. Insecurities.

A/N: I apologise for this one taking a little longer than it should, my brain has been like mush. I really enjoyed this one being on the softer side though so I hope you all like it! And thank you to my darling friend @autumnleaves1991-blog for helping me bounce ideas around, I love you!

He should've known it was too good to be true.

That he was fooling himself by ever thinking he was good enough for someone as amazing as you.

His sister is just brave enough to say what everyone else is probably thinking, what he's known all along deep down, buried beneath the first real taste of true happiness he's ever had for himself.

Why had he opened his mouth about you to begin with? He knows everything in his life is always met with scrutiny, why had he thought his relationship would be any different?

It's just- he couldn't help it. Gush about you that is. He's so enamoured with you his body feels like it could burst with it, like some lost music and lyrics buried in the depths of his soul will never stop flowing from the restless tips of his fingers when he thinks about you, too inspired by the muse who's claimed his heart.

He should have realised that his sister's brow was furrowing with every word rushing from his lips, her face twisting into something sour and disapproving when he tapers off with a stunned whisper.

"I think she's the one."

"Well then, I hope this means you'll finally get a real job." She scoffs, her eyes boring into his face expectantly when he snaps out of his daze to look at her in confusion.

"What do you mean?" He frowns.

His shoulders tense as she clicks her tongue like she's having to explain something painfully simple to an idiot.

"Honestly Llewyn." She snaps. "If this amazing girl is truly the one like you say and not just another one of your groupies then you need a real income to support her and start thinking about your future together."

Another one of your groupies. The insinuation that you'd sleep with him just because he's a musician has him snarling her name in anger, his eyes fierce on his sister but she carries on like he hasn't uttered a word.

"I mean how are you actually supposed to take care of her in your situation, you barely have a dollar to your name." She chastises. "If she's so special doesn't she deserve more? What if she wants to get married? Have a proper house and some children? Or do you expect her to give all that up for your silly dream."

The words burrow deep within him like a knife, tearing at his insides with each defeated step he takes.

He'd stormed out of his sister's beyond furious but as her voice echoed in his head, spinning on a repeated loop, a soundtrack of his hidden insecurities, he can't help but see the truth in what she's said.

The two of you get by now on your income from your job at the bookstore and the money he pulls in from various gigs but at any moment that could turn. He could hit another rough patch, where he sees no luck for months. Where the threat of not being able to afford rent or food looms over his head like a weighted shadow.

How can he put you through that?

Before the idea of marrying you was something he'd fantasize about, something that would put a soft smile on his face as he fell asleep to the sound of your voice in his head saying "I do."

But now that feeling is soured, the knowledge he can't give you the kind of wedding that you deserve, the kind of life you deserve, hurts more than he could ever imagine.

He's not enough, he never will be. He was naive to believe he was for even a moment and now it's just a matter of waiting until you realise too. Because in this moment Llewyn acknowledges the fact he's a selfish man, he knows you deserve so much more but he can't be the one to let you go. He loves you far too much.

There's music playing quietly when he enters the apartment you share and for the briefest moment when he shrugs his coat off and walks into the living room and sees you there, sweet smile on your face whilst you flick through the photos surrounding you on the floor, he forgets the painful clench of his heart caused by poisonous thoughts.

You tilt your head up to look at him when you hear his footsteps, eyes shining in the light streaming through the large window and smile widening as he follows the pull that leads him to your side. He bends to brush his lips against yours, a fleeting whisper of a kiss in greeting that cracks his wounded heart open instead and makes him needily press a little closer, mould his mouth to yours that much firmer as he swallows your pleased noise of surprise.

"Hi." You grin against his lips when he pulls away the barest inch to rest his forehead against yours and sighs.

"Hi honey."

He can hear the weariness in his own voice, hopes you're still too stunned by the urgency in his kiss that you don't notice and quickly drops to the floor and rests his back against the couch before pulling you into his chest. You've always been able to read him like a book, so hopefully if you can't see his face you won't be able to tell anything is wrong.

At least that's what he tells himself as he squeezes you tight in his arms, relishing the feel of you nestled against him.

"How was lunch with your sister?" You ask, fingers tracing patterns over his forearms whilst he buries his face in the crook of your neck and inhales the soft scent of you into his lungs.

His body tenses before he can help it, those words and feelings instantly slamming into him, and this time he knows there's no way you've missed it, no way you've not felt him turn rigid against you.

"Llewyn what happened?" You question carefully, trying to turn in his arms so you can look at him but he clings to you tighter, shakes his head from it's position in your neck. He just wants to try and forget about it, to bury himself in the warmth of you and pretend for the rest of the day like he can be everything you need.

But of course he can't have that. Because this is you and you don't let shit go once you've realised something's wrong. And he doesn't mean to get mad because usually he loves that about you, your caring nature, but right now you're digging into an open, festering wound and it's setting Llewyn's teeth on edge.

"What the fuck did she say to you this time?" You growl, yanking yourself out of his hold and turning to him with blazing eyes. "I swear to god Llewyn-."

"She said I wasn't good enough for you!" He shouts, his temper rising to meet yours despite his brain screaming that you're not the one he should be lashing out at. "And she's right! You fucking happy now?!"

You reel back stunned as he glares at you, his chest rising chaotically with each panting breath and his hair dishevelled as he yanks at the raven curls in frustration.

"She said you deserve so much more and that I'll never be the one able to give it to you. That I'm selfish and making you suffer by being with me because I won't give up my music." He spits as he clambers to his feet and storms into the kitchen, his head burrowed in shame whilst he reaches for the bottle of whiskey in the cupboard and a glass.

