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firstkanaphans · 1 year ago

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Idk if you watched the latest Dangerous Romance ep but Kanghan's praise kink is sooo fucking obvious!! Do you think you'll ever write something spicy for them? I'd totally roll around on the floor if you did! :face_with_peeking_eye:

I did watch it and you are absolutely right! Kang has one of the worst cases of a praise kink I have ever seen. God bless him. To be quite honest, I didn’t have any plans to write for them, but after you sent this ask, it was like the floodgates opened in my head and my brain suddenly revealed to me a whole ass fic it had apparently written in its entirety because I knocked this out in like an hour. It’s barely spicy and it doesn’t address the praise kink at all, but I’m obsessed with that scene from the trailer where Kang offers to buy Sailom, so this is my take on that. If y’all like it, I'll definitely consider writing more in the future!

Read on AO3

Kang wasn’t sure why, but he followed him. Maybe it was because he had never seen Sailom wearing such nice clothes before or maybe something just felt off, but the next thing he knew, he was lurking in the shadows of a bar in some ritzy hotel watching a man older than his father ply Sailom with drinks.

Sailom wasn’t drinking them, but the man was, and the drunker he got, the more his hands started to roam. Sailom was putting in a good effort to resist him, wriggling out of his grip whenever he thought he could get away with it, but even from across the room, Kang could tell that his muscles were tense. That the touches were unwanted. So when the man’s hand began to drift up from Sailom’s knee to his thigh, Kang’s composure finally snapped.

He marched over to the couch where they were sitting, grabbed Sailom by the hand, and forcibly pulled him from the bar, ignoring the protests of the old man they had left behind. Kang didn’t care. Let him be angry. Sailom wasn’t his to own.

“Kang?” Sailon hissed. “What’re you doing here?”

Kang ignored him as he worked to come up with a plan. He could take Sailom outside to his bike, but he doubted he would get on it willingly. He was stubborn like that. So instead he headed towards the front desk of the hotel where he offered a credit card in exchange for a room key.

“Are you out of your mind?” Sailom cursed, attempting to yank his arm out of Kang’s grasp unsuccessfully. Kang was holding onto him too tight. He wasn’t going to let Sailon run away. He wasn’t going to let him win. Not this time. It was for his own good.

“Elevator’s this way,” Kang said, key card in hand, and then he began dragging Sailom in that direction—literally dragging because Sailom had dug his heels into the ground and refused to move. Only once they were inside the elevator with the door shut did Sailom stop resisting. But even then, he didn’t look happy about it.

“What is wrong with you?” Sailom snapped and this time when he tried to pull his arm out of Kang’s grasp, Kang let him.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?! Why are you hanging out with a bunch of old men at a bar? Why are you letting them touch you?”

“It’s a job, Kang,” Sailom said with a sigh and although his facial expression didn’t change, the words felt heavy. Weighted. As if they were suffocating him. “One I’ll be lucky to keep after the show you just put on.”

Kang opened his mouth to argue—what job could possibly be worth that?—but before he could get the words out, the elevator door opened onto their floor. He grabbed Sailom again, albeit gentler this time, and dragged him towards the room he had booked. Once they were inside, he pushed Sailom down onto the bed and locked the door behind them.

“What was he paying you for?” Kang asked, although he already had a pretty good idea.

“My company,” Sailom answered lazily. “That’s all. I sit there and laugh at his stupid jokes and he pays me enough to not have to worry about someone breaking into my house and murdering me in the middle of the night. Or at least that was the plan.”

Kang could tell that Sailom was mad, but that was fine. Kang was mad, too.

“He was touching you,” he snapped.

Sailom rolled his eyes. “It was harmless.”

“It was not!” Kang pulled his own wallet out of his back pocket. “What was he paying you? I’ll double it.”

“Kang.”

“If he can pay for your company, then so can I,” Kang said, leafing through his cash. “How much?”

Sailom yanked the wallet from his hand and tossed it to the floor. “I’m not letting you pay for something you can have for free.”

Kang froze, surprised by the words. It wasn’t so long ago that the two of them couldn’t even be in the same room without committing unspeakable crimes against each other, and yet now, Kang craved Sailom’s company the way he craved air. Sailom kept him alive.

But company wasn’t the only thing people paid for.

Kang thought back to the tourist who had offered Sailom cash for sex and before he could think better of it, he had pushed Sailom down on the bed and crawled on top of him, their faces so close that their lips almost touched. To his surprise, Sailom didn’t push him away.

“Would you let me pay for this?” Kang asked, his heart racing. He felt dirty even offering, but there was a hint of something else there, too. Excitement. Desire. A truth he never would have been able to acknowledge without the promise of payment between them: that he wanted this. That he wanted him.

Sailom’s eyes were wide and Kang felt sure that he would say no, but instead, he said nothing as his gaze slipped from Kang’s eyes to his lips. And he didn’t look uninterested. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I know you don’t actually want—”

Kang kissed him. Immediately, he regretted it, but when he tried to pull away and apologize, he found that he couldn’t. Sailom had tangled his fingers in Kang’s hair, holding him in place. And then he kissed him back.

The kiss burned like whiskey—just as fiery, just as intoxicating. It was fierce and it was hungry and Kang did all he could to stoke the flames because he knew he might only get this one chance.

He snaked his arm underneath Sailom and moved them both higher up onto the bed so that they were no longer hanging half-off of it. So that he could get some leverage. So that he could kiss Sailom the way he deserved. The problem was that Kang didn’t have much practice kissing—in fact, he had only kissed one person in his whole life and he was on this bed with him—but instinct carried him farther than he thought it would. He kissed Sailom’s lips, he stroked his face, he unbuttoned his shirt. That’s when Sailom stopped him.

“Wait,” he said, pushing Kang away. He didn’t make him move, though. He didn’t ask for space. They stayed right where they were, only a breath apart, and Kang could tell that he wasn’t the only one affected by what had just happened. Sailom’s cheeks were red, he was breathing as if he’d just run a marathon, and his eyes—god, his eyes. They were so dark. Twin pools of desire. “You know I’m not going to let you pay me for this either, right?”

Kang’s stomach dropped. “Sailom, please. Don’t go back to them. I can—”

“But I still want to do it,” Sailom interrupted. “If you do.”

Kang wasn’t sure what he had expected Sailom to say, but that wasn’t it. Why would Sailom want anything to do with him if he wasn’t getting paid for it? Why would Sailom want this? And yet, there he was, staring up at Kang with eyes that brokered no argument. All Kang would have to do was lean forward the half inch that separated them and Sailom would be his. But closing that distance became a lot harder without the excuse of payment lingering in the air. If he kissed Sailom now, they would both know that it was only because he wanted to.

In the end, there was only one choice Kang could make because the thought of not kissing him haunted him far worse than the fear of being known. So he leaned forward and pressed their lips together.

Sailom didn’t hesitate. He kissed him back.

Sailom’s kisses were more purposeful this time—there was a depth to them that hadn’t been there before—and Kang tried his best to give back just as good as he was getting. Everything he was feeling was new. The press of another body beneath him, the gentle exploration of another person’s hands. He had never felt like someone else had control of him. But Sailom did.

Soon, Sailom was reaching for Kang’s clothes and Kang was reaching for his and both of them were breathing fast as if they had been arguing instead of kissing. And there, on silk sheets, they lay themselves bare, channeling all of the anger and the annoyance that had been building between them for years into something more productive. Something that might change them forever.

Kang waited until there was nothing left between them—no shame, no secrets, no clothes—before stopping Sailom. “Are you sure?” he asked even though he didn’t know the answer himself.

Sailom nodded. “I’ve been sure. You’re the one who hates my guts.”

“I don’t,” Kang admitted, his voice soft. “I never did.”

And then he kissed him. And he didn’t stop.

_______________

After, as they lay next to each other in bed, trying to figure out what it all meant, Kang caught sight of his wallet on the floor.

“Let me pay you,” he said. It was the first words either of them had spoken since the room had been filled with their moans, and his own voice startled him. “Not for that. Just…Sailom, please. I don’t need the money. You do. It’s my fault I didn’t pass the midterms and my grandmother stopped paying you. It’s my fault you lost all of your other students. If something were to happen to you, I would blame myself.”

Sailom was quiet for a very long time. “This is working,” he said. “And it’s only temporary.”

“It might be working now, but what happens when one of those rich, old white men paying for you doesn't take no for an answer? They’re predators. It’s dangerous.”

Sailom turned to him, the fire in his eyes burning just as bright as it had when Kang was inside of him. It was enough to shut him up. “What the fuck else am I supposed to do?” he asked. And for the first time, Kang heard real fear in his voice. As if, finally, Sailom was letting him in.

Kang didn’t have an answer for him, but what he did know was that they had crossed a line tonight—they had done something they couldn’t take back—and now, for better or worse, he would protect Sailom with his life. Because he was priceless.

#two fics in two days?#am i okay?#don't answer that #i wasn't going to put this on ao3 but then i saw that there were only 32 dangerous romance fics total and it made me sad #so here's 33 #dangerous romance #dangerous romance fic #kanghansailom #kanghansailom fic #sarah writes things

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awkwardgtace · 2 years ago

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🛒, 👀 and 💖?

Ask Game

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

I'd say an unreliable narrator is a common theme. Usually I write from a character's perspective so it's their thoughts regardless of what others in the story may think. I think a common theme is also acceptance despite the character's own beliefs. A lot of my characters have negative self views and those around them accept them no matter what. I think I focus on eyes a lot too. Like reading emotions in them, or misleading others with something about them. It feels like in gt eyes are gonna be the most obvious way to read a person so I make a lot of use of it! Idk about scenes and imagery too much though. I jump between eras and set ups so much it's hard to track :D

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

ooooh ok so I have like so many wips lol. I'll go with Mafia AU for it this time! I'm currently working on the story for why Alessia has a fear of being near humans when Ryder joins the family. It starts with her being excited and helpful to humans only for something to go wrong and doubt herself. It's not a ton of interactions, but shows a bit of how she's both like her family and very different from them. Also a bit of what she sees her parents as in that messed up world.

💖 What made you start writing?

Ok I'm gonna go with start writing GT but also a little of writing in general. so a bit of a long answer.

I kind of always wrote a lot. In high school (like over ten years ago lol) I would write during classes to help stay awake. I'd written poetry and stuff a lot before that. Books were super important to me so it was a natural extension.

In college I wrote a lot more since longer classes and less sleep lol. I was trying different things, less just self insert into my favorite anime and video games. I never posted and a lot of it did happen to involve fairies which were always a minor obsession of mine.

After college my writing mostly stopped cause the stress of job hunting and less free time all that shit. Plus the jobs i got were pretty shit starting out. (Fuck FDM idc if this secretly doxes me. No one should fall for their shit.)

Then in 2021 I was in a good job and I got back into tumblr and gt. I was reading stories and a lot just weren't quite what I wanted. So I decided to start writing my own stuff. I'd been sending asks on anon and interacting more so I posted my first story and tagged someone who's writing was closer to what I wanted.

It was like I opened a door I didn't realize I closed. It helped me get through a lot again, even though I'd started a better job and was handling things better than I had in 2020. It was also a way to finally kind of shut down my head. My mind runs a mile a minute so putting the ideas I'd had bouncing around into words helped me slow down. I kept going after the first few stories because I finally got to remember how much fun I had creating my worlds and characters. Worldbuilding remains something I get so much enjoyment out of!

So tldr, I started writing because it helped me think and stay awake in classes. I kept going cause classes got worse. I took a break and started up again finally getting to put my ideas out. It helped slow my head down and is just a lot of fun.

I hope this last answer makes sense It's a bit all over imo, but that's how my brain tends to be too lol

#awkwardanswers #thank you so much for the ask.#i hope that start writing one made sense #and didn't actually dox me lol

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seiwas · 1 year ago

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niku baby!! i have seen so many snippets of this that reading it in full now i'm just... wow 🥹

the dialogue in this is impeccable, as in, i can almost hear gojo saying it exactly, and everything else, your scene-building, the dynamic between them, it just flows and i love the progression of this fic, really 🥺

your writing is always so effortless to read and that's a testament to how seamlessly you craft your sentences!! i really had to stop myself a few times to slow down just so i could remember specific points i wanted to talk abt omg 🤧 but anyway ! it's all under the cut !!!

i love the eye motif so so so so much and you weave it through the entire fic so wonderfully, without it being too much while making it fit so well, i wouldn't have even noticed it if i wasn't reading this so so so carefully omg 😭 it just relates so well to the theme of this entire thing!! that gojo can see reader, and he knows reader, whether reader wants him to or not.

he sees through reader when they say they're going to get food, when you made this line: "of all the weapons at his disposal, Satoru’s eyes are the most effective against you.", when he says this: “Could hear it in your voice.”, when you made this paragraph:

He can’t help but wonder: what would happen if you lost control? If you let your feelings— all the sorrow and all the rage, burst from your body? Would you feel better? Would you fall apart? Would you— Would you let him see? It’s not until that very moment that Satoru realizes how badly he wants that— to see you come apart from the seams, to be the one to stitch you back up again. The realization brings almost all thought and emotion to a startling halt, a split second of silence before Satoru’s mind is back online, the thrum of desire running hot in his veins.

^ i just aaaah rlly rlly rlly love stuff like that, and i think it's so in-character for him to have so many thoughts that are lowkey kinda obsessive when it comes to reader??? i think it rlly shows ,,, his manic side omg 🫣

then, there's also the callback to the eye motif when you wrote this: finally the two of you are actually seeing eye to eye, and then you bring back some portions of the earlier paragraphs later on and it's just!!!! such thoughtful writing!!! i am so in love with ur brain for doing that!!!

your dialogue, niku, is rlly just so so so great, and feels so true to character i don't know what else to say!!! i love the dynamic between gojo and reader, there's this kind of chemistry between them that i can't really explain?? kinda like they challenge each other, but in a good way?? (ur enemies -> lovers is showing HABSFHASBFJ) when he tells reader they're his favourite colleague, then reader says u say that abt nanami too and gojo is like ok so i have 2 faves, then reader is like what am i a flavor of the day OMGGG that dialogue went back and forth like table tennis i stG i LOVED IT

“You are such a dirty hypocrite, you know that? Do you talk to people? Do you rely on them?” “Excuse me, I—” “Yeah, fine, sure, you talk so damn much that people can’t get you to shut up. But you and I both know that it’s not like you’re saying anything of actual substance most of the time.”

^ when u dropped this i really 😦 felt like i lost my eyebROWS OR SMTH reader really said it and i'm so thankful they did ?!?!?!? omfg the read on gojo is so so so good niku PLS

the way you write gojo is just... so annoying omg 😭 he's so obnoxious but in a way that is so uniquely him sdhgbk when he does the whole classroom is haunted thing... i wanted to strangle him... you write him with the perfect amt of cockiness i swear

then when the tension builds up!! when he asks if they're friends and continues to blabber yada yada yapyapyayp and reader is just like 'shut up' OMG i swear when i tell u my eyes were going zigzag reading that then it immediately went: 😦 the buildup was insane!!! and i cannot believe... reader... PUNCHED HIM OMG 😭 i - wow- so deserved.... but!!! he holds reader !!! and they let him !! and it's just ... such a beautiful show of exhaustion... resignation... sigh

and you mentioned suguru!! and i loved that paragraph on him, and i love that you mentioned it bc it adds so much depth and context to how gojo is here, confronting reader, as a friend.

and i love how you included the whole bit about people relying on him, and that he really doesn't have strong feelings for it (it's just the way things are), but reader so adamantly refuses to be a part of his burden—"i don't want you to" they say and i !!! just !!! wow. that's so powerful!! and what plays after that, how gojo asks “What if I want to?” , and reader is still like idc, but gojo hugs them tighter 🥹 oh you know my itty bitty heart can't take that!!! there is so much unspoken care i think!! with that dialogue in the latter part of the fic and i am living for it!!!! u know i love me a like that!!!

Satoru cannot help but stare at you— at the face you're making. Committing the image to memory is just not enough. Taking a picture wouldn't be either. Satoru's fingers twitch, desperate to reach out as if your smile is something he can grab— something he can hold and keep all to himself.

^ and !!! u sprinkle little bits of gojo's affection too!!! the thoughts going through his head when he thinks about, looks at, talks to reader!! i just !! love those little pockets so much !! and when he realises in the end that friendship is not enough... im just !!! the way you're setting this up niku !!! it's so subtle but so so seen!!

"What would make my life nicer," Satoru announces slowly, mostly for the effect, "is a nice sorcerer friend who relies on me, tells me their problems and thinks I'm very cool."

^ when he says this!!! i cannot even begin to explain !!! how much my heart ached !! at this annoyingly endearing man!! how affectionate that line is !! without it being affectionate ?? i can't explain !!!

the following are lines i really liked!!! or paragraphs that were memorable to me!!

Or would your despair have clouded your vision?

^ i really like this line because it ties in back to the whole eye motif, just ugh ! brilliant !!!

It takes everything in him to not march straight into that classroom and terrorize you until you forget whatever it is that’s upsetting you...For now, he’ll just wait at the door and give you a few minutes.

^ that entire paragraph!!! i know u sent that to me bc we literally had a gojo-induced brain syncing moment omfg. the fact that he annoys u!! to get ur mind out of whatever it is thats upsetting u !!! i rlly do think he does that and i'm still AAAAH abt that paragraph even tho ive alr read it jsdgjba

“Because you’re not!” you shoot back. Something flickers in your eyes, and looking embarrassed, you quickly add. “At least not right now."

^ i remember u sending me this and i think i saw it as reader calling him out, but now that i have the full context i find it so precious that reader attached that bit at the end 🥹 comes to show how reader still believes in him a way.

"Right now, I'm concerned about you."

^ when he said this omFG U CAN BET I SCREAMED BHGASBAG i didn't expect him to say it so ouTRIGHT TOO 😭

He likes that analogy— reminds him of ice cream. If you were a flavor, what would you be? Something with a lot of different textures? Definitely something that’s subtly sweet, though. Not that it matters, it would be his favorite all the same— his only favorite.

^ i also screAMED AT THIS ONE HASBGHBG how his brain just sidetracks... i think that's so him 😭

In the stillness of this otherwise empty classroom it’s easier to hear the strained notes in your voice, the lie weaved into the melody of your words.

^ i love this bc its so cohesive !!! the usage of sound throughout it all !!

You’re giving him something he can work with...And of course, you caught him. He grins at you, guilty. “Maybe a little.”

^ u sent me that paragraph before too omg and didn't understand it fully at the time, only that i thought he was a little shit but omFG it hits so muCH DIFFERENTLY NOW HSDBGAJSD

"I'm not lying."

^ I FELT THAT

aaaaaand there's that!!! i don't know what else to say that i haven't already but to wrap this up!! your dialogues will always be my favourite niku!! so much is said without it being outright and that's so hard to do 😭 i know u said that writing from gojo's pov is annoying, but i love the way you did it!! 🥹 and i love the way you understand him 🥹 always!!!

(though we may) fall apart - reader x satoru gojo

notes: uh. so this started as a vent fic and it kind of evolved into this. in some ways it kind of feels like a character study, but writing from gojo's perspective is uh. a ride. additionally, this is meant to be a companion fic to between the moon's divide, though it's not required reading (especially since this fic takes place before that one).

contains: fem!reader (no gendered terms, no physical descriptions, but implied to be smaller than gojo if you look closely enough), gojo's absolutely bonkers pov, hurt/comfort, physical violence (in which reader punches gojo), mentions of anxiety and mental breakdowns

wc: 4.3k -> [read on ao3; account required]

Satoru has good eyes.

Not just in the sense that they're beautiful— because they are: clear as the daytime sky and bright as the stars in the night. His eyes, a breathtaking shade of blue, have been a source of admiration and envy all his life, captivating and entrancing people left and right, but their sheer beauty isn't even the best thing about them.

It's the fact that his eyes let him see, let him really see.

Perceptiveness is not a skill that Satoru Gojo has ever had to learn, but one that's been thrust upon him, branded into the hue of his eyes. There's very little that he doesn't notice– that he doesn't see. From subtle shifts in body language to the ebb and flow of cursed energy, there is almost nothing that isn't laid bare before Satoru's Six Eyes.

That's how Satoru knows that something is wrong.

To your credit, you’re very good at hiding it— years of practice paying off in full. No one seems none the wiser when you smile and say you’re fine. Satoru wonders if they actually believe you or if they just don’t want to open that can of worms, but he can tell— from the faint, yet dissonant undercurrent in your voice that you are anything but fine.

The fact that your cursed energy is wound tightly around your form, like a protective cocoon doesn’t help your case either.

But that’s probably something only Satoru, with his Six Eyes, can discern.

He makes it a point to not call you out for your deception in front of everyone— you like to wear a brave face, so he’ll be nice enough to not tear it down in front of everyone to see. Besides, if he did that, he would lose major brownie points with you, and he can’t be having that.

Satoru watches with careful eyes as you take the first chance you possibly can to dip from the conversation the other sorcerers have roped you into about recent missions. You say you’re going to go find food, but Satoru knows that you’re really saying that you’re going to go find somewhere to fall apart in peace, in solitude.

He’s nice enough to let you have your lies, but letting you have that is going way too far.

Satoru follows after you at a distance, feeling generous enough to let you have some semblance of space as you amble down the hallways of the school. Must be looking for some secluded classroom or something. It would probably be better for you to go home— that would probably be the best place for you to cry your little heart out, but you’re probably not thinking straight.

Lucky him.

You arrive at your destination, a classroom tucked away in the corner of the building and scurry inside, not even looking back as you slide the door shut behind you. Would you have even noticed Satoru standing there if you had looked? Or would your despair have clouded your vision? Satoru’s eyes narrow just slightly at the thought of that; somehow, he doesn’t like it.

All the more reason to rip that facade right off your face.

It takes everything in him to not march straight into that classroom and terrorize you until you forget whatever it is that’s upsetting you. Satoru reminds himself that he’s being kind— being generous and letting you have a few moments for yourself. Not that he’d really know, but he’s heard crying is cathartic, so it’s probably best to let you shed a few tears before he swoops in like the dashing leading man that he is. For now, he’ll just wait at the door and give you a few minutes.

But then he hears it— the sound of a soft, strangled sob, and before Satoru knows it, the door is flying open and he’s entering the threshold of the classroom.

You glare at Satoru and he knows you’re trying your best to look as furious as possible, but the watery eyes and wobbly lips really dampen the heat of your gaze.

He shuts the door behind him before he speaks, “It’s kind of creepy to cry alone in a classroom.”

Your eyes grow wide for a fraction of a second and you scowl at him before whirling around to turn your back to him. “If you’re going to be an asshole, then you can walk right back out that door and pretend you never saw me.”

Satoru can’t help but chuckle a little. No chance of that. Not in a million years. He steps toward you, circling around so that you’re facing one another again. Leaning down, he grins and says, “Now why would I do that?”

Stubbornly, you refuse to look at him as you struggle to answer. Satoru is well aware of that fact that you and he both know that he wouldn’t do that, but he’s interested in seeing what you have to say.

Finally, you answer, expression twisted and almost unwilling as you speak, “To prove that you are the nice and awesome teacher that you claim to be?”

“Oh, but I am,” Satoru says, rising with a laugh. “You see, the students were all scared because they heard crying, and thought maybe this classroom’s haunted. Naturally, being the very brave and super cool teacher that I am, I came to check it out.”

You stare at him, looking completely and wholly unimpressed as usual. “Do you just enjoy lying?”

“It hurts me that you don’t believe that I’m concerned about the students’ mental well being!” Satoru bemoans dramatically.

“Because you’re not!” you shoot back. Something flickers in your eyes, and looking embarrassed, you quickly add. “At least not right now.”

Satoru smiles, pleased at the implications of your addendum. He's well aware that his easy-going demeanor makes it hard to believe any claims of sincerity. Most people, which sometimes includes you, think he's full of hot air— but he really does have the students' best interest at heart and he's glad to know that, deep down, you remember he does too.

"You're right," he says nonchalantly, his smile only widening as the surprise makes itself apparent on your face. He bets that you thought he would stick to the usual script: insist that he's always concerned about the students. You should know better though since Satoru revels in making unpredictable plays. "Right now, I'm concerned about you."

The completely stunned look on your face is priceless. Your lips are slightly parted, your eyes blown as wide can be, still a little red from the tears you shed before he walked in. Something about your expression is softer and Satoru wishes he could immortalize it in a more tangible sense, but for now he decides to settle by committing it to memory.

Quickly, your shock gives way to your typical annoyance, your defenses rising in response to Satoru’s earnestness. There’s something about it that’s almost exciting about the thought of tearing them back down. “You really do like lying, huh?”

“I’m not lying,” Satoru says plainly. “You are my favorite colleague, you know.”

It’s not a lie. Your eyes narrow in clear disbelief though. He would expect nothing different from you. “You know, I’ve heard you say the same thing to Nanami.”

Satoru smiles, unshaken by your accusation. “Okay, so maybe I have. Who says I can’t have two favorites?”

You give him a pointed look. “So what am I, the flavor of the day or something?”

“Sure,” Satoru agrees with ease. He likes that analogy— reminds him of ice cream. If you were a flavor, what would you be? Something with a lot of different textures? Definitely something that’s subtly sweet, though. Not that it matters, it would be his favorite all the same— his only favorite. “So what’s with the waterworks?”

There’s a split second of hesitation before you respond. “Nothing. It’s— I’m fine.”

If Satoru wasn’t sure before, he is now, more than ever; you’re not fine. In the stillness of this otherwise empty classroom it’s easier to hear the strained notes in your voice, the lie weaved into the melody of your words. He tilts his head, a wry grin playing at his lips. “So, who’s the liar now?”

A scowl blooms across your features and the sight of it stirs something in Satoru’s chest. Satisfaction, maybe? It doesn’t seem quite right, but he is pleased that he’s read you so effortlessly.

“I— just— it’s nothing,” you grind out. It looks almost as if you’re going to add something else, but you don’t, as if you think better of it. Can’t have that. Your reticence is kind of annoying, but Satoru doesn’t care all that much; he’s sure he can coax it out of you.

He leans back down so that he’s at eye level, reaching up to pull his blindfold down and reveal his eyes. Your entire body goes tense, but Satoru ignores it as he places a hand on his chin, making an elaborate show of examining your face. “You sure about that? You seem kinda agitated.”

You don’t respond right away, your gaze transfixed on the hue of his eyes. Of all the weapons at his disposal, Satoru’s eyes are the most effective against you. You’d never admit it, but you’re weak against them; the brilliant blue of his irises never failing to entrance you. It might be a little mean of him to wield them against you, but Satoru is known for being ruthless.

“That’s—” you start, the words catching in your throat before you force them out. “That’s because you’re all up in my face right now, Gojo.”

Another lie. Mostly. Some of your agitation is definitely proximity based right now.

“Then let me rephrase; you’ve been kinda agitated since you got back from your mission earlier.” His hand moves from his chin to his ear and he taps it lightly. “Could hear it in your voice.”

The revelation leaves you looking absolutely mortified. Satoru is almost delighted because he can practically hear you asking if you were really that obvious. He plays with the thought of telling you that you were. It’s not a complete lie, but not a whole truth either, after all, not everyone is as adept at reading you as he is.

You recover fairly quickly, shoving your embarrassment aside as you say. “Don’t worry about it.”

He grins a little. “Worry about what?”

