#it’s just hard to shake sometimes when I’m in sad girl hours and I’m feeling really down

[rosicheeks]

Hello my sweet soft trophy,

I see you are in sad girl hours and I am here to say that whilst I am all for you feeling your feelings, I will not let you put yourself down.

Every time you have graced us with a full face reveal it’s like a literal angel has appeared on my timeline. When you post pics of yourself it makes me start to believe in a creator because only some divine being could create something as beautiful as you.

You may be struggling to see the beauty in yourself right now but I guarantee there are people out there willing to give all their earthly possessions just to hold your hand.

These feelings will pass, my treasure, I promise.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Princess & The Playboy (Part 6)

Summary: Sam and Max's plan to get their siblings invited to a party may have worked but Sebastian Monroe is a dangerous man and they may have just put not only their lives but their families at risk too...

Masterlist

Pairing: NFL Quarterback!Dean x Pop Star!reader

Word Count: 5,400ish

Warnings: language, family trauma/angst, kidnapping

A/N: Uh oh...

_________

Two Weeks Later

Reader POV

“Damn,” said Dean, shaking out his arm after you’d tossed him a football in the backyard. “I’m going to need your arm workout and no, I am not joking.”

“Oh my god, did I tell you the dance choreographer wanted me to learn to do a handstand so I could sing, upside down? I shut that shit down so fast,” you said, Dean gently tossing the ball back to you. 

“I’m sure you could do it. But I don’t blame you for not wanting to,” he said, catching the ball one handed. “Do you get a lot of say in that stuff? Dance moves?”

“That would require me to be able to dance,” you laughed, clasping both arms around the ball when he threw it back.

“She’s right. God awful dancer when it’s not choreographed. Miracle she can fake it as well as she does,” said Eric from the patio table, glancing up from his phone. “It’s four by the way.”

“Ugh. Why’d we say yes to this stupid party?” you asked. Dean shrugged.

“This guy donates a bunch of money to the Wolves charity every year. Plus Emma said it’s not a bad idea to go to a charity event together. Apparently it helps the public not think of me as such a scoundrel.” You tossed him the ball one last time, clasping your hands behind your back.

“I mean you are the big bad playboy corrupting the virtue of the sweet princess of pop,” you said, batting your eyes, twirling your hips. You grinned when he frowned, his eyes like a predator sizing up his prey. “I think the media is right about you. Such a bad influence.”

“Oh keep it up, princess, and I’ll tell them you ain’t innocent in the slightest.”

“Someone put me out of my misery,” groaned Eric, rising to his feet. “I’m getting dressed and going over protocols with the team. We’ll head out at seven.”

“Ain’t it kind of early to get ready?” asked Dean as you tossed him the ball one last time. Eric only laughed and headed inside, Dean cocking his head at you. “I know girls take a long time to get ready but three hours?”

“Shower. Shave. Makeup. Hair. Plus I told Sloane I’d help do her hair and pick out a dress,” you said, Dean humming. “I’m sure there’s a college game on you could watch for awhile.”

“I got some game film I can review,” he said, a heavy sigh in his shoulders. You wrapped your arms around him, Dean ditching the ball to return it. “It just never ends.”

“You love football, though,” you said, Dean nodding. 

“I do. But every year it’s getting to be more and more. I know you understand the pressure of it all. I just…I’m tired. I want to have more of a life outside my job,” he said, sliding his hands down your arms, taking your hands in his. “Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, Dean sharing the same sad smile you wore. “Me, I can have less tour dates and not put out an album every single year. I can make more wiggle room for myself. But I know you can’t. And sometimes I worry when I watch you play, pushing your body so hard.”

“I’m incredibly lucky I’m the least sacked QB in the league. I’ve had only one surgery and that was cause I broke my toe like an idiot on a coffee table. I don’t want to be like these guys that stay in too long and wind up with so much pain at forty. Or worse.” 

“I guess the thing to ask yourself is, do you want to keep going? Or could you walk away and be satisfied?” you asked. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes. 

“All I know is I used to put my head down, bury myself in the game. All I looked forward to was getting to the season, the start of a game, feeling that rush. This year…I’m looking forward to being done with work and games way too much. It’s like I’d rather be somewhere else…with someone else,” he murmured.

You nodded, squeezing his hands. “Nothing to decide today.”

“I know. Go get ready. I can occupy myself for a few hours.”

“Damn,” you said when it was nearly seven. Sloane looked down at herself alarmed, glancing back worried. “Sloane, you’re fucking hot.”

“I’m forty two,” she scoffed, smoothing out the floor length gown. “I’m not hot.”

“Hell yeah you are,” you said, Sloane tucking a strand of freshly curled hair behind her ear. “Eric’s going to fucking drool.”

“He better not,” she mumbled, taking a breath as she put her leg up on a chair and hiked the skirt portion up. She opened up her clutch sat on the end of the bed and slapped a very small thigh holster on her right leg, a smaller than usual gun inside. 

“Right. Cause really hot women packing heat are total turn offs for him,” you said, adjusting the strap that ran across your shoulder. She pouted and you handed her the clutch. “You said you could work with him tonight. We’re only bringing two of you inside and we wanted our best.”

“I can. He’s good about not speaking about anything but strictly work lately,” she said, sitting on the bed. “Does he seem…different to you?”

You knew why she was asking. Eric had told you he needed a few hours a week off for therapy a few weeks back. You practically jumped for joy that he was going to get some help to work through some things. Then it all shattered when he said it was related to his dad and needing to address some stuff he did to him as a kid. He didn’t share more but you had a feeling that had as much impact on him as his days in the military, probably more.

“It’s hard to tell with him,” you said, trying to respect his privacy. Plus, it actually was difficult to see a difference. Eric held everything close to the chest. Sometimes too much.

“Yeah. There’ll be no issues working together this evening,” she said, forcing a smile. You wanted to offer some reassurance that he was trying and maybe someday things between them could change. But honestly, you had no clue if they would work things out.

“Good. Well, let’s go see the boys.” A moment later you were coming down the stairs, Dean and Eric wandering out from the front hall in their tuxedos. Eric had always looked handsome when he dressed up but Dean?

He was walking sin in the tailored outfit, showing off his large shoulders and trim waist. You could feel the heat in your cheeks when he stared like he wanted to devour you then and there.

“Wow,” said Dean, a growing smile on his face, eyeing you up and down. It was a fairly simple dress. Black. One shoulder and a thin strap on the other. Form fitting up top before it became loose at the hips. It probably didn’t match black tie standard one hundred percent but it’d been sitting in your closet for two years and you finally had an excuse to wear it.

“Wow yourself,” you said, tugging on the lapel of his jacket. “Put you in one of these and you’d never imagine you spend literally every single day in flannels, henleys, and black tees.”

“Strange considering I’ve seen you wearing those clothing items a lot more yourself lately,” he teased, grinning down like a cat staring at the mouse it’d cornered.

“Oh, just a coincidence,” you said, Eric clearing his throat. You rolled your eyes, getting a roll in return. “You look nice too, Eric. I know you need the compliment on your appearance or your ego will bust.”

“Why did I take this job,” he mumbled to himself, staring at Sloane as she walked ahead for the front door. “You look beautiful.”

Sloane stopped dead in her tracks, looking over her shoulder at him, his gaze shooting to you. 

“I know you’ve wanted to wear that dress for awhile,” he said to you, Sloane rolling her eyes and walking outside. Eric closed his eyes when she was gone, Dean slapping his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, buddy. I’m sure my hyper observant protection agent didn’t catch the way you said that straight to her face and then pretended to say it to your boss.” Eric shrugged him off and grumbled on his way outside, harshly pulling the door behind him. “Damn. I was hoping they’d have some kind of fairytale moment or shit. He looked like he wanted to fuck her over the kitchen table.”

“I don’t know. We’ll just…wait and see what happens,” you said, holding out your hand. “Ready to go?”

“One sec,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling something out. He slipped something elastic over your wrist, beaming when you stared down at it to find it was a friendship bracelet, like the kind from when you were kids. This one was black, gray and white, the LA Wolves colors. You turned it over when you felt a few square beads, expecting to see DEAN.

Your heart skipped when you saw MAX with a few beads separating it from SAM. You glanced up Dean, his green eyes flittering down to where he’d removed his jacket, right sleeve pushed up. 

Dean had always had Sam’s initials tattooed on his forearm. You remember that happened at some point in college, not too long after Sam went missing. The initials right below it were new though, his skin tinged a light pink from where the tattoo was still fresh.

“Is that-”

“Max’s initials? Yeah, looks like it,” he said, a coy smile crossing his face. You held out a finger, Dean humming it was alright to touch. A thick swallow was audible as you traced over the delicate skin, black ink soaked into the creamy canvas of his body.

“Fuck you,” you whispered, Dean’s face falling.

“Sweetheart, I’m-” he said as he wiped at your eyes, mascara coming away on the back of your hand. You laughed, shaking your head at him.

“Look what you did you sweet man,” you laughed, a few tears falling free. “Dean, you didn’t have to put his name on your body.”

“Brothers go on the arm. It’s kind of my thing,” he said, your bottom lip wobbling as a swell of emotion hit you. “Are you mad?”

“No,” you croaked out, squeezing your bracelet. “I wish they were with us.”

“Me too,” he said softly, wiping his thumb under your eye, stopping a tear from falling. “Y/N.”

You met his green eyes, thumb stroking your cheek with a barely there touch.

“You understand you’re my girl, right?” You nodded, Dean’s head tilting slightly, eyes scanning down to your lips slowly and back up just as lazily. “So. Am I yours?”

You held a finger to his lips and turned towards the front door, pulling it open, Eric and Sloane both leaned against an SUV.

“We’ll leave in thirty,” you said, pulling the door shut again, finding Dean with a raised eyebrow. “I need ten to fix my makeup. The other twenty is to show you exactly how much you’re mine.”

Dean POV

I stepped outside while Y/N used the bathroom, the brisk air doing wonders for cooling me down after what I could only describe as the most intimate handjob I’d ever received. It was the one thing that stuck out to me about sex with Y/N. Every other partner I’d had, it was about release, pleasure. With Y/N though, it felt different. A good different. Yeah, it was about the pleasure there too but it was…comforting in a way, joined together. 

Once Y/N had let go of her fear of it, intimacy turned out to be one of her favorite things in the world. And it was becoming one of mine too. She just made me feel safe. Whole again.

“Told you she’d cry about the tattoo,” mumbled Eric in my ear, hands clasped behind his back. “Surprised you didn’t get down on one knee yet.”

“We understand what we are to each other,” I said, adjusting the sleeve of my jacket. “The time for that’ll come eventually but I don’t think either one of us is in a rush to get there.”

“Ready!” exclaimed Y/N, rushing outside barefoot, the skirt of her dress bunched up in one hand, heels in the other. “How late are we?”

“Oh, only forty five minutes,” said Eric, Y/N jumping in the backseat when he opened the door. “Clutch?”

“I’m the purse tonight,” I chuckled, patting my pocket where her phone, a lipstick and extra hair tie resided. 

“Good. I usually get stuck with it,” said Eric, patting my bottom. “Let’s move it kiddos.”

“Hopefully this party doesn’t suck,” said Y/N beside me as we drove up a long driveway thirty minutes later, lips pursed.

“You hate parties,” Eric chuckled from the passenger seat.

“I hate parties where people ask me to sing at their kid’s sweet sixteen which is like, almost all the time,” she said, my hand reaching over and interlacing our hands together. “Sorry. That sounded bitchy.”

“It sounded like that’s really annoying to have happen all the time,” I said, the car slowing down behind another luxury SUV. “We won’t stay long, just a few hours. I know we have to do this for me.”

“Hey,” she said, voice firm. My eyes flickered to hers in the dark space. “We both have more money than we know what to do with. I’m perfectly happy to waste an evening if it means sending some of that money to a good cause. You getting some good press out of it is a bonus.”

“I ever tell you how wonderful you are?” I asked, heart swelling up as she blushed. “Want to go show off your reformed bad boy, sweetheart?”

“You were never bad,” she said, pecking a kiss on my lips. She grinned goofily and wiped them off with her thumb. “Lipstick.”

“You can take it off if you promise to put it back later,” I said, Y/N’s eyes flirting down to my groin, a wicked smirk on her face. “Down girl.”

“I’ll play with you later,” I said as we stopped. Eric slid out of the passenger seat as I opened the back door. I exited and held out a hand, helping Y/N down in her obnoxious skinny little heels. They looked like a death trap to me but she danced around on stage for three hours in them so if anyone knew how to work them, it was her.

Damn she was sexy in that dress. Almost as sexy as those red flannel pajama pants she wore last night. And that cozy blue sweater on Thursday. Or that-

“Stop staring at her,” said Sloane, pushing on my back so I’d move and she could slip out of the backseat. “You’re like a puppy obsessed with her.”

“Be nice,” Y/N chided, taking a step forward, letting me follow her lead. Eric and Sloane fell in place behind us, the driver staying with the car and driving off towards where the cars were being parked. 

A man in a nice suit opened the front door for us, revealing a grand hall that made Y/N’s house look like a starter home. 

“This guy is loaded,” I whispered in Y/N’s ear as we found ourselves quickly surrounded by people when they caught sight of her. There must have been three hundred people at this thing.

“Here we go,” she mumbled before putting on a big smile, immediately getting asked to be in a selfie with a woman in her twenties.

For the next thirty minutes it felt like we were bombarded, stuck not ten feet past the door in a never ending line of people wanting to talk to Y/N. Yes, some people were football fans but a vast majority were there for Y/N, some nervous, some practically jumping out of their skins.

“Damn dude, you’re beyond lucky,” said some guy to me as his wife took a picture with Y/N. 

“I know I am,” I responded, Y/N giving me a flash of a smile.

“She needs a break,” whispered Eric in my ear. I stepped forward and cut off the next gaggle of women that wanted to approach. 

“Excuse me, I need to steal Y/N for a minute,” I said, taking her arm and leading her down the large open hall.

“Thanks,” she said, grabbing a glass of champagne off a servers tray. She knocked it back and I started to scan the room in search of water for her.

“Hi,” said a teenage girl in a light blue dress, approaching slowly. She seemed out of place at the event filled with adults in designer clothes. “I’m Cecilia Monroe, Sebastian Monroe’s daughter.”

Ah she was this guys kid. That made sense. “Nice to meet you. We haven’t met your father yet. We’d like to thank him for his numerous donations to the Wolves charity over the years.”

“You have a lovely home,” said Y/N, the girl blushing, clasping her hand over her wrist in a failed attempt to hide her friendship bracelet. Y/N caught it and smiled. “Did you go to the tour this year?”

“Uh yeah. My dad got VIP tickets,” she said shyly, suddenly straightening her back. “I’ll be on the veranda. Please come find me when you’re through with my dad. It’s very important.”

She scuttled away, Y/N raising an eyebrow.

“I think you have a superfan,” I chuckled, Y/N biting her lip. “You think she’s a problem?”

“No. She’s a fan clearly but I don’t know,” she said, waving for Eric and Sloane to join us from where they stood together by a table of appetizers. 

“You two good?” asked Sloane, their eyes finding the young girl and watching her leave.

“Keep an eye on that girl,” Y/N said, nodding as Cecilia went through open back doors outside. They both readied themselves but Y/N shook her head. “Just watch her. This might be a Denver situation.”

“Denver?” I asked, Eric frowning. 

“Fan in Denver was being abused by her parents. Subtly asked Y/N for help at an event. Smart kid actually,” said Eric. “Sloane and I can try a soft approach with the girl, get a feel for if something is up, relay we can keep her safe .”

“This guy does have a lot of private security,” said Sloane. “If something’s happening, she may feel safer knowing we can protect her in the interim.”

“Let’s go talk to the girl,” said Y/N just as a man in a very nice suit came striding down the hall towards us. “I think that’s our host.”

“Eric, Sloane, go see what’s up. We can fend for ourselves for awhile,” I said. They scuttled away as the man greeted us, holding out a hand and shaking mine firmly.

“Sebastian Monroe,” he said with a pleasant enough smile. “And you two are the power couple my teenage daughter will not stop talking about.”

“Yeah, we get that a lot. We said hello to her earlier,” said Y//N with a fake smile, staying close to my side when the men looked like he was going to reach for her hand. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Dean Winchester,” I said, taking my hand back, the other wrapped around Y/N’s waist. The man only smiled though, like we didn’t need to introduce ourselves. “I’ve heard you’re a Wolves fan.”

“Oh not anymore than anyone else,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Although a signed jersey by you would certainly go for big bucks at our next charity auction.”

“We’ll have to make that happen for sure,” I said, not enjoying the way his gaze traveled down Y/N’s body. I’d seen it plenty of times tonight but his seemed the most sleazy of all. 

“Speaking of the auction, where are the tables? I’d love to donate,” said Y/N.

“Right side of the veranda, sweetie.” Y/N hummed, giving me a look to join her as soon as I could. “Boy, if I was ten years younger.”

I couldn’t hide my annoyance, Sebastian flashing me a smile. “Oh no. Please go ahead and tell me what you’d do if you were ten years younger.”

“Easy kid. Half the population would bone her if they could,” he said, sipping from the glass in his hand. He took his turn to eye me, a curious look on his face. “You know, I could be inclined to offer another sizeable donation to the Wolves charity for those kids if I could get one of those signed jerseys myself.”

I bit my tongue, both of us aware of the clear message. Refuse and good ol’ Sebastian stops donating a million dollars each year to kids in poverty.

“I’m sure you got one around here somewhere we could fix up,” I said. Sebastian threw an arm over my shoulder and I hide my cringe. 

“Good man. Come on. I got one right in my game room.”