He nearly jumps when he raises the glass to his lips and turns towards the door because there you stand, hands on your hips and a murderous expression on your beautiful face as he gulps.

"And you believed her? Llewyn why?!" You question in disbelief.

"Well she's hardly wrong, is she sweetheart? You deserve more than this, you deserve one of those old houses you love so much, with the huge window and bench seat where you can read, somewhere big enough for however many kids you want to run around in." He tips his chin to his chest as he feels the dull sting of tears at his eyes. "You deserve a man that can afford to put a ring on your finger and I can't."

Pain, sharp and fragmented, slices through his chest as he waits for your response, for you to admit that he's right and leave him broken and alone like he was before you entered his life. When the gentle pressure of your fingers cups his cheeks he flinches, preparing himself for the final blow that never comes.

"Llewyn look at me." You say softly, huffing slightly when he stubbornly keeps his eyes fixed elsewhere. "Your sister is an idiot. You are more than enough. And as for all that stuff about marriage and houses and kids? You can propose to me with a piece of your guitar string if that's what you wanted and I'll wear it happily because it's from you and it actually means something. The house you described sounds lovely but I'm also happy here and as for kids, I don't even know if I want them yet, that's something for us to discuss in the far future."

He looks up at you stunned, eyes fluttering closed with a quiet groan as you take a deep breath and stroke a hand through his curls.

"What I'm trying to tell you, you beautiful, wonderful idiot, is that I don't need any of that. I just need you Llewyn."

God he desperately wants to believe you, wants it more than he's ever wanted anything in his whole life but there's still a lingering darkness of insecurity clinging to the edges of his mind.

"So you're telling me-," He says sceptically as he opens his eyes to watch your face. "That if this, or maybe even less, was all we had for the rest of our lives, you'd be happy?"

"Yes I would." You answer simply as he breathes in sharply and frowns.

"But what if I don't pull in any money for a while and things get tight, what if we start to struggle or…"

His rambling is cut off as you swiftly press your lips to his, teasing him with butterfly soft kisses and a tentative nip of your teeth into the pillow of his lower lip. His breath stutters as you slowly draw back, his body leaning forward, chasing yours without thinking. You grab his hand and turn away, gently tugging him behind you into your shared bedroom and standing him in front of the large mirror attached to the wall.

"Do you know what I see when I look at you Llewyn?" You whisper as he watches your reflection curiously.

"A struggling musician who says stupid shit that makes his beautiful girlfriend mad at him?" He jokes, smirking as you fluster and roll your eyes before flicking his arm.

"No you sarcastic ass." You laugh and the sound ripples over his body, warming him from within like pure sunlight. " I see a man that's kind, generous with what he has though he thinks it isn't much. I see a man that's a little guarded after all the tough things he's had to overcome but he's still brave enough to put himself out there and when he truly let's other's see him, he's beautiful. I see a man that has loved me through good days, bad days and the absolute worst of days and he's never made me feel like I'm worth any less because of them."

His chest feels tight, choking on the emotion swelling inside the hollows of his ribs and filling any emptiness that had once been left. He watches you intensely as you approach him slowly, shivers as your hands run down his cheeks, his neck and along the planes of his chest.

"Do you love me Llewyn?" You ask, eyes bright and full of adoration as he swallows hard.

"Of course I do." He croaks

"That's all I need." You murmur. "Now, let me show you just how much I love you."

A whimper escapes his throat when you kiss him, your body sinking against his as he curls his arms around your waist and drags you tight into his chest. He'll never tire of the taste of you, the sweetness of your lips gliding over his again and again whilst your fingers bury in his hair to clutch him closer.

He presses his tongue into the warmth of your mouth, pleasure tingling the back of his neck when you moan softly and tenderly stroke the wet muscle with your own.

You kiss him breathless before breaking away to reach for the hem of his shirt, lifting it slowly and laughing when it gets stuck on his head for a moment before it yanks free and creates an even bigger mess of his curls than your hands alone had previously managed.

He's grinning when the shirt drops from your hand to the ground, heart swooping in his chest at the way your eyes glitter with mirth.

"Come here." He smirks, his fingers latching in your shirt to tug you back to him before he's cupping your cheeks and falling back into your lips.

You let him drink his fill for just a few moments before you're dropping kisses across his jaw, mouth skimming hot over the curve of his neck leaving a trail of soft bite marks that has him weak at the knees. Needy sighs are slipping from his mouth as you tease lower, sucking kisses into his firm chest and crafting a path down the lean stretch of his stomach.

He feels dizzy by the time you drop to tour knees, his breath coming in unsteady puffs of air as you look at him innocently from beneath your lashes whilst your fingers work at his pants. A quiet whine builds in his throat as you release his hard, weeping length, his eyes never once leaving you as you take him gently in your hand and pump him.

You feel so fucking good it's ovewhelming.

His hips jerk when your thumb slides over the swollen head of his cock, coating the length of him in precum as your hand slides up and down his length, making his body tremble with each tender squeeze and slow twist of your wrist.

Warmth is spreading through his belly like lava, a crawling pace that builds powerful with intensity and he has to grasp the foot of the bed to keep himself upright since his legs feel like jelly. When you take him into the wet heat of your mouth he groans, low and unrestrained as he fights not to thrust hard each time you suck at the tip or lick at the sensitive underside.

Too good, you're too fucking good at this he thinks desperately as his hand threads through your hair, not to guide you or hold you in place but just to feel you as you work him in your mouth. His eyes almost roll back in his head when you hum in delight, the vibration shooting up his shaft and punching him straight in the gut.