Your expression shifts to the very definition of exasperation. Satoru thinks that if you were intent on keeping whatever it is to yourself it would have been better for you to just double down on saying it’s nothing and that things are fine. Unfortunately, you just gave him something new to latch on to pry you open with. Of course he’s going to use it. In clear frustration, you sigh, “Just… just drop it, Gojo.”

“I really am worried though, you know.”

You eye him warily, not bothering to conceal your suspicion and doubt. “You don’t look very worried. In fact, you almost look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

Satoru’s eyes widen just a tiny bit. You most definitely don’t realize it, but his persistence is wearing you down. Even though you’re still denying him the words he’s trying to wheedle out of you, you’re no longer handing him the absolutes of ‘it’s fine’ and ‘it’s nothing.’ You’re giving him something he can work with, something he can use, like a puzzle he’s just started to figure out, so of course he’s enjoying himself. And of course, you caught him. He grins at you, guilty. “Maybe a little.”

You rip your gaze from Satoru, jaw clenching as you bite back whatever foul words you want to hurl in his direction. It’s pretty obvious that you’re pissed by what he said and while he could have lied to you, he doubts you would have believed him. Besides, Satoru’s trying to show that he’s the honest one here.

It takes you a second to wrangle your rage back under your control as you defuse yourself with one deep, deep breath. Even though you lash out at Satoru all the time in response to his antics, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you explode in actual anger. You’ve gotten close dozens of times, sure, but each and every time Satoru has seen you swallow your feelings, forcing them down into parts unknown. It’s not like he can blame you; as sorcerers, you’re trained to control your emotions because losing control could very well be the difference between life and death.

Would you let him see?

It’s not until that very moment that Satoru realizes how badly he wants that— to see you come apart from the seams, to be the one to stitch you back up again. The realization brings almost all thought and emotion to a startling halt, a split second of silence before Satoru’s mind is back online, the thrum of desire running hot in his veins.

“My feelings aren’t for your entertainment, Gojo,” you say coolly.

You’re right. You’re wrong. You’re misreading this entire thing. “That’s not it. Not entirely anyway.”

It's obvious you don't believe him. Rolling your eyes, you say, "Gojo, you are such a—"

"I'm not lying."

The interruption stops you short, drawing your gaze to him and finally, finally the two of you are actually seeing eye to eye. Your pupils are blown wide, defenses demolished in the wake of Satoru’s earnestness. He watches as your eyes dart around, your mouth gaping wordlessly as you try to find something to deflect, to deny him.

Eventually, a scowl returns to your face, agitation at its very peak. “You are just—! Look, I’ll be fine, okay? You don’t need to worry about it.”

There’s a note of finality in your voice that makes it obvious that you do not want to have this conversation any more. Satoru doesn’t care, even though he knows at this point the two of you will just end up talking in circles. It’s kind of annoying, and even though he could do it all day, it’s time.

It’s time to rip that mask of yours right off.

“It doesn’t matter if I need to or not,” Satoru says, his tone serious. “Because, whether you want to believe it or not, the fact of the matter is that I am worried.”

You don’t challenge his words. In fact, you don’t say anything at all, but there is a shift in your energy and something about it doesn't seem quite right. Something in Satoru’s stomach shifts uncomfortably and it takes him a second to realize why.

Your silence reminds him of Suguru.

Of all the things Suguru didn’t say. Of all the things that Suguru swallowed— his curses, his feelings, his worries, forcing them down, down, down into parts unknown until he just couldn’t any more, until they came bursting from him, like bile, like vitriol consuming Suguru, twisting him until even Satoru could not recognize his best friend any more.

Satoru had seen the signs, after all, there is almost nothing that isn’t laid bare before the hue of his eyes. He’d seen the exhaustion set in Suguru’s face. He’d seen the way his cursed energy would wind so tightly around his form. He’d seen something was wrong.

But Suguru had said he was fine. That it was nothing. And Satoru—

Satoru had accepted that. Perceptiveness is not a skill that he has ever had to learn, but what to do with that which his eyes see, to comprehend that information, understand it, and act accordingly— those are skills he’s still working on. He saw Suguru was struggling, but Satoru thought that it was fine because Suguru said so. If something was really wrong, then Suguru would have told him because—

“We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Satoru is quiet. You are quiet. The room is quiet. Everything is too damn quiet.

So, Satoru does what he does best: he fills the air with the sound of his voice. He prattles on and on, knowing somewhere in his mind that it might not make you more amenable to opening up to him, but he can’t stop the words from spewing his mouth, like bile, like desperation, begging you to not turn out like his best friend. “Friends talk to one another, they rely on one another, so you don’t have to feel scared or shy about it. So—”

“...shut up.”

“Huh?” Satoru pretends he didn’t hear you. Your voice is quiet enough.

“I said ‘shut up!’” you repeat, your voice far louder. You take a half step back, one of your arms winding back, your hand balled into a fist like you’re about to punch him.

Satoru lets you.

The loud smack of skin on skin contact echoes throughout the room as your fist collides with his cheek. He reels back a bit, it didn’t hurt all that much, but… “Man, you really know how to throw a punch.”

Satoru rubs his cheek a little. Now that he thinks about it, maybe he really did need that for a second there. He looks down at you and the look on your face is absolutely horrified. It looks like someone just dumped ice cold water and now you’re frozen to the spot, scared, soggy, and surprised. There’s no doubt that you thought that your punch wouldn’t connect, that you thought the hit would get lost in the infinite space between you.

Your fist drops to your side like a sack of potatoes. As it does, your energy finally begins to unravel. Like a puppet whose strings have been cut, your entire body wobbles, and Satoru steps forward, wrapping his arms around you before you crumble to the ground.

He expects you to complain about the fact he’s holding you.

You don’t.

Instead you grumble, your voice muffled by the sound of his clothes, “You are such a dirty hypocrite, you know that? Do you talk to people? Do you rely on them?”

“Excuse me, I—”

“Yeah, fine, sure, you talk so damn much that people can’t get you to shut up. But you and I both know that it’s not like you’re saying anything of actual substance most of the time.”

He smiles wryly, though you can’t see it. “And what about right now? We’re talking right now, aren’t we?

“I’m talking.”

“But are you saying anything?”

You scoff a little bit. “About the same amount as you right now.”

Satoru hums. Sounds about right. “I do rely on other people, though. You don’t see me taking on every mission, do you? Not like I can do everything on my own.”

“People act like you can.” Something in your voice sounds almost bitter and for some reason Satoru’s chest aches at the sound. “I just feel like everyone depends on you too much because you’re the ‘strongest.’ Like, what are they going to do if you’re not around?”

“Your lack of confidence in me is kinda rude, you know,” Satoru says dryly. “Do you think something’s going to happen to me?”

“...no,” you answer, reluctant in your honesty. “But I don’t want to be one of those people, not if I can help it.”

He can’t help but laugh. “Don’t think I can handle it?”

“I don’t want you to,” you admit and Satoru frowns, silent as you continue, “I feel like you’ve got enough to worry about already. I don’t want to be adding my crap to it.”

Satoru is more than aware of the burden on his shoulders. Carrying the weight of the world is no easy feat, but Satoru has always been up to the task— accepted it, embraced it even, his waiting hands ever ready and willing to take on more.

Satoru wouldn't mind if you gave him something more to hold.

“What if I want to?” he asks, sounding a little cheeky.

You start to push on his chest, trying to free yourself from his grip. He doesn’t let you. “I don’t care."

Satoru's arms tighten around you in retribution. Your body is a pleasant sort of warm and in the back of his mind Satoru thinks that he wouldn't mind basking in it a little. "Now, that's not very nice at all."

"I don't care!" you repeat, voice muffled as you struggle against him. "I’m not going to be responsible for contributing to any of your possible mental breakdowns.”

“I don’t have mental breakdowns," Satoru points out. He’s not sure if you realize it, but he’s very good at compartmentalizing, prioritizing his thoughts, his feelings. And more than that—

“Yeah," you say, that bitter sound saturating your tone once more. "I imagine the strongest sorcerer can’t afford to.”

“...something like that, yeah,” he says with another laugh, loosening his grip on you. But he doesn’t let you go completely. Not yet.

You pull back enough so that he can see your face, and your frown almost looks like a pout. It’s kind of cute. “Maybe you should think about it some time. I think it would do you a world of good.”

Satoru pretends to consider it. He sees what you’re saying, and maybe you're right, but he can't. He's built different from you. Different from Suguru. “I thought about it and sorry, but no can do.”

You snort, but you don’t seem all that upset at his refusal; honestly, you probably figured as much. “Must be nice to be you."

"Could be nicer though." Satoru gives you an exaggerated sigh.

You eye him suspiciously, but ultimately take the bait and indulge him. "How so? Do you want everyone to worship the ground you walk on?"

He frowns. He's almost insulted. Almost. "You really think I'm that conceited?"

"Sometimes," you answer with a sassy sort of smile.

He pouts, "Well, you're wrong."

"Uh-huh…"

"What would make my life nicer," Satoru announces slowly, mostly for the effect, "is a nice sorcerer friend who relies on me, tells me their problems and thinks I'm very cool."

You gawk at him before you start laughing. Hard. So hard that tears start forming at the corner of your eyes— that, by the time you're done your breaths are labored and heavy. Satoru is a little offended because he's being honest, but that pales in comparison to the relief he feels seeing that whatever was bothering you seems all but forgotten now. It's less likely now that you'll tell him what was actually bothering you but Satoru thinks it's a small price to pay to know that you're feeling better.

Besides, he has a feeling what it could be and so there's next time.

For better or worse, there will always be a next time.

"I'm afraid you're a little shit out of luck there, Gojo," you say once you've caught your breath. "I think your standards are a little high."

He grins. "I only deserve the best, you know."

"Then maybe you should be better first."

"I'm a great friend," Satoru insists. He knows it's not quite the truth, there are ways he could be better, could have been better. For you. For Shoko. For Nanami.

For Suguru.

But he's trying. Here and now. He's trying.

"Are you?" you ask.

"Maybe you should tell me," Satoru retorts playfully. "You know, you never did answer my question earlier."

You blink and then look away, looking a little ashamed.

"You didn't forget, did you? I'm hurt!" Satoru exclaims, exaggerating as he always does.

"I didn't forget!" you say.

"You so forgot!" Satoru shoots back. "But you can make it up to me by answering me now. And no lying this time, got it?"

You scowl at him, looking petulant and it's adorable enough that Satoru is willing to consider giving you a pass if you refuse to answer. Because, even if you don't say it, Satoru knows— no matter how rude you are to him, no matter how much you bicker with him, no matter how much you deny him, he knows the truth.

He doesn't think you'll admit it.

But to his surprise, you do.

Your answer is barely audible, a quiet sort of grumble. "Of course, we're friends… I can't believe you're actually asking me."

Satoru can't help the smile that spreads across his face, elated to hear you acknowledge the friendship between you however reluctant you may be about it. Despite that, there's something, clawing at the back of his mind, demanding and insatiable. You've just admitted to friendship, but Satoru quickly realizes that that's not enough. His fingers twitch again, striving to grasp something else, something more.

"How am I supposed to know that if you don't confide in me a little more?" Satoru asks.

You don't answer. He knows that you know he has a point.

"Listen, you don't have to tell me everything." Even though he wishes you would. "But, if something is seriously bothering you, don't go running into a classroom to cry alone. Just come to me instead."

You groan. Reluctant as always. But it's not a no, and that's good enough for Satoru.

At least for right now.

"Promise?" His voice is soft and gentle, almost a plea.

Satoru couldn't be there for Suguru, but the least he can do is be there for you.

"Okay," you answer, your voice matching his and Satoru wonders if you know, if you realize. "I promise."

#u have been working so hard on this !!!#i am so proud of u for getting this out !! in gojos pov too !! his annoying ass !!!#and the long titles !!! welcome to the club.... lmao #but truly niku #i loved this !!!#everyone pls read !!#u will go thru this quick... wont even feel liek 4k sjhdbsak #and i like how it isn't outright romantic but it still hits !! in all the right ways !!!#i love love love !!#fic review #jjk #satoru #niku tag #hurt/comfort

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mgparker · 3 years ago

Note

Hey! So I’m not sure if you’re taking requests but I have an oddly specific one ? So it’s tams!xreader and the reader is from MCU but in tasm! Universe she was peters girlfriend that he couldn’t save and when he comes into the MCU he’s like weird around her and she’s getting frustrated because he won’t talk to her and she’s basically saying “this plan won’t work if you won’t talk to me! What’s your problem with me?” And my brain keeps imagining that scene in greys anatomy where Alex is yelling at Izzy that “you freakin died in my arms…I’m scared to move, I’m scared to breath, I’m scared to touch you” anyways, I’m not that creative but it’s a maladaptive daydream that I haven’t been able to completely put together in my head but I love your writing and I was wondering if you could put it into words for me? ❤️❤️❤️ I know it’s weirdly specific so no worries if you don’t wanna !

the way this request filled me with absolute joy:,)))

i love hearing from you guys and i am definitely taking requests!!!! thank you so much for this, i hope this fulfills your expectations <33

also: i have an unhealthy obsession with grey’s anatomy so this just hit the spot

scared to breathe

[tasm!peter parker x f!reader]

NO WAY HOME SPOILERS

summary: seeing you again was too much for peter, so much so that shutting you out seemed like the only thing he could do.

warnings: NWH SPOILERS, angst so much angst, bitter!peter, some swearing, mentions of death, intense grey’s anatomy references, anon request <33

Frustrated, you slammed your book shut, scaring both Ned and his Lola. You gave them an apologetic glance, running your fingers through your hair anxiously.

“He’s taking too long,” you determined, chewing on your bottom lip and honestly feeling two seconds away from opening the damn magical box your friend had left you with.

Ned tried to get a word in, but MJ beat him to the punch. “I agree,” she said firmly, reaching down to grab the Machina.

It had already been too long, nothing on the TV broadcasting any Spider-Man related news but the radio silence was enough to worry all three of Peter Parker’s friends. Doctor Strange’s box rested by MJ’s feet, ready to be opened if Peter didn’t show up in the next two seconds.

“Guys, no,” Ned protested, waving his hands around as if to dissuade MJ. “He said he’d be here. It’ll be okay.”

But even Ned couldn’t convince himself.

The three of you sat at the table, silence filling the void. The air practically reeked of anxiety and it only took a second longer before Ned was nervously rambling once more.

“I just wish we could see him!” He exclaimed in exasperation.

A glimpse of molten orange caught your attention and beside you, MJ had perked up as well. “Ned, do that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“That thing you did with your arms and repeat what you said,” you clarified, fascinated by the sparks that had mysteriously appeared in the living room. Though it seemed Ned had no idea what was going on still.

“I just wish we could see him,” he repeated in the same fashion, circling his arms uncertainly.

Again, the sparks appeared in the room, taking the shape of a perfect circle, spinning with a stunning vibrancy. But it wasn’t the color that shocked you the most— it was what the circle held.

A portal— leading straight into a deserted alleyway. And on the other side, the silhouette of Spider-Man turned toward you.

“That’s him!” MJ exclaimed, frantically waving him over. Ned joined in, hollering at the top of his lungs.

“Peter! Peter!”

It took you a moment to kickstart into action, staring at the suited figure with uncertainty. There was something strange about Peter. You knew that MJ and Ned could tell too, but their relief was blinding them.

In the next moment, several things happened.

First, Spider-Man jumped through the portal swiftly, landing with a light thud and causing Ned’s Lola to scream at his unfamiliar figure.

Second, when he ripped his mask off, the handsome man staring back at you was definitely not Peter Parker. Not only did he look completely different, but he was also staring at you with such intensity that you almost couldn’t bear it.

Uncomfortable under his gaze, you were desperate to know who the imposter was. “Who the hell are you?”

Instantly, he sort of… flinched? As if you had taken a knife and plunged it into his stomach. The watery look in his eyes confused everyone in the room.

“I’m Peter…” he hoped your eyes would flash with recognition but there was nothing. “…Parker. In my world. But then yesterday I was just… here.”

“Right,” MJ gave him a suspicious look, keeping a close eye on ‘Peter’ as he began to wander the space.

“String theory, multidimensional reality, and matter displacement? All real?”

“Yeah…” All three of you answered hesitantly. Then, you all huddled together, exchanging harsh whispers about the stranger standing mere feet away from you.

Meanwhile, Peter Parker was absolutely sure he’d broke into a cold sweat, feeling the perspiration along his hairline. He wasn’t stupid— when he’d first arrived, Peter was one hundred percent positive that he had found himself in a universe that was certainly not his own. Seeing the teenage Peter Parker plastered all over the newspapers of NYC was enough to confirm it—because this universe’s Peter looked nothing like him.

Along with that, he knew that there must’ve been different versions of all the people on his earth, including you.

It was just that, he didn’t expect this version to be a literal doppelganger of the late girlfriend.

So, Peter didn’t know how to act, viciously fighting the impulse to cross the room and hold you like his life depended on it. Clearly, you didn’t know him at all. You only knew the Peter Parker from your world.

You weren’t her.

Even if your hair was styled in its usual fashion. Even if your eyes held that same glimmer they always used to. Even if every single inch of your being was the exact same as he remembered.

God he never thought he’d see you alive again. And it was killing him, keeping him rooted to the spot and looking like a fish out of water. Mouth agape and eyes stuck in a wide trance.

“This is Ned,” you gestured over to the boy who smiled and gave Peter an enthusiastic wave.

“MJ,” you continued, watching as MJ sort of grimaced and waved with much less enthusiasm.

And then you introduced yourself, warmly smiling at the man and extending a polite hand.

Only that smile was instantly wiped off your face when Peter blatantly ignored it, a complete contrast to the warm greetings he’d given your friends.

His cold behavior set off an alarm in MJ’s head, leading her to bring her arms up defensively. “Prove it.”

“Prove what?”

“That you’re Peter Parker.”

“Oh, I don’t really carry an ID with me. Kinda defeats the whole anonymous superhero thing.”

With a little extra strength than needed, you chucked a bread roll at him, instantly feeling your humiliation from earlier fade away as it thumped his chest roughly. The fact that MJ had also thrown some bread almost made you laugh in his face but you kept your defenses strong.

Making a point to avoid your glare, the Spider dude looked down at the discarded roll. “Why’d you do that?”

“Trying to see if you have the tingle thing,” MJ told him, raising her arms even higher.

“I have the tingle thing,” Peter confirmed. “Just not for bread.”

“I call bullshit,” you whispered to Ned, nudging his arm.

Between MJ’s efforts and yours, Peter finally proved that he indeed possessed spider-like abilities, confirming his identity and leading Ned to create another portal in order to find the “real Peter Parker.”

Only, the man who stepped through the next circle wasn’t your teenage Peter Parker at all…

This Peter was older, eyes full of wisdom and a casual demeanor that would never lead you to guess his secret identity. “It’s just a regular dude,” Ned said in relief, glad that it wasn’t some sort of rogue Spider-Man.

Still, you stayed on edge. “Hello,” he waved awkwardly. “Hope it’s okay, I just came through this—”

The portal spun shut, leaving him emptyhanded as he turned to gesture at nothing but air. “—Oh, it just closed.”

“You’re Peter?” You tried cutting to the chase, worried about your Peter and slightly irritated by the standoffish one standing behind you.

The man furrowed his eyebrows, still confused by the portal. “Yeah, Peter Parker. I’ve seen you three— oh, hi.”

Ned’s Lola had given him a flirtatious wave, smiling mischievously from her place by the stairs.

“Wait,” he finally caught sight of the suited man behind you. “He’s not your friend…”

Chaos ensued, the new Peter Parker shooting a web towards the suited one. In a split second, you were pushed out of the way, dragged out of the crossfire at a remarkable speed before you could realize what was going on. Webs shot back and forth, the two men leaping towards the ceiling and then back down again in a series of mirrored movements. Then the fight was over when the casually dressed Parker webbed the other’s hand down to the kitchen island.

All of you waited with bated breath until the suited Peter smiled, clearly impressed with the quality of his counterpart’s web. “So you’re Spider-Man too?” Ned asked exasperatedly. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

“I generally don’t go around advertising it,” the new arrival shrugged. “Kinda defeats the whole anonymous superhero thing.”

“I just said that—”

“—He just said that,” you said in sync with another voice.

Looking over at suited Peter, you watched as he cleared his throat, bringing his eyes over to the wall slightly over your head before looking away just as quickly. Seriously, what was his deal? Did you smell or something?

“My Lola is asking if you could just clean up the webs you threw at each other,” Ned translated after his grandmother finished saying something directed at the normally dressed Peter.

“Yes, of course,” he smiled kindly, turning to grab the sticky substance by his foot.

You tried to keep yourself calm and collected. “When did you get here?”

“Yesterday, I think,” this Peter responded, placing the glob of web into your outstretched hand. “Um, this may seem kind of weird, but I’ve been trying to find your friend ever since I got here. I just have this sense that he needs my help.”

“Our help.” The other Peter added, nodding as if he had been feeling the same thing.

You tried your best to keep your attention focused on the conversation at hand, but you were trying hard not to throw up as you crouched behind the kitchen counter, peeling the extremely sticky web from your palms. It was embarrassing—you should’ve known that taking the web from Peter was stupid. Your many experiences helping your Peter make web should’ve told you that the substance would be difficult to get off your hands.

“Gross, gross, gross,” you whispered, finally tossing the glob into the trash bin. “Ugh!”

The two Peter Parkers heard you clearly, their enhanced senses catching onto your disgusted mumbles and disgruntled shuffles from behind the counter. The older Peter fought an amused smile, listening to MJ as she brainstormed where her boyfriend could be.

“I know where he is,” she concluded, catching your eye from across the room.

That’s how you found yourself arriving at Midtown High School’s rooftop via portal. Thankfully, Ned was able to conjure a direct passage purely with his natural talent for the mystic arts. You were slightly jealous of his skills honestly…

Introducing the two Peters to your universe’s Peter was a bit…rocky. Between your Peter’s defensive nature and the other two telling stories that couldn’t have been easy to share in front of an audience, the night was slowly progressing into even more of a shitshow.

You didn’t think much of it—as the suited Peter shared his story about how he had lost his “MJ” not too long ago. Of course you listened with a heartfelt empathy towards the man, despite his adamant intention to ignore your existence (unlike his behavior toward your other two friends whom he’d lightly conversed with between the whole portal incident and now). You had a big heart, everyone who knew you was certain of it, so you couldn’t help but feel his pain as he lamented on his actions ever since his girlfriend’s death.

“…I just stopped pulling my punches. And for some time, I got rageful. I got bitter�� I just don’t want you to end up like me.”

Your Peter’s eyes were filled with tears, his gaze catching yours, then MJ’s and then Ned’s. Even shadowed by the darkness of the night sky, you could see in his eyes that his trust had extended to the two Spider-Men.

……………………………………….

“Here’s the deal,” you started once everyone was settled in Midtown High’s laboratory, taking up your usual mantle as team leader.

God knows that Peter was not the best at plan-making (despite being the one to ultimately carry out the task as Spider-Man). Peter Parker was undoubtedly smart—probably the smartest person you knew—but between creating a plan and executing it…. Well, let’s just say something always got lost in translation. Thankfully though, he had your mastermind.

You continued. “We gotta finish these cures in the next hour or so. Who knows how much havoc these villains will wreak upon this city if we wait any longer. What are we going to do about the Goblin?”

“I think I can make an anti-serum for Dr. Osborn. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time…” The older Peter caught the gaze of teenage Peter, who was still destroyed over the death of his aunt. “Gotta cure all of them, right?”

“Right,” your Peter agreed distantly.

“That’s what we do.” With that, the older Peter nodded in your direction, walking off to a separate station to get to work.

Wide-eyed from how fast the older Peter got to work (you couldn’t begin to explain how hard it was to get Peter and Ned on task usually), you moved on, shifting your gaze back over to the whiteboard you’d been writing on. “Peter—” your Peter raised his hand sheepishly. “—can handle Marko and Dillon but Connors—”

“—I’ve got Connors. I’ve already cured him once, it’s no big deal.”

You turned to look at Peter, the one who had arrived with the suit on.

He was a strange guy, that’s all you could really say about him. Throughout the night, you’d caught him staring at you with a conflicted look, tears lining his eyes and his fists clenched at his sides. As soon as he’d catch you staring back, his eyes would snap away, though his chest still rose aggressively as if the sight of you caused him to hyperventilate. It was confusing to say the least.

“…Okay,” you trailed, watching as he snatched the vial from your hand, as if touching you would give him a literal disease. Quickly, Peter shuffled to his own station, cracking a small joke to the older Peter as he passed, which irritated you a bit.

Honestly, you weren’t even sure why he was getting under your skin. You were usually so collected and kind and welcoming towards others…

Maybe that’s the reason you were frustrated—the fact that people usually took an instant liking to you… And you didn’t mean it in a self-absorbed way, it was just that you always made the effort to make those around you feel at ease, comfortable.

For the life of you, you couldn’t understand why this Peter Parker was avoiding you like the plague.

“Well, let’s get started!” MJ pumped her fists awkwardly, trying to deflect from the obvious situation between you and the new Peter.

……………………………………..

For the next half hour or so, you’d been wandering between stations, feeling the desire to help in anyway. You hated feeling useless and though you probably should’ve just sat down and stayed out of the way, you still hovered.

Luckily, the older Peter didn’t really mind, explaining his anti-serum to you with genuine enthusiasm which you appreciated.

A few tables over, Peter heard your gentle laughs mixed along with the older Peter’s. Shaking it off, he tried to ignore the ache in his chest, his hands shaking as he combined some ingredients together. It didn’t matter how hard he tried to distract himself; everything reminded him of you—down to the very cure he was concocting (his version of you had helped him create it years back).

Your laugh was like music to his ears, filling his heart with immeasurable joy before his mind squashed it with the impending realization that you weren’t his you. That no matter what, he had to continue to live without you and that realization hurt him as much as your death.

Your approaching figure caused Peter to panic, the tremor in his hand knocking the vial over. Witnessing the disaster about to unfold, you lunged forward, wrapping your fingers around the tipping glass and setting it upright.

Frozen, Peter stared at your hands, his own supernatural reflexes failing him as he panicked in your presence.

In a way, he felt absolutely horrible for ignoring you. In reality, all he truly wanted to do was wrap you in his arms and kiss you until your lips were numb. He wanted to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness. But the thought of losing you twice was too scary… so he did the only thing he could do.

Distanced himself so that you couldn’t wiggle your way into his heart even deeper.

“Thanks,” Peter finally mumbled, remembering that you were standing there expectantly.

Your heart plummeting from his seeming lack of compassion, you cleared your throat, shifting from foot to foot. “No worries.”

He didn’t look up, continuing as if you weren’t there. If he had looked up, you would’ve seen the mournful gleam in his eye.

“An easy fix?” You knew you should’ve just given up; it would’ve saved you from further embarrassment and irritation, but you hated that your presence made him visibly uncomfortable. You were desperate to get to the bottom of it.

Peter kept his head ducked, the tremor in his hands still disrupting his work but he was pushing through it. “Pretty easy, yeah. Just need a few more things though.”

Without waiting for a response, Peter flew away from his station, heading toward the supply closet in the hallway.

Just leave him alone, you thought. But then you realized that the plan wouldn’t go smoothly if he didn’t fully cooperate with you. That thought sent you rushing after him, ignoring the glances from everyone else in the room.