Reader POV

There wasn’t really anything you wanted from the silent auction but you had found a general donation slip at the end of the table and jotted down your agent’s information. You’d looked around for Eric and Sloane or the girl when you finished but hadn’t found any of them which probably wasn’t a good sign. You frowned and walked over the railings edge, looking around the dim yard for any sign of them.

“Bruschetta?” asked one of the servers. 

“No thank you,” you said without looking.

“I must insist,” he said. You rolled your eyes, ready to give it to this guy but something seemed familiar about him. He handed you one on a small napkin as you kept staring. “Take a bite and smile, pretend it’s really good.”

You’d had more than a handful of dangerous fan interactions over the years but this felt…different.

You did as he asked, faking wide eyes at the average at best food. “Who are you?”

“Do not make a scene,” he said as you finished off the food. “I need to get to your bodyguards.”

“Are you trying to protect that girl? Cecilia?” you asked as you played along and took another piece off the tray.

“What? No. I don’t have time for this,” he said, stepping in front of you, your gaze narrowing. “Do not ask questions. Just get me and Max the fuck out of here.”

“Max?” Your heart skipped a beat, the food falling from your hand as you understand where you’d seen him before. “Y-You’re Sam.”

“We’re watched. Get your guards to get us out. Don’t get caught or we’re dead,” he said, turning away and offering a couple nearby food from his tray. You swallowed, instantly putting on your performer’s smile. The one you wore that time you had food poisoning during a concert and were throwing up between songs back in the summer. The crowd had no fucking clue you felt like shit while you gave them the show of their lives.

Time to act your fucking ass off. 

You walked past Sam without a second glance, wishing you could ask him all the questions swirling around in your head. Tell him he was going to be okay. Give him a damn hug and tell him he was safe now.

But you wore that damn smile, all while your blood was boiling. You’d had a lot of dark fantasies about what you’d do to the person that took Max. In recent weeks that’d turned to include Sam too. 

It turned out the monster was a hundred feet away from you inside some fucking mansion.

“Y/N,” said Sloane, appearing through a set of open doors in the house, catching your arm a little roughly. “Stay in public.”

“I need to talk-” She shot daggers at you, shutting you up. 

“Stay in public for the love of god or Eric will kill me,” she said, loosening her grip. “In forty five seconds I need you to be the biggest distraction in the world. Do not go in any rooms with anyone. Your fame will keep you safe but only if there are people around to witness it. Eric has eyes on him. Do not ask questions. Understand?”

“Sam’s on the veranda,” you whispered, Sloane nodding. Cecilia must have told her and Eric about your brothers.

“Go give us a shot to get them out of here.” You nodded and slipped inside, heart thumping away in your throat. Max was with with Eric. Wherever he was, he was with Eric. He was safe. And Sam should have been with Sloane by then. They were both safe.

As long as they got them out of this house and into the damn car before anyone could notice. Before all those private security guards seemingly on the edge of every room could stop them. Your driver was fast though. They just had to get the boys in the car and they’d be alright.

So you needed to be a distraction. A big fucking distraction and buy them time. You froze in the middle of the hallway, watching Sebastian leave a room with Dean by his side, horribly annoyed from the looks of it. An idea sparked in your mind, one you hoped Dean forgave you for someday. 

Yeah, you knew how to cause a big fucking distraction alright.

Dean POV

“You son of a bitch!” screamed Y/N. Normal people could scream loud. A goddamn professional singer that could belt out ballads while running? The whole house went silent at her ear piercing shriek. Even the string orchestra stopped playing. I stared at her as she climbed on top of a table in the center hall, my eyes going wide. “You fucking cheater! You’re a fucking cheater Dean Winchester!”

“Excuse me?” I said, a hundred already with their phones out with even more people piling into the house from the veranda. “Sweetheart-”

“Don’t sweetheart me!” she screamed again. What the fuck was happening? “You’re a cheating bastard! You swore you were different!”

“Y/N, get off the table,” I said gently, very aware of the many phones that were facing us, even some from the freaking staff and private event security. Y/N only backed away when I reached for her, fury in her eyes so visceral it felt like it burned. “Y/N what-”

“I know what you did with her! By the fucking cherry blossoms? Our cherry blossoms? You think you can sleep around on me? I’m the motherfucking Princess of Pop! The world fucking loves me!” 

Something was wrong. Besides the fact I hadn’t cheated, Y/N wasn’t one to scream at people from tabletops. She wasn’t drunk and she wasn’t on drugs. And we had no fucking cherry blossoms. Except for the fact it was the code to get in her house. 

Trust. She was asking me to fucking trust her right now in front of three hundred people while she tore down my reputation.

If my girl was losing her shit, well damn I was going to play right along.

“Oh get off your high fucking horse!” I shouted, Y/N flinching for a brief moment like it’d stung. “I never made you promises. We aren’t even fucking exclusive!”

“What?!” she shouted back as Sebastian came over, clearing his throat.

“Perhaps if you two could-”

“This bitch is a moron for thinking I’d ever want someone like her. Of course I’m dicking around with you! You really think I want some goodie two shoes like you?”

“Man whore!” she shouted.

“Fucking prude!” I screamed back, praying to god Y/N knew that every word out of my mouth was a lie. “No wonder no one wants to date you. Getting in your pants wasn’t even worth it!”

“Funny since getting in yours just takes a smile. I’m surprised you haven’t contracted every disease known to man you pig!”

“At least I get some! You’re wound up so tight surprised anything can fucking fit up there!” Fuck, I was really going to hate myself in the morning.

Y/N was halfway through screaming back at me when I felt both my phone and Y/N’s go off in my pocket.

YOUR BROTHERS ARE SAFE. HOST SECURITY KNOWS WE GOT THEM OUT. OUR SECURITY & FEDS ON THE WAY. ETA TEN MINUTES. DON’T TRUST LOCAL COPS. CORRUPTED. HOST IS BAD GUY. STAY AWAY FROM HIM AND GUARDS. DO WHAT YOU HAVE TO TO STAY IN PUBLIC. 

“What the fuck does brothers safe mean?” I asked, tossing my phone to her. Y/N caught it one handed, her whole body relaxing momentarily before tensing again, her rage suddenly on it’s true target.

Sebastian Monroe.

“Our brothers were here,” she grit out. She ripped off her heels and hopped down onto the floor, stalking over to Sebastian slowly like he was her prey. Her face darkened and I swore she looked ready to tear someone’s throat out. “Our baby brothers were in this fucking house! As your servers! Not of their free will! No. No, they were being watched. Forced. Last I checked, our baby brothers were kidnapped and they didn’t get un-fucking kidnapped.”

She gripped her heel tight in her left hand, right clenched so hard I saw the bone against the skin of her knuckles.

“I don’t care if you weren’t the one that took them. But you kept them and I’m going to fucking destroy you for it,” she growled, approaching him as my brain tried to catch up. 

“Y/N what are-”

“I saw Sam! And he was scared and said they’d kill him if he got caught talking to me. They’re safe now but Sam and Max were forced to live here. By him.” Her head turned towards Sebastian, his own head glancing at his security team. “What the fuck did you do to our brothers?”

It clicked for me what she’d been saying, what the text meant, why Y/N had acted so out of character. So full of hatred. But I barely had a chance to feel that same hatred. 

Because in the blink of an eye, one of Sebastian’s guards grabbed at Y/N and her fist shot out, connecting with the man’s jaw. He seemed alarmed at her strength and fell back, another guard trying to get their hands on her.

“Get off!” she shouted, kneeing another guy before flipping him on his back. But there were too many of them and I rushed forward, yanking her behind me just as Sebastian got in my face.

He eyed me up and down, smirking at me. “Oh you two just made a big mistake.”

He clasped his hands together loudly as his guards surrounded us, turning his attention to the rest of the party.

“Let’s give the love birds some privacy to sort out their issues,” he chuckled. “And maybe keep an eye on the open bar, hm?”

He spun back around and leaned in close, the stench of cigars and alcohol on his breath. 

“Get your brothers back here or I’ll fuck her up so badly there won’t be anything left to bury.” He gripped my shoulder, too forcefully. “And then I’ll bury you alive in the woods all the while the world will think you got in a drunken accident on the way home. After all you had a very loud and public argument tonight. With the friends I have in certain positions of authority…I can make even you two disappear like nothing.”

Y/N gripped the back of my suit jacket tight, a slight tremble in her hand as she listened to him speak.

“Get those boys back and get those guards back in the next ten minutes or I start cutting off pieces of the damn princess of pop.”

________

A/N: Read the Final Part here!

[starsomens]

he couldn't just let you be upset, hurt adn scared after that. He had to fix it.

“Princess?” Noah knocks on the door not sure if you had locked it or not “Princess please I’m sorry…I never meant to hurt you or say any of those things I-“ he tests the knob and finds it to be unlocked. He lets go of a breath he wasn't aware that he was holding. He pokes his head inside and sees you hunched over your vanity. He felt his heart ache as he stepped inside and walked to your shaking form carefully. He places a hand on your shoulder

"..baby?" he voice was soft, not wanting to startle you.

You swallow hard "what do you want?" you try and present a strong voice as your head come up from your arms. You make up was smeared and left tear tracks down your face. You eyes were red and puffy and seeing it broke his heart "shouldn't you be at your club?" You ask him still wanting to jab at him for what he did

"No baby...nothing compares to being home with you" he answers trying to meet the eyes he loved so much

"Well I don't care anymore...go and enjoy you stupid girls" you said looking at him in the mirror. You looked at him not with hate, but with hurt and anger.

"Y/N, you're my only girl" he said caging you into the vanity as he leaned on the edge "Please....I'm so sorry, you didn't deserve any of that. I swear on my life, you are the only woman, my woman, none of them even come close to you. I should have stopped the very first time you said so…."

"..so why do...why do y-you still go?" you curse you voice for breaking and raising in pitch. Hot tears fall from your eyes once again. Your head falls back into your hands and Noah comes to kneel on the floor. He spins your chair so you’re facing him. His warm hands ground you and made you feel secure, even in vulnerability.

“Y/N, baby..my love look at me,” he asked you softly as his hands gently take your hands from your face. “There you are…my perfect little flower”

His large thump wiping the black, but only sneering it more

“I am an honest man and I am telling you it’s business only. The dancers who work there sometimes don’t know when I visit and are just hoping to get some pocket money. I don’t go to enjoy myself…I go to make sure I make the money I need to give you anything you ask for in this world. why do I have to go a see another girl when I have a stunning woman at home?”

You simply shrug your shoulders feeling zapped of energy

“But listen to me, if it makes you feel better and more secure that I don’t go there, I won’t.” He told you “I was being stupid, and grabbing you like that….dont ever let me treat you that way again Y/N, I want you to slap the shit outta me if I even attempt it “ he had finally cracked a smile from you. “Okay baby?”

You nod “okay” you repeat “…I should have..”

“Yes. you should have” he smiles at you

“I’m sorry for over reacting”

“No. Im sorry princess, never and I mean NEVER again,” he stated deep into your eyes “everything that I do, I do to give you the best and highest life you desire. Anything is yours, all you have to do is ask me, my love.”

“Well I..” he waits for your response “…I want you…” you answer

“Then it’s done, now let’s clean up that pretty face huh?” He stood up and grabbed your make up remover supplies and started to gently work on your face while he spoke to you

“You’re my princess”

“So smart, and resourceful, no one compares”

“I’m sorry I hurt you princess, I’m so so sorry”

After it was all gone he helped with your skin care and just stared at you

“You’re the most precious thing to me” he held your face in his hands and caressed your skin with his thumbs “how about we get you to bed?”

You nod your head and he leads you to the large bed in the middle of the room. He lets you get in first and tucks you in snuggly. He squats down a an kisses your head

“I’ll be in bed in an hour, I need to make some arrangements for tomorrow and I’ll come back okay?” He informs you, he could see the sadness still on your face from his statement “baby, I promise you in an hour, I’ll be back, snuggling you and holding you through the night okay? I promise”

And he did come back to bed within the hour. He arranged to have someone take his place so he didn’t have to visit anymore. Which meant tomorrow he’s take you out for the day as an apology. Shopping, restaurants, shows, movies, anything you want. So here he laid with you in bed, his arms wrapped around you, protecting and shielding you from this world as he should be doing.

He was just basking in the feeling of you asleep in his arms. Thinking of all the ways he’d treat you tomorrow, starting with breakfast in bed (wink)

[nycbaby21]

Quinn Hughes Imagine

prompt: “I’m sorry. I just had to see you.“

word count: 1,865

The final buzzer of the game was normally met with cheers and excitement at Rogers Arena, but tonight it was filled with heavy sighs and disappointed fans. This was the third game in a row they had lost and you can see how frustrated the guys were getting. Not wanting to bother watching the sad and irritated post-game interviews, I lean over and turn off the tv. I had never been a huge hockey girl, that is until I moved to Vancouver for work and moved in next door to one of the Canucks. Many months ago when I was lugging boxes into the apartment building I bumped into the tall blonde with a huge smile. He immediately stopped what he was doing and helped with what would have taken me hours by myself. After a repayment meal and a lengthy conversation about how it was truly criminal, I had never been to a hockey game, a quick and solid friendship was made with Brock.

I made my way over to the kitchen and turned on the oven for some cookies. Normally when Brock and the guys have a hard game he usually ends up over at mine. He says it helps him because he doesn’t feel like being alone after. Recently some of the other guys have started coming along, which I actually really enjoy. I was so scared that I wouldn’t make friends and be so alone moving to a completely new country, but I feel like I am a member of the team with how many hockey players file in and out of my place. Sometimes they show up even when Brock isn’t around. 

My phone rings when I am placing the cookie sheet in the oven. I reach over and answer already knowing who it was. It was a running joke in our friendship that Brock looked like Prince Charming from Shrek, so his ringtone was quickly changed from the default one to I’m Too Sexy for My Shirt from the second movie. I can’t help but smile when I hear the sound. “Hey B,” I say trying to gauge his mood based on his facial features. It was too dark in his car for me to tell. “Hey y/n,” he sighs and I can hear the disappointment in his voice. A frown appears on my face before I could help it. I didn’t know what to say to make it better so we just sat in silence, a comfortable one. “I have a batch of your favorites in the oven waiting for you,” I tell him hoping to bring a small smile to the blonde’s face. A big sigh leaves his mouth,” I’m not coming home tonight. Remember that girl I went out with last week,” he starts and I nod,” Well she came to the game tonight and invited me over.”

“That’s okay Boes. I’ll just put them up for you and drop them by sometime tomorrow.” That seems to lift his mood the tiniest bit. “So… you are staying the night,” I smirk while raising my eyebrows ridiculously. He glances down at the phone seeing my face and busts out laughing. My work for the night was done by making my best friend smile after a tough night. “Grow up dork,” he laughs and soon his whole face lights up when he parks and reaches for the overhead lights. He quickly fiddles around the car grabbing his bag and then turning back to face me. “Okay well I’m here so I guess I see you when I see you,” he says getting out and heading towards her door. “Okay bye B. And hey at least you can say you scored tonight, the other guys can’t,” I say trying to hold a straight face but failing. “Oh, my god. I’m hanging up now. I actually hate you,” his words don’t match the beaming smile on his face. “Love you too,” I say while hanging up the phone. 

The quick beeps of the oven alert me to the cookies being done. As I plate the last couple I hear a knock on my door. Glancing at the clock on the microwave, I wonder who it could be this late since Brock isn’t home. I head to the door quietly and peek through the peephole seeing one of his teammates. I stand back confused for one second and then quickly shake it off opening the door. I look up and meet the eyes of the last player I thought would show up after a bad game. Quinn Hughes stood in the hallway in his game-day suit and dripping hair. “Oh my gosh, Quinn. You must be freezing,” I rush to pull him into my apartment. “I’m sure I have something that will fit give me one second,” I say rushing off to my room and pulling out a pair of my dad’s old college sweats that I stole when I moved. I grab a random sweatshirt because almost all of mine are oversized anyway and find him in the same position I left him in. The only difference is the door is now closed and his hockey bag was on the floor.

“Okay, these should work. But if not I can always run over to Brock’s and grab something,” it looks like my words fall deaf on his ears because he hasn’t even looked at me the whole time I was talking. “Quinn, did you hear me? Are you okay,” I ask slowly walking towards him and trying to hand him the clothes. He finally lifts his head and I can see the tears in his beautiful eyes. “Oh Quinn,” I whisper as I take one final step forward and wrap my arms around him. Having known him for months now, I know Quinn isn’t the biggest fan of physical touch, especially with people he isn’t really all that close with. When I make it close enough to him, he collapses in my arms letting out soft sobs breaking my heart in the process. Quinn was the guy who always had everything together, and seeing him let down his walls was new territory for me.

Quickly circling my arms around the tall defencemen, I stand in the middle of my apartment with the boy letting all of my emotions out. I rub my hand up and down his back slowly and whisper small things to him like “It’s okay Quinn let it all out” and “I know I know.” My arms had gone numb five minutes ago but I was going to stay in his embrace until he pulled away. As if he had read my mind he shyly pulled away and looked down at me with red eyes. A stray tear falls down his cheek and without a second thought, I reach up and wipe it away with my thumb leaving my hand resting on his face. I go to pull it away feeling too intimate but he encircles my wrist with his hand and leans into mine more. A small smile faces upon my face accompanied by a red blush. Now was not the time to be thinking about how attractive I found him or how many times I had wished he would be the one to show up with Brock after a game.