He cants into you by accident but the apology turns to ash in his mouth when you do it again, eyes flashing up at him wickedly whilst you suck at him harder, dragging your tongue along the thick vein that runs along his length and reaching up to gently palm his balls.

"Fuck- honey I'm gonna - oh fuck." He stammers as his hips jerk into the warm suction of your mouth. It feels like electricity is skittering down his spine, pulsing in the dip of his pelvis and short circuiting his brain.

The hand he has almost snapping the bedframe flies to the one you have resting on his thigh, his fingers tangling with yours as the others tighten in your hair when his cock stiffens and swells before thick ropes of his cum spills into your mouth.

He sinks to his knees when you release him with a satisfied pop and the prettiest smile on your face he's ever fucking seen, latching his mouth hungrily on yours as he kisses you dazed and sloppy. You taste of him and it sets a fire in his chest, his eyes burning into yours when he breaks away and rubs his thumb over your spit slicked lip.

"I want you." He whispers hoarsely, his heart squeezing behind his ribs when you kiss his thumb before replying.

"Then take me Llewyn."

You strip each other quick, pressing tender kisses into each new bare expanse of skin that's revealed. When you're both fully naked you make him sit on the floor with his back to the bed before facing away from him and straddling his hips.

He groans when he realises what you're doing, the sound needy and wrecked as his eyes flit between your body sinking back against his chest and the image of you just hovering over him in the mirror.

"This okay baby?" You ask him turning your head to face him and gasping when he buries his hand into your hair to drag you into a fierce kiss.

He bites your lip when you lower yourself and rock against him, the feel of your slick pussy dragging over his cock causing a soft growl to build in his chest as his hands reach for your hips so he can guide you against him.

"You're so perfect." He murmurs into your mouth. "So damn beautiful you have no idea."

You cry out softly whilst he rubs his cock against your clit, your head falling back against his shoulder as he sucks and nips at your neck.

"Llewyn please." You pant.

He doesn't deny either of you any longer, can't when you say his name like that, he wonders briefly if you knew he'd do anything you ever asked so long as you never stopped saying his name with so much emotion.

He raises you slightly, grabs hold of his throbbing cock and eases it into you inch by inch as you whimper and push your hips down further into his lap.

You begin to ride him whilst he's still trying to figure out how to breathe normally again, the wet, hot silk of your walls wrapped around him like a vice, choking off any other thought to his brain except you, you, you.

It's slow, almost unbearably so, the way you lift up on him and steadily sink back down, the muscles of your thighs flexing hard beneath his hands with the strain. He plants his feet so he can rock up into you, match your aching pace thrust for thrust as you gasp and breathe his name all choppy when he strokes over that perfect spot inside you.

He wants to devour you, to press you so deeply into him or him into you that nothing can ever drag you apart. He goes to reclaim your lips, to connect another piece of himself to you but you stop him. Grasping his chin gently and scratching at his beard as you direct his gaze towards the mirror.

"Eyes on me baby." You moan, fluttering around his cock when he thrusts a little harder than before. "Want you to watch whilst you fuck me."

Shit.

The gentle command is like a struck match in his veins, engulfing his body in flames as his eyes fixate upon the point where you're both joined. He bites his lip as he watches his cock spear inside your folds, parting you open and reappearing slick and glossy with your need.

"You're so fucking pretty Llewyn." You husk as his thrusts deepen, his teeth sinking into the meat of your shoulder to muffle his growl as you murmur praise. "Always fuck me so good baby, perfect cock filling me up like no one else ever could."

Pleasure is clawing deep at his gut, desperate to be released as he snaps up into you and feels the way you grow wetter but he needs to feel you unravel first, needs the desperate clench of your cunt milking his cock.

He drops a hand to your clit, fingers circling and rubbing tight circles on the swollen nub as your back arches and you ass presses hard into his hips. He can feel how close you are, the lewd squelch of your juices echoing in the room as you pant his name. His other hand strokes up to your breasts, cupping the soft weight before teasing your nipple with quick strokes and soft pinches as you cry out.

"Cum for me honey." He croaks, nose nudging the curve of your throat.

You tense in his arms before shuddering with a low whine, pussy clamping down hard on his cock before fluttering wildly and soaking him in a rush of hot slick that makes a strangled cry crackle through his throat.

It's nearly enough to make him cum right there, his hips stammering as he works you through it until you sag, spent and boneless against the sweaty muscles of his chest. He just needs that slightest bit more to throw him off the edge as he grasps your jaw and crushes his lips to yours.

"Tell me you want me." He begs.

"Always." You say, eyes locking with his. "You're all I want Llewyn."

He chokes as he thrusts deep one final time, fusing you tightly against his body as he throbs and pulses and pumps you full. You moan gently into his jaw as his head falls back on a gasp, sucking in a lungful of air, then another and another before he feels capable of actually using his limbs and turns you around cuddle you close.

There's a warmth in his chest that chases away any previous insecurities he or anyone else can conjure in his mind about you as he tilts his chin and watches you rest against him with a sleepy smile and murmur a quiet "I love you".

For the first time he's been open with all he has to give, and all he has to give is more than enough.

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there-must-be-a-lock · 4 years

Text

Night Crawling

Sam x Reader

Word Count: ~3350

Warnings: Some explicit smutty goodness in a dive bar bathroom, some recreational drug use, some Sam feels.

A/N: I really thought I was going to write PWP for once. As usual, some feels snuck in. Set at some vague point in Season 5.