Inside the closet, Peter could hear your hasty footsteps heading in his direction and he tried to prepare himself, knowing that you were insanely stubborn and you’d get something out of him one way or another.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you,” you started, closing the door gently behind you. “But I need to know that you’ll be clear-headed out there tonight. Otherwise, this whole thing might go down the drain.”

Silence.

You tried once more. “I usually cook up the plan around here. It’s kinda my thing in the group and, you know, I have a really good feeling about this one but I just don’t know if you’re completely on board.”

Standing there with that stupid lab coat (that honestly made him look ten times hotter), his lack of response was making you feel like a complete idiot.

A red, hot fury soared to your head before you could stop it. “This plan won’t work unless you talk to me!”

Still, he wouldn’t meet your eye, clearing his throat and continuing to rummage around the supplies as if he had only heard the buzz of a fly.

“What is your problem? You don’t even know me!” It came out more aggressive than you intended. You weren’t usually the type to act out emotionally, but it wasn’t fair that this Peter Parker seemed to make the instant decision to hate you as soon as he stepped through that portal.

You felt the sting of tears pooling in your eyes and you angrily wiped them away before they could even fall. You absolutely hated that your body’s natural response to intense frustration was tears. Like, what was crying supposed to do? Absolutely nothing.

In the midst of all this, you failed to realize that Peter froze. With bated breath, you waited for him to say something, to move…anything.

“I don’t even know you?” His voice was bitter, full of deep and raw pain. You could hear it clearly and it confused you. “God, it would be easier that way, wouldn’t it?”

You racked your brain, trying to think of anything you might’ve done to make him so resentful towards you. Maybe you stepped on his shoe? Slammed a door on his hand without realizing? Honestly, what the fuck could it be—?

“I knew you,” he nodded, keeping his back towards you—something that was irritating you more and more as the seconds ticked by.

Maybe you should’ve waited for him to continue but you couldn’t help it. “Okay, good,” you crossed your arms defiantly. “Then what’s up? Was I mean to you or something?”

“Mean,” he repeated, chuckling humorlessly. Okay. Now he was starting to piss you off.

“God, I’m sorry for whatever the other me did to you but I don’t understand what you’re so afraid or scared of—”

“You died!” His sudden outburst startled you. The crack in his voice bounced off the walls of the closet, hitting you deep in the chest. “You died.”

Immediately, you had no idea what to do with those words. You froze, your chest falling flat from the lack of oxygen in your lungs. You died?

Staring at his shaking figure, you realized your death must’ve done quite a number on him. A flood of guilt washed over you—you were reading into this all wrong. He wasn’t angry at you or resentful towards you—he was genuinely afraid. Down to his very core, you could tell.

Wait—when he was talking about his MJ earlier on the rooftop… was he talking about you?

Flabbergasted, you tried to regain your composure, spluttering some odd syllables in an attempt to form a sentence, or heck, even a word. But he wasn’t done, his body slowly spinning around to face yours. “You died in my arms… You want to know what I’m scared of? I’m scared of everything. I’m scared to move. I’m scared to breathe. I’m scared to touch you.”

The air in the room seemed to drop several degrees lower, goosebumps rising along your arms as you stared at the handsome man before you. There he was, a complete stranger to you, but to him, you were anything but.

“I’m—I’m sorry—”

“I can’t lose you again. I won’t survive. So I can’t let you in. I can’t.”

Through his eyes, Peter watched you fidget with your bracelets nervously, eyes darting everywhere as you tried to contain your feelings. It was familiar— watching you bottle everything up. Something he’d always correct you on back when you were alive and in his arms.

Your likeliness to her was remarkable—it was like he was stuck in an extraordinarily vivid dream, staring at his heart’s one desire— breathing with pumping blood under your skin. Because the last time he’d seen you in real life, your body was cold, and your skin lacked its usual glow.

The pale sheen that had colored your complexion as you laid there dead in his arms all those months ago haunted him every night.

So, standing here seeing you again when that was the one thing he’d wanted since that night was excruciating. His throat burned from holding back his grief-stricken sobs, his legs wobbled from the effort of holding up his stunned body (when all he wanted to do was fall into your arms and never leave them again), his eyes stung from holding back tears and his lips ached because they longed to touch yours. To seek the comfort only your lips could bring; it was like muscle memory.

“It’s easier this way, Y/N.”

“No,” you protested, surprising yourself and Peter. “It isn’t easier this way. Because in order for all of this to be over, we need to work as a team… and—and you can’t keep torturing yourself like this. It isn’t healthy.”

His eyes were still stubbornly trained to the ground.

“Peter—”

He recoiled from your touch and you instantly drew your hand back, feeling guilty for overstepping.

The sound of his name leaving your lips was blissful, though you didn’t know it. Hell, anything that left your lips sounded heavenly to Peter. But your touch was too sudden—his arm seemed to burn from the contact and though his heart wanted you to touch him again, his brain was too overwhelmed.

It was like he said: Peter couldn’t move around you. Or breathe. Or touch you. Or even look at you in the eye.

He knew that once he did that, he’d be absolutely fucked. Because it would be impossible to go on living his life knowing you’re out there, alive and still full of that same compassion he’d always envied.

“Look at me,” you tried, heart racing as you began to feel desperate. “Peter, please.”

“I can’t do this,” he denied, shaking his head and hastily grabbing the material he needed then making his exit. “I can’t.”

With that, he left you alone in the supply closet, your heart feeling strained and lungs starving for air.

………………………………………

After your confrontation (which the other Peters heard, you were sure of it) in the supply closet, Peter seemed a bit more cooperative, offering you full sentence responses whenever you directed something at him. Still, he didn’t quite look you in the eye.

But nevertheless, the plan was set in stone, your Peter leaving first to call the Daily Bugle and expose his location to the other villains. Then the other two followed, fully suited up and equipped with the cures.

Originally, the idea was that you’d stay in the lab waiting for Peter’s signal to close up the portal. It was a good plan with little room for error but of course life didn’t work that way.

Under the intense pressure of the mission, Ned found himself unable to close the portal, though you made sure to make him feel good about opening it in the first place. You reminded him that he was a natural and the praise seemed to be working… but not quick enough. Because the Lizard caught sight of the box in MJ’s grasp, diving through the portal and knocking all three of you out of the way.

“Shoot!” You yelled, scrambling to your feet and trying to make sense of the situation. Several feet away, you spotted your friends, both of them sprinting away from the chaos between Spider-Man and Connors.

“Go!” Spider-Man yelled. You quickly realized from the tone of his voice that it was your Peter and you hesitated for a moment, your feet failing you as you tried to glance back at the fight. You tumbled toward the ground again, slicing your palms and knees on the broken pieces of wood from the shattered tables. “Y/N, I’m serious!”

“I know, I know,” you exclaimed, recovering as quickly as possible and jumping through the portal. “Jeez!”

At this point, MJ and Ned were levels away from you, your fall delaying you by a good minute. Inwardly, you cursed your lack of coordination. “MJ! Ned! You guys good?!” You hollered, pushing your legs as fast as you could down the steps.

Your voice caused Peter to whip around, frantically searching for you in the chaos. What were you doing here? You were supposed to be in the lab where it was safe—

Oh—oh. Not safe. Definitely not safe, he thought as he swung over and saw the younger Peter engaged in combat right in the smack dab middle of Ned’s Midtown portal.

Quickly, Peter searched for you again, swinging along the side of the statue for a glimpse at your figure. Finally, he spotted you… but not in the state he was expecting.

In all honesty, one could say you looked peaceful. Your eyes were closed and the scream that had escaped your mouth was long since gone.

But to Peter, the sight was his worst nightmare all over again. The ringing in his ears muted him to his own desperate scream—a scream of your name. And then his body finally jumped into action, the disconnection between his brain and his limbs vanishing as soon as he determined he wouldn’t let history repeat itself.

Faster and faster, you fell from the Statue of Liberty, at the hand of the Green Goblin who’d pushed you off the edge with nothing but malicious malintent and a horrendous cackle to fill the air of the night.

Knowing your Peter was busy fighting off the other villains and the other Peters were likely doing the same, you’d accepted your death as soon as you went tumbling off the side of the monument. Closing your eyes seemed to make it easier—it almost felt like you were freefalling from a cliff, surrounded by your friends on a sunny seaside vacation. At least that’s what you told yourself anyway.

It made your landing a softer pill to swallow.

Water, it’ll be like landing in refreshing water after a thrilling dive.

If your eyes were open, you would’ve seen your Peter’s desperate efforts to save you, his attempt thwarted by the very same villain who’d caused your fall in the first place. And then you would’ve seen the person you least expected to come to your aid— the Spider-Man who you believed wanted nothing more than to obliterate any trace of you from his life.

Even when he had explained it to you in that supply closet, it seemed you didn’t understand the true depth of his conflict and love for you.

Peter knew he was getting closer to you, but it seemed like he wasn’t falling fast enough, your body horribly getting closer and closer to the ground. A chunk of railing flew in his path, debris from the fight overhead but he didn’t let it deter him, diving past it and miraculously getting close enough to grab your hand.

Shocked by the contact, your eyes flew open and you jolted in midair as you finally met Peter Parker’s hazel eyes. Your peace was suddenly destroyed as you saw the top of the Statue of Liberty growing smaller from behind Peter’s figure, your vision of cliff-diving obliterated in a fit of panic.

But before you could make a sound, Peter wrapped his body around yours, arms going around your torso firmly and your legs wrapping around him tightly. Before you could blink, you were on the sweet, sweet ground. Albeit in Peter’s arms but still, back on the ground.

It seemed like the dam had finally been broken in many ways—you were closer to Peter than you’d ever been before, wrapped in his arms and grasping his neck tightly, and his tears were finally flowing down his flushed cheeks.

Heart pounding from the adrenaline, you tried to say something… anything. “Are you okay?”

Feeling his heart connect with yours once more, Peter looked down and into your eyes. “Yeah.” And he finally meant it. “Are you?”

“Never been better,” you smiled tightly, scratching the hair at the nape of his neck and jumping out of his arms swiftly. “Thanks for that. I thought I was a goner.”

Peter gulped, licking his lips nervously. “Listen, I-I—”

“Peter Three!” The older Peter called from the top of the monument, engaged in an intense battle with the Goblin.

But Peter didn’t look up, his gaze stuck on yours as if they were locked forever now.

You knew that they needed Spider-Man’s help. Pushing his chest gently, deciding that all boundaries were torn down now, you snapped him out of it. “Go, Peter. You can tell me when you get back.”

“Okay,” he breathed, the ghost of a smile on his face as he felt his heart slowly start to mend itself back together for the first time since your death.

Maybe letting you back in wasn’t so bad after all. It wasn’t like he could fall for you anymore than he already had—he was sure if he loved you any more than he still did, he’d have to go seek some sort of help because feeling so intensely toward someone had to be dangerous.

Now, you finally understood why he’d been pushing you away so hard. Because you saw the love in his eyes when they finally met yours. The sheer intensity of the pain that came with loving you was the sole reason for his detachment, which you had foolishly mistaken as anger and hatred.

“Okay, Bugboy.”

His genuine laugh was the last thing you heard before the Amazing Spider-Man swung away, swiftly disappearing into the night and leaving you with a warm feeling in your stomach.

hi!!!! sorry this was honestly a little out of character!! i tried to play around with the more bitter (grieving) side of tasm!peter that they briefly introduced in no way home. if you’d like a part two, pls let me know!!

i am indeed accepting requests as i write chapter two of contingency! im in a bit of a writer’s block for that specific series :/

also does anyone know how to add borders on tumblr posts (instead of me adding a bunch of periods)??

check out my masterlist here!!

requests are open!!

— elle <33

tasm!peter parker taglist:

@lemur46 @utterly-in-like

2K notes · View notes

cjsinkythoughts · 4 years ago

Text

Rocks, Shoulders, and Ears

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 3501

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Major Angst in this one, guys, Loads of Feels (sorry not sorry), John Walker being a douche (I really don’t like the guy)

A/N: I’m SO SORRY! I promise I was planning on it being shorter, but I went a little overkill with the angst! There’s just so many feelings and not enough space in my heart and soul, so I had to pour them out here! You get to see more of Reader and Sam’s relationship in this one and there’s major Bucky Feels towards the end (in my defense, this is based on the Couples Therapy half of the episode).

I’m really hoping we get to see Bucky go to Louisiana next episode! I’m holding out for it! I have a few ideas that include Sarah, but I need the episode! Ugh! Now we have to wait a whole ‘nother week! I really shouldn’t write three chapters on one episode in one day. I just couldn’t help myself!

Anyways! Please enjoy this part and thank you so much for all your support! Seriously, it’s meant so much to me, especially after the week I’ve had! If you haven’t checked out the previous parts, my FATWS Series Masterlist is HERE, so please go read those first. Like always, this isn’t beta’d so please excuse any mistakes! Enjoy, babes!

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

The last thing you remembered was falling asleep in Bucky’s arms after walking a few miles. And a hospital in DC wasn’t exactly what you preferred waking up to, but it’s what happened. Turned out, not only was your shoulder dislocated and your thigh was strained, but you had a mild concussion. Your arm was in a sling and your palm, which you had completely forgotten about after you wrapped it while on Bucky’s back, was wrapped properly. Luckily, your thigh wasn’t too bad, but they wanted to put you on crutches, which you refused immediately.

You had to get out of that building. You had no idea where the guys went, which was weird because you were sure they’d never leave you alone. Especially in a hospital.

You quickly snuck your way through the halls after grabbing your bag which - thank God - was left on the seat besides your bed and changing into an extra pair of clothes.

You tried calling Bucky’s phone, the one he had specifically for you, which he always always answered. He even made an excuse to go to the bathroom once when you accidentally called in the middle of a therapy session. Nothing. You called the number four times before trying Sam’s phone.

It clicked on the first try.

“Hey. Listen, sorry for leaving-”

“Where the hell are you?”

You heard him sigh. “I was just about to explain, so hang on a second there. You weren’t waking up, probably because that concussion you forgot to mention to us-”

“In my defense, I didn’t know.”

“Sure you didn’t.” You rolled your eyes, throwing your free hand up, exasperated. “Anyways, Bucky wanted me to meet someone, we’ll talk about that when you inevitably get here, put we had a bit of trouble and Bucky was arrested-”

“What?!”

“Chill your pants, Y/L/N. Just listen. We’re in Baltimore. I’ll text you the address. Get here soon and I’ll explain the whole thing. We’ve been here for a couple hours, but there’s people on their way and we’re getting everything situated right now.”

“Okay. Fine. But you’re in trouble.”

“Don’t I know it, babe. Now hurry your cute little ass here. We’ve got stuff to talk about.”

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

The ride from DC to Baltimore is usually an hour or so, but you’ve got resources, especially in the nation’s capital, and riding the bike you got, being able to go way over the speed limit? You got there in half the time. Being an Avenger really does have its perks.

The moment you got there, you hopped off the bike, not even bothering to turn it off, and stormed into the precinct. You headed straight over to the desk, but a pair of hands caught you by your uninjured arm before you could make a scene.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Sam spoke softly, squeezing your bicep gently. “He’s okay, alright?”

“Why is he-”

“He missed his court-mandated therapy session.” Sam informed you, pulling you over to where he had been sitting previously. “There was a warrant out for his arrest. They had to bring him in, but it’s fine. His therapist’s been contacted. She should be here any minute to get him out.”

Your head fell back at his words. His therapy. How could you forget? You let Bucky complain to you about it and played along sometimes, but you really did think it was good for him and you tried supporting him. Yet you made him miss it and now he’s in trouble.

“Hey. Y/N. Look at me.” You found Sam’s worried eyes, his hand coming up to hold the side of your neck. “He’s okay. He’ll be out in just a bit. It’s fine.”

“It’s my fault, Sam.”

“No. It’s not. He’s a grown ass man who made the decision to skip.”

You shook your head, holding his wrist for something to anchor you down. “No, Sammy. I brought him along. I should’ve been more responsible-”

“I know we’ve joked around about you being in charge and stuff, but…you know it’s not all on your shoulders, right?” Sam tilted his head slightly, eyebrow pinched in confusion making his eyes narrow.

You turned your head, not wanting to look at him. You didn’t need another set of deep eyes to fall into. “Sammy…I promised him I’d look after you.”

“I know. And that’s fine. But looking after us - looking after him - doesn’t mean you have to be there to hold his hand and take the fall for him. He’s not a child. Hell, he’s a hundred years old. Tell me you understand that.”

Licking your lips, you closed your eyes and shook your head again. “I-I can’t-”

“Is that why you’re obsessed with finding Wanda?”

You frowned at his question, eyes snapping to his. “I’m worried about her, Sam.”

“I am too, but she can handle herself. And if she doesn’t want to be found, you have to let her be. I know the Avengers were your only family. I know how much Steve meant to you-”

“No.” You pulled away rather harshly, digging your nails into your palms, trying not to cry, ignoring the wound you were irritating. “No, you don’t. How could you understand my feelings for Steve when I don’t understand them myself?”

Sam always had this ability to make anyone feel important, just by looking them in the eye. It was something you always admired about him; the way his smile could light up a room, those warm eyes making everyone’s fears go away. They reminded you of hot chocolate. Something that could soothe your worries, comfort you, warm your very soul from the ice tragedy and heartache tend to big on.

You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry in front of people, but with the way he was looking at you, it was hard to keep the tears from slipping.

“You loved him, Y/N. Why is it so hard for you to see that?”

“I didn’t - I wasn’t in love with him, Sam.” You argued, wiping your cheeks aggressively and turning, crossing your arms defensively.

“What do you call it then?”

It was a rhetorical question, Sam copying your movements and sitting straight to watch for Bucky coming out. A rhetorical question that you didn’t know the answer to. Because you weren’t in love with Steve. No. Maybe you had been, but somewhere along the way he passed your heart to Bucky. So why did it hurt so bad?

You refused to dwell on it anymore, clearing your throat and dabbing at your eyes one more time before changing the topic. “Why are we in Baltimore?”

“Bucky wanted me to meet someone. Isaiah. You know him?” Sam turned back to you, his warm eyes shifting into something else. Suspicion? A bit of anger? Annoyance? You couldn’t tell.

“Isaiah? I don’t think I know any Isaiahs. And definitely not here. Why? Who is he?”

Sam shook his head, eyes darting around the lobby. “We’ll talk about it later.”

You nodded, although now your curiosity had peaked and you wondered who this guy was that made Sam so agitated. While you waited, you felt your eyes drooping and you let your head fall onto Sam’s shoulder, who chuckled.

“You’re still tired? You know you slept for, like, twelve hours, right?”

“I haven’t been sleeping much.”

Sam turned his head to kiss yours. “Y/N, I know you want to care for everyone, but you’ve gotta take care of yourself too.”

“I know.”

“Okay.” And with that, the subject dropped, Sam pulling out his phone while you rested your eyes.

It was another ten minutes or so before Sam’s name was called and the both of you stood up to greet the speaker. A woman, Dr. Raynor. Bucky’s infamous therapist.

And speaking of infamous. The moment you heard his voice, you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping it was just your brain malfunctioning. And then he was walking towards you, calling Bucky ‘Bucky’ like they were old pals and he was saving him from something terrible.

Your face scrunched up as Walker talked about stopping Bucky’s regular therapy sessions. “He’s too valuable of an asset to have him tied up-”

“Don’t call him an asset.” You snapped. “He’s a human being with needs, and therapy-”

“He’s a super soldier with skills that we need.” Walker cut in, making you scowl as he turned back to Raynor.

You scoffed in disbelief at his words, turning on your heel and walking away before he did, heading straight for Bucky, who lifted his right arm, wrapping it around your shoulders once you were close enough.

“Are you okay?” You whispered, closing your eyes and trying to relax in his hold, breathing him in.

“Are you? Should you be walking? What did-”

You shook your head. “I’m fine.”

“Really?”

“Promise.” You sighed out with a nod, squeezing him once more before pulling back as Raynor stepped forwards, ordering Bucky and Sam to do a session with her. You almost laughed when Sam tried refusing, a little chuckle actually leaving your lips when Bucky slumped, dragging his feet like a kid going to the principal’s office.

You followed, Bucky holding the door open for you. “Thanks, Buck.”

“Of course, doll.” He gave a small smile, before walking in after you, Sam letting out a, “hey!” when Bucky shut the door on him, making you roll your eyes. You let the corners of your mouth tick up slightly in amusement. Yes, they annoyed the hell out of you, but you had to admit it was pretty funny sometimes.

“I believe I asked for James and Sam, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“It’s Agent, actually, and I think I’m gonna sit in.”

Raynor narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think-”

“That wasn’t a request.” You threw her words to Sam back at her, making Sam smirk. You shot him a wink as she relented with a sigh.

“Fine. Just as a spectator. Don't interrupt.”

You raise your hands in surrender, slipping around the table to stand in the corner as your fellas sank down into the seats across the table from her.

A small puff of laughter came from you at the lack of response when she asked one of them to start. She shot you a warning look over her shoulder, but you shrugged. You couldn’t help it; it was like all those times back in grade school when a teacher asked for a volunteer to read in a classroom full of rowdy kids and crickets followed.

Once she mentioned the next exercise was used for couples, you had to laugh, making both men shoot you begging pouts.

“Y/N.” Raynor glared at you, so you controlled yourself, gesturing for her to continue.

Her miracle question did work so well, neither of them cooperating well.

She didn’t even bother with you when you started cackling after she mentioned the “soul-gazing exercise” and Bucky thanked her, Sam commenting that he would like this one. You gave a teasing wolf-whistle when they got close, one of Bucky’s thighs between Sam’s and vice versa.

“Doll.” Bucky whined at you.

“Listen here, smartass-”

Raynor cleared her throat, cutting Sam off from finishing his statement towards you. You leaned back against the wall, crossing your arms with a smirk. After all the bickering and side taking they’ve put her through, letting you enjoy this was the least they could do, and they knew it.

Of course, this exercise didn’t work out either. A staring contest. Children. She was best friends with literal children.

But then something happened. Something you never thought would happen. Raynor asked Bucky why Sam aggravated him, and Bucky looked over to you, his eye growing sad in a way they only did when Steve was involved.

“Steve believed in you.” Bucky told him earnestly. “He trusted you. He gave you that shield for a reason. That shield? That is…that is everything he stood for. That is his legacy. He gave you that shield, and you threw it away like it was nothing. So maybe he was wrong about you. And if he was wrong about you, he was wrong about me.”

You heard his voice crack a little at the end as he slumped down in his seat, you jaw dropping slightly. You listened to the rest of the conversation, catching the way Sam grew irritated again, something that you didn’t previously think was possible, but was happening more and more now.

Why wasn’t Sam talking to you? Why was he holding all this in suddenly? And why…Bucky…he didn’t tell you that. Why didn’t he say anything? How could he ever feel…

But you knew how he could feel like that. Yes, Steve believed in him so much that he tore the Avengers apart for him…but he was the only one willing to do that for him. Yeah, you and Sam and Wanda and Clint, you all joined their side but, being honest, it wasn’t because you believed in Bucky. It was because you believed in Steve. Of course, it was different now. You believed in Bucky with your entire being, and you believed in Sam with your heart and soul, but…did either of them know that? Did they believe you when you told them? Or did you not tell them enough? This whole time you thought you were doing right by Steve - trying you damn hardest to watch out for them. But it obviously wasn’t enough. And that was on you, no matter what Sam said.

You read people. That’s what you’ve always done, that’s what you’d always do. It was the reason you earned your spot on the team. You read people and situations and could figure your way into their heads in a second. Years and years of undercover work taught you how to do that and how to protect yourself while doing so.

So why? How? How did you miss something this big? How did you miss the way Sam was holding onto something? Why did you ignore the vexation in his tone for the last couple weeks? How did you miss that Bucky was hurting that deeply? Why didn’t you do anything more for him?

You left the room before either of the boys, but you heard Sam standing up as you walked out the door.

You should’ve known you weren’t the only one holding things in. Of course they were. The difference is, you were supposed to be their rock, the thing they could hold onto to ground themselves, the shoulder for them to cry on, and the ear lent to them whenever they needed someone to listen. That was your job. It wasn’t their job. Not for you. Your rock - your shoulder, your ear - he left you. And you thought, after all he did for you, if you just returned the favor for his best friends, you’d…you dunno. You’d be closer to him, maybe.

But you couldn’t. Because you weren’t Steve Rogers. And you knew that from the start, but you had to try. You tried. And it wasn’t working. He made it seem so easy when he did it for you. Clearly you didn’t give him enough credit for dealing with all your shit on top of his own.

“Doll.” You didn’t stop walking, needing to get outside for some fresh air. “Doll, hold on. Wait a minute.”

He grabbed your arm as you made it outside, spinning you to face him. “You didn’t tell me.” You spoke quietly, your voice fragile as you stared at him, confusion and hurt in your eyes. Were you really that bad at doing your job? Did you really already fail him? He asked you to do one thing…

“I didn’t…I didn’t want you to deal with my problems.” You opened your mouth, but he shook his head, holding your face between his hands. “I’m not stupid, Y/N. I know something’s going on with you. You’re good at hiding your nightmares at night, but I’m better. You’re jumpier than usual. Quieter. Every time Wanda’s brought up, you turn away. And the other day? On the truck? You froze. I was watching, doll. It was just a second, but you froze. You never freeze.”

“It’s not your job to worry about me, Buck-”

He frowned, tilting his head. “Not my job? Aren’t we friends? Isn’t that what friends do? Or am I just a job to you? I know you promised him to look after me. Is that all I am to you? A responsibility?”

You shook your head vigorously, holding onto his wrists. “No. No, Bucky, I just-”

“Do you think he was wrong about me?”

Salty diamonds ran down your cheeks as you clenched your eyes shut and shook your head. “No.”

“Did you ever believe in me? Did you ever care or was it all just because Steve? Is Steve the only reason you tolerate me?”

“Don’t say that. God, please don’t say that.” You begged quietly, meeting his gaze again. Every beautiful detail was laced with devastation, eyes imploring her to make him feel better. “Of course I believe in you. I have since Wakanda, you know that. Yes, okay, maybe Steve is why I helped you at first, but-but…I care about you, James. So much so that it hurts sometimes. He wasn’t wrong about you. Or Sammy. You both mean so much to me. Okay?”

You watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed thickly, nodding slightly. You both simultaneously moved to get closer, him pulling you while you stepped into his chest, arms around his waist. His arms were tight around your shoulder, holding you just as firm as the kiss he planted on your forehead.

Sam came out, planting himself besides you as you pulled away, Bucky wiping your eyes. “I feel better.” He huffed out sarcastically, making you smack him in the arm. “Ow! Yeesh. Women these days.”

The sudden siren of one of the parked police cars made the three of you look over, spotting Walker and Hoskins. You groaned. “Did he see that?”

“Hey,” Bucky caught your jaw between his fingers, shaking his head. “Who cares? It’s between us and us only. Right?” You nodded, making him kiss your forehead again, a whisper of “attagirl” against your skin. You hadn’t heard that from him in a while.

“Gentlemen!” Walker waved them over, nodding at you. “And lady.” The three of you reluctantly walked over, Bucky going to lean on the police car Walker and Hoskins were near and you hopped up to sit on the hood of the police car across from them, Sam besides you.