“Wanna go sit down in the living room. I can turn something on or we can talk if you want to,” I speak gently eyes scanning his face. A small nod gives me his answer and I slip my hand from his cheek and lace our fingers together. After he left and changed I started getting him settled in the middle of my couch and I try to round the back of it to grab one of the thousands of throw blankets I have. His grip on my hand on tightens eyes jumping to look at me and figure out why I am leaving him. I laugh lightly and reach for the closest blanket and fall back into his embrace on the couch. I lean back into the corner of it and gently pull him back into me. He rests his head in the crook of my neck and I hesitantly run my fingers through his dark hair. He releases a small sound of enjoyment so I continue until my hand goes numb. 

Using the remote I turned on some Adam Sandler movie I had started the night before but fell asleep during. The only reason I even knew he was awake was when he let out a small laugh at the scene. My hand falls from his head when he looks up at me with childlike eyes. I swear even if he wasn’t so close he could have still heard my heartbeat increase. I sent him a smile and he returned it just as big. “Thank you,” his voice was rough from his recent tears. “You don’t have to thank me, Quinn.” He really didn’t need to thank me, I felt like I should be the one thanking him for letting me be the person he lets his walls down to. “Brock always talks about how you have these magical hugs. Like how after every win he feels so much better after hugging you in the halls, or how after every loss they make him feel just the smallest bit less shitty,” he says sitting up and looking anywhere but my eyes. I let out a laugh at this because I had heard Brock says this before, I’m sure everyone he has met has. “I’m sorry. I just had to see you and see if he was right,” he started,” and he was.” The smile that graced his face was one I wanted to freeze time for and just stare at it for a little longer.

“Well, I’m glad I could be of help. You don’t have to be sorry either. I am actually so happy I finally got a hug from the huggy bear,” I laugh watching his face fill with blush as he laughs too. We stare at each other for a couple of minutes only breaking eye contact at one of the many random noises Adam Sandler makes. We settle back into the couch sitting shoulder to shoulder, feeling so content. Neither of us speaks, we just sit there on the couch enjoying each other's company and watching the ending of the movie. I hand him the remote to pick the next one and while his eyes drift across the screen looking for something, I let mine land on his face trying to memorize every small detail of it. I break my gaze when I hear the opening to Mighty Ducks and laugh at him. He shakes his head and smiles,” What, it’s a good movie.” I reach to fix the blanket on our legs when he stops me and looks over. “Do I smell cookies,” he questions laughing as his stomach grumbles. I nod jumping up and bringing him the container I was supposed to bring Brock. At that moment I didn’t even care that I would have to make more in the morning. The smile on Quinn’s face made it all feel worth it.

[paracosmenthusiast]

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart part 1~!!! yay!

~~

Chapter 1: Innocent

This one is going to be a lot more angst than what I usually put out, but I think it’s suitable not only for the universe of the Bear, but for what I’ve learned about the industry from my very own Carmy.

WARNING: 18+ - mention of substance use and mature themes.

~

I’m sitting at the kitchen counter with all the lights off and the curtains thrown open so the lights of the city dimly illuminate the space.

Phone face down on the counter in front of me. I don’t want to pick it up because all the evidence is right there (not that it was hard to put together) and looking at it made me sick. I threw up six times already and it was mostly bile and saliva but, my throat hurts. My chest hurts. For more than one reason.

The door shakes, a key jammed in the lock, I know the sound like the back of my hand after almost six months of hearing it. I can probably tell with my eyes closed now whether it’s Carmy or someone else coming in. This time it’s him.

What’s the point of talking? I asked myself this more than a few times in the last couple of hours waiting for him to get home. What’s the point of talking when the conversation is only going to have one conclusion and I’m going to have to go pack my bag either way? But for some reason (becauseIwanttostay) I didn’t pack my bag first and for some reason (becauseIdon’twanthimtogo) I’m having this conversation with him.

He doesn’t realize I’m here at first until he flicks on the light and has a little jumpscare. When he catches his breath he says: “Why are you sitting in the dark? You scared the shit out of me.”

I turn around and I have to smile at the sight of him, his hair is sweaty, he always comes home sweaty, and his tousled button up open to the white undershirt underneath. Then I think I’m a fucking psycho for smiling at a time like this and the look wears off quick.

He’s a smart guy. He picks up on the somber atmosphere right away. “What’s going on?”

The world’s kinda traveling in slow motion at this point. I can’t pick up my phone to show him and I’m too tired to get all the words out. All of a sudden it’s all gone. All my energy. All my desire to fight. I should’ve said, do you have something you want to tell me? I should accuse him, should throw it all in his face, but I can’t, suddenly, it’s all gone. I’m all spent, used up. I get up from my seat and then my feet are going one in front of the other toward the bedroom. “I know.”

“What are you talking about? You know what?” He has to raise his voice because I leave him in the foyer.

Don’t look at the bed. I get my duffel out of the top shelf in the closet. Just some essentials and we can divide everything else up later. He’s followed me to the doorway by now. “What are you doing?”

“I know,” don’t make me say it, I can’t say it, I’ve seen the pictures, “I know, Carmen.”

Turn around to show him that I’m filling up a bag of my things. He gets this look sometimes that makes me sad now because I used to love it–the problem solver, crunching the numbers, riddling out the situation.

Except this time the color just leaves his face when the recognition flicks on and he swears, turns away from me, starts running his hands through his hair.

That’s right, don’t say a damn word in your defense, just watch me walk away, don’t tell me not to go, just watch me leave;

I want him to plead for forgiveness but, he is silent,

I say, “I’ll be around to get my stuff.”

Glittering shimmering iridescent soap bubble of a six month relationship, burst. Gone. Not a trace.

“What? Come on. I’ve been working a lot, not that you can possibly begin to understand that, and I’m fucking tired. Sorry I’m late to come home, I didn’t realize it would be a huge thing.”

The anger I feel comes out of nowhere, and burns hot and quick, the words rushing over one another and then stumbling and faltering. “This has nothing to do with dinner, Carmy, I know about the other girls, you, you, … Slimy bastard?”

“Hey, fuck you. Why are you going through my phone?”

“Why am I–” Calm down. My voice is ascending to the high heavens where only dogs and Ariana Grande can hear it. I take a breath. “My actions aren’t under scrutiny right now, Carmen, you fucking cheated on me. Fuck me? Really? No, you haven’t been, that’s kind of the fucking problem, you’ve been fucking everyone else! And I do mean everyone.”

“Fuck you. Stop yelling at me. I never met anybody.” And he does this thing he always does, looks around for something else to do, like he has better places to be than having this conversation.

But I do too. I yank open the dresser drawer and dump a handful of my underwear into the duffel. Slam the drawer shut. My voice is still shaky: “Oh my God, I’ve seen the pictures. ‘Thick Amanda xx’ sound familiar? What about Throat Goat Amber?”

“Jesus Christ, I didn’t meet up with anybody. I didn’t do anything.”

Anddd we’re back to Ariana Grande octaves again. “Sending and asking for nudes and telling them all the gritty details of what you’d do to them is fucking cheating to me, Carmen!”

“Fuck you. I don’t have to do this shit right now, I’m tired. I just got off work.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry that I’m confronting you at a time that isn’t convenient. You dumb bitch. Don’t fucking avoid the subject.”

“Why? What is there to say? I didn’t do anything!”

I’ve never wanted to strangle him so badly in my life. When I stop shoveling my clothes into the duffel and look up at him, he’s not even looking at me. Just fidgeting in the doorway, smoking already, one hand angrily combing through his hair.

“Yes you did,” is what I actually say. “You cheated on me. And that’s just the start– I–I think I hate you.”

Oh, he wasn’t expecting that. He snaps back to the moment like he never tried to wriggle out of the situation. “What?”

I’m floating out of my body and looking down on it from far away. “I think I hate you.”

What a sick realization on our six month anniversary.

“Six months and you think you hate me? I told you from the start I’m fucked up, I have issues.”

And you wear that excuse like armor, I think, but I put my hands to my face, pushing back on my temples. “Are you sorry you did it?”

It takes him a minute to answer, but not because he’s lying. I can see all the emotions filter over his face as he processes. He’s relieved. He thinks that he’s de-escalated the situation and at least put a stall to me packing my shit. “I mean, yeah. Yeah, it’s really fucked. I’m sorry. I just don’t have time to really think about this right now.”

Whatever beginnings of sympathy he had drummed up in me fall completely flat at that. “Oh, yeah. Sorry, my bad, it’s not the right time. Fuck me, Carmen, it’s never going to be the right time.”

“That’s not what I said,” he says. “Fuck you. I don’t need this right now. I just got off work–”

Use it like fucking armor, ‘I just got off work,’ like you always do–

“No, don’t bother walking out,” I say. “Let me do it this time.”

My duffel only has a couple shirts and a pair of pants but I don’t care. I have to come back later to get more and right now I just want to get to the hotel. I pick up the bag and zip it shut even though it doesn’t feel like my hands are working and I can’t look at him.

He gets out of the way when I go to leave our bedroom. Doesn’t say anything just backs up, until he hits the wall of the hallway,

I glance back at him as I’m fumbling with the front door,

He’s just… Standing there. Like he’s in shock. Like he doesn’t quite get how his actions lead him here. Fuck this.

I slam the door on purpose because I know he hates it.

-Four Years (And a different failed relationship) Later-

“I can’t get this out of my head. Look. This picture with her arm up and that smile–”

“Shut up, shut up, look, we’re here!” Actually we’ve been in Chicago for a minute, but as much as I thought I could take talking about the Eras Tour for sixteen consecutive hours on the drive up, I was wrong. So wrong. So I deploy distraction strategy number 1: Pointing out scenery.

Kendra falls for it, whipping around in her seat. “What, where? None of these buildings look like a habitable apartment. Except that one–Wait, that’s a restaurant. The Bear. What a funky name.”

It worked. I glance in the direction she points, because I’m starving and I promised to take her somewhere nice tomorrow as thanks for helping me move. “What restaurant?”

My question was redundant because the restaurant is very obvious, the nicest exterior on the street. And I glanced at exactly the right moment because the front door opens, I can catch a glimpse of a ritzy interior, and someone walks out. I know the look of that shirt, it reminds me of a guy I used to date, and actually, funny anecdote, his hair does, too.

Then I slam on the brakes knee-jerk reaction and the strangled ghoul-like voice that comes out of my mouth certainly doesn’t belong to me: “Oh my fucking god, Kendra, that’s the guy!” Pitches up into hysteria at the end.

I’m staring right into his face! It’s Carmen! It’s fucking Carmen staring right back at me!

Kendra whips around in her seat in the most overt way possible and I realize how fucking insane it is to stop in the middle of the road, the guy who at least looks just like Carmen is looking our way probably confused by me slamming on the brakes, so I do the opposite (and weirder) thing, and I HIT THE GAS. Oh fuck, this day could not get worse.

“WAIT! I didn’t get a good look!” Kendra smacks my arm. “Way to be low-key.”

But I can only breathe once I’ve turned the corner (I wasn’t supposed to turn according to my frantic GPS, but who cares, I have to pull over, if just for a second).

This is crazy. I’ve been in Chicago for one day, four years later, who’s the first person I see? Carmen fucking Berzatto.

Well, I barely even recognized him. Actually who’s to say that was even him. Yeah, joke’s on me, I’m seeing ghosts because I’m stressed by the move and by the breakup and by the long day of driving, yeah, that’s it. It’s gotta be.

“Sorry,” I say, carefully returning to traffic. Both hands on the wheel, both eyes on the road. “I think I mistook that guy for somebody else. He looked like the guy I used to date in New York, a little bit.”

Kendra’s the ever-vigilant internet super sleuth and she already has her phone out. “Oh, no, that was definitely him. Says he just reopened and revamped his brother’s business. The restaurant’s called The Bear now. Carmen Berzatto. That’s the guy, isn’t it?”

And to add insult to injury she shoves her phone with a picture of his face pulled up right in front of my eyes.

I swat it away but not before I catch an unfortunate glimpse. “Don’t distract the driver.”

“Hmm,” she says. Gleeful. “Come on, let’s get to your new place, we need wine so we can discuss this.”

Discuss? What is there to discuss? Nothing. We have nothing to discuss and there is no reason to go hunting for ghosts. “Stop it, Kendra. I mean it.”

I haven’t thought about it in a long time but a memory comes back to me, the look on his face when I left. He helped me carry my boxes out at least. But I still think about that look–like he was in shock, like he couldn’t believe how his actions could’ve lead to the point of us dissolving.

“What if I buy the wine?”

Actually, how is a six month relationship from four years ago even remotely in my head right now? I just broke up with my fiance to move here. Oh, God. Another relationship that didn’t even make it to a year. I am not doing well on the scoreboards these days.

“Hey, are you listening? I said what if I buy the wine. I can even DoorDash it, I think. Or UberEats. Or I could just take the car to the liquor store…”

Fuck, my apartment is coming up on the right. How did I end up so close to his restaurant? What a sick twist of fate. Why didn’t I look closer at Google maps before I picked this place? No, I deserve this. This is what I deserve for snapping off a relationship so coldly the way I did and then dropping out of town like I was entering witness protection.

“Hey!”

I jolt from my reverie as we approach a red light. “Sorry. Yes, wine. Please. Lots of it.”

An embarrassing thought flies into my head: Oh God, what if he saw me when I slammed on my brakes? No. No way.

If I keep thinking about this I’m going to ascend right out of my skin from the mortification, so I focus on directing myself to park the damn car so I can get out from behind the wheel ASAP. And preferably get inside where I can hide behind closed curtains. And wine. Closed curtains, and a lot of wine.

---

Part 2: Chapter 2 - The Black Dog

masterlist: Paracosm Enthusiast Masterlist

[wh0rrorb4by]

i heart you and i wanna be your girl - mitsuya x reader

warnings: rough sex (hitting, choking), daddy kink, mostly you being a manic pixie dream girl from mitsuya’s perspective

18+

they ask you who’s sweet, you tell ‘em i am

.

you were always mitsuya’s good girl - his best girl. you loved the way he whistled your name as he pulled up to your place on his motorcycle, waiting for you to run out and hop on the back of it. you were something special to him, an insatiable little firecracker with a sugary sort of ditsy side he’d only seen when you were just drunk enough and looking at him like he’d put the stars in the sky.

you were mitsuya’s sweet baby when you wore that red miniskirt he loved, and he had to stop himself from bending you over in the diner you’d just finished your shift at and taking you roughly on the counter you were wiping down. he liked to hang around and smoke a couple cigarettes and watch you close up the place, smiling as you stood up on the tables and swayed your hips and sang to him, all sorts of songs about true love and wanting to be his forever. you always matched your lipstick and your nails to that little red miniskirt because you knew it drove him crazy. you both knew that all the guys at the kickback he was taking you to later would practically fall over themselves trying to light your cigarette or open your beer, but it didn’t bother him because he knew all you wanted to be was his little baby.

you were mitsuya’s wild girl - the craziest and wildest girl he’d ever met. the first time he’d ever taken you out you almost gave him a heart attack by maneuvering around him while he was going 70 on his Impulse and positioning yourself into a straddle in front of him, arms around his neck and staring up at him with hearts in your eyes. he couldn’t believe what you had just done and how hard his cock strained against his pants as you laughed wildly at the look on his face, and he knew he loved you when you chanced a kiss to his chest, and then his jaw as he tried to keep his eyes on the road. your trembling body was holding onto him for dear life, but he could see that this was what freedom was to you.

the first time he ever fucked you was not too long after that in the motel room you’d been living out of that matched your sadness and your free spirit perfectly, and you were practically delirious on his cock from the moment his fat tip stretched you out. you were whining and moaning and begging him to hit you harder, harder, each time he thrust into you. and you cried when he choked you, not because it hurt, but because it was the closest to heaven you’d ever gotten when you were lightheaded and couldn’t breathe and his tip was toying with your g-spot. and those hearts were still in your eyes as you stared up at him through the tears and choked out a small daddy, i’m gonna- and bucked your hips up pathetically to match his thrusts with your trembling legs. and you could’ve screamed if it hadn’t been for his unrelenting grip on your throat as you finally clamped down around his length and orgasmed, and your whole body was shaking and the tears were still slipping past your lashes, and your ass and breasts and face were all bright red and stinging from where you begged him to be rough with you. and you were the prettiest sight he’d ever seen as he came, groaning your name and thrusting his cum deep inside you while your eyes rolled back and fluttered closed, cherishing the feeling of his pulsing cock and whimpering daddy, daddy, daddy over and over like a prayer.

now here you were, running out to meet him like you did every day right at golden hour, and so the night would begin. you’d hop on the back of his bike and hang onto him as he drove through the streets of tokyo, and you’d ghost your lips against his ear at red lights, and he’d tell you that he loved you over and over - sometimes quietly to himself, sometimes breathlessly as he kissed you goodbye when you started your shift at the diner. and he’d write it on the napkins when he eventually missed you too much and he and the boys came in at closing for a late night coffee. and then he’d whisk you off and take you to the movies or wherever the gang was partying that night, and you’d drink and kiss and have a good time. and he’d take you back to the little apartment you’d upgraded to since becoming his girl, and he’d fuck you until you couldn’t speak - until you could only kiss him messily and whine out his name as he pounded into you and called you his good little girl, his baby love. and then you’d lay on his chest, not all the way there after he’d fucked you half-conscious, mindlessly kissing his neck and his jaw as he rubbed your back. and then he’d light a cigarette and hold you while you slept, moving the hair from your face and kissing you every so often.

and these nights went on, and on, and on.

[hopepaigeturner]

how do each umbrella member cope with what happens to John? and how their relationship with Lucy changes because of that?

because i’m sure Danbury tells them to act like nothing happened, in order to follow the lie they all tell her, but i also can imagine some of them, like Michael for example, can’t just pretend that didn’t happened, and it’s hard for them to even look at her without thinking about that evening

also, that was so cute and then so sad, i cried 🥺 can’t wait to read more about this au cause it’s just too good, and you’re such a good writer 👏🏼

Thank you for the feedback!! It really warmed my heart.