I’ve had the new Miley Cyrus album on repeat all day; inspiration, title, and bathroom graffiti quote all came from “Night Crawling.” Listen to that and “Gimme What I Want” if you want maximum ~atmosphere~ or whatever while reading.

“Another?” Sam asks, leaning in to make himself heard over the music. He gives me a twisted, wicked version of his usual dimpled smile. There’s a drop of tequila clinging to his lip, and I want to lick it off. He’s so close.

My head is still spinning from the last shot and from his attention. I shake it off.

“Bathroom, I’ll be back,” I tell him.

Sam’s in a fucking mood tonight. Not that I blame him. Time is ticking away, faster by the day it feels like; if Lucifer was after me, I’d take whatever escape I could get.

Dean’s at the motel, hopefully putting some ice on his twisted ankle or maybe sleeping, and normally Sam would be fussing over him like an overgrown fucking mother hen. Instead, he suggested that we go “blow off some steam,” looking at me with this glint in his eyes, like he was daring me.

So… here we are, getting fucked up in a grimy rock club, watching some Nine Inch Nails wannabes wail like a porn soundtrack over a dirty industrial bassline.

Sam fucking Winchester. Always full of surprises.

It’s one of those single-occupancy dive bathrooms where I don’t want to touch anything or, like, inhale too hard. It’s impossible to tell what color the walls originally were under the layers of concert flyers and graffiti. There’s probably enough cocaine residue on the chipped porcelain sink counter to get an elephant high. That kind of place.

He wants me almost as much as I want him, I’m pretty sure, but I never thought either of us would act on it. Too many complications, too many ways to fuck it all up… now, though? The entire world is fucked. Might as well get laid before it all goes to shit.

Two lines of red Sharpie scrawl next to the mirror grab my attention: night crawling, sky falling, gotta listen when the Devil’s calling.

Yeah. Well.

I don’t think either of us will make it out of this alive, but he doesn’t want to. That’s what this is all about, really. He started this apocalypse. He’ll never forgive himself if he lives through it. I’ll never forgive him if he doesn’t.

I wash my hands and splash some water on my cheeks, bracing myself. I can feel the chemicals kicking up my spine, now.

If Sam fucking Winchester needs to indulge his self-destructive streak and get out of his head for a night, I’ll keep him company. Fuck knows I’ll never say no to him. I’ll stay with him til the end, if he lets me.

It hits me again: this is the end. The world is about to end, and that sweet, sexy, puppy-eyed motherfucker out there is at the center of all of it. Heaven, hell, good, evil… and Sam. If tonight is what we’ve got — if this is all we’ll ever get — I’ll take it. I’ve always wanted more, but… this’ll do. It’ll have to do.

He’s slouching against the wall, right outside the bathroom hallway. He gives me this dark, hungry grin when he sees me, and maybe whatever was in that pastel blue pill is making itself known, or maybe it’s just Sam that’s sending a wave of prickly heat over my skin… either way, it feels good.

“C’mon,” he says, passing me a cup of ice water, and then he’s gripping me by the wrist, pulling me into the crowd.

Sam doesn’t dance, and he sure as hell doesn’t dance with me, but he’s not fucking around: hands on my waist, hair falling in his eyes as he looks down at me, cheeks flushed, moving with the beat. I rest my free hand on his upper arm, right where the swell of his bicep flexes against the soft cotton sleeve of his t-shirt, and I can’t help but squeeze slightly, feeling hot skin and muscle under my palm. I swallow hard.

Sam leans in closer. I can smell him, the natural scent of his sweat under the spice of his deodorant, and it’s so overwhelming that I shiver.

He gets his lips right up against my ear, the deep rumble of his voice a physical thing that I can feel as well as hear: “Ever just get sick of being yourself?”

Jesus.

“Yeah,” I mumble, mouth dry. I don’t know if he hears me but it doesn’t really matter.

“I think too much. I don’t want to think tonight. Is that okay?”

I suck in a breath. “Don’t need to explain, Sam. I get it.”

“Yeah?” he asks, heavy-lidded, golden skin shining with sweat in the flecks of light coming off the disco ball. “Dance with me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, Sam, anything you want.”

I toss back the cup of water, gulping it down, too eager; some of it trickles down my chin. I don’t care. I drop the cup and run my hand up Sam’s chest. His eyes flutter closed and he licks his lips, sinful, gorgeous. For a moment I think he might say something but instead he spins me around and hauls me closer, my back to his chest.

The song is filthy, all thudding funk hooks and wild drums. There’s this frantic heat behind it that has me sinking under the surface, swimming through the riff, and the pulse of it wriggles down my spine and works itself out through my hips as I toss my head. It’s the kind of rhythm that’s made for sweating all over a stranger.

Sam might as fucking well be a stranger right now. I never knew he could move like this.

His hips swivel and twist, and his hands slide down to my thighs, pinning me against the solid muscled heat of his body. I feel reckless. I feel high and overstimulated and utterly fearless, and I can feel his touch echoing through me, inside me, throbbing down my belly to where I’m empty and suddenly aching.

As soon as I think about it, the emptiness hits me hard. My cunt is clenching around nothing in time with the gritty slap of percussion. I arch my back and rub myself against Sam shamelessly.

He’s hard against my ass, hard and getting harder with every shrieking lick of guitar, and the awareness of it sends a thrill down through the core of me, like a bolt of lightning striking between my legs. My breath catches and hisses out of my lungs like I’m a punctured balloon. I feel dizzy.