You got information from Walker, who was once again trying to get you to work with him, but Sam summed it up nicely, explaining that the three of you didn’t have to follow the rules he did. You started to leave, Bucky tucking you under his arms once you slid off the car, when Walker stopped you once more.

“A word of advice, then. Stay the hell out of my way.”

You grumbled under your breath as the faker and his lapdog walked off. “I’m gonna kill him.” You vowed as the three of you started in the other direction. “I swear to God, I’m gonna rip that shield off his back and use it to beat him in that stupid face of his-”

“Down, girl.” Sam jested, flicking your ear. “We need a game plan. What’re we thinking?”

Your eyes narrowed as Bucky piped up, talking about the Isaiah character - who you still didn’t know - before HYDRA entered the equation.

“Absolutely not.” You shook your head, tugging his arm to make him stop once he mentioned Siberia. “Do you remember Siberia? Because if you’re actually suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, we remember Siberia very differently.”

“He’s our best bet-”

“So you’re just going to go sit in a room with this guy?”

Bucky scrunched up his nose. “Ye-yes…”

A beat of silence passed before Sam gave his stamp of approval, but you still disagreed. “There’s no way this’ll end well and I refuse to let you-”

You found your face between Bucky’s hands again. You really wished he’d stop doing that and just ask for your attention. You didn’t mean that, of course. You’d be held by him every second of every day if you could. “Don’t you trust me, doll?”

You licked your lips, looking around the darkened street. This was not a good idea. A bad plan - a terrible plan, really - but, unfortunately, it was the only one you had. “Dammit. I’ve got a really bad feeling about this.” You finally sighed, running a hand through your hair after Bucky let go of you, his eyebrow quirking.

“Is that a yes?”

Sam nodded. “We’re gonna go see Zemo.”

You tugged Bucky’s hand when he nodded back and went to walk after Sam, who started walking around the corner, making him stop. “And yes. I do trust you. With everything I have, Buckaroo.”

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myrapottah · 3 years ago

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The other way around

(aka try not to pass out in front of spider-man challenge)

pairing: tasm!peter parker x reader

summary: peter was used for someone to heal his scars, but what if this time was the other way around? with a medicine made of new feelings?

warnings: strangers to lovers au, a random creep violating reader, blood, scars, bandaging and all this type of stuff, cursing, cheeky peter (yes that is a warning), lmk if i missed anything

words: 4.3k

requested: yes / no

a/n: eeekkkk!! the first time i’m writing for petey <3. i just discovers mcu and now i’m obsessed , don’t blame me… also i kinda made a plot and maybeee if y’all give me motivation i will do a part 2:))

♒︎♒︎♒︎♒︎♒︎♒︎♒︎

It had been a rough week. You worked at a after-school, every week was rough. But in this one, all the kids were so excited for summer vacantion, and their excitement was always your tiredness. You just couldn’t wait to get home, turn on the AC and watch netflix until you fell asleep.

You waited for the bus to come, the bus you always took so you didn’t have to walk like 5 streets. You were exhausted, your head was literally burning. It was also very hot, so you couldn’t imagine how that last day of school could get any worse.

“Hey, ma’am!” a man shouted from the other part of the asphalted sidewalk. “The bus isn’t coming today, the driver is sick”. But of course it got worse.

Now you had to walk like 20 buildings away, on your own feet. You sighed, thinking of any possible shortcut you could take so you didn’t pass out in front of everyone. Your legs took a right turn, leading to a dark passway, where luckily the hot breeze couldn’t get trough.

But, after like 200 meters of hell, your ears caught the sound of someone walking after you. a sigh left your mouth. no. you couldn’t bare with it right now. You sped up, the sound of dirty boots following every step of your sneakers. You turned left, to make sure he was coming after your and it was not your brain overthinking. And of course he did. Your breath hitched when the mistery man shouted “hey, lady!”. you turned around, walking backwards so you didn’t lose your walking pace. He started running, and so did you.

But he was faster, and he was getting closer. you were now breathing heavily, trying to think of a way to escape. On the other side of the passway, a boy showed up. He watched the scene for a second, time when you shouted “hey, a bit of help here?”. But as expected, he ran away.

A hand pulled your hair, earning a pitched scream from you. The guy turned you around by your neck, his hands on your throat so you couldn’t talk. With his other arm, he took a sharp knife out of his pocket.

“I d-don’t have a-any money” you whispered, freezing when you saw the weapon he owned.

“I don’t want your money” the creep said in a deep tone while licking his lips. “i want you as my little treat”.

You almost passed out at his words. God dammit, that bus driver couldn’t just pick another day to be sick?

You swallowed hard, trying not to look at the man in the eye. His knife travelled down, cutting your jeans and deepening it in your hip’s flesh. You could just scrunch your face in pain, silent screams leaving your mouth. Your face was red, you almost didn’t have any more air left.

His blade went up again, cutting your shirt and leaving a trail up to your belly button. Your face scrunched, a few tears running down your cheeks. But, before you could open your eyes, you heard a familiar voice saying “that’s not nice, man!”,then your vision went white.

♒︎♒︎♒︎♒︎♒︎♒︎♒︎

You slowly opened your eyes, your lashes sticky just like every morning. A sunbeam went trought the curtains, something that never happened before because your window was positioned to east. You shut your eyes back quickly, trying to process what happened when a sharp pain went trough your body. You let out and uncomfortable whimper, trying to get on your elbows.

Your vision finally focused, and in front of your face there was a white and red mask. You scrunched your nose, a feeling of cold alcohol refreshing your cuts. You jolted up and tried to get on your feet, but a big hand pushed you down.

“You will lose more blood” the guy with the spider-man mask said, looking up at you for the first time.

That never happened before. Peter always went to someone to heal his scars, but never vice-versa. But usually, the victims he saved stayed concious. This time, after he was done with the guy, you weren’t very aware of what happened. And he couldn’t just let you there, your clothes stained with blood. So, the only right thing to do was to take care of you. He realised if he brought you to the hospital, the doctors may think he did it. So he picked you up and dragged you in his room, and that’s how you got in that situation.

“Is you- are you spider-man?” your brain finally understood what happened, but you weren’t so sure if it was healthy enough for you to trust it.

“nice to meet you” he said and nodded. You could feel his lips purse under the mask, his eyes landing on yours.

Another thing you realised then, was that you were half-naked. Your clothes were splayed on the floor, all wet from peter’s attempts to wash them up. You were just in your lace bra and your panties, and the sight of spider-man being almost on top of you and looking at all your imperfections could make you pass out again.

“sorry, i couldn’t clean your wounds with your clothes on” he guessed what you were thinking by your shocked gaze. “they were covered in blood. i feel like a creep now”, he let out a forced giggle, unaware of what you were going to do next.

“i, uh, no, it’s alright” you managed to actually say a sentence. one step forward was always good. “but, uh, hm, i- can y-you,, i mean- l. ", yeah, let’s take that step back.

“don’t worry, your body is beautiful” he said and you furrowed your eyebrow, looking back at him. “i-i mean, not in a creepy way of course”, another forced giggle left his covered mouth.

You cleared your throat, thinking what to say next.

“actually, i think you deserve a big thank you” you spoke, trying to imagine where are his eyes. “i admire you, you know. everyone admires you” these words left your mouth, along with a groan caused by the bandage he covered your scar with.

“you do?” he chuckled, for real this time. he got up, not waiting for an answer. “please stay right here, i’ll bring you some clothes. you’ll make it worse if you move”. your brain just received the information that he was shirtless and he wore gray sweatpants. what a funny guy.

Your eyes never left his body, analizing every little cut and muscle. he had a birth mark on his collarbone, and one on his abs. and damn, his abs. they were so toned, you didn’t trought it was possible to have them that way. he turned around, placing his hand on the wall while searching for a shirt in his closet. he had big and strong arms, that other guys could only dream of. this was the 2nd time you trought you were gonna pass out.

“healing now, fucking after” he intrerrupted your troughts as he turned around, handing you a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. “sorry, bad joke” he continued, sitting on the bed next to you.

“actually, i think this is my life motto from now on” you joked back, assuring him that you weren’t really a karen. “i’m pleasured to be one of the many girls that saw spider-man shirtless with grey sweats on”

“you were the 2nd, actually” he said, serious now. you couldn’t believe how only one girl saw him half-makes before you. how could anyone not want to see such a toned body? “do you want some pizza? i have some leftover from last night” spider-man asked, thinking you may be hungry from the loss of blood.

“yeah, if you want to give me some” you answered, getting up and stepping in his shorts. “i haven’t eaten since this morning”

“why not?” he asked, helping you put your shirt on.

“i missed lunch break, i was working on some stupid ecuation. this year i’m trying to get in a science university” you said, revealing a bit more information than needed.

Spider-man furrowed his eyebrows, even if you couldn’t see it. He also loved science. Well, at least one thing you had in common.

“What university do you want to get in?” he was suddenly interested, the fact that you liked science made you even more interesting.

“It’s not really a university… i want to take the Oscorp private classes so i can help with their experiments. I met Dr. Connors once. He was friend with my mum. And another guy, i don’t really know his name. I gave him the ecuation so he can do the genetic adn transmutations. but i didn’t know how to solve it, so after a few days he did it himself. i didn’t saw him again after that.” you explained, not sure if the boy understood what you blabbered. “Sorry, i got kinda lost in explanation”

Peter froze. So you were the one that contributed at the ecuation? Not Dr. Connors? He had do find out more, but maybe it wasn’t the right moment to ask you so many personal questions. You were still in loss of blood.

“Nice life story. now, can you get up? we have to go in the living room” he stopped himself from overthinking more, proceeding to make a plan for research later. You were undoubtedly smart, ingenious, attractive, funny, unique. It was no way you were single.

“Yeah, i think i can.” you followed him through the hall and in the room. It was huge, with a big TV and very nice decorations. He motioned you to sit on the couch as he opened the fridge and got a pizza box out of it. He put it on the coffe table, taking a slice and handing it to you.

You wishpered a small “thanks” and you devoured it, you were really really hungry. The pain almost didn’t exist anymore, just a bit of discomfort bothered your skin.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” the boy asked, thinking that if you said no you had a boyfriend.

“Sure” you cooed. spider-man opened the tv and pressed the netflix button. it was only one account, named peter. That was his name then, wasn’t it?

“Hello peter” you said as you got closer to him. You had no idea when he put a shirt on, but now his muscles and abs were covered. what a shame.

“Well that was a mistake. now i have to change my netflix name into spider-man” he joked, pressing the button so the movie page appeared. “What’s your name, by the way?”

“Y/n” you dryly replied, moving closer to him so your hips were touching.

His face turned as red as the mask. But he didn’t complain, he just sat there quietly. Maybe he had a chance to be with you. He already felt a bond, or maybe it was just his mind. Or maybe you had a boyfriend. For fuck’s sake, this trought was making him go insane. What if he just asked?

“So, y/n” he started while scrolling trough the movies that showed up. “Do you have a boyfriend?” he had the courage to spit out, quickly and quietly like someone was listening to their conversation.

“Why, do you want to know if you’ve got a chance? Don’t worry, spidey. i gotchu” you chuckled, pointing at a random movie for you to watch.

“That didn’t answer my question” he was serious now. he would feel very guilty if he found out you had a lover, because what you did was like cheating but more innocent.

“I don’t” you sighed. “My last lover was a guy that actually had a part-time girl. i stopped dating after i found out”.

The movie was on, but none of you payed attention to it. You just looked in each other’s eyes (or at least where you trought his eyes were), waiting for one of you to say something. He was looking so deeply in your eyes, you could feel it. The sentiment of soft skin over yours sent you shivers trough you veins, even if it was just your legs’.

You turned around to face the tv, and peter felt like he just woke up from a dream. He copied your motions and started watching the film, but he couldn’t understand anything of it. He was thinking if maybe you were comfortable for him to place a hand over your shoulder. Maybe if you didn’t have a boyfriend you were okay with it. Wasn’t it worth a shot?

He raised his arm up, pretending he was just arranging his mask from the back of his neck. His muscles flexed, and you could feel your face flushing red. Even if it looked like you were watching the movie, you also had no idea what was happening in it. The silence was comforting somehow, you felt like you were safe. So, as soon as he placed his hand over your shoulder, you relaxed yourself over his chest. You had no idea why did your fate turned this way, but you were not complaining.

Spider-man was happier than ever, and his cheeks were pink and hot. He didn’t know if what he did was right, but as soon if you were okay with it he was okay with it. You shifted closer into him, nuzzling your cheek in his shirt to feel his scent. Coffe and brownies. However, he was just a normal boy that looked like he was in his 20s.

You got lost in his perfume, his touch, his skin, everything of him. You felt your eyelids heavy, so you didn’t bother to keep them open. Your head fell on his lap, forgetting that he was just a guy who you met that day. He let out a small sigh, carresing your hair as you fell deeper in your sleep. What the hell was he doing? The last time he got attached to someone, it didn’t go very well. He let his head fall back, taking off his mask and running his hands trough his hair.

And it’s been just 4 hours. In these 4 hours, he caressed your half-naked body, he helped you dress up, he let you shift in his lap and now you were sleeping on him. What if you trought he was a creep? Just like that one, who attacked you. Did he got lost in his cocky jokes? Did you even liked him, or it was just his body and some food?

But he remembered: relationships build up over time. It wasn’t yet the moment he asked you out, it also wasn’t it the next couple of weeks. Or the next few months.

♒︎♒︎♒︎♒︎♒︎♒︎♒︎

You woke up next to a sleeping body, and you immediately remembered who did you spend the last night with. You checked for your scars and yep, they were still there. It wasn’t just a dream, it was for real.

“Morning” spider-man said and shifted in his sleep, closer to the edge of the couch. His tone was deep, cracks and most importantly very hot. Why was everything he did that hot?

Then you remembered too: you couldn’t fall in love with anyone yet. You had to get to know him better, to make sure he actually wanted to be with you and he didn’t do this to every girl he saved.

“Does this happen frequently?” you asked, thinking you weren’t the one and only lucky girl that happened to sleep with the friendly neighbourhood spider-man.

“What?” he asked dryly as he yawned, arranging his mask.

“Do you often bring girls at your house and sleep with them?” you looked like you wanted to fight him, even tho you didn’t. You just had to know if that was a one-time thing or it was put in consideration.

“You’re the only girl i’ve slept with within the last two years” he answered honestly, taking his shirt off and throwing it in the clothes bin. Those muscles and abs again. God, did he do it just to hallucinate you or because his inoccent self trought it was completely normal?

“okay” you said. the only thing to do was to believe him and not doubt. “can you swing me home? or i don’t have that privilege yet?” and like that she’s back.

“yeah, of course, just wait for me to put the spidey-suit on” the boy cooed quietly, entering the bedroom and letting you wait on the couch. after a few long seconds, he was back with the suit on. you never had enough time to admire him with it, no one actually did. the way his hands and his body curved on the spandex was really…..fascinating.

“leaving now, fucking later” he said cockily, remembered the conversation you had last evening when he was bandaging you. “i changed it a bit, so it matches the situation”

“however you want it, spidey” he pointed to the fire escape, and you walked there quickly as you replied back, just as cocky as him. God dammit, your personalities matched each other’s like two pieces of puzzle.

He came next to you, helping you hang into him as strongly as possible so you didn’t fell during the swinging. he muttered a small “is this okay” ,and when you nodded he shot his web on the closest building. You almost screamed, but you held it in yourself as you saw the beautiful view of the streets of new york drowning in the sunset sunlight. You let out a giggle in spidey’s chest as you saw down a few people taking photos of him flying with a girl in his arms. Well that’s gonna make trouble. That was the third time you trought you were gonna pass out.

“Where is your appartament again?” he shouted, realising that he had no target.

“May street, the 345th building and the 7th floor to east” you replied just as loud at him, afraid that the people below you might had heard.

He went faster and faster, letting out a few excited “wohoos”. Even if he swinged a million times before, the cold adrenaline that went trough his bones never left. The wind had your hair splayed all over your head, sending little shivers in your veins as you inhaled the fresh morning air. God, you wanted to do this over and over again for the rest of your life. You felt so safe, so warm - but cold in another way -, so peaceful, just perfect. You clinged closer into the boy’s suit, even if you knew you wouldn’t fall. You just wanted to be closer and closer. How could this day get any better?

He swinged one last time and landed on the rooftop. You were still holding onto him for dear life, and he waited until you were ready to get on your own feet.

As soon as you realised you were still clinging onto peter’s suit, you quickly apologised and pulled away. You let out a fast sigh, the trought of leaving the boy so early making you scrunch your face.

“Well that was a pretty nice experience” you said, breaking the silence and stepping forward.

“Yeah, we should do it again sometime” he replied softly, already planning your wedding in his brain.

“Mhm” you muttered, getting closer and closer until the tips of your toes met his.

You put your hand of his neck, slowly hiking the mask up. Surprisingly, he didn’t complain. He just sat there waiting to see what will you do next. The spandex was now at the top of his nose, and you didn’t continue. You put your hand on his revealed jaw. and damn, your gentle skin felt like a cloud. Your lips got next to his, and in a moment they were pressed against each other. He tasted like adrenaline, coffe and a small glimpse of blood. But you loved it. You deepened the kiss, not caring if he wasn’t reproaching it. It was once in your life you kissed spider-man. Or that’s what you trought.

In reality, your movements shocked him. And he instantly froze, realising that he wasn’t the only one who trought of you like that.

You pulled away, rushing to the door. Before you could leave, you had to say something cheeky.

“I know where you live, petey. and i also have your clothes on. i gotta give them back when we met again”

And he just stood there like an idiot as you went down the stairs. Fucking hell, he knew his sleep routine was about to get fucked up.

- part 2? tell me if you want it or not <3

(tagging cinta to annoy her @dr4cking )

#peter parker #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!spiderman x reader #andrew garfield peter x reader #spider man #spiderman x you #peter benjamin parker #peter parker x fem #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #marvel #the amazing spider man #andrew garfield #spiderman fluff #spider man fic

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safarigirlsp · 2 years ago

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First of all, I had to read the last couple scenes of the preceding chapter again, and omg I love Clyde throwing drinks in Mills' face and having to be stopped before calculating how long it's been since Mills got laid!

The opening is great and it strongly resonates with me that she's pleased that her contrariness was still intact! I love the description of Mills when she first sees him too.

He looked right out of superhero central casting, the kind of ruggedly good-looking that was reserved for Brawny man commercials and bodice-ripper front covers. You gave him your name and extended a hand. Julian looked at it oddly. It felt like offering a starving man a juicy steak. When he took it, his hand large and pleasantly warm, he held it for a long moment.

God, she was quick on the uptake. It had taken Mills hours and a long bout of sleep to even get his brain working again. She was quick and smart and beautiful. And he loved her so much already.

How nice it would be to have such a hot bastard so thoroughly obsessed with you!

It's so well done how you write Mills feeling like a guilty dick while also balancing being head over heels, and no doubt as horny as a teenager lol. That sort of depth and nuance is something you do so well! I don't even see that in most professional writers and you nail it every time!

He battled with feeling impressed and smitten, and having to watch emerging hopelessness and panic grip the woman he loved. He would spend the rest of his life happily paying penance now that she was with him, indulging her until his dying breath.

I of course love the canon we've created about Mills and his bad luck! It's so fitting, and he responds so well under the duress of it!

Mills and Clyde are always great and I love their exchanges. The one with Clyde being blissfully bereft of morals is particularly fun! I'd love to have that asset programmed into me lol!

Omg this was my main thought while watching Passengers because although I have no real issues with Chris Pratt, I just don't find him attractive at all, and what a motherfucker it would be to be woken up by him as your Prince Charming! There would be no such issues with AD or Mills, of course, but I love that he's thinking it anyway! And the short blonde dudes with nipple rings cracked me up. I love this line about it!

He could be as much not her type as she was perfectly his.

I love this too! It's Both dark and sexy, which I always love! And I think it makes a man infinitely hotter when he knows how hot he is and how to use it. I hate those shy shut-in wallflower types so much, or when you see these wimpy timid 'subby' types. So much yuck. Give me a hot cocky alpha male any day! And you write them to perfection!

How long, then, before she was ready to give in? To touch him like he craved, even if she didn’t really like him at all? It seemed an inevitability, even if he hadn’t known, from the earliest memories as a boy breaking hearts on the playground, to his exploits as an adult, precisely the kind of effect he had on women. What a sick thought, and one he kept having despite himself, counting greedily down to it.

This is a great little scene and I am eager to see what sort of mayhem is coming! It will be extra fun to watch them having to work together while being both attracted to and murderous toward either other.

Behind you, there was a failure with the greeter holo. Its blue light blinked erratically and powered down, the blue circles along its crescent base turning black as they died one by one. You were too frustrated to look back and Julian was too distracted by you. He walked up to your side, eyeing the small of your back and the swell of your ass under it, hand tingling with desire to rest.... on either one. He missed how the sphere flickered and shut down. Deep in the bowels of the ship, red letters flashed warnings on screens before guttering out. No burial was had and their ghosts were snatched piecemeal out of the ether by other systems, carrying on some of their work, while the other bits, both crucial and banal, stopped like broken clocks.

I love this line from Mills!

“I’d love to be regarded as the first and biggest failure in something,” he had a delightfully sardonic wit and you smiled for the first time in days.

The scene of them walking through the pods is such a great mechanism to show both how they view intuition and 'love at first sight' as it were the same, and also how much she frowns on having no say over her own destiny and the foreboding of Mills getting into some serious trouble. What a great and well-written scene!

I love thinking about Mills' misadventures! Rasputin Mills is of course a favorite mental image of mine. But Nudist Mills is also a riot and the roomba Olympics is just hilarious. All the background you've worked in here adds so much to him.

I love the way you end it with them dancing and trying to remain neighborly while the sparks fly! I love this story and am totally hooked! Each installment keeps getting better and better, and I love the interplay between the characters. It's so natural. As is all the inner turmoil and conflict in Mills. It's nice to see a cocky toxic man who knows just how hot he is and how to use that to his advantage, but who is also enough of a decent guy to feel guilt and remorse over his shitty behavior. I'm sure he'll do a first class job making it up to her!

[Starship Icarus] IV

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Summary: Mills finally meets his sleepin' gal.

WC: ~5.8K

You woke up as if from a grumpy nap as a child. Had you been a teenager, you would have rolled over, wrapping your blanket around you like a burrito and asked for five more minutes. Followed by trying to sleep for an hour or more.

The screen rose into view as your pod tilted. Your body gradually became accustomed to weight and gravity again, in a way that made you aware of the endless vessels carrying fluids all throughout the landscape of your flesh. You shuddered at the sensation and only listened to the voice greeting you and guiding you out of stasis without opening your eyes.

“We have nearly completed the voyage from Earth to Homestead II, where you begin your exploratory mission. Homestead II is the second planet outside Earth’s solar system to be colonized and the first in the Bhakti system to be explored,” she spoke in her serene, mechanical voice and you started testing out your newly awakened body. Deep breath, balling up a fist, swallow, blink, neck pop. The pod, cracked open like an egg from which you were meant to hatch, wheeled you to the door.

“…the Icarus is on final approach. For the next four months, you’ll enjoy space travel at its most luxurious.” You huffed an unimpressed little laugh and you were satisfied your contrariness was intact after a century in deathlike-sleep.

“…let’s get you to your cabin where you can get some rest.”

You remained in your cabin only long enough to follow the protocol, drink some resurrection juice and receive your luggage. It was nice and spacious in there, and you were gratified your Moroccan leather pouf was already waiting. You could immediately tell you’d be taking it easy and resting for a day or two until you were feeling more like yourself. A relaxing bout of reading with your feet up on the pouf and some fragrant tea steaming in a mug sounded heavenly.

As soon as you were out of your stasis gown and dressed in your own clothes, you went out in search of the other passengers. It was a little eerie to be alone, with only holos and machines for company.

“Hello?” you called out softly, voice still croaky from disuse. “Anybody around?” you asked casually, not wanting to come across as too eager or discombobulated. Silly thing to worry about in the face of colonizing a new planet.

A figure of a tall man shimmered behind a fountain and you stopped for a moment. Still groggy, you wondered if you weren’t just seeing weird shadows. Surely, the polite thing would have been to respond if he’d seen you. “Hi?” you offered, prepared to feel silly if you’d just greeted a mechanical ficus or a waylaid coat rack.

“Hi,” he responded in a gravelly voice and finally came fully into view as you passed the fountain. You watched each other in silence for a few moments. On your end, you were trying not to give him blatant elevator eyes or burst into girlish giggles. He looked right out of superhero central casting, the kind of ruggedly good-looking that was reserved for Brawny man commercials and bodice-ripper front covers.

Gingerly, as if he might scare you off, he took a few tentative steps closer. You did the same and stopped when there was a friendly, but polite distance left between you. “Are you passenger or crew?”

“Passenger. Julian Mills,” he was looking at you without blinking. He was probably just as disoriented as you.

You gave him your name and extended a hand. Julian looked at it oddly. It felt like offering a starving man a juicy steak. When he took it, his hand large and pleasantly warm, he held it for a long moment.

“I didn’t see anyone else from my row wake up yet. What about yours?” you asked, still more sleepwalking than awake. He stopped shaking your hand, but still held it.

“Same on my end.”

Thoughts were slow to crawl through the fog of your brain. It was increasingly frustrating to feel yourself sluggishly process information that should be received instantly. “The crew is supposed to wake up a month before we do,” you observed, looking around, somehow already knowing you wouldn’t find anyone else. The reassuring sheath of his hand around yours slipped away as you twisted around.

God, she was quick on the uptake. It had taken Mills hours and a long bout of sleep to even get his brain working again. She was quick and smart and beautiful. And he loved her so much already.

“I haven’t seen anybody else so far,” she added, confused, but hopeful.

His heart squeezed guiltily. He knew living with his actions would be difficult, but it felt worse in ways he could not have anticipated. “The crew is still asleep.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive, ma’am.”

“Miss,” she corrected and he wanted to smile at that. It was the snippy tone he recognized from before and his chest melted like honey. “That makes me feel ancient.”

“Miss.”

“Um, back to the topic at hand,” she still felt loopy and it showed. “Who’s going to land the ship? We’re arriving in a few weeks.”

To make short work of it, Mills took her to the observatory. The same little panorama showing how screwed they were informed her of their whereabouts, now approximately two years closer to Homestead II than when he was there the first time.

“The others aren’t late waking up,” he said when he saw the same rejection in her expression that he felt initially. “We’re early.”

Her mind was beautifully clear and logical, so he led her down the same path he stumbled down many months before, without even needing to suggest the next steps. He battled with feeling impressed and smitten, and having to watch emerging hopelessness and panic grip the woman he loved.

The crew were in their inaccessible area, messages took decades to travel to and fro, it was impossible to break into key areas, impossible to get back into the pods.

Finally panic set it and he let her run off, in search of her pod. He gave her time, appreciating that she would want to have whatever breakdown was to ensue privately. It was the smallest bit of decency he could afford her.

When he eventually decided he should look in on her, she was still looking for a way back in feverishly. He indulged her, letting her try to convince him there had to be a way, as desperate and incoherent as she was being. He would spend the rest of his life happily paying penance now that she was with him, indulging her until his dying breath.

He led her past the wreckage in front of her crew room, where he had been unsuccessfully trying to break in with every implement he could think of. She agreed to take a seat in and some deep breaths, a sedative if need be. He half carried her as she slumped into his side, knees wobbly from over-excitement. She paused and took in the marks of a labor than had clearly gone on for months.