Oh you're absolutely right. John's death shakes the entire family to the core, they just cope with it in different ways...

Simon:

Nothing seems to have changed, apart from Simon being harsher and more millitant during training. He is much quicker to reprimand silly mistakes, scold bad teamwork or fooling around.

For years Lucy will wonder why Simon also seems one step away from her, even when he embraces her in a hug.

And for years, Lady Danbury is the only one who patches Simon's bloody fists after late night alley fights.

Kate:

As the eldest girl she comes alongside Sophie to comfort her siblings. She is the most active in reaching out to Lucy, allowing the girl to play with animals, feeling a sense of responsibility that she uses to smother her conlifcted feelings towards the young girl.

And then two months later her entire world turns upside down with the death of her father. And the laughing, smiling, soft Kate they all knew disappears.

Sophie:

Burrows away from her grief by giving everything she has to others and throwing herself into the training room. Other than the funeral, she never cries. Instead she holds Gareth and Kate. She quietens Penelope and lets Lucy slip into her bed. Tries to reach out to Michael but gives up afgter being rebuffed far too many times. Lady Danbury leans on her the most, seeing as she seems the msot adjusted to the change.

Yet Philip always makes sure that Sophie has time in his greenhouse where she can read a book or nap. For he recogises how Sophie;s features change at a rapidity not dissimilar to her days under Araminta's torture.

Penelope:

Wakes up with nightmares weeks after the event. And since that day when Lady Danbury asked her to utter those words, Penelope repeats her matnras. You had no other choice.

And from that day forward she can never look at Lucy for too long without the sickening guilt clogging her throat.

Phillip:

Hides away in his greenhouse with the plants, can't bear to look at Lucy due to the guilt and grief. He's never known how to help, but he knows Sophie, so eh makes sure she spends some afternoons with him in the greenhouse, where her features can settle a little more.

But a month or so after, he comes to the realisation that he knows how it feels to be treated like a monster, and from then on reaches out and cares for Lucy. Plays with her, shows her his plants and carries her on her back.

Michael:

For months he cannot bear to be in the same room as Lucy, otherwise an overwhelming anger runs through his veins and he wants to strangle her. Or because she is the reminder of his failure...his failure to save John.

So he stays away and runs away from the memories with boose and drugs. He bats away all those who try to help him, until its the one year anniversary of John's death and he screams to the sky and suddenly...

"What mess have you got yourself into now?"

And for the first time since that night, Michael's smile is genuine.

Gareth:

Suppresses the trauma until the details are hazy to his six year old mind. He cried at the funeral, and sometimes would stare at the wall for hours before falling asleep, but is soon running around the house, bouncing off teh walls, barely able to keep still.

Everything is fine, everything is good, for he didn't really know John and he still has his favourite playmate Lucy. Everything is fine. Everything is fine.

[messyguess]

October 2024

Pregnancy has been an incredibly difficult journey for me. Bombarded by articles with titles like, "Millennials Choose Happiness Over Having Children," "American Women Exercise Their Right To Not Have Kids," and "Given The State Of Our Planet, Does It Make Sense To Have Kids?"—the pregnant women on my Instagram feeds caption their pregnancies as "The Most Blissful 9 Months Of My Entire Life." I felt there was no space for the in-between. The glowing feed from my phone screen paints only polarizing pictures of this entire experience that feels so intimately mine. I just couldn’t—and can’t—relate to any of it. The lack of that middle ground made it harder to take deep breaths and stay present. But my body has reminded me every day that the only speed I could truly excel at was the speed of one present day. My mind, which normally operates days, months, and years ahead all at once in a glorious multiverse of thoughts, had to come to a sputtering halt at the altar of my womb as she began her work.

With near-constant heartburn threatening to topple my throat over, I found—and still find—it hard to plan like I used to. Is that what parenthood is? Would I lose all my carefully laid plans to the mess of the present? Would I stumble as I walked and never remember the feel of the assured run? Or could I work with this pace and readjust?

Before having a child, I promised myself I wouldn’t throw away everything I had built—that I wouldn’t reconstruct a world based on reaction instead of intentionality. I spent so much time creating my life, learning about my inner workings, my partner, and our unique place in the universe. I found peace, happiness (coming and going, but mostly coming), and strength. I promised myself I wouldn’t throw that all away to give in to chaos. But in this first test, these nine months tried me in ways I never anticipated. I stumbled a lot. I cried and will continue to cry, like I’m trying to solve the water crisis with my tears. Oh, so many tears. I questioned everything, with my hormones playing my heart like a sad, frantic fiddle.

The first trimester felt like the world was closing in. The second trimester cleared my head, but my body started to feel like a trap in a lot of ways. I began to feel my baby girl kick, and I was in awe, but I also missed my pre-pregnancy body. The third trimester is when I felt the strongest, but as I got closer to birth, my body filled up with exhaustion. My pace slowed down to the movement of a glacier. I feel like a glacier—immense and slow, filled with an immeasurable density that drags me down physically and mentally.

Then the birth. Hours and hours of contractions to expand all the space of my birthing canal. My husband by my side—so close, yet not close enough. Not able to reach me in this small place I had crafted in my head to handle the level of pain. What a solo journey. Did it feel lonely? No, not at all. It felt like I was everyone. Every version of myself smashed together into one being, for once. No dissent among the cast, just one orb of energy and force. The epidural I whispered as a need to my husband at the start of the most painful, soul-shaking contraction didn’t work. And that was the mental green light I needed—the acknowledgment that no one was going to get me through this but me. I had questioned the mantras of inner strength I’d spoken to myself up until that moment. In that moment, I knew the words were hands holding up piles of sand, watching grains sneak out between my fingers. My beliefs cemented themselves into me, until the epidural didn’t work. Then, it was a gift. To be gifted a level of pain and to know I was strong enough—stronger than I’d ever imagined.

Now the baby. The perfect, sweet baby girl, like a relentless storm in my life. Actually, I take that back—a storm is not enough to contain who she is. She is water in every form. Sometimes she’s sprinkles, pitter-pattering on leaves, leaving me feeling at peace. And sometimes, she’s the 50-foot supernatural waves that haunt the sea.

I am in awe of the emotions she charges through me. A level of care and love that leaves me a bit shaky. No one has ever mattered so much to me—no one ever will. I cling to my partner, my lighthouse husband. His light stays on for me, reminding me I’m okay, she’s okay, we’re okay. We’ve hit the three-week mark since her birth. Every day has felt like a saga. I break the days out from the nights in my mind, never letting them meld together, because I need to know the end of a day is truly the end. My footing, as it has been since the start of my pregnancy, is loose and shaky. I try not to hold my breath. I can’t hold my breath and lie in wait for the day of assurance. I know that to reach it, we need to work for it as a family. Every day we take together, we build this foundation.

[woso-fan13]

NO. 8 EVERYTHING HURTS AND I'M DYING

Stomach Pain

Your whimpers had become the soundtrack to the day. You had woken up regressed and refused to age up. You had been extremely cuddly and clingy the whole day, although that wasn’t extremely unusual. You had spent the day just a tiny baby, needing your moms to hold you. 

Your moms were trying their best, they really were. At practice, they switched off who was with you. Usually- in the rare scenario where you were regressed at practice- you still loved to play. But today you adamantly refused. Kelley and Alex took turns holding you on the sidelines as you nuzzled as close to them as you could. Becky had known you and your moms for long enough to know that something was wrong with you, so she sent the coach a glare before practice began, begging him to protest. 

The worst part of practice was easily when Kelley and Alex both needed to be on the field. Luckily the goalies were taking a break, so they were able to hand you off to Ash. With a quick kiss to your head and an apology to Ash, they left your sobbing body in her arms. She managed to calm you down enough to the point where you were simply lying listlessly in her arms. Your eyes followed your moms on the field, but they showed no sign of understanding. 

You were well and truly small, no one on the team besides Kelley and Alex had seen you that small. You were nonverbal and completely dependent on them for everything. This also meant you cried- a lot. The two of them were barely able to stop your crying today. All through practice, and bus rides, meals and cool downs, you cried or whimpered or made some noise of distress. It was heartbreaking to everyone on the team. They all took turns trying to calm you and give your moms a break. Ash and Ali gave you a bath after practice which just consisted of you listlessly sitting in the tub. Christen and Tobin tried to handle nap time. After an hour of singing and reading and rocking, you finally were able to sleep restlessly for only 20 minutes. You were even more upset when you woke up. Your uncle- Frat Daddy Jr- stole you for a movie afternoon with the other youngsters. This entailed you crying quietly into Emily’s chest for the first half of the movie. After she slipped out to use the restroom, you found yourself sobbing in Mal’s arms. Luckily, Emily returned quickly and had grabbed your pacifier, so the second half was filled with your quiet hiccups. 

The whole team tried to get you to eat. When you wouldn’t even eat the ice cream you were offered, your moms decided to pull out their secret weapon. You hadn’t even had half of your bottle before you spit it out, crying. 

The day continued in a similar fashion. After you refused dinner, your moms took you up to bed and got you in pajamas, figuring an early night was in order. A knock on the door put that plan on hold. 

Becky came into the room, looking at where you were pitifully propped up against the pillows. You were in footie pajamas, a pacifier in your mouth. You looked absolutely miserable. 

“Hi sweetheart,” Becky starts, sitting by your feet, “I know that you have had a really hard day, and that’s okay. Sometimes we just have hard days. But, I need you to answer a very important question for me, okay?”

At this, you nod your head. 

“Good job! Is something wrong? Why have you been so sad all day?”

Again, you nod.

“Ok, do you think you can tell me what’s wrong? Maybe I can help you.”

You take a breath, trying to form your feelings into thoughts and your thoughts into words. Your face is scrunched in concentration until finally you manage to communicate. 

“Belly”

They were smart girls, they could figure it out. 

“Belly? Does your belly hurt?”

You whimper and nod. Finally, someone knew what was wrong. 

After a few more questions, you shaking and nodding your head in response, Becky has somewhat of an idea of what is going on. Pulling Kelley to the door with her as Alex snuggles you in bed, she says in a whisper, 

“I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’ll admit I’m worried. I think you guys should probably take her to the ER.”

Kelley nods, “I’ve honestly been thinking about it, I’m sure Alex has been too. Something is definitely wrong with her.”

With a ‘feel better’ and a pat on your leg, Becky is out of the door. 

—-

2 hours later, the group chat goes off. Everyone grabs their phone at the collective ding, wanting to get any update they could. A text from Alex showed a video of you in a hospital gown. Kelley was sitting on the edge of the bed, cradling you as she rocked back and forth. Your hand, gripping onto her shirt, showed an IV getting some fluids into you. When the video starts, Alex’s voice is heard. 

‘A quick update. Little miss here has such an ouchy tummy because she needs her appendix out. She’s getting some fluids and pain meds now and they’re hoping to get her up to surgery in the next few hours. We won’t be back tomorrow, but hopefully we will be out of here the day after. After that, she’ll be out for a few weeks.’

The camera moves close to the bed as Alex’s voice changes slightly, ‘hey bunny, do you want to say hi to the camera? Our friends are watching!’

Your hand unhooks briefly from Kelley to wave before returning back to its previous position. 

‘I think that’s all for our update here. We’re still feeling kinda sick and really sad, but we’ll feel better soon. I’ll text you guys when they bring her up and any updates I get.’

The video ends with Kelley leaning her head down, pressing her lips to your hair. The team smiles as they hear Alex start to coo at you before the video ends. You were in good hands. As much as they all hated not being with you, they knew you would be safe. 

[sems-diarie]

sem sem if its ok could you spare us crumbs of shigaraki and chubby gf 🥺🤲🏻

if not thats okay bubby have a nice day ❤️

“What’s wrong with you?” Shigaraki rasps, red eyes shifting to bore into your unsuspecting face.

Your eyes flee from his instantly, searching around the room to gaze everywhere but at your boyfriend. You even fiddle with your fingers, a habit you fall back into when you’re sad. Shigaraki wishes you’d just be upfront and say it—but you’re so skittish, so evasive. It pairs nastily with hungry, sticky-fingered Tomura Shigaraki.

“Uh,” your knees knock together. Shigaraki casts a long look to where you sit, plastered to the rolling chair beside his bed. You keep fidgeting—brushing your thighs together and sometimes reaching over to tug at the sleeve of his shirt.

“Yes?” He snarks, sarcastically.

“Can.. I want—,” you’re talking, he’s sure of it. Shigaraki can hear the sweetness melting down his earlobes like honey. But he’s distracted, first by your thighs, soft and supple and thick beneath the short hem of your skirt, the—zing! zing! zing! He snaps back around to watch the television screen. He can’t keep letting you distract him like this.

“Fuck!” He exclaims, thumbs lifting from the controller as he dies—unfairly, might he add. He’s getting cheated (he always is).

“What’d you want?” He sticks his neck out in your direction.

You jump at his loudness, his directness. He doesn’t… think too hard about the consequences of his actions. About how he makes other people feel. He’s a brash man, your boyfriend.

“Spit it out,” he gripes when you fumble for the right words.

“I just.. wanna sit on your lap.”

You’re shaking, you’re so nervous. You’ve been afraid to ask because—because you’re bigger than him. Heavier. Rounder. And ‘Raki can be mean sometimes, unintentionally and intentionally. You’ve been terrified that he’d say something heartbreakingly blunt, disrespectful but… true all the same. Especially because you always dance around conversations regarding your suppleness.

“So fucking c’mere, then.”

You blink, surprised. “You sure?”

“Hurry up,” he seethes, red eyes flashing to your face, “the game is loading.”

“M’going!” You jump to your feet, flustered and excited and feeling a new layer of clingy spread through your chest. Tomu helps you onto the bed and into his lap, quickly enough that he doesn’t have to be idle when his next game match starts up.

“Fuck,” he gripes a few matches later. Maybe half an hour’s worth of having a pretty girl plop herself in his lap before he starts fidgeting beneath you. “Wait, wait, I’m getting.. hard. Shit.”

[erodasfishtacos]

harry adores yn with his entire being and i can tell that she loves him just as much but the poor thing is just so scared, and by what you have showed us she has a fair reason to have struggles

Through Hell and Back

warnings: cheating, mentions of domestic violence, this could just be overall triggering if you have experienced trauma or family struggles.

this is a very important blurb to understand dynamic and history of the characters.

PLEASE let me know your thoughts.

—

Harry’s out at a bachelor party for his friend, Jack, at a noisy bar downtown where there is a mechanical bull and half-naked waitresses.

His phone rings at two-thirty in the morning, he already knows who it is and why she’s calling him so late.

He steps outside the noisy bar, “Hi puppy, y’alright?”

Harry already knew she wasn’t.

Her voice is shaky, “Er, are you still out at the bachelor party?”

If he says yes, she’ll just try to say have fun and was just calling to check in - a lie because she felt like such an inconvenience at all times.

“No, just got home,” He lied smoothly, he could hear her trying to hide a sniffle - she must have had a bad dream.

Every since she started trauma therapy, they’d been getting worse, as she worked through her struggles with a therapist.

—

“I-I don’t want to g-go in,” YN whimpers as she sits in Harry’s passenger side outside the clinic, “I can’t talk about it.”

“Baby, you need to do this. You need to talk to someone who’s trained to help you, okay? You promised you’d try it f’me,” He hums, rubbing a thumb over her wet cheekbone.

She shakes her head stubbornly, “It’s all going to come back.”

“Yes, it will. Because you didn’t work through it, you repressed it. There is a difference, okay?” Harry’s heart feels like it’s being ripped in two as YN looks like a caged animal.

YN squeezes Harry’s hand so hard it hurts but he doesn’t mind, he can feel her fear being shared through the rough touch.

She wipes her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater, “Please, H. I don’t want to remember.”

He sighs softly, “I would never force you to do something you don’t want to do. If you really want to leave, we can.”

YN searches his eyes, sees his sadness and she knows she has to push through because she loves him so much, “Will you walk me in?”

“Of course, s’fucking proud of you. My strong girl,” Harry praises, kissing the top of her head, and shutting off the car.

He walks her in, watches her as she hesitantly goes back in with her new therapist, and sits in the waiting room for the hour and a half until she comes out.

He does that every week without miss.

Drives her, walks her in, sits in the waiting room, and then drives her home.

She doesn’t usually talk much after the sessions, her eyes swollen and puffy which is a telltale sign she cried during the appointment.

Harry holds her hand on the ride home, sometimes draws her a bath or tucks her in for a nap under his covers.

One day, after therapy, they crawled into his bed together. She hadn’t said one word since she walked out of the office but she looks tiredly at Harry.

“Why?”

Harry frowns, “Why what?”

She hides her face into the fluffy pillow, words mumbled, “Why do you want me? I’m so broken.”

“Hey,” Harry responds loudly, pulling her up and giving her a serious look, “You are not broken. Even if you were, I’d love every broken piece, okay? I want you because I’m so in love with you it doesn’t make sense.”

YN shakes her head, “I don’t deserve you. You-you have to drive me to therapy every week, leave work early, have to make it up the next day.”

And well, his heart breaks a little because she truly believes that.

Harry grips her jaw, gently, “If you need to go to therapy for the rest of your life, I’ll drive you until I’m ninety. I’ll drive you five days a week if you need it.”

He continues,“I don’t deserve you, sweet girl. Strongest, bravest, most resilient person I’ve ever met. You are my soulmate and I believe that wholeheartedly.”