It’s all so intense right now. Every inch of my skin is fizzing, and the simple curl of his fingers around my wrist has me shuddering like he’s stroking something much more intimate.

On any other night I would try to step back, to get myself under control… I’d start thinking, and I wouldn’t be able to stop, and I’d get stuck in my head instead of giving in to the mind-blowingly intimate thrill of his fingertips pressing into my pulse.

We’re not thinking tonight. I couldn’t think straight even if I wanted to.

The beat changes, segueing into something low and slinking and goddamn obscene. I’m dripping with sweat — mine or Sam’s? I can’t tell — and my skin is on fire, and I want Sam in this awful, all-consuming way that I’ve never wanted anything or anyone.

So I don’t think about it; I just turn, twisting in his arms until we’re face to face, or rather, face to chest. He’s biting his lip, expression almost pained as he grips my waist and slots a thigh between mine. I snake my arms around his neck and roll my hips, feeling the seam of my jeans dragging up the sensitive spot between my legs, and I’m absurdly grateful for the way the music drowns out any embarrassing noise I might make.

There’s a drop of sweat sliding down the corded muscle of his neck. It trickles to a glittering halt right at eye level, in the hollow of his throat, and I can see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. I could fall down and worship whatever god invented the v-neck.

I don’t fall to my knees, but I do lean forward and taste his skin. Salt floods my tongue.

Sam’s hand runs up my back, cups the nape of my neck, and he doesn’t so much guide me as yank, tilting my head to meet the rough urgent sting of his teeth and the soft slide of his tongue. I groan into his mouth, and his hands flatten at the small of my back, pulling me impossibly closer. I want to shove myself against him until I can burrow under his skin.

His mouth. He nips and sucks and explores, lips on mine with crushing force one second, whisper-sweet the next.

I’m melting. I must be melting.

I hold on for dear life, delirious, drunk on the way he’s kissing me. I’ve imagined this before, but I never imagined it like this.

We’re still dancing, or something like it anyway; his hips swivel, and I rut against him, my entire body throbbing with animalistic need. Sam shifts his weight, grinding against me, and I can feel the fat stiff length of him right up against my center. I whimper, desperate and wanton.

One hand slides up my back, around my ribs, up, until he can trace the curve of my breast with his thumb and then pinch my nipple through my bra. When I buck against him, he does it again. My knees don’t want to support me any more.

I’m a half-second away from coming just like this. I’m shaking.

“The fuck are we doing?” Sam says roughly. He nips my earlobe.

“Not thinking, remember?” I snap, and then I’m stumbling back, almost falling, tugging him by the wrist as I start to weave through the crushing press of bodies. My heart is pounding. Everything blurs together. My skin feels too cold without him all over it.

There’s one open bathroom, no line, no reason to hesitate. The heavy door closes behind us and the deadbolt slides home with a metallic echoing thud.

He’s already crowding me back, hands on my cheeks, tip of his nose brushing mine. I grab at the front of his shirt, fingers twisting in the sweat-damp fabric. My ass hits the counter and I surge up clumsily to kiss him. The angle’s off; our teeth clack together.

We laugh and fit ourselves back together, bodies like puzzle pieces in that fucking song Sam would never admit he loves, and I could cry with relief at the way he feels under my hands. I can feel him breathing, the harsh rise and fall of his chest, and I can feel the heat of him, blood and sweat and bone, solid and real and here and mine, at least for tonight.

He fumbles with the button of my jeans and kisses me like he’s drowning. Then he curls two long fingers up and into me, grinding the heel of his hand against my clit. I lean back, heels skidding on the dirty tile as I try to brace myself and rock my hips up all at once.

“Need you to fuck me,” I bite out, remarkably steady considering the way I’m trembling.

“You gonna regret this tomorrow?” Sam asks. He twists his fingers, knuckles stretching me open, so good my eyes roll back in my head.

Tomorrow… we’re not going to think about tomorrow.

“Might regret waiting this long,” I groan. Understatement of the century.

“You ‘n me both. You sure?” He’s staring down at me and he looks wrecked: pupils blown, lips swollen, hair clinging to his temples where his skin is streaked with sweat.

“Do you feel how close I am?” I grab his wrist with one hand, holding him there, fucking myself on his fingers as I try to pull my jeans down with the other hand.

Sam’s mouth drops open and his eyes go unfocused for a second. Whatever self-control he had left is gone. He pulls his hand away, and I whine at the loss, but together we get my pants down, and I kick them off as he gets his belt open. He’s just as big as I always imagined, proportional to those sinfully long elegant fingers, and my mouth fucking waters as I watch him stroke himself.

He bites his lip, chest heaving, and tugs me up onto the very edge of the grimy sink counter. Before I can find my balance he’s right there, hooking an arm under my knee so that he can spread my legs wider, and he’s guiding the hot velvety head of his cock down my center and in, and the slick blunt pressure of it makes me claw at his back, trying to get him closer even though I can barely handle how good that first thick inch feels.

“Fuuu - unnhhhhh - fuck, Sam, I need…” I choke out, and then all I can do is pant breathlessly, incoherent, as he rocks his hips and starts to stretch me open. I’m helpless like this, no leverage to do anything but sit there and take it, and he moves so maddeningly slow that I’m going out of my skull.

“God, look at you,” he breathes. “So fucking good. Always wondered what you’d look like taking my cock. Always imagined you begging. Are you gonna beg for me?”

“If you don’t shut the fuck up and give it to me, Sam, I swear —”

“Yeah?” he growls. He grips my hips hard enough to bruise.