“How long have you been awake?” she looked up at him and frowned. Realization sharpened her gaze and he looked for any signs of accusation, of pulling away. None yet, he was momentarily relieved.

“Close to two years.”

Her hand lifted to her lips in horror and he could swear she was about to cry.

“Come on, it’s right through here,” he secured a firm hold around the curve of her waist and directed her towards a lounging area of the Grand Concourse.

“You remember the facility you had to go to? Where they put you under? The procedure has to be done with special equipment, pretty much only in lab conditions. It’s multi-faceted and it takes a long time. There is no such equipment on the ship, or anyone with expertise to do it. The pods we were in are just designed to maintain stasis for a certain length of time and wake us up.”

She listened, despite all the effort it took, and Mills could see her try to stave off more fits. Her body was tightly coiled, rocking back and forth in a tiny orbit, teeth chewing anxiously on her thumbnail. She was quiet for a long time, occasionally shaking her head, in disbelief or refusal.

“I don’t want to condescend in any way, but I’ve been through what you’re feeling now. You should believe I’ve tried everything I could think of.”

“Two years…” she shook her head. Her eyes were full of pity when she looked at him again. He couldn’t stand to meet her earnest gaze for longer than a moment.

“You should sleep,” he suggested gently. “It will clear your head, I promise. You probably feel like it’s full of cotton wool now.” She wouldn’t confirm and he decided not to tell her anymore about what ‘she must be feeling’. “Drink that freaky pink stuff from the water dispenser, it’ll feel good. In the morning, you’ll… I can’t promise you’ll feel much better, but you’ll be more yourself.”

She was still too shocked to cry, as he had been at first, so she just looked defeated. Still, she stood up and opted for the correct corridor to make her way to her cabin, which was impressive.

“I can walk you to your cabin,” Mills suggested as casually as he could, even as his heart climbed into his throat and choked him. “The layout can be confusing,” he fumbled, losing confidence when she didn’t nod vigorously or give some other indication she wanted him. He should have just said I’m taking you - in fact, I’m also holding your hand. And I’ll be there first thing in the morning when you wake up.

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine,” she said out of some self-sufficient, considerate habit.

She didn’t want his company. He tried not to spiral out. Sure, she’ll want to process this unimaginable calamity. However, he would have given anything, anything at all, to have someone with him on that first day. God, that first night, how awful it was, in endless solitude. And there she was, bravely walking away, sure that she would find a way to fix it.

“Almost two years…” she repeated, this time in a sigh that made him weak. “I’m so sorry you were alone for so long. It must have been torture.”

“It was,” he choked out, wondering if his face looked as guilty as his thoughts.

She shared a convivial silence with him before surrendering to her exhaustion. “Goodnight.”

Mills knew he would not be getting a wink of sleep that night. His blood felt like stinging electricity in his veins, shocking as it pumped through him.

“What’ll it be, Mills?” Clyde greeted in his subdued way.

“The usual.”

“How’s yer day been?” he asked just to make conversation. Mills’ paranoid brain detected a non-existent tone of accusation.

Mills swished the bourbon for a long moment, gaze lost in some private distance. “You know I have the worst luck in the world?”

“How’s that?”

“My prom date broke her leg after I asked her out – never made it to actual prom. I once gave CPR to a guy who’d been in a car crash. He sued me for fracturing some of his ribs. The company I worked for was the only one in the colonization business, right up until I was supposed to embark on the first mission. Then they went under. The one woman I’ve been unable to get out of my head is right under in front of me, right under my nose forever… and I can’t get to her.”

Clyde countered with his own programmed backstory – how his pa lost his diamond, how his uncle Stickley was electrocuted, how his ma got sick after she got their daddy’ settlement, how his brother blew his knee out and ruined a promising sports career, how he lost his hand…

“She’s awake,” Mills interrupted the story he had heard many times before, half-compunction, half-defiance.

There was only one she Mills had mentioned in all these months, so Clyde did not need to ask for clarification. “Congratulations,” he offered and Mills stared back, face not displaying the usual markers of happiness or satisfaction around the eyes or mouth.

“That’s whatcha wanted,” Clyde prompted, as though Mills’ circuitry failed for a moment and he was trying to get it back on track.

Mills could have strangled him. For the crime of being completely right.

“Ya don’t look happy,” the bartender noted and waited for an explanation.

“Can androids keep secrets?” Mills asked, realizing he should have wondered about that much sooner.

“I dunno ’bout androids, but gentlemen can,” Clyde responded solemnly, “and I consider myself one.”

Mills nodded. “Don’t tell her.”

“Don’t tell her what?” Clyde asked back earnestly. To him, borrowing her pen and waking her out of stasis were probably on par and he needed explicit instructions as to what to keep from her.

“Don’t tell her that I woke her,” Mills hated saying it out loud. “Let me do it in my own time.”

“’Course,” Clyde agreed all too easily, blissfully bereft of morals.

What if she likes short blond dudes? Mills wondered as he lay sideways on his prison cot of a bed. Still wide awake, he had his hands folded behind his head, eyes staring unseeing into the creamy ceiling. Some Aryan ideal? Maybe a British accent? A long coke nail? A nipple ring? He could be as much not her type as she was perfectly his.

It had been years since you woke up crying. The last time had been from a nightmare when you were still a teen. You’d forgotten it was possible to wake up already sobbing and salty with tears.

That next morning, you’d arisen, implausibly, even more desperate and disconsolate. If it even was morning. If time was reckoned the same way out here, or reckoned at all. If it was, then it was inexorably ticking down to your death, hurtling towards you like those glittering, burning stars sprinkled around your charging ship, dragging you into oblivion and making your fleeting existence truly pointless.

“No hibernation pod has malfunctioned in thousands of interstellar flights,” the holo assured you.

“I’m telling you, mine has!”

“Hibernation pods are failsafe,” it responded contentedly and Julian recognized the same conversation he once had as he approached.

“And yet, I’m awake! What a conundrum, hm?” you planted your hands on your hips, as though scolding. He took in the pose and smiled sadly.

“Dumb machine,” you muttered when you realized you’d get nowhere with that piece of junk.

“Happy to help!”

You gave it the middle finger as you turned to leave and join Julian on the way to the mess hall.

“Have you eaten?”

“No. And I could eat a horse,” she said unselfconsciously and he nodded.

“Gold class breakfast,” the dispenser announced when he was already seated. The unfamiliar pronouncement made him crane his neck curiously.

She carried over a tray laden with food and tucked into it as soon as she sat down. They ate in silence until she had to come up for air. It was then she noticed his soylent beige and black coffee. “Yeesh. I feel like a glutton,” she muffled, a big bite still filling out her cheeks.

He shrugged. He was enjoying the sight of her delighting in her meal too much to care about having the same gruel for the millionth day in a row. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just not a gold class passenger.”

“What?” she frowned and her hand shot up in front of her mouth in case some food came flying out. Mills was amused to see her eyes widen as the information soaked in. “No way! Are you kidding me? What is this wannabe class bullshit?” she was outraged and he ached at the fact that she could muster this emotion for him in the middle of all her turmoil.

He just shrugged again, trying not to grin around his spoon of bland soylent. He should have realized this revelation would incense her proletariat spirit.

“Have you been…eating just that? This whole time?” she tried to ask evenly, not to make him feel bad.

“For breakfast, yeah,” he said. It had been so long that he just couldn’t bother being upset about it anymore.

She, however, shot out of her seat. “Let me get you something! What do you want?” she entreated, flustered with the desire to do something kind for him. It was such a genuine compassionate act that guilt overwhelmed him again. What would she do if she knew, he wondered while she made her way over and examined the menu.

“Nah, I’m fine,” he protested half-heartedly. He had never been much of a fruit and veggie guy back home, but over a year in, he would take kale and rambutan and kumquat and fucking chard, just to remember how much he didn’t enjoy any of it.

She slid a tray heavy with food in front of him, from crispy bacon and hashbrowns, to scones and cut up papaya and dragon fruit, with some foamy coffee that smelled overly sweet. But he’d be damned if he didn’t down that odious concoction all the same.

He stabbed some dragon fruit with its Dalmatian dots embedded in the white flesh, chuckling at the sight.

“You like dragon fruit?” she asked, slowly recovering from her mortification.

“I hate it!” Mills proclaimed happily and popped it into his mouth.

During the day, and the next several ones, you kept suggesting different options. Checking out the infirmary, the cargo hold, the comms room, building your own pods…

We can’t do that, Julian would reply, or that didn’t work, I already did it, as he shot every idea down.

“You’re not even considering—” you snapped, losing the battle to frustration.

“I’ve considered all of it,” Julian assured, effortlessly patient. “I’ve tried it, I promise you. Everything you can think of, and then countless other things.”

He seemed ready to settle down and give into this trudge into the void. The mere thought of it made your pulse skyrocket and sent you hyperventilating.

“I’m not ready to give up,” you said unsteadily as your breath kept sliding out of your lungs without ever oxygenating you.

For the next few days, you consciously avoided Julian as you put your ideas into action. You tried and failed, just like he said you would.

Eventually, to keep yourself busy and try to make sense of some of your thoughts, you started keeping a log. Whether it would become a personal diary or a document you would try to submit in order to detail what happened to you and Julian to the company, you were not yet sure.

“Why did you do it?” you asked as you approached the desk where he tinkered with something that looked like half of a set of binoculars.

He looked up like a TV frozen on an uncanny distorted image.

“Join the mission,” you clarified as you pulled out the notes you’d been keeping for your log. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve been thinking of making some notes… Not sure for what yet, but I was wondering if you’d let me interview you?”

“Sure,” he became warmer again and put down what he was working on without complaint. “But what do I have to say that would interest anyone?”

“You are the first hibernation failure in the history of space travel. The first recorded one, at least,” you added with your distrustful tone and he smiled at that. He really could be distractingly handsome and you had to consciously hold back from trying to tease out more of those rakish smiles. “That’s major news.”

“Mh,” he nodded, “I’d love to be regarded as the first and biggest failure in something,” he had a delightfully sardonic wit and you smiled for the first time in days.

“You’re not in bad company.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“The Wright Brothers,” you supplied and he leaned his head side to side, weighing your words.

“Henry Ford, Albert Einstein...”

“You’re making me blush,” he gave a coy flick of the wrist, so at odds with his classical masculinity.

“Thomas Edison,” you added the last name that usually followed on that list.

“His fortune turned, I believe, when he started stealing,” he noted with a shrewd look on his face.

“Yeah. Forget that asshole,” you conceded.

“I take your point,” he said and added in a smaller voice, “it’s very kind of you.”

You interviewed him and learned not just about his life, but the hushed up history of the mission to Homestead II. Julian relayed how he was first advised to take a demotion, and after the company was almost bought out by some deranged South African autocrat rich off his parents’ blood diamond legacy, suddenly the old crew were no longer eligible. He also detailed the many months of solitude, replete with a vacillating mental state and copious misadventures. Although he didn’t pity himself or linger on the details, he was candid and you felt comfortable asking whatever question came into your head.

“And do you think you’ve, for lack of a better word, resigned yourself to this situation?” you couldn’t look him in the eyes as you asked that. You were too conflicted and that look would surely hurt him to see.

“I’m not entirely sure. A lot can happen in a day, let alone a year or a decade. So I can’t say I’m resigned. But I understand how it can seem that way to you,” he said kindly and waited until you looked back at him. “You don’t have to accept any of this. You’ve just woken up. It must be irreconcilable and unthinkable to you now—”

You shook your head. “I’m scared of accepting it, and doing it so effortlessly. It’s actually so much easier to give in than I anticipated. I expected... I had more fight in me than that.”

He leaned in closer, moving with urgency. “It’s not ab-,” he started passionately, but then rephrased, “I don’t’ think it’s about being brave or strong. You also need to see sense and recognize reality. And you seem to be… scarily good at that.”

You gave a bitter laugh. “Reality is something I can’t wrap my head around. To be traveling, until the end of my natural lifespan – which is effectively forever – and never arriving. I’ve never… conceptualized futility on such a stark level.”

Julian let the angst hang in the air, giving it the respect it demanded. Then he sighed and tried to approach you from another angle. “A wise android once told me that you shouldn’t get so hung up on where you’d rather be and squander the chance to enjoy where you are.”

You pursed your lips and considered.

“I’m sure it sounds like a platitude now, but it’s helped me in some ways over time.” Julian didn’t press for any answer or acceptance out of you, placidly returning to his work and sitting with you in companionable silence.

“Thank you,” you said after a while.

“What for?” he scoffed, sounding amused.

“For everything,” you didn’t want to embarrass him and enumerate all the small kindnesses and comforts he had provided to you as you woke up and realized the situation you were in.

It was obvious in his expression he did not think he had helped much. You hoped to change his mind. With any luck, he wouldn’t begrudge you avoiding him earlier.

“I should meet this Clyde,” you shifted to brighter topics, “he sounds like a character.” You had yet to meet the android bartender. Drinking or sitting in some simulacrum of a bar didn’t sound very appealing before, but you might as well check out more of the ship, you reasoned.

“Let’s go for a drink tonight, then,” Julian floated the idea. You couldn’t tell if he really was as nonchalant as he seemed, or if his eyes were trained on the object in his hands strategically, to give off that appearance.

You decided he probably wasn’t thinking of it as a date, but you could still feel the intent of him, filling the space around you. His presence, heavy and commanding, even when he didn’t mean to exert it over you.

“Yeah, sounds good,” you responded, suddenly preoccupied with your pad. You thought you felt him steal a glance as you looked away and it took great effort not to smile to yourself.

In her absence, Mills had noticed one of the little roombas repeatedly run into a corner as he walked by it on one of those lonely days. He didn’t think much of it. Its sensor could have broken or he himself could have been fucking with it too much out of sheer boredom that it somehow malfunctioned. After pondering whether he should bother trying to repair it, he decided not to since there were enough of those critters crawling around.

As they walked towards their cabins, through one of the pod rooms, he noticed two roombas rolling on as normal and was satisfied with his earlier decision.

“So now that all of this happened, do you still think sending large numbers of people on such missions is a good idea?” she probed. He was thinking about the same thing, watching them clustered together in their life-sustaining coffins.

“I think they would say yes,” he evaded the question, “you can’t categorize people into yes’s or no’s, ones and zeroes.”

“Homestead can. Into zeroes in its account.”

“I don’t dispute that. But you can’t know all these 5,000 people and their reasons to participate. Some of them could be very good.”

“Maybe so, but I know people at large really well. And I’m good at seeing when they’re being exploited.”

“But what about who they are? What drove them to be here? This guy?” he picked out a familiar face. “Can you tell anything about him? Is he a banker, teacher, or gardener?” he asked playfully and she accepted the challenge, peering over the lid.

He looked stern, with defined, robust features, austere even in repose. “Banker,” she guessed as he thought she would.

“Gardener.”

She frowned. “Probably gardens some gnarly, mean looking plants.”

“Madison, Donna, or Lola?” he covered the information plate on another pod and cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Donna. That fits a redhead.”

“Madison.”

“No way!” she peeled his hand off and checked her name. It was true. Mills was grateful she took some time to look on, taking in her face and reading the information about her because he was still reeling from feeling her skin on his again. “Midwife,” she said wistfully and her face fell. “Right. Some babies are bound to be born up there.”

He could feel them both carefully avoid the other’s eyes. Babymaking was an unhelpful thought to linger on just then. “Another sucker selling a useful profession?” he guessed at her thoughts.

“No. I mean, yes, it’s useful. But I was just thinking… It’s silly. But it occurred to me how we probably would have been friends.”

“You think you can tell these things?” Mills asked, living and dying a hundred times in the space it took her to respond.

“Of course. You know these things instinctively. Call it what you want, intuition, ancestral wisdom, something you carry in your bones. We’re still humans, even if we’ve soared among the stars. We’d gravitate to each other,” she concluded and he felt lightheaded. “Besides, my grade school best friend was also named Madison,” she shrugged, “it would have been an easy point in her favor,” she tossed a smile over her shoulder and moved to keep going, but a glance to the pod next to Madison’s rooted her to the spot. He almost bumped into her and felt a cold sweat dew on his skin at the idea of touching so much of her body with so much of his.

“Alicia,” Mills sounded out her name. A-lee-see-a, he pronounced it in the correct Spanish way.

“I know her. She had a rather severe change of heart and wanted to stay back,” she double checked her information just to be sure.

“Why didn’t she?”

“I‘m not sure. I lobbied for her contract to be voided and for someone to be taken off the waiting list and take her place. But they decided not to for some reason.”

“Or she decided.”

“I don’t know… She seemed pretty adamant from what I’ve seen,” she huffed, still bothered by the situation. “It doesn’t seem right, you know? To make that decision for her. Force her into something she didn’t want.”

“It doesn’t,” he agreed and crossed his arms over his massive chest, determined not to fan the guilt her words ignited.

“You’d know all about that,” she muttered.

His heart stopped. “What?” he felt his shame was written plainly on his face when she turned to him.

“With your pod malfunctioning and having to deal with it alone for so long. It’s the last thing you wanted. At least she’s asleep.”

She sensed he didn’t want to talk about it, and he let her fall quiet. Then she rubbed his arms in support and he felt even worse.

Mills was already waiting at the bar when she came around the corner. The still unfamiliar rhythm of her steps as they approached through the Grand Concourse folded a thousand origami cranes in his gut and they all soared, pulling his heavy body with their flight as he turned to look at her.

She had on a simple outfit of black turtleneck and high-waisted checked skirt, with a pair of what his onetime fiancée would refer to as sensible heels. She was breath-taking.

He smiled as he got up to greet her, like a proper gentleman, and offered his hand to help her hop up onto the stool. “You look wonderful,” he tried not to sound licentious and make things awkward.

If she was flustered, she didn’t show it too badly. “Well, I packed this. I thought I might as well wear it.”

“Sure,” he nodded slyly. He wasn’t about to let her reject the compliment. “And you look wonderful in it.”

Finally, she relented and tried not to smile too broadly. “Thank you. You both look very handsome,” she glanced from him to Clyde with a hint of humor in her voice.

“Clyde’s a sharp dresser for sure,” Mills joined in and Clyde accepted the compliment.

For a time, Clyde was prompted to recount some of Mills’ notable misadventures over the last two years, including his nudist period, his Rasputin phase, and the mini Olympics he staged with the roombas. When the laughter died down, what swam to the surface was the awareness that all of these stories took place owing to his unfortunate circumstances. He felt both himself and his awoken girl beset with a feeling of emptiness.

Mills looked over at her and she let him look for a long moment. “I can’t think about all of this anymore, Julian,” she sighed and his name on her lips felt like a kiss as it floated to him. “I’m hitting the same walls a thousand times… It’s too sad.”

“Let’s not talk about it for a while, then?” he leapt at the suggestion and offered his hand in a deal.

She gave his eagerness a smile and took his hand. When she shook on it and squeezed, it was confident. “Just… be my neighbor,” she asked amicably.

Mills nodded to himself, considering. Still holding her hand, he leaned over the bar and Clyde came close to hear him.

The song that was playing on the jukebox scratched to a halt and after a few beats of silence, a new, familiar melody tinkled its lullaby tune on a glockenspiel. Then a marimba filled out the tinny sounds and a piano joined smoothly.

It's a beautiful day in this neighborhood, the song started and she bent over with a laugh.

A beautiful day for a neighbor, the sweet voice went on and Mills tugged on her hand, inviting her to dance.

Would you be mine? Could you be mine?

She relented and followed him a few steps away from the bar. He placed a hand in a respectful, neighborly spot on her waist, and she did the same, on his shoulder.

It's a neighborly day in this beautywood

A neighborly day for a beauty

Would you be mine? Could you be mine?

They swayed together to the melody that was equally as sad as it was sweet. It fit the mood better than anything he could have planned for in advance.

I have always wanted to have a neighbor, just, like, you, she tap-tap-tapped to the beat into his chest with her index finger and he watched her fondly.

I've always wanted to live in a neighborhood with you, he mouthed the line, watching from her eyes to her lips, down her neck, and then he hit the brakes, before he got too un-neighborly.

So, let's make the most of this beautiful day,

Since we're together, we might as well say,

Would you be mine? Could you be mine?

Won't you be my neighbor?

Even Clyde tore his eyes away from his little glass as they danced, recognizing the image before him as one of classic, universal romance.

@thegrislady @safarigirlsp @lumberjack00fantasies @queeniebee @vedavan @house-of-cadwyn

#best #fic #65

131 notes · View notes

ericspinkhair · 3 years ago

Text

quarantine longings

pairing: best friend!kevin x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

synopsis: you and your best friend have sex because quarantine made you horny

warnings: best friends to lovers, takes place during the pandemic, spoiler of 356 days (but not the end, just generally the plot), no use of condoms but only the pill, creampie, sexual fantasies, fingering, hand-job, sex, slight angst at the end if you squint

a/n: I would literally die for kevin, I love him so much. I'll be writing a multiple parts series about him after I'm done writing scenarios for every member first.

requests are open!

masterlist + requests

you slammed your foot hard against the wall and cursed in pain. you hopped on one foot to your bed, holding your other leg in agony and tasted blood as you bit your lip to keep the volume of your suffering groans in check. someone knocked on the door.

'are you okay?' your roommate asked concerned.

'no, leave me alone, kevin,' you croaked out. you wanted to suffer by yourself.

there was an awkward silence and then you heard him sigh. soon after, the door next to your room closed shut.

why were you so frustrated, one might ask? well, the pandemic was kicking your butt and you just couldn't take it anymore. when the news of the virus had first spread, no one thought it would become this serious. but suddenly everyone was walking around with masks and spent most of their time staying at home.

after graduating high school, you and kevin had decided to move in together for college because both of you were broke and couldn't afford to live alone. you had been best friends since middle school and had been convinced that it was a smart idea at the time.

and everything went smoothly for the first one and a half years. however, after not seeing anyone else since the start of the pandemic over a year ago, it became increasingly difficult to share an apartment, but not in the way one might assume. you were neither sick of each other nor did you fight a lot. to tell the truth, it was quite the opposite.

earlier, before you had kicked the wall in anger, the two of you had painted together. kevin was majoring in art and, since you didn't have anything better to do, you joined him while he did projects for his classes. you might have been majoring in journalism but you had always liked drawing and painting, even though you weren't particularly skilled. you were a naturally clumsy person, always tripping over air and dropping things. today you were hecticly moving around your hands while telling him about a stupid video you had seen and you accidently let go of the brush in your hand. it hit the side of kevin's face, leaving a wide splodge of red paint on his right cheek.

to get back at you, he jerked his paint brush and splattered some green color on your white shirt. you saw this as a challenge and soon both of you were both drenched in the colors of the rainbow, laughing hysterically on the floor, not caring that you were spreading the paint on the poor carpet.

you turned your heads to look at each other and you felt absolutely in peace. you loved this man and couldn't be more glad that it was him and not anyone else you were stuck with inside of this apartment.

he stood up to take off his stained shirt and your smile quickly faded off your face. your lips slightly parted and you couldn't help but stare at his now exposed biceps and abs.

your mouth watered and you felt heat pooling between your legs as you took your time to study his architecture. thoughts about how badly you wanted him to thrust into you while his strong arms held you up invaded your mind. you tried to shake them off but it was impossible.

occasions like this were slowly becoming a common occurrence for you.

having mostly stayed inside for over a year, also meant that you didn't have sex for that long. it's not like you were the horniest person on the planet but you still had needs that were being neglected. with kevin being home all the time you didn't even dare to masturbate, scared that he would be able to hear you through the frustratingly thin walls. you must have gone insane with all the lust building up inside you and that's why you suddenly craved to have sex with your best friend. this whole thing was destroying everything. it was hard to act normal when he was making you this nervous and heated but you tried to pretend that everything was fine anyway for the sake of your friendship.

that was the reason why you were angry and had hurt yourself. you hated the way you felt about your best friend and you hated the pandemic for not giving you an outlet to escape so you could recollect yourself.

what you weren't aware of was that kevin was no stranger to the exact same frustration.

he would need more than his ten fingers and ten toes to be able to count the amount of times he had to run to the bathroom to hide his boner because he had done so much as look at you bend over or stretch. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable but it was a challenge to try and calm down his hormones.

whenever he jacked off, images of you flashed through his mind; your sweet curves and pink lips drove him insane.

last week, you two were cooking together and you had asked him to get the salt. he stood behind you to reach for it on the highest shelf. he was forced to press his crotch against your butt cheeks and his dick hardened against his will. he quickly handed you the salt, excused himself and ran off before you could figure out what had happened.

he might not have known the cause of your sudden outburst but he sympathized with your fury because he had a lot of pent up anger towards covid as well.

he lay in his bed and tried to focus on the book he was reading but he couldn't tune out the groans coming from the room next to his. he cursed.

'stop it!' he was panicking as he saw a familiar tent forming in his pants. your sounds triggered some weird perverted part of his brain that sent signals right to his genitals. his dick was hardening and he saw no other solution to his problem than to give in to his subconscious desires.

he pulled down his pants just far enough so that his cock had enough room to spring out. it only needed a few strokes before it stood tall and angry. kevin pressed his head into his pillow and moved his hand fast. he wanted to get over with it quickly. he emptied his cum on his stomach while imagining your greedy little mouth being stuffed by his cock. he lay there panting as yet another round of shame flushed over him.

'get yourself together,' he whispered, mentally slapping himself.

***

'do you want to order japanese or italian?' you asked kevin. today was friday which meant it was time for your weekly tradition of ordering take out and watching a movie.

'definitely italian. we've already had japanese for the past four days. I need something else for a change,' kevin complained and shuddered at the thought of having to eat sushi again. the japanese restaurant prepared absolutely delicious food but he just couldn't stand it anymore.

you laughed at his pained facial expression. 'fine, italian it is.'

within twenty minutes the doorbell rang and after about half a minute kevin came back with two huge boxes.

he opened them on the small table situated in front of your couch and the smell of freshly cooked pasta seasoned with basil made your stomach growl.

kevin wanted to dig in already but you stopped him. you had to choose a movie first.

'let's watch tall girl. I saw everyone hate on it on tiktok,' you suggested.

'I think we should watch 365 days, that was all over my for you page as well,' kevin argued. you hadn't heard of it so you weren't sure whether it would be the right movie for you. the rule was that it had to be as bad as possible.

'according to what I have heard, it's apparently even worse than 50 shades of grey,' kevin added which piqued your interest. the both of you had watched 50 shades about two months ago and you were honestly shocked by how awful it actually was. you couldn't understand why everyone had been so obsessed with it when it was first released. if 356 days was really worse, then you'd hit the jackpot. you clapped your hands.

'fine, you win. I swear if the movie isn't as horrible as you say it is then you owe me something!' he intertwined his pinky with yours to promise.

watching horrible movies was way better than watching good ones. making fun of bad storylines, stupid characters or horrible editing was one of your favorite past times.

'I guess I'll have to add are you lost, baby girl to the top 10 worst lines ever spoken. who thought ah yes this is sexy, let's have him repeat it over and over again', you complained, shoving some pasta into your mouth.

'so he's like I won't do anything without your permission while he is literally groping her boobs against her will, like make it make sense, massimo', added kevin, ruffling his hair in frustration. he almost completely forgot about the food.

'so let me get this straight: he drugged her, kidnapped her, tied her up, hung up a painting of her just because he saw her face when his dad was shot?'