“I want to nap now,” She whispers, crawling back into her shell where she’s safe from the world, from facing her fears.

Harry just stares at her, the girl he’s had a crush on since fourth grade, the girl he’d been in love with since ninth.

When she felt broken, well so did he.

—

“Mum, I want to do more for her,” Harry cries to his mother one night at dinner after school.

“I know you do, Harry. There is only so much you can do. She has parents tha-“

“Those aren’t parents, mum! You know that!” He shouts angrily, “I need to do more for her. Help her!”

Anne looks at him with a soft, understanding expression, “You’re doing all you can, Harry.”

—

He was still doing all he can.

“I wa-was wondering if you wanted to come over and watch a movie?” YN acts casual despite the tremor but he won’t call her on it - on the phone at least.

“I’d love to pup, I’ll be over on a tick,” already walking away from the busy bar.

Harry can hear the relief in her voice when she says, “Okay, I’ll see you soon.”

When he uses his key to open the door, she sat on her couch with all the lights in the house on, not one off.

“Oh, pet,” Harry murmurs, all the blinds were drawn shut and he knew she’d already triple checked that the windows were locked - despite the state of the art security system he had installed for her.

“Um, so are we feeling a scary movie or romcom?” She ignores his words, picking up the remote, and pulling up Netflix.

He flicks a couple of the bright lights off until it’s normal dim and he sits next to her on the couch, taking the remote and turning off the television.

“Talk t’me,” Harry coaxes, unraveling her from the heavy weighted blanket, and tugging her into his chest.

“M’fine,” YN lies on a choked whimper.

“Y’safe, you know I’d never let anythin’ happen to you . Please puppy, tell me,” He’s not to manly to beg for her to open up.

He allows her to nuzzle her face into his neck, “He cam-came back an-and he -,” her voice drops, “broke in here and I wo-woke up as he was opening my door.”

Harry holds her for a very long time that night.

-

With Harry and her therapist’s constant encouragement she’d been able to be more open and up front with Harry - which made him feel unexaplainably proud of her.

Anna almost fucked everything up, all the hard work without even realizing it.

It was nearly three in the morning this time.

Harry was stuck at Anna’s house with her and her friends for a movie night.

He’d gotten up to go to the bathroom when his phone rings.

Anna sees who it is and picks it up, “What do you want? Harry’s busy and doesn’t have time for you right now. You know it’s not all about you, right?”

Then she hangs up, all of her and her friends giggling at how she just treated YN.

Harry is unaware of the call for a few minutes when he gets back until he gets a text from YN.

I’m sorry I bothered you. I am okay. Have fun tonight x

He scrolls through his phone in confusion until he sees the call, he glares over at Anna, “Did you answer my phone?”

She has a cocky look on her face, “Yeah, I told YN that the world doesn’t revolve around her and to leave us alone.”

All the friends are giggling - but that comes to an abrupt halt when Harry stands up, knocking over the little table of drinks with his anger, “Where the fuck did you get the idea that you could touch my phone, let alone answer it?”

All of them are quiet.

He scoffs, “Now all you annoying prats are going shut up? Get the fuck out of my way,” he orders to Anna who’s pouting.

“C’mon, it was a joke. Don’t leave,” She whines, grabbing at Harry’s arm which he instantly rips out of her grip.

“Don’t touch me. I can’t fuckin’ stand you,” He tells her honestly before storming out of her house without a look back at her teary face.

-

When he arrives at YN’s house, a book is automatically been hurled at the front door when he opens it, then another.

“Hey, puppy, stop tha’. S’just me, you’re okay. S’just me,” He coos, rearming the security system to make her feel better.

She is only in one of his shirts with the company logo on it and soft cotton boy shorts, hair frizzy atop her head.

“Y’have another nightmare?” Harry asks softly, all the lights were on again, every single one.

YN clenches her jaw, “No.”

He hardens his expression too, “I was in the bathroom when she answered that call. As soon as I found out, I came over here. Don’t be sour with me.”

“I didn’t have a nightmare.”

“I know y’bloody lying because your legs are still tremblin’. Now cut the bullshit and talk t’me, we’re not going backwards,” Harry tells her seriously, with all firmness he can muster.

“I love you.”

It takes him aback. YN told him how much she adored him but it was something that didn’t come easy for her.

To hear it flat out, well….he nearly almost melted on the floor into a pile of goop.

“I love you too, puppy.”

She takes a deep breathe, “It’s been that same nightmare, but it’s not really a nightmare? It’s a flashback to…”

YN swallows before she continues, “Remember when….when I ran from my parent’s house to yours and my dad came and found me…”

Harry doesn’t want to remember but he does.

—-

“Harry, he-he just pulled up,” YN cries, peeking out his window, “I don’t want to go home.”

“Harry, he’s screaming at your mum. I have to go.”

“Harry, I have to go before he does something stupid. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“Harry, don’t cry. I’ll be fine, he’s just really upset. I’ll just deal with it and it will be over before we know it, okay?”

——

“I remember,” He wavers like he normally doesn’t, feeling like a helpless sixteen year old again.

It was moments like this were no matter how hard he wanted to be angry or scream at her for making their relationship so difficult, that he couldn’t be.

How could he blame her for her commitment issues?

Why she struggles to trust?

Why she never feels good enough?

“I’m sorry to bring that up-“

“Do not apologize,” Harry interrupts, “I want to know everything you experience or feel no matter how traumatic or upsetting.”

YN despite her own struggles, when she heard Harry say things like that…well she knew full heartedly that he loves her with no conditions.

She knew this was so hard on him, “I am so in love with you, H.”

His eyes automatically soften and he reacts like he’s being praised. His face lights up without him even knowing it does.

“I’ve been in love with you since I was sixteen, thank you for being my person. I appreciate everything you do for me.”

It was something she had been also working on in therapy, expressing gratitude- specifically to Harry.

And it works because Harry actually starts tearing up, eyes watering with emotion, “I love you. I’d walk through hell and back for you.”

He would and he has.

[the-bau-quinjet]

One Misunderstanding

Bucky x Reader

Summary: You struggle to fix Bucky's first impression of you. Bucky struggles with his own feelings.

Warnings: angst, Hydra things- like brainwashing and torture, a few curse words, panic attacks, anxiety

Word count: 5609

a/n: this idea came to me very suddenly, but I'm in love with it. Hopefully whatever I just wrote does it justice.

Masterlist

"Everyone, meet Y/N. She's the newest member of our little group, bringing in a whole new level of hacking and tech skills. Y/N, meet the team." Tony introduced you to everyone, eager to share your skills.

You turned to the group, getting ready to introduce yourself further, but instead tripped. You shrieked as you fell down the small set of stairs you were at the top of.

Sam, being the closest, caught you. "Good thing you've got tech skills." He chuckled as you righted yourself, firmly planting your feet on the ground.

"Haha, yeah. I'm not a big fan of violence." You winced as you said it, wishing you could take it back. You didn't want to get into the reasons as to why you don't like violence.

To your surprise, nobody asked why. You would have guessed they would have questions, but maybe they weren't interested in your past. They all had their own issues to deal with afterall.

"Eh, we don't need anymore people for fighting anyway. Welcome to the team." Steve greeted you warmly, as you would have expected from America's golden boy.

You gratefully shook his hand, glad to not have to talk about anything yet. Unfortunately, you tripped again when you tried to move back, falling into the one and only Bucky Barnes.

His hands steadied you, dryly laughing at your clumsiness. "You really are clumsy."

You did you best to not show how embarrassed you were. You couldn't deny the claim. Unless you were fighting, something you vowed to yourself to never do again, you were clumsy.

Being abducted and tortured by Hydra may have made you a competent fighter, but your aptitude for tripping over nothing never left.

"Right, sorry!" You greeted everyone else quickly, eager to get situated in your room. "I'm just going to unpack everything." You waved as you backed out of the room, bumping into the wall as you left.

-

You had just finished putting away your stuff when you heard a knock on your door.

"Come in!" You figured someone would have questions for you.

Unsurprisingly, Natasha was the one to step into your room. Of everyone there, you expected her to have learned about your past. It comes with the territory of being a spy.

"Hi, I was hoping to talk to you." Her tone was friendly, but clearly she was skeptical of you. Again, you weren't surprised.

"I thought you might. I'm assuming you read my file? Honestly, I thought everyone would." You laughed gently, shaking your head at yourself.

"I did. Your file is pretty bare bones though. I did some extra digging... Not everyone else is as nosy as me." She grinned, already pleased with your openness. "So, why'd you pretend to be clumsy?"

"Oh, it wasn't pretend. I've always been clumsy. When everything happened, and I learned how to fight, I thought my newfound agility would help. Turns out, it didn't. The only times I'm even the slightest bit coordinated are when I'm fighting or training, but I wasn't lying about that either. When I escaped, I promised myself I wouldn't hurt anyone else."

"Why join the Avengers at all then?" She looked curious, still unsure if she could trust you.

"I wanted to help people. I just didn't want to use the skills they gave me to do it. So, I learned how to code, figured I could help behind the scenes."

She smiled, letting down her guard. Clearly it would take some time, but you could easily see the two of you being close friends.

"So, nobody knows about what you went through?" She couldn't help but be curious about your past.

"Nope. I don't talk about it much, but it's not a secret. I'll answer anything you want to know." You smiled, eager to try and make a real friend here.

You spent the next few hours answering every question Natasha could think of. You told her about being abducted and experimented on.

That lead to even more questions, basically boiling down to the fact that you're not a super soldier, but you do have enhanced senses- and seemingly enhanced clumsiness for when you're not using them.

You told her about learning how to fight, and the punishments you would endure if you got it wrong. The two of you bonded over the shared experience.

Finally, you told her about how you escaped. When the Winter Soldier escaped, every Hydra effort possible was made to find him. That included you. Resources were spread thin, trying to cover more areas. It was the perfect opportunity for you to get out.

"Really, I owe my freedom to him. Even if he doesn't know anything about me." You felt the tears in your eyes, too many emotions swirling through you to keep it all in anymore. "Since then, I've learned everything I could about technology and coding, which pretty much brings you up to date."

Before she could ask anymore questions, there was another knock on your door. Quickly wiping the tears from your eyes, you called another "come in!"

Steve poked his head in the door, cautiously looking between you and Nat.

"I've been sent to stop the interrogation." He grinned, stepping farther into the room.

Nat rose from her spot on the bed, kissing him on the cheek while rolling her eyes. "It wasn't an interrogation. We were bonding."

"Yeah, over what?" He chuckled, trying to figure out what the two of you had in common.

Maybe it was the look in your eyes, or maybe Nat just likes knowing more than everyone, but she smiled conspiratorially at you before responding. "Girl stuff, babe. Just girl stuff."

You smiled as the couple left the room, grateful for not having to explain everything again.

-

Over the next few weeks, the team constantly teased you for your clumsiness. Well, not the whole team. Nat knew the truth, so she never said anything. Peter never teased you either, although that is likely due to the teasing he endures as well.

Weirdly enough, you bonded with the kid over it, eventually telling him about your past as well.

Normally you could shake it off. They clearly didn't mean anything by it. Except Bucky.

Whenever he said anything, he stared you down. His eyes felt like they were piercing your soul. You're not sure exactly why, but he didn't seem to like you much.

Which wouldn't be an issue if you didn't have an embarrassing crush on the man.

Really your infatuation started when you first escaped Hydra. His own escape lead to your freedom, so you admired him. When you found out he was working with the Avengers to help people, you admired him even more.

Watching him on missions is really what caused the infatuation to blossom into a full blown crush.

You, however, would adamantly deny that if anyone ever asked. Which is what just happened.

"What?!" You nearly tripped, again, with how quickly you turned to look at Wanda and Nat.

"You heard me." Nat stared at you, a neutral expression on her face. "When are you going to do something about your crush on Barnes."

"I, I don't- I don't have a crush on Bucky." You stuttered, a lackluster job at denying the truth.

"Please, Y/N. It's so obvious!" Wanda joined in.

The three of you hung out a lot around the compound. It was nice to have a support system to lean on when things got hard.

"Well, even if I did, which I'm not saying I do! He doesn't like me. I don't know what I did, but his eyes feel like daggers whenever we're in the same room." You started out strong, but quickly morphed into a sad resignation. It genuinely upset you that Bucky didn't like you.

"I think I might know what that's about..." Wanda bit her lip, immediately feeling guilty at having said anything.

"What!?" You eagerly turned to her, needing answers. You shuffled your way across the room, never fully rising from your seat on the ground.

"I don't know if I should tell you! I'm not even supposed to know, but sometimes his thoughts are really loud!" Her guilt multiplied.

"You have to tell me now! Then I can fix it!" You were practically begging at her feet from your position on the floor.

She looked at Nat, who just shrugged in return. "Not my place, although I would love to hear it."

"Ugh, fine. But you can't tell anyone I told you!" Wanda glared at the two of you, unable to say no to your pouting face. "The first day we all met you, do you remember what you said?"

Your face scrunched as you tried to remember. "I'm not a big fan of violence?"

She nodded, looking at you as if she just told you everything.

"So?" You asked incredulously, unable to follow her train of thought.

She rolled her eyes, having to spell it out for you. "He kind of took that personally..."

Immediately, you sunk completely to the floor. "Oh, god. Fuck! That's not what I meant at all! I just meant I don't personally like using violence! Shit, shit, shit." You continued to mutter to yourself as Nat and Wanda shared a look.

"Why don't you like using violence?" Wanda asked, intrigued by your reaction.

You thought back to your conversation with Nat the first day you got here. You told her it wasn't a secret, it just wasn't something you brought up.

"Can you just look in my head? I don't really wanna explain it, but I want you to know." You asked, glad to share you past with another friend.

Wanda nodded, seemingly doing nothing until realization dawned on her.

"Oh shit." She whispered, not even realizing she said it out loud.

"Yeah." You huffed out a dry laugh.

"Y/N... I'm so sorry." You smiled at her, having worked through most of the trauma already. "You totally have a crush on Barnes though."

That earned a real laugh. "Hey, that's not what you were in there for!"

"It's not my fault! You were thinking it really loudly!"

The three of you laughed together until you sunk back into a pit of despair.

"What do I do? How do I fix this?" You whined, laying back on the ground like a child.

"I think you just need to talk to him. Explain what you meant." Wanda shrugged, unsure of any other advice to offer you.

"She's right. Just talk to him." Nat nodded along as you whined on the floor.

-

After a few days, you finally worked up enough courage to try and talk to Bucky. He had just finished training, so you knew exactly where he'd be: in the kitchen.

Walking in, you were glad to see him pulling ingredients from the fridge.

"Hey Bucky, can I, um, talk to you for a minute?" You stuttered through the words, nervous about what he would say.

He barely looked at you, nodding his head for you to continue.

"I just, I wanted to apologize." You trailed off when his head snapped up.

"For what?" Well shit. How are you supposed to explain this one without ratting out Wanda.

"Oh, well, um... I just thought maybe I said- I did something that upset you. Uh, you just don't seem to like me very much, which is totally cool, you don't have to like me if you don't want to. I just didn't want it to be my fault... Fuck." That went horribly. Taking a deep breath, you started over. "I didn't mean it."

Bucky is looking at you like you have three heads. "Didn't mean what?"

"That I don't like violence."

"So you do... like violence." He'd somehow grown more confused.

"Well, no." You paused, unsure of how to explain yourself.

"Then you did mean it." His soul piercing stare is back.

"I-"

"It's fine, save it. Some people get to choose not to be violent." And with that, he left the kitchen, abandoning his post workout smoothie.

You stared at the doorway, in shock over how poorly that went. You stood there , unaware of the 25 minutes that had passed, trying to figure out how it could've gone better when Steve found you.

"Y/N? What are you doing?"

You didn't hear him, too lost in the memories. Memories of Hydra, forcing you to do things you never wanted to. This happened from time to time if something triggered you into remembering, otherwise you had a handle on your emotions.

"Y/N?" Steve said your name again, concern evident in his voice. He gently laid a hand on your shoulder, trying to get your attention.

Everything happened so fast after that. The feeling of someone's hand on your shoulder caused you to panic. With all the memories of Hydra in your head, your training kicked in instinctually.

You grabbed Steve's arm, pulling him closer to you for better leverage. Before he could question your moves, you flipped him, pinning him to the ground.

The second you made eye contact, you realized what just happened. Horror and regret flashed in your eyes.

In an effort to get off him, you threw yourself backward, knocking into a cart full of pots and pans. The clanging of metal hitting the ground echoed through the small room.

Steve sat up slowly, trying to register the turn of events. You sat in a ball on the floor, tears pooling in your eyes, mumbling apologies over and over again.

Sam, having heard the commotion from the pots and pans, ran into the kitchen ready to fight.

"What- What happened?" He asked in confusion, lowering his arms from their defensive position.

"I don't know." Steve looked at you, still trying to figure it out.

"Y/N?" Sam's voice was gentle, but it still startled you.

You jumped from the ground, rushing to help Steve get up. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to. I never wanted to hurt anyone again." Your breathing was picking up, short bursts of air leaving your lungs. Your hands were shaking as you pulled him from the ground.

Your panic increased as you took in their concerned expressions.

"Hey, look at me." Steve's Captain voice, came out, urging you to make eye contact. You followed orders, breathing rapidly, your whole body shaking.

"I'm going to touch you now, is that okay?" His words were gentle, but commanding, causing you to nod in response.

He pulled you into a tight hug, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

You wanted to explain, to tell them what happened, but all that came out was a pitiful "Bucky".

"Do you want me to get Bucky?" Sam asked, trying to understand you.

The idea of Bucky coming back caused your panic to increase. You shook your head rapidly, "No! No no no no no." You kept repeating the word, shaking in Steve's arms.