I wrap my legs around his waist, hooking my ankles together, leaning back on my hands, and then I can arch my back and pull him deeper, working myself onto his cock.

“Sam —” I start, but before I can say anything else he slams home, grinding in hard and fast, and my voice cracks on a stuttering, incoherent whine. It’s blindingly good. He’s steely-hard and so goddamn thick I feel like I’m about to split open, like one wrong move is going to pull me apart. His first rolling thrust sparks this wrenching wave of pressure that fills me up and shakes me down to the tips of my toes, my entire body rippling with feverish heat.

“That’s my girl,” he pants. He pulls me against him and twists up, rough and filthy, and I shudder against him, writhing, mindless and overwhelmed.

“Sam,” I choke out. My voice is high-pitched and squeaky-thin, and the next sharp thrust makes me forget whatever I was going to say beyond, “Nnnnhhhhhyesohgod.”

“There?”

“Fuck. Yes.”

He moans, low and broken, and finds that perfect spot again, grinding into it with eye-popping force.

I can feel it, pleasure cramping through me with every movement, coiling up, building around the deep throbbing ache where he’s fucking into me. I feel like a wild animal, primal and lost.

“Good girl. Fuck, feels so good.”

I clutch at his shoulders, muscles quaking, burying my face in his neck as all that white-hot pressure peaks inside me. I let out an ugly, anguished sob, can’t hold it back, and then all I can feel is the all-consuming spasm of my orgasm, tension rocketing through every inch of me, sending me out into space for a long paralyzed moment. The first pulse of it is so scary-intense that I can’t breathe, can’t control myself, can’t keep track of my own body…

Then it all comes back at once, and I’m exquisitely aware of Sam against me as he fucks me through it, hips surging forward as I squeeze around him and urge him deeper.

“Thought about this so many times,” he’s confessing, ragged and raw.

“Me too,” I gasp.

He sucks in a shaky breath, moving slower as I start to come down, and I can feel him holding back now. “Think about you so fucking much, I can’t —”

“Me fucking too, Sam.”

He kisses me, gentle in a way that could very easily destroy me.

“This isn’t how it was supposed to go,” he whispers, forehead sweaty where it rests against mine.

“Fuck, Sam, don’t — this is —”

I feel so strange and strung-out, caught between the shivery aftershocks in my belly and the startling tenderness in his voice as he mumbles, “Wanted to take my time.”

“Sam.”

“Wanted to take my time with you,” he repeats. He moves against me with this slow, snakelike undulation. “Wanted to lay you out and kiss you everywhere and fucking worship you.”

“We can. We can — I want that.”

“Never gonna be enough,” he chokes out. “I knew — I knew, if I did this, I’d never want to stop.”

My skin is lit up with the feel of him, liquid heat gathering in my gut as my body responds to every perfect touch, but I’m afraid my ribcage is about to split open with the way my heart is hammering.

We’re in a goddamn dive bar bathroom, for fuck’s sake, and I’m fucked up, and maybe this will feel cheap and tawdry and silly in the morning, but… somehow I don’t think it will. Somehow this feels like the most important thing that’s ever happened to me.

“Why’d we wait this long?” I ask. There’s an embarrassing wobble in my voice.

“Because I’m a fucking idiot,” he grits out. “Because I was scared.” Before I can respond, he kisses me, all teeth and desperation, twisting his hips and swallowing my moan. He slides his hands under my shirt, sliding them up my back, and drags his fingernails down in trails of stinging heat. It’s pleasure and pain and fucking obliteration, and the sensory overload has me spiraling out again.

“Fuck that,” I half-laugh. My back arches and my voice breaks, and I bite his lip hard enough that I taste copper.

He groans, full-throated and shameless, and ducks his head, sinking his teeth into the sweat-slick curve of my neck. He sucks, nibbles, and it sets off fireworks behind my eyelids.

“Close, Sam. So close,” I babble, breathing harsh and heavy. I tangle my fingers in his hair and pull, and I can feel him moan. “Never thought it’d feel like this. It’s — this is so much better —”

He shudders against me, lets out this long, guttural sound, and then he shifts and pounds into me harder, and all I can do is cling to him, pulling him closer like I’m never going to let go. “C’mon, then. Fuck. Tell me what you want.”

“Please, Sam. Just — please. Please.”

“I’d do anything for you,” he growls. “You know that, right?”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Don’t leave me,” I blurt out, as the unbearable tension starts to crest. “Don’t leave me, Sam. Please.”

I know he hears it. He gasps like I punched him. I can feel him jerk, twitch, fingers clawing at my back, cock twitching and swelling inside me as he starts to come. I bite down on the meat of his shoulder as I let go. My orgasm feels like it’s ripping something loose, an earthquake in my core, and I don’t trust myself not to say exactly what’s on my mind. There’s a surge of pleasure, one glowing wave of it then another, and I’m dimly aware of shuddering against Sam as he rocks into me one more time, clutching him close… as if I could get close enough to keep him here with me.

It’s impossible to be sad right now. I’m chemically incapable of sadness, still soaring high, but this is so much bigger than sadness anyway. I just feel like I’m about to break.

“That,” he says, with an ugly sound, half-laugh, half-sob. “That’s what I was afraid of. That I wouldn’t ever want to leave.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “Let’s just — let’s not think about it. Okay? Can we go back to the motel and — can we do that again? Take our time?”

“Just for tonight?” he asks raggedly.

“Just for tonight. We’re not going to think about what comes next.”

He nods. We both know it’s a lie.