'totally relatable.' both of you giggled.

you were enjoying complaining about the plot. it was horrible.

there were plenty of erotic scenes but they were honestly so funny and kinda gross that you could bare it without really being affected by them. kevin, on the other hand, had placed a pillow over his hard-on to hide the embarrassing fact that these terrible, smutty scenes had turned him on.

and then the infamous boat scene came.

massimo and laura had a huge fight, she fell of the boat, he saved her and now she was suddenly so in love with him that she begs him to fuck her. which he does.

you felt your panties become increasingly wet as the couple had steaming hot sex.

'this is embarrassing but I'm so horny,' you admitted but in a way that should have suggested that you meant it as a joke. something about this statement stirred something in kevin.

'well, what can I say?' he replied and lifted the pillow. your pupils widened at the sight of your best friend's bulge.

his eyes darkened and he looked at you with lust clearly written on his face. you reciprocated his stare with the same intensity. you tried to focus on his dark brown orbs instead of his boner but the image you had just seen was present in your mind.

his gaze shifted to your lips and, before you knew it, kevin climbed above you and pressed your back flat onto the couch.

your lips locked and you immediately buried your hands in his hair to pull him closer. you moved in sync, his lips fitting perfectly onto yours. you bucked your hips up against his crotch and earned a moan from kevin. he opened his eyes in shock as realization hit him. he quickly pulled away and jumped off the coach.

'I'm so sorry, y/n. I shouldn't have just done that. I don't know what came over me,' he apologized profusely, staring at his feet. did he really think that you didn't want this?

'give me your hand,' you told him and held out your hand.

'why?' he raised his eyebrows in confusion. you rolled your eyes.

'just do it.'

you took his hand and led it to your crotch.

'what are you- oh my god.' your juices had completely soaked through your panties and your sweatpants. 'you are so wet.'

'for you,' you added. 'there's no need to apologize. I'm literally begging you to continue.'

you didn't have to say that twice before he pulled you closer to him by your hips and engaged you in another desperate kiss. his hands were groping your butt while you let yours slide under his hoodie. you felt his naked skin and toned abs, as you rubbed his stomach. you lowered your hands and bravely palmed his boner through his clothes.

'y/n,' he hissed out against your lips. you hooked your thumbs in the elastic of his pants and underwear, and pushed the material down to his thighs. he struggled to get them off.

you stroked his hard dick as he slipped his hand into your panties to massage your pussy at the same time.

he slipped one finger inside and began working it in and out. you finally were getting the relief you had been desperately craving for for so long. kevin was skilled and your walls were trying to swallow his slim finger. you were quickly coming close to your orgasm after having abstained for more than a year. you pulled his hand out.

'I bet you can make me come even better with your dick,' you challenged kevin.

'you bet I will.' he was confident.

'let me just look for a condom.' he was already turning away to go search in his room but you held him back by the arm.

'forget about it. I'm on the pill and I want you raw. I want you to come inside me and not spill into a stupid condom.'

the idea of this sounded very tempting to kevin. he picked you up and threw you back onto the couch, drawing your hips closer to him so he could pull off all the pieces of clothing that were hindering him from accessing your pussy.

he propped up his arms next to your sides and spread your thighs apart. strings of arousal were hanging from your folds and he saw your hole desperately clench around nothing. his dick hurt from how much he wanted to finally be inside of you. he wanted to find out how close he had been able to imagine how you would feel around him.

your hole took him in easily, welcoming him happily by embracing it tightly. kevin swore he could've cum right here and there.

he went slow at first to give you a chance to adjust but you were already fully ready, rocking your hips forward to meet his thrusts.

he crashed your mouths together and you kissed him like he was oxygen and you were short of air. you smiled and your eyes rolled back, satisfied with how things had played out today and the prospects of coming looked fairly promising.

desperate for release, kevin picked up the pace, his eyes closed while fucking into you like a horny animal. he couldn't help himself and all the 'faster's and 'harder's spilling from your mouth only encouraged him to drive himself deeper into you.

you wrapped your legs around his torso in an attempt to regain the control you were losing.

'fuck fuck fuck,' you cursed, feeling your muscles starting to contract. kevin brushed away some hair that was stuck to your sweaty forehead.

'it's fine, I'm coming too,' he announced and it took only a few more thrusts before a body shaking orgasm flushed over you, making you see only white. this drove kevin over the edge too and he spilled inside you, filling you up with his hot cum. he continued to slowly ease his dick in and out of you, fucking his semen right back into you until you had ridden out both of your orgasms. he let himself fall onto the couch right next to you, panting hard.

'I very much needed this,' you sighed in content.

'same, I wasn't sure whether I could hold out any longer without having a proper orgasm.' he watched his cum drip out of you.

'we should've thought of this sooner,' you said. 'this was a great idea.'

kevin hummed in agreement.

***

so now you and kevin were having sex on a regular basis, your high score being five times in a day. it felt good to finally live out your sexuality and not having to restrict yourself. sure, you guys did it more than necessary but it was a great way to pass time and it felt fucking amazing.

today you had done it in the shower after waking up, then on the kitchen counter and you had just finished having sex in his bed.

he was spooning you from behind, his cock still placed inside of you. he nuzzled his nose into your neck.

'stop, that tickles,' you chuckled.

'sorry.'

after a while of comfortable silence you heard him let out a big sigh.

'what's wrong?' you asked as he pulled out of you. you turned around to be able to look at him.

'I don't think I can do it like this anymore,' he confessed.

'what do you mean?' you asked. 'are you talking about us having sex?'

he nodded. your heart dropped and you started feeling dizzy. you tried to search for answers in his eyes but he avoided looking at you.

'w-why?' you stuttered, trying to hold back the tears that were welling up in your eyes.

'it was amazing at first,' he started and finally raised his head to meet your gaze, 'and I went into it without much thought. I went crazy during quarantine and began fantasizing about having sex with you. then it became reality but now I understand that was probably wrong of me. I've always thought of myself as a gentleman, yet I slept with you without much thought. you see, my issue is this…'

suspense hung in the air and you were impatiently waiting for him to get to the point.

'I like you.'

you quietly gasped in surprise. you had been expecting him to say you were bad at sex and that he regretted everything but not this.

'I shouldn't be sleeping with you unless you were my girlfriend,' he finished off his ramble. you felt immensely relieved.

'do you want me to?' you asked him.

'want you to what?' kevin was confused. he had been a hundred percent sure you'd immediately jump out of the bed in disgust when he confessed.

'be your girlfriend. after all, I like you too, you moron.' you realized that you had known this for a while. you might have even been crushing on your best friend since way before the pandemic struck but it was kind of hard to track your feelings. still, you were sure you liked him too. now that he had admitted his feelings, you were able to admit yours not only to him but to yourself as well.

'wow, I didn't expect this,' kevin confessed surprised. you laughed.

'yeah, we should've realized this sooner.' he pulled you closer and kissed you. it was different than the other times. his lips moved softly against yours, in contrast to all of your rough and passionate kisses you had exchanged these past few weeks. he conveyed his emotions through the kiss.

'you're ready again?' you groaned as you felt kevin's dick harden against your upper thigh. he chuckled.

'sorry, you just turn me on so much.'

so then you did it for the fourth time. that day, you set a new record of having sex six times. you might have been happy now but still just as horny.

#kevin moon smut #kevin moon scenario #the boyz kevin smut #the boyz kevin scenario #moon hyungseo smut #moon hyungseo scenario #the boyz kevin moon smut #the boyz kevin moon scenario #the boyz hyungseo smut #the boyz hyungseo scenario #the boyz smut #the boyz scenario #kpop smut #kpop scenarios

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havin-a-wee · 4 years ago

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hey! I am obsessed with ur writing and I was wondering if you could pretty please do an imagine where you are best friends with Harry and you are REALLY horny and are cuddling with him and you get wet n stuff through your panties and he notices and offers to help? thank you SO MUCH ily🥰

Postitions

warnings: oral (female receiving)

word count: 2.5k

hi! sorry this took so long but i’m rlly proud of how it came out so i hope you like it !

“Harry get in here!”

Your best friend popped his head in the door to your bedroom with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“What are you smiling about?” Harry only ever made that kind of face when he was up to something, and you weren’t in the mood to deal with one of his ‘surprises’ tonight.

Instead of answering your question, he just stepped fully in the door, his hand gripped a tub of ice cream in your favorite flavor. You shot up from laying down and returned his dopey smile, your body filled with excitement.

“I forgot I had brought this in the car.” he shrugged his shoulders with the ice cream still in his palm as he made his way to the bed.

“Did yo-” Before you could finish your sentence, he held up two silver spoons with his other hand and you grabbed onto one of them quickly, eager to dig into your favorite treat. You pull open the plastic surrounding the cap with a satisfying zip and within a few moments your mouth has enveloped your spoon and the ice cream is melting in your mouth.

The two of you sit on the bed and eat the ice cream quietly for a minute, but once you have savored those first few spoonfuls you speak up. “So what movie are we watching?”

“I was thinking Call Me By Your Name because you said yesterday that you haven’t seen it yet,” Harry responds. You nod with the spoon sticking out of your mouth which made Harry giggle. He turns his attention to your nightstand and he grabs the small black remote and points it towards the large tv that is mounted on your wall.

He clicks around a bit until he gets to Hulu, and from there he searches up the movie. Without saying a word, you both subconsciously shift into your favorite movie-watching position, which is when you lie down and Harry places his head between your thighs.

Yes, it is a more couple-y type of position, but it’s comfortable for both of you, and it allows for a good view of the tv.

The first half of the movie went smoothly, and you found yourself quite invested in the story that was playing out on the screen. It was a cute love story between guys, but it had a bit of angstiness that kept you on your toes.

It was a little over halfway through when the scene arrived. At first there was a hand grabbing a peach off of a tree, which was a bit odd and out of place. But the pieces came together when the camera panned to Elio laying on his bed, and then to his hands creating a crater within the peach.

Now usually when a steamy scene began in the movies you watched with Harry, you contained yourself and we able to watch it without getting turned on. But there was something about the sensuality of the scene that sent a tingling down your spine and straight to your core.

It wasn’t until now that your brain registered that Harry’s head was placed right on the place that was currently warming up with your arousal.

Even when the scene was over, you could feel your panties getting wetter and wetter. You were frozen in place, petrified due to the fact that Harry might be able to feel the difference in temperature. But your worries about Harry transferred to the aroused part of your brain, and you couldn’t help but to imagine him in the same scene that got you so worked up.

Even though he was your best friend, you still found him incredibly attractive. I mean, how could you not? But you realized about a year ago that it didn’t stop at simple attraction. You love Harry, as more than a friend, and that’s what makes this whole thing all the scarier.

You continued watching the movie but after a few more minutes your clit began to throb. It was at this point that you began debating going to the bathroom in your head, but you knew that there was no way you could be that quick. So, you made the tough decision to stick it out and pray that Harry doesn’t move his head.

Your prayers were not answered.

Your focus had been completely diverted from the movie and you were staring at a spot on the wall in a feeble attempt to distract yourself. But it was then that Harry adjusted his head from where it was laying between your legs.

Almost as if on purpose, the back of his head pressed against your swollen button when he shifted, and despite your best efforts, a soft moan escaped your throat.

You squeezed your eyes shut right after it happened, holding onto the small hope that he didn’t hear it. But when the weight of his head disappeared from where it was placed you knew that he did hear it. You opened your eyes slowly, to see him looking at you with a sly grin on his face. He had turned around fully to face you and was sitting on his knees, kind of like he was excited or anticipating something.

Before you could speak, he opened his lips that were still holding a bright grin and spoke.

“You okay?” You knew that he knew, and he was just testing the waters to see what reaction would make you the most comfortable. That was one of the many things you love about him, he always makes sure your comfortable.

“I’m really sorry I just-” Once again, he cut you off.

“S’fine Y/N, I’m the one who should be saying sorry.” His grin faded to a sympathetic smile as you lifted your head to meet your eyes with his. The two of you sat there in silence for a few seconds, before he spoke up again.

“Do you want some help?” You eyes shot up from where you were staring and you looked at him with wide eyes. His eyes went wide too and you could tell that he was scared of your reaction. “I-I mean only if you want to, if you don’t I can just lea-”

This time it was you who cut him off. “Harry..” Your voice was quiet, and you sighed his name, but it wasn’t in negative way.

You placed your hands in front of you and pushed yourself up so your face was inches away from his. “Will you kiss me?”

He nodded furiously and then his lips met yours. He tasted just like you had imagined, sweet and the best thing you had ever tasted. His tongue slipped into your mouth and you welcomed it openly and your lips mashed together sloppily. You mewled into his mouth as you felt his soft lips suck on yours. The kiss was filled with passion and excitement, and you could tell that you weren’t the only one who had been waiting for this for a long, long time.

He pushed you back while continuing to kiss you, laying you flat on the bed as he placed his body atop yours, propped up by his toned arms. He took the opportunity to begin sucking on your jaw, moving down to your neck. He sucked at bit vigorously at your soft skin and you moaned once again, but this time harder and with more neediness.

Instinctively, your hands made their way down to his belt buckle, but his hand grabbed yours to stop you. Much to your dismay, he stopped his assault on your neck and looked into your eyes.

“None of that, m’takin care of you.”

You bit your lip and nodded at his words. You had always found his voice sexy and hearing him say that to you caused you to squeeze your legs to try and get some kind of friction.

He pecked your lips once more before averting his attention to the hem of your pajama top. He looked up at you for approval and you nodded, lifting up your arms as he peeled the garment away from your aching body.

You weren’t wearing a bra, which Harry clearly had zero problems with, his head diving down as he took one of your nipples in his mouth, the other one tracing down your stomach. You jolted at the sudden sensation, your body quivering under his touch.

He detached from your breast and worked at your bottoms, pulling off the flimsy shorts that covered the place that he really wanted to see. He latched two fingers onto the hem of your panties and looked up at you. You nodded once again, but he didn’t pull your panties down.

“Need to here y’say it Y/N. Need to hear y’tell me what y’want me to do to you”

“Please Harry,” you gasped. “Please take my panties off.”

Once again, he did not, but instead smirked at you as he watched you wriggle underneath him.

“What d’ya want me t’do when I take em off pet? Y’want my mouth on you? Y’want me to lick your pretty little cunt til’ you’re begging me to stop?”

“Yes, yes please!” He chuckled lightly before pulling your panties off in one quick motion. Instead of going right to what he desired, he began by sponging kisses from your collarbone down to your stomach until his head was placed right above your core. He took a second to admire your glistening heat and you watched his eyes filled with lust.

He lowered his head and placed his big hands on your thighs, lifting them up and over his shoulder so he has the best angle possible. All of a sudden you felt his tongue licking a stripe over your core. He then made small swipes at your throbbing clit, making you buck up onto his tounge. He moaned against you and you could feel the vibration against your core as he made work on your clit.

He sucked and bit on the sensitive nub, and you were putty in his hands. His mouth was magic, and you were falling apart under his touch. All of the pent-up sexual frustration he had caused you over the years melted away and all that you were thinking about was how good he was making you feel.

“Harry..fuck-oh my god” You stumbled on your words as your mind could only focus on the man who had his head between your legs. You felt him groan again you again and you shuddered at the feeling. The fact that he was enjoying this just as much as you was turning you on even more; if that was possible.

You snaked your hands through the messy curls atop his head. He sucked harshly on your clit and you gripped onto his hair with such force that you were scared you were hurting him, but the moan he responded with calmed your nerves.

The sight of his head between your legs as he pleasured you was something you would never forget, and you also hoped that this wouldn’t be the last time you would get to see it. His tongue moved down to your folds and he began licking inside of you. You rolled your hips against his face while he licked your most sensitive area, and you could feel his hot breath hitting you clit which intensified the pleasure.

“So, so good”

You could feel his lips curl into a smile against you as he buried himself in you. You maintained the tight grip on his curls, pulling harshly when did something that made you feel extra good.

His mouth moved back to your clit and he continued what he had been doing before, sucking and biting at it like he hadn’t eaten in a week. Your shouts of his name only encouraged him, making him go harder and faster every time.

The knot in your stomach was tight, and it was a feeling that you knew, but hadn’t felt in quite a while. “Harry- I’m gonna-” you whispered shakily.

He pulled his mouth an inch away from your sopping cunt and mumbled hungrily. “C’mon baby, come on my tounge. I wanna taste you.” He dove back in and his tongue swiped across your walls.

The pad of his thumb found its way to your aching clit and he rubbed it in quick circles while his tongue dipped inside of you once again.

The knot in your stomach burst and you arched your back as you reached your climax on Harry’s mouth. You saw star as he worked you down from your high, slowing his movements but not stopping. As soon as he removed his mouth from you your knees buckled and you collapsed on the bed, breathing heavily and trying to process what just happened.

You heard him laugh and you watched him slip your thighs off of his shoulders and come lay next to you. You rolled onto your side so you could face him, looking at his face for the first time since he found a place between your thighs.

His lips were glistening from your juices, and he smiled at you while he licked them up from around his mouth. The two of you lay on your sides staring at each other for a bit, but then it hit you.

“Wait Harry, I didn’t take care of you”

“S’fine love, I just wanted to make you feel good.”

It was almost bittersweet because you knew that he had to like you back in some regard, but you didn’t know if it was only sexual, or he wanted a romantic relationship like you did.

You sat up, lost in your own thoughts in anxieties. He sat up quickly as well, and his face was riddled with concern.

“What’s wrong?” You could hear the fear in his voice, but you were scared because you couldn’t figure out why he was scared.

“I just- what does this mean?”

Harry sighed and looked down at his lap, then looked back up at you. “I really like you Y/N. Like more than a friend. And I d’nknow if you feel the same, but judging by what y’just let me do, I think the feeling is mutual.” He smiled at the end, and you smiled right back.

“The feeling is mutual.” That was all you said before you leaned into him and kissed him again. This kiss was softer, more loving and affectionate than the kiss you had previously shared. He placed you on his lap, but it wasn’t sexual in nature. It was more of a ‘you’re all mine’ kind of gesture.

He broke the kiss and the two of you looked down at each other with your smiles still bright and full. “Y’know I moved my head on purpose. I could feel you heated up.” His cheery smiled had turned into a cheeky grin as a blush color spread across your cheeks. You playfully slapped him in the shoulder and you both burst out into laughter. As your laughter subsided you leaned into his ear and whispered.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

#harry styles smut #harry styles #one direction smut #fine line #best friend!harry #harry styles x reader #request

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sleeping-on-cracking-ice · 4 years ago

Note

heyo your imagines are amazing and i like reading them so much. i really appreciate you for writing for Alice in borderland as there isn’t a lot of content out there~ can you please write an imagine for niragi where the reader has been at the beach for quite the time and when she gets to know niragi she somehow falls for him because she sees right through him, and that he maybe starts to develop feelings for the reader too because she’s fearless and very confident. if it’s not too much trouble, could you make it a bit suggestive as well? thank you in advance~~

Of course I can! I’m not the best at writing with suggestive themes so I’ll try my best! 😅 I’m sorry but I changed the story line a little bit for it to fit more, so I hope this is still kind of what you had in mind.

Unlovable | Suguru Niragi

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Character(s): Niragi (ft. Ann, Aguni, Hatter, Mira, Chishiya, Arisu, Last Boss)

Summary: Niragi finally finds you, who loves him for who he is, well, not exactly. And he gets a bit too attached.

Warnings: toxic relationship, suggestive themes, a lot of gaslighting, obsessive themes, a little bit angsty, threatening, choking, swearing, name calling

Word Count: 3.2k

*reader is female

Author’s Note: Sorry this took a while to post. I was busy for the past couple of days so it’s kinda rushed 😣

“Y/N! Come quick!”

You jolted awake as Ann burst into your room, shaking the door frame from the force. You blinked your eyes to adjust to the light, looking at her dazed.

“What?” you murmured, sitting up and out of the comfy sheets on your bed.

“The executives have called a meeting. They say it’s urgent,” she stressed, rushing up to the side of your bed and ripping the duvet off of you.

You shivered and sighed loudly in disappointment. “Why? It’s too early for this shit,” you whined, rolling back onto your side and closing your eyes again. These urgent emergency meetings have become ridiculous, always taking place in the morning when everyone’s still sleeping. You would gladly have quit having the higher place at The Beach if it meant for you to have some peace and quiet.

“Now!” Ann pushed again. You groaned in annoyance and got out of bed. She seemed serious, so you didn’t want to anger her more.

You both quickly made your way to the top floor where the meeting room for the executives was located. You noticed Ann’s heavy breathing and worried expression, making you anxious as to what she thinks could have happened.

Hatter had left the night before to replenish his visa, having a big celebration as he drove off with Aguni and a few more of his men. Things had been becoming more tense as time went on. It felt wrong watching Hatter drive away so reluctantly. You offered to assist him in his game, seeing as you earned yourself a high number at The Beach from clearing many difficult games yourself. But Hatter declined, insisting that he would return to The Beach safe and sound before you knew it.

But unfortunately, he was wrong.

You and Ann rushed into the large room. You saw Arisu and Chishiya standing near the end of the table placed in the middle of the room. You strolled over to them and laid eyes on the scene before you.

There, Hatter laid dead on the table. Limbs spread out lifeless, skin pale and dead. The horrific sight made you feel sick, making you cover your mouth with your hand. The scene almost felt unreal, this shouldn’t have happened. Hatter wouldn’t be dead if you just went with him.

Ann walked over to his body to examine it, but before she even had the chance to touch the bullet wound embedded in his bare chest, Niragi barged into the room with his usual cocky and obnoxious aura filling the air like a bad smell.

“Oi, don’t touch him as you please. You dissection maniac,” he growled.

Your eyes followed him closely. Now that Hatter was gone, people like him could start dangerous trouble at the hotel. But, as long as you said something about it, you would make sure Niragi wouldn’t start any fires that he’s not willing to put out himself.

After all, you were the only person who knew his true self, and how he perceived everyone around him. It was pathetic really. In a way you took pity on him. Such a simple tactic for the brain to protect itself, become a heartless and cold monster towards others so no one could ever do the same to you again.

With Niragi, unfortunately it was hunt or be hunted.

You kept your strong gaze on him as he lifted his eyes to meet yours from across the table for a hot minute. His dark orbs glistened as they locked with yours, making the tension in the room become thicker as every second passed. He smirked in your direction before turning away.

“He was shot by a gun,” Ann stated, breaking the thick silence in the room. She looked over the small hole in his chest in fascination.

“What will happen to The Beach?” a young man asked who was standing nearby you. You stayed silent, not wanting to start anything that may end in chaos. You always had good points and valid arguments, but sometimes you knew when the best time was to bring them up. This was not it.

“I mean it’s only reasonable for the strongest to become the new leader!” Niragi exclaimed over everyone. “We need someone who can take good care of The Beach and keep order,” he yapped on, swinging his sniper rifle all around making a few people flinch when he aimed it at them.

You rolled your eyes at his behaviour. Trust him to be the most opinionated.

“I say, how about Aguni as our new leader,” he suggested, leaning forwards onto the table and watching everyone like a hawk. Aguni held no reaction, keeping his usual cold stone expression while having Niragi speak for him.

After no one reacted, all looking down to the ground to avoid Niragi’s gaze, he stood up straight and pulled a bored expression. “That’s not a good reaction,” he mocked, “Last Boss?”

You glanced over to where the hooded figure stood, watching in fear as he unsheathed his katana sword and rushed over to Ann, holding the deathly sharp blade a few inches from her throat. Your heart leaped to your mouth. If he was to try anything, you were ready to start chaos.

But nothing of the sort happened. Ann simply sighed frustratingly and held up her hand obediently. Niragi hummed, approving.

“This isn’t a majority vote,” Mira hissed from next to him.

Niragi stood and leaned his face close to hers, holding the barrel of his weapon close to her face to threaten her. “But it is! Isn’t it? After all, you’re all free to vote as well.”

One by one, he slowly circled the table, each person being scared for their life the closer he got to them. But you remained calm next to Chishiya, knowing that considering the relationship you have with Niragi, he wouldn’t do anything that would hurt you. He didn’t have the guts to.

As he moved from Chishiya, he finally locked eyes with you. He quickly strolled up to your still frame, stopping suddenly very close to you in an attempt to make you feel threatened. ‘As usual,’ you thought to yourself. ‘The old “I’m taller and bigger than you so I’m stronger” stupid tactic.’

“And what about you princess? Care to raise your hand for a vote for Aguni?” he hissed into your face. You held your neutral expression, becoming bored from this act he was putting on. It was purely for show, and yet wasn’t everyone’s personality? But Niragi, his act of this scary psychotic man angered you to your core.

“What if I don’t?” you snickered, walking towards him in an attempt of intimidation. He took a step back in shock. “It’s not like you need my precious vote, you already have so many.”

Niragi’s usual cocky smirk melted from his face, turning into a frustrated scowl. You felt him put his rifle underneath your chin, forcing you to lock eyes with him. “Be careful with that tongue of yours sweetheart, you wouldn’t want to lose it,” he growled quietly.

His threat made you smirk, almost bringing butterflies into your stomach. “I think you should be more concerned about that head of yours. You wouldn’t want to get it stuck too far up your own ass.”

You flinched as you felt his rough hand shoot from his rifle to your neck, instantly tightening around your throat making you widen your eyes in surprise. You lifted your arm and gripped his wrist in case he tightened his hold anymore. The look on his face was deathly. If looks could kill, you’d be already a few years into the afterlife.

Chishiya stood beside you watching the whole scene. He knew better than to intervene, as he could tell that Niragi wouldn’t ever intentionally permanently hurt you.

Niragi held you still as he leaned down to your ear, his hot breath hitting your sensitive skin. “Shut your fucking mouth you brat. You wouldn’t want me to hurt you too much later, would you?” You cringed as you felt his tongue slide behind the back of your ear, the piercing making you shiver.

“Niragi,” you heard Aguni say, saving you from the public embarrassment of getting felt up by Niragi in front of everyone you knew. “That’s enough, I think she gets the point.”

Niragi grunted in annoyance before loosening his fist on your neck. You sucked in a huge gasp of air, coughing slightly. Chishiya placed a gentle hand on your back in a sign of care, hoping that you’re okay.

Niragi aimed his rifle lazily at Chishiya’s face. “She’s fine, don’t touch her. A little choking is nothing she can’t handle.”

Chishiya immediately took his hand off of you, being taken back by Niragi’s comment.

You stood up straight after recovering, laying your eyes back on Niragi as he continued terrorizing the executive members.

God you hated that man. You hated how much you loved him.

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

The room was now empty, consisting of no one except for you and Ann, who was still looking over Hatter’s body for any other injuries. You watched curiously, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed.

“Seems a bit weird, doesn’t it?” you spoke up through the silence.

“What does?” Ann answered, not bothering to look at you.

“Someone with a hundred percent winning streak dies now? Just as the tension between the militants and the others was getting to its peak?” you questioned.

Ann rolled her eyes sarcastically and turned towards you. “Took you long enough to figure out. Really? You didn’t suspect that from the start? Even after that shit-show that Niragi pulled earlier?”

You were taken back by her sudden anger. Ann never became mad at you, even if she had a legitimate reason to. You looked at her as she stared into your eyes intensely before sighing and turning back to Hatter.

“Sorry Y/N,” she apologized. “I’m just stressed. This shit is getting too heavy to handle, and now with Hatter gone and Aguni in his place, who knows what will happen to people like you, me, Mira, Chishiya and Alice. They could kill us if they want to.”