"Okay! Okay, no Bucky." Sam reassured you, voice calm and soothing.

You’re not sure how long you stood like that. Sam moved around the kitchen, cleaning up the pots and pans you had knocked over.

When your breathing steadied, Steve asked, "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

You nodded, leading the two men to the couch in the adjacent common area. You sat for a minute, unsure of where to start.

"Why don't you just lead us through it all?" Steve suggested, still rubbing your back.

You nodded, grateful for the starting point. "I went to the kitchen to apologize to Bucky."

"What for?" Sam interrupted, already confused.

"Sam! Just let her talk." Steve muttered, slightly annoyed.

"Sorry!" He glared back at Steve before turning to you, "Sorry, please continue."

You couldn't help but laugh at their banter.

"Right, I wanted to apologize for what I said the first day I met you all. I realized how it sounded, so I wanted to try and fix it." You paused, waiting for the recognition to hit them.

It didn't take long. The two men nodded, silently urging you to continue.

"Honestly, Wanda told me that was why he always seems mad at me. You have to know, I never meant for it to come across that way! It's more of a personal, 'I don't want to be violent' than shunning others for doing what's necessary." You took a deep breath, not eager to relive the conversation.

"Anyway, I told him I didn't mean it. I just couldn't explain it right, and he got upset, which makes sense!" You turned to look between them, not wanting them to think you were insulting Bucky in any way. "I don't hold what he did against him. It wasn't his choice, and I completely understand that. I just couldn't put that into words when I was talking to him, and I made everything worse."

Tears popped into your eyes again, upset at what he must be going through. You weren't with Hydra for but a tenth of the time he was, and you didn't endure the same level of brainwashing.

"He said something about some people not being able to choose not to be violent, and then he left. I don't know how long I was standing in the kitchen replaying the conversation, but it brought up bad memories for me." You sighed again, working up the nerve to tell them everything.

"Wanda and Nat already know, but I guess it's your guys's turn. This was so much easier to just have Wanda read my mind." You laughed at your own joke, the two men sharing a concerned look.

"I was taken... by Hydra. They experimented on me, gave me enhanced senses, trained me to fight, and punished me when I did something wrong." Again, tears sprung into your eyes, occasionally falling down your cheeks.

"Why wasn't this in your file?" Steve questioned, more to himself than you.

"I haven't got a clue. I guess nobody knew about me? But, I escaped. They didn't brainwash me like they did Bucky, because I don't have the serum. Or, at least, I think that's why." You shook your head, refocusing on the important parts.

"When every available Hydra agent was tasked with searching for the Winter Soldier, I took it as on opportunity. Their resources were spread thin. I was able to getaway."

You went onto explain your reasoning for joining the Avengers as a tech specialist, trying to convey the same earnestness you did with Nat.

"You can ask Nat or Wanda too. Nat found out day one, Wanda a few days ago." You wiped your tears, hoping they believed you. "Actually, Peter knows too."

"I was stuck in all those memories when you came into the kitchen. I didn't even register that you were in the room, so when you touched me I freaked out. I never meant to hurt you!"

You looked at Steve fearful that he would be upset.

"Y/N, I believe you." You cried tears of relief at his statement, genuinely exhausted from the day. "It's not your fault, and you didn't hurt me. Just caught me off guard. You're surprisingly agile when you want to be." He tried to lighten the mood, glad to hear you laugh.

"Well, I train in the middle of the night sometimes. I- I want to be able to get out if I'm ever forced back there." Your voice was quiet, admitting a secret you hadn't even told Nat.

"We won't let that happen." The sternness of Sam's voice surprised you.

"Thank you." You wiped your tears a final time, looking between the two men. "Now, what do I do about Bucky?" You refocused your energy on fixing your relationship with the super soldier.

"He never would have said what he said if he had known." Steve started the conversation, defending his friend.

"I know. I don't hold it against him, I just wish I could explain. I get so nervous when he looks at me like that." You rambled, too tired to filter your thoughts.

"Like what?" Sam asked, eager for more information to tease Bucky with.

"Huh? Oh, I don't know. Like he can see into my soul." You deadpanned, earning a laugh from both men. "I just want him to like me." You nearly whined, upset by your poor relationship.

"Like you, huh?" Steve grinned. Nat and Wanda chose that exact moment to walk into the room, eagerly joining the conversation.

"Barnes? Did you tell him how you feel?" Wanda squealed with excitement.

You buried your head in your hands, avoiding the knowing looks the four of them were surely sharing. "Not exactly." You gestured to your head, hoping Wanda would figure it out and share with Nat.

"Ooh... It didn't go well, basically Barnes got upset, Y/N flipped Steve and had a panic attack, then told these two everything." Wanda explained to Nat quickly, trying not to make you relive it.

"We need a plan." Nat declared.

"No, I just need to learn how to have a conversation with the man." You rolled your eyes at yourself. "I'll try talking to him again." You went to leave the room, turning around to glare at them. "And none of you can say a word of this to Bucky."

-

Despite you request, Steve still tried to talk to Bucky.

"What's up with you?" Steve questioned, trying to subtly pry into Bucky's thoughts.

"Nothing. Why?" Bucky answered in a questioning tone, trying to figure out Steve's motives.

"I heard you talked to Y/N is all. How'd it go?" He gave up on the subtle approach pretty quickly, knowing Bucky wouldn't answer a question that wasn't asked.

"How did you even hear that, punk?" Bucky deflected.

"Not the point. Answer the question."

"Not great. I messed it up." Bucky sighed, annoyed at himself for barging out of the room. "She said wanted to apologize, that she didn't mean what she said." He ran his hands through his hair, struggling to explain where it all went wrong.

"Would've been fine if I could follow what she was saying. She was rambling about me not liking her, which you and I both know isn't true. Ugh, i've never been mad at her. I'm mad at myself! At Hydra for making me a monster! How could she ever like me if she doesn't like violence? My entire past is violent." He huffed, having worked himself up again.

"You're not a monster, Buck." Steve started gently.

"I know you think that." Steve gave him a pointed glare. "I know, okay? But what does she think?"

"Maybe you should try talking to her. You might be surprised by what you learn." Steve clapped him on the shoulder, trying to reassure him, before leaving the room.

-

Everytime you tried to talk to Bucky, something got in the way. The first time, he was called in for an emergency mission before you even got the word hello out.

The second time, Tony walked into the common area, completely oblivious to the tension, and put on a movie.

The third time, Steve and Nat interrupted you. You were just about to apologize again after an awkward greeting when the elevator doors opened. The sounds of the cheerful laughter and stolen kisses didn't really set the mood for confessing your past with Hydra.

The fourth, and final time, was the most embarrassing.

You walked into the room on a mission. You were going to talk to him, no matter who decided to walk in.

"Bucky, I really need to-" and you tripped on a toy Morgan left out, causing you to tumble to the ground. That would have been embarrassing enough, but there's more.

In your effort to get up, you tripped again, hitting your head on the coffee table, causing you to bleed profusely.

"Shit." You cursed yourself, holding your hand up to your bleeding forehead.

"Are you okay?" Bucky rushed to you from the other side of the table, concerned with the amount of blood spewing from your head.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." Unfortunately, you chose that moment to jokingly reference your past.

Some of the people who tortured you had a sick sense of humor. Whenever they would hit you hard enough to make you bleed, they said something about only having one head. A play on words because of the greek serpent with multiple heads.

"Head wounds bleed a lot, I'm lucky I only have one." You froze instantly, unsure if he would have had a similar experience. Slowly, you looked up in an effort to make eye contact.

Bucky was also frozen in place. Clearly he understood the reference.

"Wh- where did you hear that?" Bucky struggled with his sentence, trying not to flashback to his time at Hydra.

"Oh my god. I'm so so sorry." You instantly started apologizing, trying to backtrack. "I really need to learn when to stop fucking talking." You said more to yourself than him.

"Where did you hear it?" He asked again, putting more power behind his words.

"Um, well, i've been trying to tell you for weeks now, but um, I also kind of, have, um, well, you see-"

"Just spit it out." There was the slightly miffed Bucky you were used to.

"I was taken. By Hydra. 9 years ago. Um, they forced me to learn how to fight. Tortured me if I did anything wrong. Forced me to do things..." You trailed off, realizing you didn't need to give him many details. He has first hand experience.

"Y/N, I-" You cut him off before he could say anything else.

"That's why I don't like using violence. I only know how to do that stuff because they made me learn it. I didn't want to use the skills they gave me." You took a deep, grounding breath.

"I don't blame you for anything you were forced to do. It wasn't your choice. You're not a violent person, and your past actions don't define who you are. You're here to help people. That's what you chose. That's who you are."

You made eye contact before you continued. "I've actually wanted to thank you for the longest time."

"For what?" He was incredulous, wildly caught off guard by everything you've said.

"The only reason I had an opportunity to escape was because 2 years ago, you escaped. If Hydra's resources hadn't been spread so thin trying to find you, I probably would've never got out. So thank you. For being strong enough to fight back."

You smiled at him, still unsure of how he was feeling.

"I... I'm so sorry." To say you were stunned was an understatement. What the hell could he have to be sorry about? Sure he was a little rude, but from your point of view he was completely justified in hating you.

"Bucky, you have no reason to be sorry. You didn't know, and I couldn't get out of my head enough to tell you. You just make me nervous." You clapped a hand over your mouth, shocked at having said what you just said.

You could see his face fall ever so slightly, causing you to jump back into your explanation.

"Not because I'm scared of you or anything! Hell, I could probably take you in a fight." You winked, trying to lighten the mood. It seemed to work, judging by the slight smirk on his face.

"I just, I've looked up to you for so long. Your determination to do good after everything you've been through is really inspiring. It's actually why I wanted to join the Avengers in the first place. I never would have-" You would have kept rambling if he hadn't stopped you.

"Y/N, I am sorry, and I do have reason to be. There's no excuse for what I said to you in the kitchen that day. Even if I didn't know, I threw everything you've been through back in your face. If someone had done that to me, I probably would have had a panic attack." He tried joking, but by the way you froze he could tell he struck a nerve.

"You had a panic attack? I'm so sorry! God, I just left you all alone and-"

It was your turn to cut him off. "Actually, I was kind of frozen in place until Steve touched me and I maybe threw him to the ground... Then I had a panic attack..." You smiled, trying to convey the joke. "So, I wasn't alone. Sam was actually also there. If anything, it made me better friends with both of them because I told them everything. So I have you to thank for that to." You playfully nudged his side.

He ran his hands through his hair, then down his face, clearly trying to deal with his own guilt.

"Hey, don't beat yourself up about it. You didn't know. It happened. We're good now, so we can move on." You smiled, trying to cheer him up.

"How are you so relaxed about all of this? You were tortured for years... I..." He was genuinely curious, trying to find a way to cope with his own pain.

"Well, even before that I always thought therapy could be helpful for me, so I really jumped in full force when I was free. Plus, if you can't joke about something, you haven't really moved on. Some days are harder than others, but I just try to appreciate the people I have now and the good experiences I've been lead to." You kept the tone light, trying not to get too emotional.

He just stared at you for a few minutes, making you questions everything.

"I mean, it's totally different for you though! I was only there for 7 years, you were forced into all that for like 10 times as long. I didn't mean to belittle-"

"I think you inspire me just as much as you say I've inspired you." He cut you off again, a small smile growing on your lips.

"Well, in the spirit of our newfound friendship, can I be totally honest?" You bit your lip, nervous about telling him the truth.

He looked nervous as well, but nodded anyway.

"I kind of, maybe, sort of have a crush on you." You watched his expression carefully, although there was really no need. His face easily gave away his surprise.

"You..." He stuttered, moving his fingers between the two of you. "Me? But, I was so mean!"

"What can I say, I saw through the facade... Well, really Wanda accidentally read your mind and told me why you were so upset around me when her and Nat teamed up to get me to tell you how I feel." You rambled again, realization dawning that you accidentally outed Wanda.

"But you can't tell her I told you that! She didn't mean to! She just said you think really loud sometimes and it's hard not to hear it! She did it to me too actually, I mean I told her she could look in my head so I wouldn't have to explain everything again, I know so lazy, and that's how she confirmed my crush on you." You said it all with wide eyes at a rapid speed, unable to control yourself around Bucky.

You slapped your hands over your mouth, forcing yourself to stop talking. Bucky looked on in amusement, slowly reaching to pull your hands away from your face.

"I won't tell her, if you get dinner with me tonight." He smiled cheekily, relishing in your blush.

"That's a deal I'm willing to make." You reached your arms around his neck, kissing his cheek before running to get ready.

***

Bonus:

Sam whined playfully as he looked at the high scores. "Whose username is 'God is a spoon' and how did they get so good at this game?"

He looked around the room, eying any suspicious candidates. Everyone denied it, throwing out accusations left and right.

It was another of Tony's team bonding nights and he chose VR games on the oculus. Obviously, Beat Saber was a top contender amongst the group.

You walked in with Bucky, unaware of the conversation going on, but immediately joining it.

"Peter! I bet it was him!" You playfully nudged the younger Avenger, having formed a close friendship in the early days. "What am I betting on?" Everyone laughed, happy to see you in a good mood after being so stressed for so long.

"Whose username is 'God is a spoon'." Sam chuckled after filling you in. You and Bucky settled on the couch, cuddling next to each other.

"Oh, that's me. Why?" You looked around curiously, trying to figure out what they wanted. "Is it a weird username? It was actually one of the catchphrase things in Just Dance on the switch, I didn't just think of it." You tried to justify yourself, causing more laughter.

"You?! How did you get all the highscores on this game? I thought you were the clumsy one."

You made an exaggerated face to show how offended you were, playfully swatting at Sam.

"I'll have you know, 7 years of Hydra 'training' and experimentation has its perks." You joked with the room. "One of them being I can beat your ass at pretty much any video game."

"Oh, you're so on." Sam smiled, glad he could joke around with you about it.

Meanwhile, Tony looked incredulously around the room, being the only one in the room who hadn't heard about your history, he was rightfully confused.

"I'm sorry, 7 years of WHAT?"

[4dtk]

NCT DREAM: talking back to them and getting punished

anon: “hii ! can i have nct dream reaction to their s/o talk back to them and they doesnt happy with it and punish their s/o 🥺” hi love, sure i can. for this reaction, the boys takes up the dom role and the reader is fem, hope you don’t mind ^^

just for discretion, hate sex is hot and all but please talk out your problems and don’t solve it just by fucking 😭

NSFW under the cut, MINORS DNI!

→ MARK’s head tilts, and pleas one last time with something like “you don’t really mean that, right?” or something like that. when he gets your final word and you start to remove yourself from the argument he pulls you back. his eyes are darker, eyelids hooded. he’s intimidating!!!!! mark’s the kind to lose himself whenever he looks at you, ngl, but he knows his feelings aren’t alone and that you feel the heat and tension. i see him making you sit on his face and eating you out like no tomorrow. mark also gives off the no clothes humping vibe, where your pussy lips fit so perfectly on his curved dick and the friction makes your toes curl. the man is losing it, respectfully. imo, like i mentioned earlier, mark’s the one with the wavering dom role so he def forgets about the punishment halfway through and relishes in the way you feel around his cock.

“i want you to cum on my cock, baby, as much as i want it on my face,” mark says breathlessly, pulling away from your pussy. his hair is slick with sweat, having your thighs around his head for the past half n’ hour. you twitch as he places one last kiss on your clit, moving your ass backwards to finally get his dick in you.

"ah but," mark raises an eyebrow, "did i say now?" you're caught off guard when he forces your hips down on his exposed dick. the friction has you groaning, leaking even more now.

"move." he says. one word and you're moving your middle against the underside of his cock, your lips nicely fitted that it makes even mark moan out. the wet, filthy sounds fill the room and marks adds to your mewls. with a hand, he sneaks it behind you to play with your pussy, causing you to let out a choked whimper that has him smiling.

mark's grip on your hips tenses, eyes fluttering close in bliss when he sees the string of his pre-cum and your arousal connect each time you grind on his length, "atta girl, just like that. you'll be soaking the sheets once i'm done with you."

→ RENJUN tuts when you talk back to him, surprisingly calm when he looks you up and down. you done fucked up now bitch he’s going to ruin you!!! renjun’s movements are extremely slow, in fingering you, in licking your cunt, in pumping his cock in and out. its a punishment baby take it like it is he says! has a thing for blindfolds too, i feel, seeing the way your mouth opens to let out obscene moans that resonate throughout the room. RENJUN MAKES YOU SIT IN FRONT OF MIRROR 100%, “do you see my cock going in and out of you?” and he’s still going painfully slow that you try to rock your hips to get some kind of release.

“even when i’m punishing you, you still find a way to make a mistake,” renjun hums, eyeing you through the mirror as your fucked-out face is tilted back from the immense pleasure.

“darling, look at yourself, losing it over some cock,” renjun spits, delivering a particularly hard thrust that sends your body shaking. he takes your face with force, dipping a finger into your mouth which you suck on without hesitation.

“jun.... junnie, please go faster, please... i just-” you plead, locking eyes with renjun through your reflection. there’s a laugh coming from renjun, knowing you were in a long ride when he slips a blindfold on you. he loves his cock buried in you, but pulls out anyway and leaves you empty. 

a particularly loud moan leaves your lips as his tongue laps up your arousal from behind, hand stroking his shaft while your hands grab at the sheets in pleasure.

“keep looking at yourself, baby, look at how much of a slut you’re being.”