#sam winchester smut #sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader smut #supernatural #spn fic

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thepartyresponsible · 3 years

Text

this soundtrack fill is for kittenlzlz, who i cannot tag because it’s all sabotage all the time over here. also, i'm sorry, i didn’t realize you’d changed your prompt until after i wrote this one, so this is for the first thing you sent in.

anyway, here’s some dystopian sci-fi angst for sam and bucky with a hopeful ending. the song for this one is “achilles come down” by gang of youth.

—

When he was young, Sam spent thirty-seven weeks in New Mexico, learning how to keep people alive until evac. That others may live was a motto they preferred to operationalize rather than idealize, and, without the EMT training, pararescue tended to turn into high-risk body retrieval. So he spent the better part of a year learning how to keep a body breathing, and he learned, also, how to recognize when any effort was likely to be wasted.

Which is how he knows that what he’s looking at isn’t fully human. Because a human would already be dead.

It’s the blood that tells him, more than anything else. The Chitauri bleed a thick, dark blue substance that goes black if their cybernetics are leaking. And there’s plenty of blue and black puddled on the asphalt, but that red is a hemoglobin gift, and that means it’s all human.

“Shit, man,” Sam says, crouching next to the only human at this massacre. “You could keep a blood bank in business all by yourself.”

The man lifts his head and blinks at him, slow and a little dazed. Not dazed enough, though. He can almost focus on Sam’s face. “Not anymore,” he says, after a beat.

More blood bubbles up at the corners of his mouth. Sam can see it between his teeth.

“Yeah,” Sam says. And he laughs, because he might as well. Because he came out here with a team of ten to clean out the aliens, and it looks like one guy did their work for them. “Guess not.”

He’s a pathetic sight, really. Ragged body armor, hair clumped together, skin sticky with blood and ichor. He’s belly down on the cracked parking lot, and there’s a smear of blood behind him, showing exactly how far he’s managed to drag himself.

Sam’s not excited about what he’s going to see, when he rolls this guy over on his back.

“You gonna fight me if I help you?” he asks.

Most of them, these Enhanced, the surviving Super Soldiers, they can’t help it. Sam’s had to put a few down himself, although not for a while now. It’s been almost a year since he had to kill anything with a human face.

The man sighs. He rests his forehead against the asphalt, closes his eyes. His fingers flex and then go still. “I don’t know,” he says.

That others may live, Sam thinks. But the problem has always been that lives are balanced on both sides of the scales, and, sometimes, saving one means sacrificing another.

This man killed fifteen Chitauri, and he did it alone. There are kids back at the base. Vulnerable people.

The safest choice would be to leave him here. Let him save himself, if he can. But Sam’s never really been the safe choice type.

“Okay,” he says, hands curling around his shoulders, carefully rolling the man over on his back, “let’s see the damage.”

It’s enough to kill a human. But that’s not really what he’s dealing with.

—

The Super Soldiers were a desperation play. Sam was supposed to be one of them. The best of Earth’s fighters, dosed with serum, patched up with cybernetics based on Chitauri tech, sent out to face the enemies that had invaded the planet.

Sam’s still not sure exactly how it happened, what level of their defenses failed. He only knows failure by its consequences.

The neural implants were hacked. The soldiers turned against their people. Sam, who’d been four days out from his own procedure, was shifted to a team tasked with hunting them down and eliminating them.

These days, there aren’t many left. There’s not much of anyone left. The Chitauri fundamentally misunderstood their target. Sam could’ve warned them. The species of mutually assured destruction was never going to die quiet.

He thinks about that while the Soldier sleeps, chained to a bed in a locked basement in an abandoned building two miles from the base. Sam keeps watch. He has a radio in case anything goes wrong, but he doesn’t intend to use it for anything other than warning them what’s coming.

“I could’ve been you,” Sam tells him. And then, smiling at nothing, shaking his head, “Hell, you could’ve been me.”

He wonders where he’s from. He wonders what his name is.

He wonders, when he can’t help it, what he did. If he ever killed anyone Sam used to know.

�� —

The Soldier sleeps for forty hours and then sits straight up in bed, rips the chains off his wrists like they’re pipe cleaners, and then turns to face Sam. “What the hell,” he says.

“Oh, well,” Sam says, too startled to be afraid. “Didn’t want anyone stealing you.”

The Soldiers makes a face at him, an incredulous sneer that twists up his mouth and pulls his dark eyebrows together, and he looks so human, so perfectly skeptical, that Sam starts laughing.

“Well,” he says, with a shrug, “you killed fifteen aliens with a tire iron. You’re a treasure.”

“And I want it back.” he says, immediately. “Where’s my tire iron?”

“Confiscated,” Sam says.

He glares, and Sam‘s probably meant to be intimidated, but he knows – they both know – that, if this guy wanted to scare Sam, he could just start breaking bones. Or walls. “I want it back when I leave.”

“Leave,” Sam repeats. He kicks back in his chair, balances on the back legs as he swings his feet up onto the Soldier’s bed. “Why’re you leaving?”

The Soldier stares at Sam’s booted feet near his knees. “Usually it’s the fact that I’m a timebomb that chases me off,” he says, “but it looks like your manners are the real horrorshow around here.”

Sam grins at him. He’s merciless about it, uses the most charming smile in his arsenal. He expects the guy to soften a bit, but he’s not expecting the doubletake he gets, the there-and-away bounce of his stare, like Sam’s suddenly something he wants to look at but doesn’t want to get caught looking at.

Huh, he thinks.

“When’s the last time you hurt someone?” Sam asks.

The Soldier’s face crumples up and then flattens out. “What is this? Some kinda trial? An interrogation?”