Her words hit your heart heavily. It was true. Aguni and his militants were never a particularly predictable bunch. And you weren’t exactly on all their good sides, well, except for Niragi’s.

“Sorry Ann,” you muttered out quietly. You thought it would be best to leave her alone. She obviously was quite distraught from Hatter’s death.

You shuffled out of the room, head held low in despair. Who knew what would happen to this place now? It was like a ticking time bomb only no one knew how long there was left until it exploded.

As you walked through the large door frame that led outside of the meeting room, a sudden grip on your arm brought you out of your thoughts and made you yelp. You were yanked into a hard chest, being held close and tight.

“Hey love. How are you feeling?” the person growled. You looked to see it was none other than Niragi himself. Of course it was, who else would treat you so roughly?

You stared into his ominous eyes, trying to read him. He ran his hand down your back slowly causing you to shiver. “Niragi,” you breathed out. You pushed against his broad chest to separate you. “Sorry, but I’m not in the mood right now.”

You stepped away from him and tried to escape down the hall, but he grabbed your hand before you could go anywhere. “Bullshit. You’re never in the mood. And the sass you were giving me in there in front of everyone says otherwise.” He pulled you back towards him, pushing your head onto his shoulder and nuzzling into your neck. “I didn’t like how you treated me, it made me upset.”

He was lying through his teeth, knowing that making you feel guilty for defending yourself against him would bring him more of your attention. Simple gaslighting, worked every time.

You chuckled against him then leaned back and cupped his face with your hands. He held a sad expression on his face, obviously to make you sympathetic.

“You’re such a big baby,” you laughed. “Try to act so tough and dominant in front of everyone, but look at you now. Crying into my shoulder about your feewings?” you mocked him. Niragi scowled and pulled his head out of your hands. “Shut up, as if you’re any better.”

It was true. That’s why you both clicked together. He was a gaslighting maniac who knew how to put up a fake ‘nice guy’ façade around you and you were a tough and snappy woman, who felt much too much empathy for others.

That’s how you fell into his trap. He used your empathy to his advantage, making you fall in love with him so he could have what he’d always wanted. Someone who loves him for who he is, no matter how many masks he had to put on for them.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, leaning up and pressing a small peck onto his lips. “Can you promise me something?” he suddenly asked after you pulled away from his face.

You grew anxious about what he wanted and nodded your head slowly in hesitation.

“When the chance comes, can we leave The Beach together? Like, run away?” he questioned, snaking his arms around your waist and squeezing tightly.

You laughed at his question, making him frown. He was being completely serious. “And go where Niragi? There’s not exactly a place we can go to.”

“Anywhere,” he answered sharply. “We could find a nice little hideout in Tokyo. Just you and me, no one else.” His grip on your waist tightened, making you flinch in his arms slightly.

He could see you tossing between answers. It wasn’t working, he had to try something else. He put on the fakest sad face he could do and pressed his forehead against yours while pouting. “Please? I promise I’ll take care of you.”

You practically melted as his begging. “Okay,” you sighed.

“Promise me,” he reminded you, running a hand through your soft hair.

There was a short moment of silence before you answered. “I promise.”

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

You laid in your room with the sheets tossed lazily over you. Niragi was called to go talk to Aguni again before he went to sleep, so you were waiting for him.

Your eyes scanned your book quickly, wanting to finish the chapter you were on before Niragi returned. Because god forbid you having your attention on something that wasn’t him when he was around.

You glanced over at the door when you heard it creep open and Niragi stepped in, placing his sniper rifle carefully on the ground nearby and removing his boots.

“You took your time.” you teased, putting your book on the nightstand and sitting up in bed. Niragi groaned tiredly, stumbling over to your shared bed and collapsed dramatically face down onto the duvet. You giggled at him, running a soft hand though his midnight hair and pulling it out of it’s hair tie.

If he was a cat, he swore he could’ve purred at your touch. It made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. Not having physical affection for years on end does that to a person.

He sat up and crawled over to you. He grabbed your chin and pressed your lips together roughly, running his tongue across your mouth as he did so. You groaned into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck, making him smirk against your lips.

After a few minutes, he detached his lips from yours and started licking and sucking your sensitive skin on your jaw, slowly making his way down your neck. He felt shivers run down his spine as you gripped his shirt in your fist on his back. He loved having this power over you, and having you accept him and love him enough to not fight back.

You leaned your head back and closed your eyes, giving him more access to your neck. As you did so, he placed a hand on your lower back and pulled you towards him, forcing you to lie down on the bed with him hovering over you.

He pulled away from your neck and looked down at you, admiring your anxious expression painted across your face. He chucked. “What’s wrong baby,” he cooed, leaning down and continuing kissing your collarbones.

His voice was dripping in sweetness, so sweet it could’ve made you feel sick. It sounded fake, but you didn’t pick up on it. It was a shame. You saw Niragi as nothing but a victim of his own mind, but you weren’t able to see yourself becoming a victim of it.

“I’m just...” you mumbled out, feeling weak and vulnerable under his touch. “I’m scared Niragi.”

He pulled back again and looked into your eyes with a worried expression. “Why are you scared? It’s just me and you here angel. You’re perfectly safe,” he whispered out, stroking his knuckles down your cheek lovingly.

You knew you loved Niragi, but knowing he can change his personality in a blink of an eye unsettled you. Who knew when he would do that to you? You heard him speak up again.

“We’ve slept together many times before, why are you becoming shy just now?” he teased, lifting a hand and slowly running it up along your tummy underneath your shirt. Your breath hitched as his cold hands made contact, making your stomach muscles tense.

“So sensitive,” he cooed again, snuggling his head into your chest, just above your breasts. “I love you.”

The confession made your heart skip a beat and you tensed. Niragi noticed this, making his body fill with anxiety. Did he say it too soon?

“Sorry,” he mumbled against your shirt. “That was a bit much, you don’t have to say it back,” he gaslighted.

“No,” you cut him off. “I love you too.”

Niragi’s heart filled with warmth and he felt all his nerves tingle around his body. He hadn’t heard that since he was a kid, and hearing you say it did nothing but make him more fall in love.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he sniffed out. You looked down to see him staring at you, tears filling his eyes. It made your heart ache.

He took his body weight off you and hovered himself above you again. “I promise, I won’t let anyone ever hurt you,” he mumbled, voice cracking slightly. His arms that laid on either side of your head acted like a cage. Whether you were trapped willingly or forcefully was beyond your guess.

As he leaned his head down again and pressed his still wet lips against yours, you felt his lanky arms snake around your torso underneath you, keeping you in place.

You laid there, moving your mouths together and holding each other as close as possible. It would’ve almost been romantic and loving if it wasn’t for the context. While one was preying on their victim to achieve what they’ve so desperately wanted their whole life, the other believed that that person was the victim themselves.

Such irony, to love someone who has a ‘unlovable’ personality, when it’s not even the one that you fell in love with.

The one you fell in love with was nothing but one of his many masks. And no one could determine whether he would ever take it off in front of you.

Author’s Note: I’m so sorry this one was actually hard to write. It’s a bit all over the place but I hope it was still enjoyable to read! Also I’m not going to do a Part 2 to this fic, but if you want to read something similar to this kind of yandere theme with Niragi, read my other fic called You’re Everything You Once Hated. I’m going to be posting a Part 2 of that one soon.

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nhlandotherimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Everything About You- Mitch Marner

@natbarzal @anastasiyaigorevnadobrodevskaya @jonnytoews19

And they blurbs continue! Here is number 10 of the Up All Night series, with the one and only Mitch Marnie ❤️

I had a lot of fun writing this one, but just a heads up it contains a lot of crying, infidelity (not by Mitch or Y/n but still), anxiety/panic attacks, loss of a loved one, and of course some friends to lovers fluff in there too! I hope you all enjoy it ❤️❤️❤️

You know I've always got your back, girl, so let me be the one you come running to, running to, running

Today has not been your day at all. Work totally kicked your ass, and now this! “Isaac what the hell?” Your voice cracks a little, but you can’t bring yourself to be embarrassed. All you feel at this moment is rage, because your boyfriend of two years is sitting in your shared living room with some other girls’ tongue down his throat.

“Y/n! You’re home early!” He practically pushes the girl to the floor in an attempt to look innocent.

“Oh I’m sorry! Was that inconvenient for you? Please ignore me and go back to business, I’ll just be in OUR bedroom!” You’re yelling now, moving with purpose towards your bedroom. Slamming the door behind you, you pull your phone out of your pocket. Eyes filling with tears, you press on his contact as fast as you can trying to keep your composure.

“Hey Y/n! What’s up?” Mitch’s voice is sing-songy like it always is, but today it does little to make you feel better.

“I need you to come get me...” your voice trails off as your whole body begins trembling. “Isaac c-cheated and I just, I need to go. Please.” You’re crying now. So much so that you don’t register much of Mitch’s response, aside from him promising he’d be there soon.

———

“Where is she?” Mitch is angry, you can hear it from down the hall. Mitch doesn’t get angry though, and you quickly realize this might become a much bigger problem very quickly.

“Get lost Mitch.” Isaac spits at him, and your breath hitches in your throat. You don’t make out the words that leave Mitch’s mouth next, but you do hear a crash as your feet carry you towards the front door as fast as they can move.

“Mitch don’t!” The words leave your mouth faster than you have time to take in the scene before you. Mitch is gripping the collar of Isaac’s hoodie, and has him pushed up against the wall. Both men turn to you when they hear your voice, and you’re thankful, because it looked as though Mitch was ready to swing. “Please let’s just go.” Your voice and eyes plead with Mitch, and it has his heart breaking. He lets go of Isaac, but not without giving him a shove first.

“You’re not going with him.” Isaac announces, sending Mitch a dirty look.

“Watch me,” you shoot back at him before turning to Mitch. “Can you come help grab my bags please?”

And he does. The whole while Isaac cursing and swearing under his breath, and you easily ignore him. That is until you’re slipping your jacket and shoes on. “I don’t see what your fucking problem is! You’re the one whoring around with the entire leafs roster.” His words have you seeing red, and thankfully Mitch can read you like a book. He wraps a hand gently around your bicep, but hard enough that in your attempt to lunge at Isaac he holds you back.

“For the record asshole, Y/n hasn’t so much as looked at anyone on the team in a suggestive way. So some time in between being a dipshit, get your facts straight.” Mitch’s voice is cool and collected, and it eases your mind as he pulls you and your bags out of the apartment.

As you make your way to Mitch’s car, you feel numb. The whole situation runs through your brain over and over, but somehow you remain emotionless. Slipping into the front seat, you wait as Mitch loads your things into the back. You’re so in your head, you barely notice him get in and start the car.

“I’m sorry I called you, but I didn’t know what else to do.” Your voice is hardly above a whisper, but Mitch hears you loud and clear. He immediately pulls the car back into the spot he just pulled out of, slamming the car right back into park causing your body to jerk forward slightly.

“Do not apologize to me, are you serious?” You turn to him, and he sends you a sad smile taking your hands in his. “I am so happy you called me! I want to be the person you call when you need something. Anything! I will come running anytime anywhere if you need me! Do you understand?”

The emotions that you hadn’t been able to find just moments ago find you now in full force. Tears steadily stream down your face, and all you can do is nod as Mitch pulls you awkwardly into his chest. The centre console digs into your ribs, but the pain doesn’t compare to the ache in your heart. Besides, in the comfort of your best friend’s arms, you’ve never felt more safe.

I see it's just a matter of fact, girl. You just call my name, I'll be coming through, coming through, I'll keep coming.

Living with Mitch was the easiest, yet hardest, thing you’ve ever done. Your plan was to move back home to your parents place, but Mitch pouted and complained about not being able to see you. So after hours of lighthearted arguments, you decided to stay. You fit well with Mitch, but there is one thing that is starting to become an issue. His teammates.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” Will chirps the moment Mitch and a few of his teammates arrive to pregame before going out for drinks. Somehow Mitch’s place always gets offered up as a place to host these get togethers. Sure, you love all the guys, and they are your friends too, but the whole ‘girlfriend’ chirp was getting old fast.

“Still not his girlfriend!” You call out, peaking around the corner to let the boys know you’re in the kitchen. You got a head start on the drinking, and are currently pouring yourself a hefty glass of wine.

“Great, so you’re free to go on a date with me then.” Will winks at you as he leans against the counter beside you.

“Absolutely not!” Mitch pipes in before you even can formulate a response. Everyone’s head snaps towards Mitch, and his cheeks seem to turn a shade darker. “I’m not letting her date any of you, she could do a million times better! No offence Willy.”

“Oh none taken.” Will manages to get out while stifling a laugh.

———

The bar was packed, you knew it would be. You had insisted you would just stay home, because it was the boys night to celebrate their win, but Mitch wasn’t having it. So here you were trying to find your way to the bar for another drink. Bodies all around you, bumping into you, spilling drinks, and it felt hard to breath.

As your hands start to shake, you abandon the idea of another drink and instead turn to head back towards the group. Your breath hitches in your throat as you turn to see a sea of people. You try and push your way through, but with every step you begin to feel smaller. Your entire body begins to shake, every small brush of a limb against you has your head spinning. Panic sets into your bones, as your heart begins to race. Your eyes frantically scan the crowd looking for Mitch, as you begin wringing your hands together anxiously.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Where is Mitch?” You begin muttering to yourself. Obsessively repeating his name to yourself as if you’d forget who it was you were looking for if you stop. Of course you had to ask him to hold onto your cellphone for you!

Tears sting your eyes, and the anxiety wracking your body manifests itself into fear now. It feels as though everyone is staring at you like you’re crazy, and you don’t feel safe here. Unable to find your bearings in a room that seems to be spinning around you, you do the only thing you know how to. You call out for Mitch.

His name falls from your lips, and you know how pathetic it sounds, but you don’t care. You’re just praying that he hears you, so you call out for him again. “Mitch! Where are you?!” People are definitely staring now, but you feel like you’re moments away from passing out.

A hand grips your shoulder causing you to jump back. As you whip your head around to see who grabbed you, your eyes are met by a very concerned Mitch. You fall against his chest, and he holds you close as you try to not fall apart.

You barely register the fact that Mitch is leading you through the crowd, aside from the fact your feet are moving. You still have your face pressed into his chest as the two of you step out of the bar.

“Hey what’s wrong?” His voice is soft as he runs a hand through your hair softly. You can’t respond with words. Instead you squeeze your fists tighter in his shirt, as your body begins to tremble against him. The tears, mixed with your makeup, will surely stain his shirt, but you can’t stop. “Woah! Shh don’t cry, it’s okay I’m here.” Mitch rubs your back in slow circles as you desperately cling to him. You stay like that for awhile, but soon enough you come to your senses and feel like a total idiot. You pull away from Mitch abruptly, and turn away from him aggressively wiping at your face. “God I’m sorry Mitch! I’m such a baby!” You groan. You’re angry at yourself, and super embarrassed. So much so, that if it weren’t for the fact your phone was still in Mitch’s pocket, you would have just ran away.

“Y/n?” His voice sounds so unsure, yet so soft. You can’t bring yourself to look at him just yet, but you do turn back towards him. “I shouldn’t have let you go to the bar alone, I’m sorry. Did someone hurt you? Because I swear to god I will go in there and fight for you no questions asked.” He adds a little chuckle at the end, but his tone gives away the fact he’s telling the truth. You have no doubts Mitch would fight for you, it’s why you love him.

Holy shit. You love Mitch!

“N-no one hurt me Mitch I just, I don’t know. I got overwhelmed, and scared. I didn’t have my phone, and I couldn’t find you a-and I just shut down. God I’m so stupid! I’m an adult and I can’t even get a drink for myself.” You stare at your feet, willing the tears away that once again threaten to fall down your cheeks. In a moment, Mitch has your face in his hands tilting your head up, forcing you to look in his eyes.

“Stop that.” His eyes are looking into yours like he’s trying to read your mind. “You are so far from stupid! I’m sorry I didn’t find you faster, I’m sorry I let you go alone. You’re okay now though alright? Let’s go home yeah?” You nod, but neither of you dare to move. His face is only inches from yours, and you use this moment to just take him in. He’s absolutely beautiful. His hair falling over his forehead, his perfect skin, his blue eyes, his lips. He’s perfect. You realize you’ve been staring at his lips a beat too long when he licks his lip. The action pulls you from your daze, and you let your eyes wander back up to his, which are focused on your own lips. Your breath catches in your throat as his eyes meet yours again.

“We should go.” You awkwardly clear your throat, completely ruining whatever that was. Mitch slowly drops his hands back to his sides, shaking his head lightly.

“Yeah let’s go.”

On the other side of the world, it don't matter, I'll be there in two, I'll be there in two, I'll be there in two

Loss is something that everyone will experience at least once in their life. You have had your fair share, but none to date hurt quite like this one. Losing someone so close to your heart, and being completely alone. Your family all in a completely different province, your best friend is in a completely different country playing hockey, and you are laying completely still. Unable to move from the spot you collapsed into after the conversation with your mom.

Death wasn’t new to you, but being alone certainly was. So all you could do was cry.

You only lift your head from the pillow when your phone rings. A picture of you and Mitch flashes on the screen, letting you know he wants to FaceTime.

“Hey Mitch, how was the game?” You ask after accepting the call, but keeping your camera off.

“The game was good... did you not watch it?” He asks, rightfully confused, because you had told him you’d watch it.

“Oh well uh- something came up I’m sorry.” Your excuse is poor, but not entirely untrue. Mitch might have even let you away with it, if it weren’t for the small sniffle you let out at the end.

“Y/n are you crying?” You see the concern written on his face, as a fresh batch of tears start falling. “Please turn the camera on.”

You listen to him, no energy left in you to argue. As you see your face pop up on the screen you immediately regret it. You look awful, and Mitch’s eyes soften when he sees you. “I’m fine Mitch I just- Mom called me, and I’m just having a rough night. It just sucks being alone.”

“Is everything okay?” He questions, but you can tell he’s trying not to be pushy. All you can do is shake your head, more tears falling down your face. Mitch feels his heart break in two as he watches you fall apart on his phone screen. “I’m coming home.”

“I know you’ll be home tomorrow night, I’ll be okay. I’m sorry I’m such a mess.” You aren’t sure how you manage to string coherent sentences together, but you do. You feel silly telling Mitch you don’t like being alone, it’s not his fault he has to travel so much for work.

“No I’m coming home now. I’ll be there in 4 hours okay? Just hang in there for me alright?” You look at the screen and realize Mitch is frantically throwing things into his suitcase. After he manages to stuff everything into the suitcase he zips it up and looks back at his screen. You still haven’t responded, so he speaks again. “4 hours, and I’ll be there. I promise.”

And he kept his promise. 3 hours and 56 minutes later he crawls into your bed and holds you until you fell asleep.

I still feel it every time, it's just something that you do. Now ask me why I want to.

“Wow he’s really smitten with you isn’t he?” Audrey, Justin Holl’s wife gushes. You had just filled her and the other WAGs in on why Mitch had flown home for you just over a month ago.

“He’s a really great friend.” You smile shyly, eyes searching for the topic of conversation himself. When you find him, he’s smiling at you, him and Justin leaning against a wall both sipping beers. You send him a small wave, and he winks back at you.

“Oh come on! A ‘really good friend’ doesn’t pack up a work trip on a moments notice and fly home to you like that. This boy is totally gone for you! Honestly I assumed you two would have gotten together by now.” Audrey gestures between the two of you dramatically, and your cheeks heat up.

“He doesn’t like me like that.” You insist. If they could feel how fast your heart is racing though, they’d know just how badly you wanted what they were saying to be true.

———

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Mitch asks as he closes the apartment door behind him. You have just gotten back from Justin and Audrey’s and you’ve hardly spoken a word to him.

“Just thinking.” You mutter, hanging up your jacket and throwing your keys on the desk.

“Care to share with the class?” He chirps, smiling widely as he hangs his coat on the hook next to yours. The moment is so incredibly domestic, and your stomach is doing somersaults at the thought of it.

“Just something Audrey said.” You pause for a moment unsure if you really want to tell Mitch what’s really going through your head. “Can I ask you something?” You flop down onto the couch, watching him over the back of the couch as he grabs you both a beer from the fridge.

“Shoot!” He grins, handing you a beer and taking a seat right next to you. He pops open his beer, and leans back against the couch throwing an arm around your shoulders. He looks at you expectantly as he takes a sip of his drink.

“Why are you so nice to me?” His brows knit together in confusion, so you choose to elaborate. “Like I get that we are friends, best friends even, but you go out of your way to always be there for me. Stepping out on work to fly home to me because I’m sad, isn’t really something a best friend does. So why are you so nice? I don’t need you to take pity on me if that’s what this is. I don’t want to be a charity case.”

Mitch sits forward on the couch now. His arm no longer around you, instead both elbows are planted on his knees. He’s picking at the label on his beer like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. This isn’t a side of him you see often. Mitch Marner is nervous.

“It’s not like that at all! You aren’t a charity case!” He still hasn’t looked at you, and the distance he’s putting between you has you panicking.

“So tell me what it’s like. Come on Mitch, what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” You tease, bumping his shoulder playfully with your own. Your attempt to lighten the mood even just a little works momentarily, as a small smile breaks out on Mitch’s face.

“You really want to know why I do all of that stuff for you?” His eyes search yours now, hoping he finds the answer he’s looking for. He’s hoping that you are ready to hear what he has to say, and when you place your hand on his arm with a smile he knows it’s going to be okay. “It’s because I love you.”

It's everything about you, everything that you do. From the way that we touch, baby, to the way that you kiss on me. It's everything about you, the way you make it feel, new. Like every party is just us two, and there's nothin' I could point to. It's everything about you.

“Mitch-“ your voice is a warning. Or maybe it’s a plea. Even you aren’t sure, because your heart is in your throat right now.

“I’m serious. I love you. I think I always have, I mean what isn’t there to love? You always make me feel important, like no one else matters and I’ve been trying so hard to make you feel the same way. To make you feel like you’re worth it, because you are so worth it. I love everything about you. I love how funny, sweet, strong, and caring you are. I love how you are just so you. There is not one single thing that made me love you, it was everything. I’m sorry if this is weird for you, but I’m just being honest.” His whole body seems to relax a bit after he finishes speaking. It is almost as if you can see the weight lifting from his shoulders. A weight you hadn’t realized he carried with him, and you want so badly to apologize to him. Tell him you’re sorry for not realizing sooner, and that you wish he hadn’t carried that weight for you. You want to tell him you’re not perfect, and that he has you all wrong. Mostly though, you just want to tell him you love him too.

The only way you know how to tell Mitch exactly how you feel about him isn’t by telling him all of those things with simple words, you have to show him. So, taking a deep breath, you lift your hand from Mitch’s arm, and place gently on the back of his neck. You gently dance your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, and you feel a shiver pass through him. He slowly lifts his eyes to yours again, and without another second of hesitation you’re pulling him into you.

When his lips reach yours, you kiss him with all you have. You pour yourself into him in hopes of showing him how grateful you are for him, and how much you love him. He smiles against your lips, as he pulls you into his lap. He hugs your body to his own, and you grip his hair like you’re scared to let go.

After kissing for what feels like forever, but also not nearly long enough, you pull away to catch your breath. Your foreheads are pressed together, both of you breathing heavily, and both sporting mile wide grin.

“Wow.” Mitch breathes out, causing you to giggle. “Add that to the list.”

“List?” You ask curiously, sitting back in his lap to get a better look at him. His hair is messy, lips swollen and red, and his eyes have never looked more blue.

“The list of things I love about you. The way you kiss me, I can add that to the list of everything.” The happiness you feel in this moment has you feeling warm. Sure, maybe the way you found Mitch wasn’t conventional, but there was a reason you called him all those months ago. However it happened, you’ve never been more happy to call someone yours.

#Up All Night-series #mitch marner #mitch marner x reader #Mitch Marner fanfiction #mitch marner imagine #nhl fan fiction #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #hockey fan fiction #hockey fanfic #hockey fanfiction #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey imagines

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briefinquiries · 4 years ago

Text

Luke Alvez x Reader: Bruises

Request: @whormotional asked: “hi i have recently become obsessed with your writing! youre like the best luke writing on this app i swear. could you do one where the female reader gets kidnapped on a case and tortured and just like luke and the team saving her and luke being there for her later that night pls”

Word count: 5.4k

Tagged: @ssaic-jareau , @alvezstan , @lcvischmitt , @ogmilkis , @goldenalvez , @ssa-morgan , @akimagies, @zhangyixingxing1 , @pinkdiamond1016 , @yourwonderbelle, @rachelxwayne , @sc4rletw1tch , @ellvswriting

Warnings: Kidnapping, torture, gun tw, blood mention

A/N: love angsty requests thank youuu. hope youu enjoy!!

You wake up to the taste of blood in your mouth. Your breath was ragged and shallow as you shook yourself out of a deep sleep. It was the first sense you were able to regain, but before you could force your eyes open, you felt the pulsing pain coming from the back of your head. It shot down your neck and around to the front of your forehead, making you wince.

Images from the dream you had been having were still clear in your mind. You had dreamt of Luke. Maybe you dreamt about him because he occupied most of your thoughts, or maybe it was because his face had been the last thing you saw before blacking out. You remembered seeing his brown eyes- usually warm and inviting, turn wide with worry as they didn’t quite meet your gaze. It was like he was staring at something behind you.

You saw him raise his gun and aim it slightly to your left. You had been just about to ask him what was wrong before he opened his mouth to warn you. His words were inaudible, though, as the blow that suddenly hit the back of your head had ensnared all of your senses. The look on his face was what lingered in your mind now. You tried desperately to memorize all of his features- the lines around his eyes and the way his hairline curved around his face. You squeezed your eyes shut even harder, thinking of his tan skin and stubble beard. You really didn’t want to open your eyes, because you knew that wherever you were and whatever had happened to you, wasn’t good.

…

When Luke comes to, he’s propped up against a cold wall and there are voices around him. A headache was pulsing behind his eyes as he finally cracked his eyelids, eyelashes fluttering on his first few attempts.

The blurry faces of Emily and Tara slowly start to come into focus as he wakes up. He sees Tara sigh a breath of relief when her gaze meets his own.

“Thank God,” she exhales quietly.

Blood. There was blood running down his head. And there was a bloodstained brick lying close to him.

“Luke,” Emily’s voice is louder. “What happened?”

“He came out of nowhere-” Luke states, he raises his hand to find the spot on his forehead that throbbed. When Luke pulls away, there’s blood on his fingers. Suddenly, images of the incident reentered his mind. “I tried to shoot- but I didn’t want to hit her-”

“Where is Y/N?” Emily asks calmly.

Just the mere mention of your name makes Luke sit up straighter. The sudden movement makes his head wobbly, but he ignores it.

“Woah, take it easy,” Emily instructs. She puts her hand out to steady him.

Luke falls back against the wall. “She’s not here?” he asks, panic and fear flooding his insides.

Instead of a yes or a no, Emily states, “We’ll find her.”

...

When you do finally open your eyes, you find that you're sitting in the corner of a dingy room, arms and legs bound to the worn chair. The room reminded you of a basement, concrete walls with pipes and ducts running along the ceiling between the hanging lightbulbs that were much too bright without covers.

You blink your eyes a few times, trying to make everything stop blurring together, but it seems impossible.