→ JENO tries to hold back like jaemin but his cool is easier to lose than the latter. jeno doesn’t hold back in giving you glares that translate exactly what he’s feeling. imo, he’s usually taken the back seat in your sex life, and is perfectly content with it, but one day he just sticks his hand up your skirt or whatever and fingers you in public!!! mans crazy luv!!! there’s something about you holding back your moans that turns him on so much. if it happens in the dorms? not prooooblem, he makes sure that everyone has their eyes focused on something, like a dream movies night before his hand inches up your thigh and you’re finally like “ohhh… this is why he’s been so passive aggressively polite since our argument” LOOL you’re biting on the cushion you were cuddling with head thrown back, silent pants spilling from your lips at how skilled jeno is with his fingers. everything after that is kept indoors, he likes the thrill but would rather deal with you privately.

the slam of the door makes you gasp, and the shove of your body against it makes you moan out accidentally. the glint in jeno’s eyes is mischievous, waving the hands that was just in your pussy in front of your face.

“that’s how wet you were, baby?” jeno hums, holding your stare like a champ as you try to not to wriggle in his grasp. jeno tsks, hovering them in front of your mouth, “suck.” you don’t lose any time, mouth immediately engulfing his digits to suck your juices off of him. a thigh’s situated in your middle, the other’s smile widening when he sees your attempts of getting off.

the feeling of your clothed core against his denim is sinful, yet so pleasure as your hips pick up the speed. it’s so much that your hand’s clutched around his bicep, nails digging into his skin at the friction. jeno moans at your vulnerable state, his other hand picking you up so he could at least sit down. the presence of a surface gives you more motivation to move, having a stable place to rest your knees on as you continued your humping, whimpering into jeno’s ears as he guides your hips with ease.

“you’re going to stay at this volume as i fuck you senseless. need to teach you a lesson, baby.”

→ HAECHAN is the meanest dom you could ever piss the fuck off. not afraid to let your sounds of pleasure reach the living room of the dorm (assuming he’s living with 127) that taeyong had to sit him down and reluctantly tell him to tone it down a little. arguments with haechan are trivial, sometimes about the littlest of things that piss you off as well because he’s so infuriating to convince/be on the same page as. you say one thing out of pocket once, and haechan is fuming inside because he knows it’s not true. orgasm denier, loves doing it to you. your sheets are soaked by the end of it, and god you haven’t even came yet!!!! what a bitch!!!! let y/n cum hyuck :/

“not so righteous right now, (y/n)?” haechan smirks, ignoring the glare you give him as you’re pinned under him. he revels in the rage you’re radiating, knowing he’ll make it all go away once his mouth’s on your pussy. you’re resisting him right until his lips are on your neck, sucking at the skin there. the whimpers that leave your mouth goes straight to haechan’s cock, but he has to hold it in until you learn your lesson.

“o..oh hyuck, fuck! please let me c-cum…!” haechan’s having the time of his life, licking up your slick as his fingers are pumping in and out of you, reading your body like a hawk. he knows when you’re reaching your end and denies another one from you, the thrashing around from you held down by his arm.

“let’s test you, hm?” haechan giggles, taking out his dick from the loose sweatpants he had on. with a few strokes, he holds back from plunging it into your begging hole, instead settling for teasing his tip around your entrance. your face opens up into a silent ‘o’, squirming from the pleasure of just the tip of his cock.

“pathetic,” haechan says before he loses it himself, pushing in his dick to feel the warmness of your walls hug him so snugly, “such a slut for my cock.”

→ JAEMIN doesn’t lose his cool right away, one of the nicer ones in the group i guess. he lets your attitude slide, but as the argument escalates he takes your wrist, dragging you straight to his room. the words he says are so sultry, but you don’t miss the anger behind his eyes. the way he punishes you is so sweet yet so terribly filthy, and he knows that you get off to it as well. i envision jaemin as a really sweet dom on the daily, but it switches whenever he has to put you in your place. from “that’s my good little girl” to “you’re just a filthy slut, aren’t you?” to rile him up this bad means you’re in a night of endless rounds LMAO good luck. nice enough to give you pleasure, but not changing his means of pleasuring you. 

“baby, you know what you’re doing, aren’t you? didn’t we leave the argument behind already?” jaemin coos, almost mockingly as he presses against your middle with his thigh. it’s pathetic in the way you grind up against it, desperate to find any form of fiction as he strips your lower half in no time.

“you only deserve my fingers, for now. not even my mouth, baby, sad, ain’t it?” jaemin grins, sinking one into your soaking hole. the sounds drive you insane, hips immediately buckling up from the contact.

for the next hour, he’s doing just that, hitting all the right spots in you with one, two, three fingers and nothing else. you’re whining for his mouth, for his mouth and anything, but it’s long before jaemin does any of those, focused on teaching you a lesson for testing his patience.

[c4llezz]

THE PROJECT

Requested: Yes. Dayeon x reader High school au imagine where Dayeon is a new student and reader is popular and the student president. And before the school year started reader toured Dayeon around campus and Dayeon develops a crush on reader. The first few weeks of school Dayeon learns that reader is super popular and sees them getting constantly asked out by others, and feels like she doesn't have a chance. They later run into each other in the hallway and catch up with each other. Reader then runs off to a meeting. Then in a class the teacher pairs them up for a project. And they start becoming really good friends. One day Dayeon has a slip up and tells reader that she likes them. And they get together?

DAYEON X GN!READER

HIGHSCHOOL!AU

TW: Mentions of death (not a person), one curse word

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 2.8K

Gif made by me!

Expect mistakes, happy reading!

When you arrived at school it was empty, classes started in a week. You went to the principal’s office to wait for the new girl to arrive. The principal had assigned you, the class president, to give her a tour around the school. To your surprise, she was already there waiting outside of his office. “Hi! You must be Dayeon” You extended your hand for her to shake “I’m Y/N. I’m giving you the tour around school” You said with a friendly smile on your face

She looked at you for a few seconds before shyly shaking your hand “Nice to meet you” You smiled at her and then nodded your head for her to follow you.

While giving her the tour you found out Dayeon's mom had gotten a new job in your city and that’s why they decided to move. You tried your best to make her feel comfortable, whenever she would talk you listened attentively and then commented on it. It made Dayeon feel good, in her other school most of her friends were not interested in what she had to say. But you, a complete stranger, were interested.

Maybe it was how you talked about every single detail about the school or maybe the way you asked about what she liked to do. Maybe it was your smile or your eyes. Dayeon didn’t know what it was exactly, but something about you was attractive. After a few hours, the tour ended and she had already developed a small crush on you.

Classes started a few weeks ago. The first week you were by her side most of the time, making sure she was okay and that she was adapting well. Dayeon found out you were quite popular, whenever you were walking with her to class everyone would greet you with a smile, sometimes it was more than a friendly one.

One time, when you were talking near your locker, one of your classmates interrupted your conversation and then asked for your number, you didn’t know what to say and you didn’t want to seem rude so you gave it to them.

Just two days later Dayeon saw a girl flirting with you in class. The girl sitting next to her, Chaehyun, noticed her looking at you with sad eyes. She leaned near Dayeon’s ear and whisper “You like Y/N?” Dayeon jumped, startled by the sudden voice in her ear, a hand on her heart, and looked at her with wide eyes.

“N-No,” She answered and turned to look at where you were. Still talking with the girl, now with a smile on your face. “Maybe, but I don’t think I have a chance, someone is always asking them out”

“Yeah, I’ve seen it.” Chaehyun looked at her face for a few seconds “You seem like a good person. I think you do have a chance.”

With you being busy with school work and going out with your other friends and Dayeon spending more time with Chaehyun and some of her friends, you were kind of distancing yourselves from each other. You probably hadn’t noticed, but Dayeon surely did. “Don’t worry about it, you know how hard is to be class president. I’m sure you’ll talk again soon.” Her friend had told her.

And if soon was a week later, then she had been right. Dayeon was going to the school’s library, she had a free period and wanted to relax a little bit. While turning to the left she crashed into you. “Oh! I’m sorry.” You apologized “I wasn’t looking” She shook her head with a smile “Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

“How have you been? We haven’t talked in some time” You asked her

“I’m good, I’ve been spending time with Chaehyun and her friends. You know them?” You nodded your head “I do, she’s nice, they are nice. It’s good you are making friends! You can spend time with me and my friends if you want, too.”

“I don’t know, wouldn’t it be awkward?”

You immediately shook your head “Of course not. They are good at making conversation and I’m sure they will love you.” You looked at the watch in your hand and your eyes widened “Shit, I have a meeting with the principal, I need to go. We’ll talk later” You said and started running to the principal’s office.

She watched you go, thinking two things. How were you so good-looking? and did the class president just cursed?

At the end of the day, you both shared English class so you were seated next to each other. The first thing the teacher said when she entered the room was “Partner up with the person sitting next to you” You did as you were told on moved your chair closer to Dayeon’s.

“We are doing a project about your own story. With your partner, you are going to visit different places you consider important for the story of your life.” The teacher explained “You’re going to share why they are important to you. The deadline is after winter's break. You will not have to do an exposition, just a PowerPoint presentation you are sending to my email.”

After the teacher explained everything you and Dayeon started talking about whatever you were going to do. “I already have a few places in mind.” You said to her “When are you free? So we can start.”

“Whenever you are, you are probably busier than me anyway”

“Does Friday afternoon sound good to you?” She nodded “Then meet me at the school entrance when school is over”

Friday came slower than usual. School was over and Dayeon and Chaehyun were walking to the front doors “Do you want to come over to my house?” Chaehyun asked her friend Dayeon shook her head

“Sorry, Y/N and I are doing an English project together and we are starting today” Chaehyun was about to answer when you arrived.

“Hey, Chaehyun! Long time no see. Do you want to come with us?” You asked

She looked at Dayeon with a small smirk on her face before turning to you with an (extremely obvious) fake sad face that you didn’t seem to notice. “I would love to, but I promise my mom to take my dog out today”

“I didn’t know you had gotten a dog?”

“I did, I’ll send you a picture later,” She said before practically running out of school.

You then turned to Dayeon “I guess is just us. Now ready to go?”

You arrived at an abandoned park a few blocks away from school. It was surrounded by walls full of graffiti. Dayeon looked around amazed. “You like it?” You asked with a smile on your face, she nodded still looking at one of the walls. “I made that one,” you said after noticing she was staring at one for a long time

It was a painting of a black cat with a halo above its head and small wings at its sides. “It’s beautiful. Why did you paint it?”

“When I was younger, I always wanted a dog, but we lived in a small apartment and my parents were always working and I was at school so we didn’t have the time or space to take care of one.” You started explaining “I begged my mom for one so she decided to give me a cat instead. He died a few months ago, I wanted to make something special to honor him.”

Dayeon saw you had tears forming in your eyes so she hugged you “I’m sorry. He’s in a better place now”

“Thank you” You wiped the few tears that came out of your eyes and then chuckled “Anyway, I brought some spray paint, want to do something?”

Dayeon paused for a moment to analyze “Wait, isn’t it illegal?” you shrugged with a mischievous smile “And you are the class president?”

You moved closer to her face “Are you doubting my presidential abilities, Kim Dayeon?”

She flushed and looked away, how could you be in tears 30 seconds ago, and now you were capable of doing whatever you just did to her? “I- I’m not, you are really smart and responsible and popular and good-looking and nice. You do a great job trying to help everyone and now I think I’m rambling so I’m going to stop talking.”

“So I’m good-looking?” You said with a smirk on your face, her eyes widened, and her ears turned red from embarrassment “I already knew that, but thanks for the reminding” You winked at her and then took one of the spray cans you had in your bag.

“What do you want to do?” You asked.

For the past 3 weeks, you’ve been hanging out together a lot. You got to know Dayeon better, she was kind and smart, she had her dumb moments like everyone else though. You also learn she liked to dance and sing but you have yet to see her doing any of those things.

Until now all the places you’ve been to were special to you. All Dayeon’s special places were in Seoul, where she used to live. So your advance Christmas present for her was a weekend trip to Seoul, on bus because it was all you could afford (you spend all of your savings on it). You had asked her parents first because it would’ve been pointless to spend your money on tickets you were not going to use.

Dayeon was very excited when you showed her the tickets. Not really because she was going to Seoul again, but because she was going alone with you!

You didn’t have money to pay for a hotel or anything like it, so you were staying with your aunt who lived in Seoul. She lived in an apartment coincidentally near where Dayeon used to live. Your aunt was really happy to see you, she had cooked a meal for when you two arrived. “Thank you, it was delicious.” Dayeon said, you nodded in agreement with food still in your mouth mumbling a “really good” that earned you a scolding from your aunt.

When you were done eating you went to the guest room your aunt had prepared for you two “Now that we are here you can show me all the things you did here” You commented while looking for your toothbrush inside your bag.

“I didn’t do much, I can show you my old house if you want though. Just the outside, I think there are people already living there”

“Sure” You agreed “I’m going to brush my teeth and change in the bathroom; you can change here if you feel comfortable” You walked out of the room and walked to the bathroom.

When you opened the door after changing you saw your aunt waiting outside “When did you start dating?” She asked.

You were caught off guard by her question “What? We-We are not dating”

She looked at you confused “You are not?” You shook your head “Really?” You nodded “But you like her, right?”

You didn’t know how to answer, but you did find her pretty and a really good person. When she talked you were mesmerized by her voice and with all the time you were spending together you find a connection. It seems that you not answering was enough answer for your aunt so she nodded and walked to her room with a smile on her face.

You went to the room you were sharing with Dayeon thinking about what your aunt had asked you. When you opened the door, you saw Dayeon was already asleep, she must have been really tired, you thought. You then notice you had a smile on your face and widened your eyes, you liked Dayeon. Maybe you had already known, but you didn’t want to accept it.

The next day you went to Dayeon’s old house. Like she said, there was a family already living there so you only looked at the outside. It was nice, not too big but big anyway. While she was telling you about some memories she had lived in the house a voice interrupted you “Y/N?”

You both turned to look at the girl “Youngeun!” You screamed and the girl gave you a big hug. Dayeon stood there rocking on her feet, you noticed it and quickly introduced them “Dayeon this is Youngeun, she is my best friend but she moved away a year ago” Youngeun waved at her with a smile on her face “She’s a baby” You ruffled her hair and then she smacked your hand with a frown on her face.

“I’m just a year younger than you” She looked at Dayeon up and down saying “So you are Y/N’s girlfriend?” girlfriend? then she heard Youngeun laugh “Who I’m kidding? Y/N definitely has 0 chances with you, you are way too pretty for them” Dayeon blushed at the comment.

You looked at your best friend with an offended look on your face “Hey!” before you could say anything you saw Youngeun’s mom waiting for her, you waved at her and she waved back “Looks like the baby needs to go home now” you joked and pushed her a little in the direction of her mother, she sent you a glare and started walking to where her mom was standing. You laughed and then turned to look at Dayeon “What was it you were saying about the kitchen incident?” She smiled and continue telling you about the time her kitchen almost flooded, how could she not like you when you really were interested in what she was saying.

Dayeon took you to the academy she used to dance, the teacher was closing up when you arrived. But she recognized Dayeon and let you in for an hour. That was the first time you saw her dancing, and she was really good at it. You were so hypnotized by her movements that if it weren’t for Dayeon stopping you wouldn’t notice the music stopped as well. You clapped and cheered “Talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show-stopping, spectacular” She laughed and looked down at her feet “You were great”

“Thank you”

“You should teach me. I don’t want to look like a fool when prom comes around”

“I’m sure you are not that bad” You tried imitating one of the moves she Had done while dancing and almost fell to the floor “Ok, ok maybe you do need help” You both laughed “We still have 20 minutes I’m sure I can help you.”

She was a good teacher but your body didn’t want to cooperate. After tripping with your own foot for the third time in a row you decided to stop and sat on the floor “I think dancing is not for me. I’ll just sit at one of the tables while everyone’s dancing around”

Dayeon sat next to you “And what would your date think about that?”

You shrugged your shoulders “I’ll know when I have one” After a few seconds you asked, “Who would you want to go with?”

“You,” Dayeon said covering her mouth after realizing what she had just said. “I- I mean, not- not you…” She sighed when she couldn’t find a good excuse and turned to look the other way. There was a moment of silence. Did she just say what I think she did? You thought.

Dayeon stood up and started speaking again “I’m sorry for making this weird.” She started walking out of the place when she felt your hand grabbing her wrist.

“You didn’t make it weird” You had a smile on your face “I want to go with you too, but I think you deserve a good prom-posal. So, you’ll have to wait until is that time of the year.” You moved your hand and you intertwined your fingers. “Do you want to get an ice cream?”

Dayeon looked down at your hands and then to your face with a hopeful smile “Like a date?”

“Like a date”. You confirmed.

After winter break you delivered your presentation to your teacher. She was looking through your project when she arrived at the last slide of it, there was a picture of the principal’s office door and just below the image there was a phrase “Where our story began❤️” She smiled at it, she had seen the tension going between the two of you, but you being partnered up was a total coincidence. She was glad it happened though.

Now you walked hand in hand through the hallways with bright smiles and you would sit at a big table at lunch so both of your friend groups could be together. Most of the people who had asked you out were a little disappointed, but after seeing you together they couldn’t be mad about it, you two looked really good together.

You were happy, Dayeon was happy, and your friends were happy. But your aunt was the happiest, she even sent you a cake to celebrate your new relationship. Youngeun also sent you something, a text that read "It seems you did have a chance after all ;)"

[elowenp]

“What do you want?” Barbara asks, voice crackling with static.

It’s a silly question. Tim wants crime rates to go down. Tim wants Gotham to be a safer city. Tim wants to be a part of making that happen.

“A code name that isn’t stupid.” he says instead.