“If this were an interrogation, I wouldn’t’ve given you the soft pillows,” Sam tells him.

The Soldier doesn’t look like he buys it. But, after a moment, he tips his head to the side. “Probably wouldn’t want to get blood on these white sheets,” he acknowledges.

“Christ,” Sam says, because that more or less seems to be the only thing he could possibly say to something like that.

The Soldier shrugs. He brushes his hair away from his face, blinks, and gives Sam a skeptical sideways stare. “Did you wash my hair?”

“With a firehose,” Sam confirms. “Damn near shaved the whole thing off. You were a mess, man.”

He shrugs. “It’s messy work.”

And, sure, it is. Sam knows. His base is the first resettlement outpost in this region. They’ve been clearing Chitauri out of the area for months.

But he still takes a damn shower whenever possible.

“Who were you?” Sam asks. “Before the program?”

The Soldier looks away. Looks at nothing. After a long pause, he recites, careful and rote, “Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. 107th.”

“Okay,” Sam says. “James. When’s the last time you hurt a human being?”

He worries at his lower lip, teeth pressing into the skin. He’s quiet for a very long time. “Thirteen months, ten days,” he says, finally.

Sam considers the timeline. “You think it’s over?”

“I think the implant’s in my fucking brain,” he says. “It’ll be over at brain death.”

“It’s just a chip,” Sam says. “It’s not sentient. Someone’s gotta send the message, right?”

The Soldier’s jaw works. “Even if the aliens stay out, there’s gonna be plenty of people who want to use someone like me, as soon as they rebuild enough to manage.”

It’s a hell of thing, and it could’ve been Sam.

He nudges the Soldier’s knee with his boot, and the Soldier stares at the point of contact. He doesn’t look angry anymore. If Sam had to use a word to describe the expression on the Soldier’s face, he thinks he’d use something bittersweet and barbed, something like lonely or longing.

“Gonna be a long damn time before anyone’s rebuilt,” he says.

“Aliens could have reinforcements here at any time,” the Soldier says.

“Maybe,” Sam says, although he thinks they might’ve learned some kind of lesson. At the very least, they’ve probably learned that it’s just not worth the effort.

“Look,” Sam says. “I think you should come back to the base.”

“No,” he says. Immediate and definite, louder then he’s been so far.

Sam expected it. Maybe part of him hoped for it. “Okay,” he says. “Then we’ll stay here. And, when you’re better, I want you to take a radio. And I want you to check in with us. All right? Every day.”

The Soldier stares at him. “Why the hell would you want that?”

Sam smiles, studies the hollows of the Soldier’s face, the scars, the freckles he must’ve earned when he was young, used to play too long in the sun. He has, Sam thinks, beautiful eyes. “There’s not a lot of us left,” he says.

“‘Us,’” the Soldier repeats, scoffing audibly.

“Us,” Sam repeats. He nudges the Soldier’s knee again, and the Soldier cuts his eyes away, glares at the wall. But, a moment later, he shifts, leans his knee into Sam.

—

His name is Bucky Barnes. He’s fussy as hell, stubborn beyond belief, helpful every chance he can get, and fond of cats and songbirds. He doesn’t cheat at cards, and he doesn’t accuse Sam of it either, even when Sam beats him damn near every hand.

He’s a good man. Even now.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Sam says. Because it’s been two weeks, and Bucky’s decided he’s well enough to go.

Bucky ducks his head. “Shut up,” he says.

Sam wonders if he was always this head shy about affection.

“C’mere,” he says. “I’ll give you a goodbye kiss.”

“Shut up,” Bucky says, practically scuttling away, head still ducked. When he raises it, he’s grinning one of his ghost grins, the ones that almost show who he used to be, like a faint echo of a louder, happier man.

“Okay,” Sam says. “But if I don’t get a goodbye kiss, I’m definitely not gonna talk dirty to you on that radio. You gotta put in the work, Bucky.”

“I hate you,” Bucky tells him, and his crush couldn’t be more obvious. Sam would be embarrassed for him, if he weren’t busy being charmed.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam says. “Check in every day, or I’m gonna track you down.”

“Hm,” Bucky says. He adjusts his pack on his shoulders. He’s got that tire iron, an alarming number of knives, and two guns. He’s setting off to kill more aliens. He’s going alone. “That supposed to be a threat?”

He was a Barnes in the Army and Sam was a Wilson in the Air Force, and so Bucky is a Super Soldier and Sam is not. It’s unpredictable, sometimes, the way mercy falls.

“Be careful out there,” Sam says, and he knocks his elbow against Bucky’s.

“Yeah,” Bucky says. He rolls his eyes and then catches Sam watching, and he blinks, falters. “Yeah,” he says, again. Softer, steadier. A promise, not a joke.

Sam considers him, lets the moment hang. Waits. Sometimes, all Bucky needs is the space and time to make up his own mind.

“I’m gonna miss you, too,” Bucky says.

“There it is,” Sam says, grinning, almost crowing in triumphant. “There--”

“Oh, Jesus,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes again, getting theatrical about it. “I already regret saying it.”

“Can’t take it back,” Sam taunts, grinning wide and smug.

“I’m going,” Bucky says, and he starts off, doesn’t look back.

“Hey, Buck,” Sam calls, when Bucky’s just about to break through the treeline, disappear into the woods. “I hate to see you go, but I love----”

“Fuck off, Sam!” Bucky says, but he’s laughing, and Sam can still hear it – surprised and happy, fully human – even after Bucky disappears.

#writing #soundtrack fills

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