Barbara sighs. It doesn’t sound like a sigh though. It just sounds like the static’s getting louder.

~

“Bernard Dowd, scholar of the ages.” Tim laughs, arm slung round Bernard's shoulder. “I thought you were meant to be the fun one?”

“I am.” Bernard groans, “as soon as these exams are done I’ll be back to the usual student life. Getting drunk, going on dates, Gotham won’t know what’s hit it.”

“Going on dates?” Tim asks jokingly, even as a well hidden part of him turns slightly panicked. “Any successes an old friend should be hearing about?”

“Not really.” Bernard shrugs, jostling Tim’s arm. “Just a couple of girls I was better off friends with.” He pauses, thinking, before continuing with his voice involuntarily going a little higher. “Couple of guys too.”

“Huh.” Tim suddenly becomes very aware of all the places where his arm is touching Bernard. He doesn’t move it. “Better luck next time.”

Huh.

~

Tim’s been avoiding Dick. He’s been awkward around him lately, Tim thinks that Barbara must have said something. He’s not stupid enough to have done something to send Dick spiralling without noticing it.

“What do you want?” Dick asks, curious, without warning.

Tim wants to ask if Barbara put him up to this but he knows it’s a genuine question. Dick isn’t manipulative like that, not with family.

What does Tim want? Isn’t it a little late for Dick go be asking that question? All the things that happened after Bruce’s death put a canyon of distance between them. It’s slowly been growing smaller but it hasn’t disappeared. Neither of them have had time enough to spend together for that to happen.

An awful, bitter part of Tim that hasn’t stopped screaming since Robin wasn’t his any more wonders if Dick would even be asking if Damian wasn’t out of town right now.

“For us to go train surfing.” Tim says. Petty. Just so Dick will say no and his anger can feel righteous instead of ill-deserved.

“Okay.” Dick says instead. Easy and confident. Himself.

“Oh.” Tim’s anger fizzles into non-existence. “Okay.”

The canyon grows a little smaller.

~

“We should go to a skatepark.” Bernard says, a little giggly from the beer in his hand.

There’s a matching beer in Tim’s hand although it’s still practically full. If there’s an emergency he’ll be of no use drunk. “What? Why?”

“Why not? You were so good in high school! And you had fun doing it.” Bernard’s tone turns a little less giggly. “You should do more things you find fun.”

Tim is surprised enough that the “Okay.” slips out of his lips unbidden.

So maybe the beer bottle is a little less full than he’d like to admit.

They borrow a board from one of Bernard's flatmates and catch a bus to a skate park Tim remembers using when he was younger. As they go Tim tries to remember why he stopped. He tries to remember when he stopped. He can’t recall the answer to either question and annoyance rises in his chest over it.

Then Bernard is saying something and it has Tim snorting with laughter and he forgets his irritation.

Once they arrive Bernard settles himself at the top of one of the ramps like it’s a throne. “Entertain me!” he calls, “Impress me with your wheel-board magic.

Tim manages a kick-flip on his first attempt and Bernard makes a loud noise of approval.

A lot of stuff comes back to Tim fairly quickly. Most of skateboarding had been muscle memory for him and that’s something that being a vigilante hadn’t exactly hindered. As things return to him he regains some faint memories of why he’d stopped. Nothing specific, just that feeling of not having enough time. Of thinking that going to the skatepark wasn’t a particularly useful way to spend his hours while there was still real work to be done.

Tim’s always been a vigilante first, but he thinks there must have been a point when that wasn’t the only thing he was. Well, when it wasn’t the only thing he was that mattered.

“Come on!” Bernard shouts, teeth flashing white against Gotham’s grey-black sky. “I was promised entertainment!”

Tim laughs. He seems to do that a lot around Bernard these days.

He starts moving on the skateboard, deciding to leave the existentialism for another day.

~

First Dick and now Bruce. Tim’s family has really been making a habit of being weird around him lately.

He would normally think that the Bruce was worried about him, that Dick had passed along some bullshit about his mental health and Bruce was practicing some silent vigil. The problem with that theory is that Tim’s been getting better recently, so there wouldn’t be much point. At least he thinks he’s been getting better. It’s difficult to tell sometimes.

Bruce has definitely been acting weird around him though, so maybe he isn’t getting better. Maybe Bruce spotted something Tim didn’t and he’s on the road to insanity.

“What do you want?” Bruce asks one day as they’re both working in the cave. Not Batman. Bruce.

It’s a far stupider question than it was when Barbara or Dick asked it. Bruce is the person who made Tim’s desires what they are. He’s the one who took Tim’s obsession and carved it into a goal.

“What?” Tim asks, loud and confused and maybe a little angry. “What do you mean ‘what do I want’? I want the mission! What else am I supposed to want?”

Bruce stays silent for a moment and Tim imagines him turning the words over in his head. “Nothing else?” Bruce asks. He sounds sad and it makes the anger drain from Tim’s body. “Just the mission?”

“I don’t need anything else.” Tim says hollowly.

Bruce just nods, thinking. It makes Tim want to scream even as satisfaction rises in his chest.

It’s always been a point of pride that he can to lie to Batman. He’s hardly going to change his mind about that now.

~

“People keep asking me what I want.” Tim says, sat on Bernard's bed. “I don’t like it.”

Bernard's turns away from the laptop on his desk so he can look at Tim. “You ever tell them the truth?”

Tim shrugs. He isn’t sure what else to do. “Ish?”

Bernard smiles. “Anyone ever tell you you’re impossible, Tim Drake?”

“Only everyone I’ve ever met.”

Bernard barks out a laugh before sobering up and looking at Tim with ill-disguised curiosity. “Do you want to tell me the truth about it? Or did you just want to say the thing out loud?”

“I’m not sure.” Tim admits, and he has to stop himself from acting taken aback by the fact he actually said that. Tim never says when he’s uncertain. There isn’t room for it. Bernard must know that too because he looks at Tim in surprise, then scoots his chair closer to the bed so that he and Tim are almost touching.

Bernard looks very cautious. “You know that’s okay, right?”

“I-“ Tim starts, because is it? Is uncertainty the kind of luxury he can afford? “I want to want things. But it feels like I’ve forgotten how.”

“You’ve had a rough couple of years.”

“How do you-“

Bernard smiles knowingly. “You’re not as hard to read as you think, Tim. Well you are. But it’s not difficult to tell that some bad things must have happened since I last saw you.”

“Yeah.” Tim says hoarsely, thinking back to the burn of his muscles as he dug up Kon’s grave, the stinging of desert sand in his eyes, the moment of confusion when he woke up in a league of assassins base unsure if he’d had to die to get there. “Yeah. Bad things happened.” He shakes himself a little, because those aren’t the thoughts he wants lingering. He focuses back on Bernard who’s closer than Tim had realised, worry creased between his eyes. “What about you?” Tim asks, trying to exert some measure of control over the conversation. “What do you want?”

“Thought we were talking about you?” Tim might have let it go with that if not for the note of nervousness in Bernard's voice and the red creeping up the back of his neck.

“We can talk about both of us.”

“It’s not important right now.”

Tim reaches out then. He takes Bernard's hand in his because Bernard makes him laugh and he looks so nervous and Tim wants to. Bernard looks down at their hands in surprise and Tim doesn’t actually feel worried. Just expectant that Bernard is going to squeeze their fingers together more securely. He does. “You sure?” Tim asks.

Bernard just looks at him. Mouth parted with shock. He seems to come back to himself though and his expression of surprise turns into something more confident. More familiar. “What if I wanted you?” he asks, hesitancy and confidence rolled into one voice.

“Give me some time to remember how to want things, and I think I’ll want that too.” Tim replies, just as unsure and utterly certain.

Bernard tangles their fingers together a little more firmly in response and Tim feels more hopeful than he has in a long time.

[honeypiehotchner]

Don’t You (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part two of Bye Bye, Baby

I love how this mini-series was totally impromptu but happened so fast. Gotta love my brain!

Loosely based on “Don’t You” by Taylor Swift! xx.

Summary: Aaron wants to talk. Do you?

Warnings: ANGST

Word Count: 2k this time oop

Bye Bye, Baby (Part One) || That’s When (Part Three) || Hotch Masterlist

Hey/I knew I’d run into you somewhere/It’s been a while

The text message from Aaron has sat glaring at you on your phone screen for the past hour.

Hotch (BAU) Sorry for hitting you with my cart earlier.

You don’t know what to make of it. It’s obviously an attempt to start up a conversation after four years, but why? Why, after all this time, does he think this is okay?

It’s 1 a.m. when you call Dannie.

“I would tell you to go to sleep, but I just got in bed, so I can’t talk.”

You chuckle quietly. “Better than me. I’m still on the couch.”

Dannie exhales. “Did Jules stay up late again?”

“No, no, she… She passed out around nine.”

Dannie sighs. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I saw Aaron today,” you blurt, quietly, not wanting to risk Juliet hearing even a whisper of this.

“Aaron?” Dannie asks. “Like...Juliet’s dad, Aaron? That one?”

“Yep,” you mutter, rubbing your forehead. “The one and only.”

“Where?”

“The grocery store,” you say. “Our carts bumped into each other. I wasn’t watching where I was going, so it was definitely my fault, but he texted me a while ago apologizing for it.”

“Woah, he texted you?”

“Unfortunately,” you murmur, hating that you feel tears pricking at your eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Have you texted him back?”

“I don’t know if I want to.”

“I understand,” Dannie sighs. “Maybe just say it’s okay? Leave it short.”

“Yeah,” you nod, sniffling, wiping a tear away. “God, I’ve been fine all evening and it just...hit me when I saw his text.”

“You had to keep it together for Jules,” Dannie reminds you. “What did she say about him?”

“Oh, nothing,” you say. “She really wanted cookies, so she was focused on getting vegetables for dinner so she could have them.”

Dannie laughs. “That sounds like her. Did she eat all her vegetables?”

“Even the broccoli,” you grin. “So she got an extra cookie.”

The two of you laugh lightly, letting the silence settle.

“What do I do if he wants to get to know her?” You break the silence with the one question that’s been on your mind all night. “I mean, he’s a profiler. There’s no way he doesn’t know she’s his.”

“Okay, first of all, she’s yours,” Dannie says firmly. “Second, it’s all up to you. And her. If she wants to get to know him, then ultimately it’s up to you to decide if that’s a good idea and where would be safest for it to happen, if you want it to.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t stress about it tonight,” she says quietly. “Text him back in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Want to surprise Jules with brunch tomorrow?”

You smile almost immediately. “Of course.”

+++

You wake from a restless sleep to Juliet climbing into bed with you.

“Good morning, munchkin,” you whisper, kissing her forehead. She’s still sleepy and will probably sleep for another hour in your arms, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

As expected, Juliet falls fast asleep with her head on your chest. While she’s snoring softly, you grab your phone and text Dannie about brunch. And that’s when you’re reminded of Aaron’s text.

Quickly, before you can think twice, you reply. It’s okay.

And you move on to text Dannie, letting her know you’re awake and so is Juliet. After making plans to meet for brunch in an hour and a half, you lightly shake Juliet awake.

“Psst, munchkin,” you murmur. “Wanna have brunch with Dannie?”

Juliet pops her head up almost instantly. “Really?”

“Really really,” you nod.

She grins wide and your chest aches for a moment. She’s always had his smile, but you never realized how much it’s his smile until today.

Juliet scrambles off your bed to get dressed, and you take a deep breath before getting up, too.

+++

The entire day passes without a reply from Aaron. You don’t know what to make of it, but you do your best to ignore it.

Thoughts of him keep you awake almost all night, so by the next morning, you’re dying to get your coffee before you walk into work.

You drop Juliet off at daycare, then park your car at work, with somehow enough time to spare to walk to your favorite coffee shop before clocking in.

You spot Aaron as soon as you walk in.

“You better not be following me around,” you mutter as you stand in line behind him.

He spins around, his face softening when he recognizes you. “Hi. I’m not trying to, I promise.”

You nod slowly.

Don’t you/Don’t you smile at me and ask me how I’ve been

“How are you?” He asks hesitantly, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Good,” you reply. “You?”

“Good,” he pauses. “Busy.”

“Me too.”

The awkward small talk is ended by the line moving forward, putting Aaron at the front. He orders his usual, and steps aside. You order your usual, with a pastry, too, as a sort of condolences gift to yourself for the bullshit you’re enduring.

When you step to the side to wait, Aaron tries again.

“Sorry again for hitting you in the store with my cart,” he says. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“It’s okay,” you say, keeping your eyes away from his. “In your defense, I wasn’t paying attention either.”

He chuckles quietly and the sound sends a dagger right to your heart.

When his coffee is ready, he grabs it, and you internally beg him to leave without another word. But he doesn’t.

Sometimes I really wish I could hate you/I’ve tried, but that’s just something I can’t do

“This is probably too forward of me, but—”

Your coffee is up.

You step forward to grab it, and damn you, you look at him to ask him to continue.

“Can we talk?” Aaron finishes.

“Right now?” You question, following him to the door. He holds it open for you and you hate that you almost smile. “I have to get to work.”

“Me too,” he says, stopping on the sidewalk with you. “We could get dinner tonight.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Okay,” he nods. “No pressure. Just text me if you want to.”

“Okay,” you exhale shakily. “See you.”

You turn on your heel and nearly sprint down the sidewalk, chest heaving and tears welling in your eyes.

+++

“What do you want to do?” Dannie asks.

You met her for lunch to discuss your encounter with Aaron this morning, and so far you still don’t know what the hell you’re going to do.

“I want to tell him to leave me alone and never come near me again,” you blurt, but then you sigh. “I don’t mean that.”

Dannie smiles sadly. “I know.”

You don’t/You don’t know how much I feel I still love you

“I think I want to talk to him, but...I don’t know, I’m scared. I don’t think I can do a dinner. I’m sick to my stomach just thinking about this and I mean...I hate that I still love him. After all this I can’t even hate him.”

“It’s hard to hate someone you love.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Wanna help me text him?”

“Of course.”

After some trial and error, you and Dannie settle on this message.

Hey. I’d like to talk, but not dinner. What about a walk instead?

Aaron replies quickly.

Hotch (BAU) That’s perfect. Where is best?

+++

The park you chose is, regrettably, the one where you and Aaron had your first date.

In your defense, it’s closest and safest. And quiet.

Aaron doesn’t seem to mind the location, though, when he walks toward you. You’re sitting on a park bench, one that must be new because you don’t remember it.

As he gets closer, you see he has two cups of coffee in hand.

“I got your usual,” he says softly. “If you want.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, taking it from him, careful not to let your fingers touch.

Hesitantly, he sits next to you.

The two of you sit in silence for a while. You can’t bring yourself to say anything, and apparently, neither can he.

After too long, though, you break the silence. “Ready to walk?”

“Sure,” he replies, standing with you.

You venture down the trail, grateful that you changed into your sneakers before coming. It takes another few moments before the silence is broken -- by Aaron this time.

“Is she mine?”

You sigh heavily. You should’ve known he’d ask that first.

“Technically, Juliet is mine,” you reply. “But you are the father, if that’s what you’re asking.” You pause. “You’re the only one I was with, so there’s no doubt.”

“I wasn’t worried about that,” he says quietly. You can tell he’s looking at you, but you don’t look at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I tried,” you admit. “I called three times. I got your voicemail.”

Once: When you decided officially to keep the baby. You were three months pregnant. You had almost thought he picked up when the line clicked, and then you heard his voicemail. You hung up and took a bath instead, phone forgotten in the living room.

Twice: Dannie was beside you. You were seven months then. You had caved and asked if it was a boy or girl. After hearing it was a girl, a part of you desperately wanted to tell Aaron. You remembered him saying he always wanted a baby girl. Your heart still ached from when he broke it, but you wanted to tell him. You got his voicemail.

The third time: You had just given birth. You named her Juliet. You wanted to tell Aaron. You wanted to know if he should be on the birth certificate. You wanted to tell him you had a baby girl. When he didn’t answer, the nurse gave you a sad smile, and left the line blank. Dannie held Juliet for a while so you could cry.

“You never left a message,” he replies, sounding offended.

“Did you really want me to break the news in a voicemail?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “But you could’ve said it was something important. I would’ve returned your call.”

“I called three times,” you remind him. “You’re a fucking profiler, Aaron. You think three calls meant it was unimportant?” You pause, grounding yourself. “I figured you were out on a case. I don’t blame you for that. I understand, I’ve been there. But after calling three times and not getting a single reply, I figured it was useless. I didn’t have the time or energy to worry about it anymore. I had a newborn to take care of.”

He’s silent for a while.

“How is she?”

“She’s fine. She’s with her Godmother. Probably watching Frozen.”

“That’s good.”

You can’t do this anymore. “If that’s all you wanted to ask, then I need to get going. No offense, but I really don’t have the time for small talk.”

“I understand, but…” He stops walking, staring down at his feet before locking eyes with you. “Would you— Would you be willing to give me a second chance?”

Don’t you/Don’t you say that you miss me if you don’t want me again

“Why are you doing this?” You ask, angry tears pricking your eyes. “Why?”

“I’d like to be a part of Juliet’s life. And yours. If you’ll let me.”

“I’ll ask her,” you reply. “But you can be a part of her life without being a part of mine.”

“You know that’s not true,” he says. “You chose this park for a reason today.”

“No, I chose it because it’s close,” you hiss. “Don’t you dare profile me. Don’t you dare.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and for a second you think he might have tears in his eyes, too. “I’m sorry, you’re right, that was uncalled for.”

“Thank you,” you murmur. “I really do need to go.”

“Can I at least walk you to your car?”

After a moment of thought, you nod. “Sure.”

My heart knows what the truth is/I swore I wouldn’t do this