You gasp, chest constructing at the sharp pain suddenly shooting up your left side. You breathe through your nose, trying to will down the panic and fear that’s engulfed you. Each breath pulled in the strong presence of mold and mildew, making you want to gag.

There’s a man in the corner of the room fiddling with something. His back was turned to you until he realized you were conscious again. He begins approaching slowly. You recognize his wild hair and narrow eyes almost instantly.

From the information Garcia had gathered online earlier, the man’s name was Greg Atwood. And he was your Unsub.

You and the rest of the team had been called to Seattle over a week ago- after the third body showed up. Once Seattle PD made the connection between the victims, it was clear their problem was severe enough for reinforcements. You had worked the case just like any other- analyzing victimology, creating a geographic profile, combing the crime scenes. It became glaringly obvious that you were dealing with a professional, someone who killed efficiently and knew how to clean up their mess. And when Emily sent you and Luke to interview the witness who found the latest body, neither one of you had any idea you were about to walk into the arms of the apparent killer himself. But the profile the team had established, fit.

When Atwood opens his mouth to speak, his evil smile makes you cringe. “You’re awake,” is all he states. His voice is filled with venom.

You jerk, thrashing against the restraints that bind you. The man steps forward, his finger trailing along the barrel of his gun. He smiles confidently, but it’s his eyes that burn into your brain.

“What do you want from me?” you ask. You knew all too well how these interactions went, but you were desperate to stall.

The man looks at you for a long moment before inhaling deeply. But he doesn’t speak.

You blink again, trying to rack your brain and remember the profile. What would buy you some time?

You dig your teeth into the inside of your cheek- a habit Luke had always given you shit for. You briefly wonder if you’d ever get to hear him lecture you about it again.

You tug at the restraints again, testing it. But there’s no give.

“What do you want?” you try again.

Atwood takes another step closer, creepy smile still in place. “I want to know how you found me,” he says simply.

You bite your lip. He takes your hesitation as an invitation to talk more. “You see,” his voice trails. “I was very careful. I cleaned up my mess, I didn’t leave behind a single trace of DNA.”

“We didn’t find you with DNA, we found you with our profile.” He didn’t need to know you and Luke had originally thought he was a witness.

His smirk returns. “Right,” he says, like he doesn’t quite believe it. He turns his back to you and walks back towards the corner of the room he originally came from. He hoists something up, you can’t quite tell what it is until he turns around with it in his hands. It’s a tripod, and attached at the top is a camera.

Your chest feels tight again- you didn’t like where any of this was going.

The tripod is placed about six feet in front of you. Atwood adjusts the angle a bit before pressing a button. A light flashes red before he turns to look at you again. His smile has faded.

“Tell me where she is,” he orders.

Your eyes widen, but you don’t speak.

He waits, only a moment, before saying it again. “Tell me where I can find Emily Prentiss.”

You clench your jaw.

“I know you know where she is. She is your Unit Chief after all, isn’t she?”

You ignore his question. “Is my team seeing this?” you ask, nodding your head towards the camera.

His silence makes you assume that’s a yes. “You know- we profiled that you’d be extremely intelligent,” you say. “But if you think I’d rat out my Chief or anyone on my team, we must’ve gotten that part wrong.”

Your response gets you backhanded- hard across the face. Your head whips back, but you try to shake it off quickly.

You taste copper in your mouth again as you raise your head up. Your hair has fallen in your face, but you don’t make any effort to move it.

Atwood is looking at you, expression calculating. “If you want to get out of here alive,” he says, “you’re going to tell me where she is. It's up to you how hard you want to make this on yourself.” When you stay silent, he continues. “You see, it’s not you I really want. I don’t want to kill you. Just like I didn’t want to kill the agent you were with. You’re collateral damage to me, it means nothing.”

His words make you freeze in place.

Just like I didn’t want to kill the agent you were with.

The sentence seeps into your skin like poison.

Luke.

Your face is blank and your mind can’t process the entirety of what he’s said, before he proceeds.

“You see, it’s Prentiss I want. Tell me where she is and this will all be over.”

“You killed-” your voice is shaky as you try to comprehend the words Atwood has just spoken to you. “Y-you killed him?”

His smirk brings bile up in your throat.

He was lying, you say to yourself. Luke was fine, he was lying. “No,” you whisper, your eyes burning with unshed tears. “No-”

Atwood sighs, pretending to be sympathetic. “Like I said- I didn’t want to do it. But he got in my way. Just like you’re getting in my way right now.”

His words are muffled in your own head as your mind races to make sense of it all. Luke- Luke was your purpose and your happiness and your reason. Luke was everything.

“Tell me where she is.” Atwood presses.

If he was telling the truth, and Luke really was dead- then what did it matter if you died too? “Go fuck yourself,” you spit, trying not to show him the brokenness he’d just caused.

Atwood sighs, “I was hoping we could do this the easy way.”

He approaches you, rolling up his sleeve as he walks. You noticed a brass ring on his finger.

You wonder what the rest of the team was thinking and if they could even see you right now. You knew that they’d be looking for you, no matter what. They’d probably even encourage you to give up Emily’s information- even though none of them would. But it probably didn’t make whatever was about to happen to you easier for them to watch.

“This doesn’t end until you tell me where she is,” Atwood sneers. It’s his final warning. You look straight at the camera and try to broadcast a message to the team. In case they were watching, you wanted them to know you could handle this. You offer the slightest smile, one they’d probably only catch if they rewound the tape, you’re reassuring them that you’d be fine.

…

When the video stream first comes through, it makes Penelope gasp. She was sleep deprived after being transported to Seattle. Her job was to comb through the Unsub’s computer, and to hopefully find a hint as to where he might have taken you.

At first, she’s surprised, and disturbed by the distressed looking girl tied to the chair. Penelope has seen her fair share of gruesome images and videos in her days with the Bureau, but she never could seem to get used to it.

But when the girl lifts her head and reveals a face Penelope recognizes immediately, she’s horrified. Your eyes are tired, and every breath looks ragged.

“Emily!” she calls out, “Guys!”

Just then, a man comes into the frame, his voice is muffled and quiet. Before Penelope can turn the volume up to hear what he’s said, he raises his hand and strikes you across the face.

“No!” Penelope cries, squeezing her eyes shut. Only when she feels a warm hand fall on her shoulder does she dare to open them.

It’s Emily, and in her trail is JJ and Rossi.

“What’s going on?” Emily asks, concerned.

“It’s Y/N-” Garcia has tears running down her face.

“Oh my God,” JJ breathes, she covers her mouth with her hands.

“She’s hurt,” Garcia whimpers.

Emily inhales sharply.

“Is this live? Can you trace it?” Rossi asks, leaning in.

Garcia nods, the rapid clicks of her keyboard answering for her.

“Where’s Luke?” JJ asks, turning her head. “He can’t see this-”

“See what?” Luke’s voice rings through the room, making everyone turn their heads. He’s standing in the doorframe with an ice pack held firmly to his head. After being attacked, he’d refused to go to the hospital. Not until you were home safe, he had said. No one tried to argue it.

They stand speechless, unsure of what to say to Luke.

“See what?” he repeats. But that’s when he sees the screen.

“Who is that?” he asks, voice cracking. He leans so that he can see past Garcia. The panic on his face told them that he already knew.

“We’re going to find her,” Emily says calmly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Suddenly, there’s a man’s voice speaking from the video. It’s Atwood.

“All I need is a location,” he says calmly. “Tell me where I can find Emily Prentiss.”

Everyone in the room inhales sharply. Luke grits his teeth as he sees you pick up your head. Your face looks scared. “I don’t know,” you say weakly.

Atwood sighs. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

With that, Garcia cries out again as he sucker punches you in the jaw. Just as you’re wincing from the first impact, you take another hit, a punch to the gut that leaves you heaving and breathless.

Luke is wild, gritting his teeth. “I’m gonna bash this guy’s head in myself,” he roars, turning away.

Just then, the rest of the team filters in the room. “What’s going on?” Reid asks. He’s holding an evidence bag in his gloved hands.

“The motherfucker’s recording it- he’s live streaming it,” Luke exclaims. He’s gripping his hair frantically.

“Anything, Garcia?” Rossi asks.

Her typing has become more frantic as she desperately tries to secure a location.

The assault against you continues, hit after hit, mostly centered on your left side. It’s clear that you were doing your best to zone out.

Luke has started watching again, despite Matt trying to pull him away.

You keep your mouth shut, even when your side aches so bad you think he’s broken one of your ribs. When Atwood finally stops hitting you, your face is hot and bruised and bloody.

It makes Luke want to be sick.

Just then, a pinging noise comes from Garcia’s computer and the room goes dead silent.

After a moment, she turns to Emily questioningly. “I have an address,” she states.

“What’s wrong?” Tara asks, picking up on the confusion in her tone.

“What’re we waiting for?” Luke roars. “Let’s go-”

“It just feels- wrong,” Garcia says, unable to put her finger on it. “Why would an Unsub as intelligent as him not block his streaming location?”

“Do you think it’s a trap?”

Garcia shakes her head. “I don’t know-”

“That’s a risk we’re going to have to take,” Emily says. She turns to the rest of the team. “Let’s go.”

“Be safe,” Garcia whimpers.

…

You barely feel alive anymore. You had your eyes closed, and were resting your head against the back of the chair when you tried to imagine yourself back in your apartment with Luke. You imagined being snuggled into him on the couch as you watched some cheesy, romantic movie. You had given up struggling- your restraints were too tight, it was no use. You tried to count how much time it had been since you’d been here. But the truth was, you had no idea how long you’d been out for. Hours? Days?

You were wondering if the team was still looking for you when you hear a distant thump coming from upstairs.

The thing was- you knew this wasn’t just about Emily’s location. It wasn’t even about your team’s location. It was about beating you- the power involved in outsmarting the FBI.

You kept your eyes closed, taking deep breaths and trying as best as you could to get your body to stop shivering. You were bruised and bloody and dehydrated.

You hadn’t opened your eyes in a while now. And even though you couldn’t sleep, you didn’t want to open them because you didn’t want Atwood to know you were awake.

You wished your mind would quiet down, but of course it wouldn't. You had nothing to do here besides think. You think about the last words you said to Luke, and you think of how meaningless and insignificant they were. You try to remember when the last time you told him you loved him was. You think about if you even wanted to get out of here alive if there was no Luke to go home to.

In the midst of your thoughts, you gasp loudly when the only door leading out of the room blows off the hinges. Dust fills the air and you flinch at the feeling of your neck suddenly being barred by a strong arm.

Atwood.

“Drop it!” Emily’s familiar voice fills the room.

You sigh a breath of relief, despite knowing there was a gun pressed directly against your temple.

“You’re not getting out of here,” Rossi’s voice says. “So you might as well put the gun down now.” When the dust finally settles, you see him filing to the left corner of the room, his gun drawn. Matt has already situated himself in the right corner.

Atwood chuckles from behind you, his grip tightening.

“What makes you think that?” he sneers.

“Look around you, man-” Matt says. “We’ve got you cornered.”

Atwood shoves the barrel of the gun harshly against your temple, making your head spin.

“I like my odds.”

His eyes flicker to the clock on the wall- a motion that Rossi picks up on immediately.

“What’re you waiting for Greg?” There’s a taunting tone to his voice. “For three o’clock?”

Atwood’s head shoots up. That hit a nerve.

“We know what your plan was, Greg,” Emily says. “We found the bomb.”

For a brief moment, you feel the gun being dropped from your temple. Just as quickly, the sound of a single gunshot makes you flinch. Atwood drops to the floor behind you, collapsing in a pool of his own blood.

It was Matt who took the shot- taking advantage of the brief moment of hesitation that Atwood demonstrated. You turn to him, trying to express your gratitude, but your head is spinning.

“You’re okay,” Emily states. It sounds like she’s trying more to convince herself of that fact.

You nod without even realizing it.

Matt’s the first one at your side. He’s frantically ripping away the ropes from your wrist. There’s ligature marks already visible on your skin.

Cops and EMTs start rushing through the room just as Emily speaks into her mic that it’s clear.

You try to stand up, but the world around you spins immediately, tilting on its axis. You almost black out in just about half a second.

“Woah-” Emily says.

Matt catches you before you fall to the floor.

You struggle to look around the room, but everything is too bright and people are moving too fast. It’s impossible to tell who’s here and who’s not.

“L-Luke?” You hesitate because you almost don’t want to know.

Matt gives you a soft smile, pausing when you’re finally free from your restraints. “He’s okay, he’s outside.”

You blink a few times, not sure if you heard him right. “He’s alive?” you lock eyes with Matt.

Matt nods, his face sincere.

“But he’s hurt- Atwood said-”

“Hey,” Matt whispers, tightening his grip around your waist. “He’s okay, I’ll take you to him.”

You let out a sigh of relief, but it could double as a soft sob. There are tears falling down your cheeks.

With Matt bearing the majority of your weight, you let him lead you out of the building. The glaring, afternoon sun makes it hard to see once you get outside, but you trust Matt’s guidance.

After only a few steps, you hear your name being called.

It’s so hard to focus, and you can feel your vision blurring in and out- but you’d know that voice anywhere.

“Luke-” you whisper tentatively, because you still weren’t entirely sure that the voice wasn’t a hallucination.

But then you hear it again. This time it’s clearer and closer.

You blink a few more times, the brightness fading as you strain to see.

Slowly, Luke’s figure comes into focus. He’s rushing towards you, and you realize that’s the first time since being taken that you feel like you could breathe again.

“Oh my God-” Luke stammers. Once he reaches you, he hesitates, like he’s too afraid to touch you. You were sure nothing about you looked even remotely beautiful right now. Between the bruises on your face and your tear-stained cheeks, you can only imagine the type of image Luke was taking in. “Are you okay?” he asks, he grasps your upper arms gently.

You ignore his question and throw your arms around him, letting your cheek rest against his chest. He wraps his arms around you, one hand falling on your upper back, while the other cradles the back of your head. He kisses your hair firmly before pulling away. He holds you at an arm’s length and scans your body.

He takes in the sight of you. There’s bruising along your jawline, red swirled with blues and purples from broken blood vessels. It makes his stomach lurch to know you’d been hurt like this- that he couldn’t stop you from being hurt like this.

There’s blood caked into the side of your hair- crusty and turning dark crimson. Luke runs his thumb along the length of it.

Suddenly, he sees you frown. After blinking a few more times, his face has finally come into focus, which allows you to see the cut visible on his forehead. “Your head-” you observe.

Luke starts protesting immediately. “I’m fine, I’m okay.” His small cut was nothing compared to the bruises that inevitably littered your body.

Your head spins again, making you sway in place. Luke’s quick to wrap an arm around you and you fall into his side with ease, wincing when his hand falls on your bruised side.

The EMTs are already on the street, ready to throw you into the back of an ambulance.

You try to protest, assuring Luke and everyone else that you were fine. But Luke insists. “You need to be checked out. You’re not fine.”

It feels like forever before the hospital clears you. You have a concussion and a couple broken ribs, nothing that won’t heal on its own. You’re grateful to not be more severely injured. But you’re also just exhausted and sore and ready to go home.

Luke barely let’s go of your hand, let alone leaves your side for the next twenty four hours. It’s comforting having him beside you, but you don’t like seeing him so worried.

Once you’re discharged from the hospital, Luke and you head straight to the jet, where the rest of the team is waiting.

Everyone wants to know how you’re feeling- how you’re holding up. But talking about it made you think about it, and you really didn’t want to think about it.

The plane ride home feels agonizingly long. Every time the jet jostles or has turbulence, you wince. And every time you wince, everyone rushes to your side to make sure you’re alright.

“Can I get you anything?” Tara asks. She had just stood up to refill her own cup of tea.

You shake your head, offering her your most convincing smile. “No thanks, I’m fine.”

“Blanket?” Reid offers.

“Ice pack?”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Coffee?”

“Vodka?”

You decline.

You sprawl out on the couch with your head resting in Luke’s lap and feign sleep just to avoid their fretting. It makes you feel guilty to know you had them all so worried.

His hands are in your hair, stroking the strands softly.

“Luke, m’tired,” you whisper quietly enough so that only he hears.

“I know,” Luke answers. “We’re almost home.”

You lose track of the rest of the plane ride to your scattered brain, only picking up on small details: the murmur of Rossi and Emily talking beside you, the roughness of Luke’s jeans against your bruised cheek, the way your legs have to be slightly bent in order to fit on the couch. Time passes in a disorienting lurch.

It is an eternity before you land in Virginia.

And it’s an even longer eternity before you’re pulling into the driveway of you and Luke’s shared house.

He tries to help you walk up to the door but you wave him away. “I got it, I’m fine.”

You add a small smile when you see the hurt look on his face.

“Bed or couch?” he asks while rushing to collect his keys out of his pocket.

“Couch,” you murmur. Your choice was based solely on the fact that the couch was significantly closer to you than the bed. It also didn’t involved a flight of stairs.

Luke drops your bags by the entryway before guiding you to the living room. His hand hovers wearily on your lower back- like he’s afraid you’ll collapse at any moment.

You exhale choppily when you’re finally able to sit down on the couch. It’s worn, familiar fabric makes you feel safer. Your eyes are heavy and your head wants to lull forward. It’s hard to focus.

Luke pulls the throw blanket down from the back of the couch and lays it gently on top of you. It’s warmth brings comfort and ease.

Luke kisses your forehead gently.

“I’m gonna go grab some water,” he tells you.

You just mumble incoherently in response.

You quickly succumb to the exhaustion- letting your eyes fall shut. But as soon as you let them close, his face appears. It’s right in front of you, so close that if you reached out you could touch him. Atwood is flashing his teeth with his signature evil grin, their tint of yellow and crookedness felt way too detailed to be a dream. You wonder if you’re back in the basement- if you never really left in the first place. Maybe being rescued was the dream.

A soft clinking sound makes you shoot up from the couch, alert and panting while you frantically look around the room.

Luke is setting a glass of water on the coffee table in front of you, but your startled response makes him whip his head towards you.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, face full of worry.

As soon as you see him, you realize that you’re home and safe. You try to calm yourself down, embarrassed by your reaction.

You take a deep breath. “Nothing,” you mumble, shaking it off. “I’m fine.”

You both knew it was a lie.

But Luke doesn’t argue- he doesn’t push. He just settled down beside you on the couch, his arm wrapping around your shoulders carefully.

You wait for a minute, steadying your breathing, before attempting to close your eyes again. At first, it’s just the back of your eyelids and their darkness. You stay focused on that and your breathing.

As you finally start to relax, you start to feel a strange pressure against your wrists. You jostle your arms, but for some reason they won’t move. You’re stuck in place- restrained to the chair again.

Suddenly, you feel Atwood’s fist against your jaw- his ring tearing open the flesh of your cheek. His snickering is loud in your ears.

You snap your eyes open again- you’re met by your dimly lit living room.

Luke’s thumb is trailing up and down your arm comfortingly. You were safe- these images you were seeing weren’t real.

The third time you close your eyes- you see him almost instantly. This time he’s close enough so that you can feel his hot breath on your neck.

You shoot up quickly, panting heavily. Your face collapses in your hands as you try to rub the images from your eyes.

It was real. It was very real, and you had the markings and bruises to prove it.

This- laying on your own couch, finally getting to sleep- was what you’d been waiting for. But now that your adrenaline had faded and some of the grogginess from your concussion had subsided, you couldn’t shut your eyes without hearing him, seeing him, feeling him- all over.

Luke sits up too, attentive to your uneasiness.

“I c-can’t-” your voice is shaky. “I can’t close my eyes,” you explain.

Luke’s large hand rubs your back soothingly.

“I can’t close my eyes without seeing him.”

Luke nods, his hand travels from your back to your arm, he grips it securely before leaning in and pressing his lips to your temple. You lean into his touch, letting him pull you closer to him. He falls back against the couch, and you fall against his chest, practically on top of him at this point.

“You're safe now,” he soothes.

“I’m so tired,” you whisper, exhaustion making you start to tear up.

“I know,” Luke murmurs. His fingers trail up and down your arm, leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake.

It doesn’t take long of Luke holding you like that for you to fall asleep. At first, it’s nothingness- just a deep, peaceful slumber. Until it isn’t.

This time you don’t see Atwood. Instead, you see someone curled up on the ground. As you step closer, you realize it’s Luke. You call out to him, but there’s no response.

When he doesn’t answer, you reach your hand out, fingers grazing his bicep. His skin feels ice cold. You shake him lightly- but there’s no response. Harder this time, you pull his weight towards you, hoping to get his attention. Instead, Luke’s lifeless body flops onto his back. His eyes are still open, lifelessly baring into your own. His mouth is parted slightly but there’s no air coming in or out of it. That’s when you see the blood dripping down his face and pooled beneath his hair.

You wake up screaming.

“Hey-” Luke’s spinning and sitting up to position himself in front of you. He cups your face between his hands. “Hey, hey- you’re okay. You’re safe, I got you.”

But you shake your head. “It wasn’t me-”

Luke’s brown eyes narrow slightly, like he’s trying to understand.

“It was you,” you say, voice fading into a sob. “He t-told me that he k-” you swallow the lump in your throat, but it does little to make you stop crying. “He told me that he killed you. He told me you were dead.”

Just saying it outloud makes you erupt into a puddle of tears. You’re so distraught that you barely notice Luke pulling you into his lap on the couch.

He’s murmuring soothing words into your ear, but continues letting you cry into his chest. The numbness from earlier had completely worn off, and while you were scared and hurt- it felt good to feel something other than exhaustion.

You’re not sure how long you stay like that- curled into Luke’s chest sobbing into his cotton t-shirt. At some point, Luke had used his free hand to reach for the remote. He put your favorite show on the television. You’d seen every episode several times, but Luke knew it brought you comfort.

Your eyes were red rimmed and puffy and you sniffled weakly. “I’m sorry I’m keeping you from sleeping,” you whispered, when you were confident you wouldn’t burst into tears again.

Luke tightened his grip around you. “It’s okay,” he assures you. “We’re both concussed, and I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to sleep while you’re concussed, anyway.”

You smile.

Luke linked your hands together, looking down at you and giving you a soft smile. “I love you.” He whispered, lips pressing against the top of your head.

“I love you too.” you replied quietly.

Things were a mess. And you were sad and scared and it would probably take a lot of sleepless nights and painful sobs for you to get through this. Luke would be there to dry your tears though, just like he always was. And Luke would probably have to try harder to keep you feeling safe and eventually, you were going to have to talk about what happened.

But right now, wrapped in each other's arms on your shared couch, all you needed was each other.

#luke alvez fic #luke alvez imagine #luke alvez x reader imagine #luke alvez fanfiction #luke alvez angst #luke alvez fanfic #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez x reader fanfic #luke alvez x reader fanfiction #luke alvez x reader fic #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader fanfic #criminal minds x reader fic

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adhdeancas · 4 years ago

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Dean Winchester (and the script leaks last night) possessed me to write this.

Dean happens upon Chuck's latest book: Carry On. Except it ends differently than it really went, and the ending? It's really fucking bad.

tw: suicide mention, transphobia (quickly shut the fuck down)

Dean doesn’t make a habit of going to bookstores. Not because he hates books, contrary to what Sam might think; he just prefers to buy used books. There’s something comforting about a book that has already been worn and read over and over, that already shows how much the previous owner loved it. Plus, y’know, big corporations are evil and all that. And Dean only allows himself to overlook that when his stomach or his wallet wins over his hatred of the shitty mass-produced products.

This time it was Jack who won; he’s obsessed with this new fantasy series and the new book just came out, so there’s no way he can hunt it down on Ebay. He makes his way to the fantasy and sci-fi section, eyes roaming over the displays of new releases, and his eye catches on something that turns his blood cold.

“Supernatural: Carry On, The Final Book of the Winchesters’ Epic Journey” takes up a whole table, the generic and overly serious cover jeering out at him.

He storms over to the display, anger covering up for the way his body feels light as a feather and like lead all at once, and picks up a book. “Why is Sam always fucking shirtless?” he mutters, the only thought that allows itself from the mess inside his head to his mouth.

“Book sales.” A voice behind him says. He turns to see a teenager with their arms crossed over their work polo, pierced lip fixed into a customer-unfriendly frown.

“People want to see that?”

They snort, a small grin turning up the corner of their lips. It reminds Dean of Cas. “No. But that’s what advertisers think all ‘women’ want,” They use air quotes.

He raises an eyebrow and asks. “Women?”

They shrug and uncross their arms, leaning back against the display table behind them. Their nametag says Jadyn. “Supernatural’s biggest block of readers is queer. I’d go out on a limb and say a lot of those the marketers think of as ‘women’ aren’t, or if they are, they aren’t itching to see Sam’s six pack.” Jadyn smirks.

Dean takes a second to digest that, then grins down at the book, thinking past Sam’s apparently badly-received nudity now. “So how’d they like it?” he asks, waving the book a bit and looking up at Jadyn. Apparently they know a lot about the fans of the books, and for once, he’s proud of the way the story ended.

Jadyn’s face sets into all hard lines. “Most people fucking hated it.” they say bluntly, then, probably remembering that he’s a customer, correct. “Sorry. I mean, it got some good reviews, mostly from people who like Wincest, but beyond that, it had some problematic plot points.”

Dean winces at the reminder of the ship between him and his brother, then scrunches his whole face together in confusion. “Wait, what? Why?” Why would Wincest fans like it? What was problematic about their end?

Jadyn shifts from foot to foot. “I don’t wanna spoil anything for you-”

“I don’t care about spoilers, just give me the short version.” Dean says quickly. A quiet panic is rising in him, and suddenly he has a horrible feeling that he’s not holding the truth in his hands anymore.

“Uh, okay… Well, the most obvious thing is the bury-your-gays thing, then there’s the fact that it completely contradicted the rest of the lore. And it was ableist, misogynistic, and messed up, like, every character’s arc.” they take a breath, clearly worked up by it. “Even if they changed any of the details too, it was all built on Dean’s death, and that’s just bullshit. Sorry.” they apologize again, apparently mistaking Dean’s stricken expression to be in reaction to their rant and swearing.

“No, nah, you’re… you’re okay. Uh, thanks.” he waves a hand and wanders away from them, only remembering Jack’s book when he’s almost to the register. He manages to make his way back and find the damn thing, but he’s still in a fog when he gets to the register.

“Did anyone help you in the store today?”

“Huh?” he looks up and meets the middle-aged cashier’s gaze for the first time. Brent, from the nametag, looks at him impatiently. “Oh, yeah, uh… Jadyn. Jadyn helped me.” Brent scoffs and starts typing with a shake of the head. “Uh, is there a problem?” Dean asks, a little annoyed at this cashier’s unnecessary attitude. He usually doesn’t care if an employee’s rude, because they have to deal with assholes all the time and honestly Dean isn’t much better, but this one gives him a bad feeling.

“No, no, sorry. It’s just - “Jadyn’s” got this idea that he’s a girl. Makes everybody call him that name now too. Just-” Brent shakes his head. “I mean, you get it. Their generation, everybody wants to be special.”

Dean glares. “No, I don’t get it, Brent.” He says through gritted teeth. “Seems to me like Jadyn probably deals with enough assholes like you that her asking for a little basic decency is the exact opposite of special. Sounds pretty normal, actually.” He can see the fear creep into Brent’s eyes, and he knows the cashier is reacting to the murderous look in his eyes more than his actual words.

Brent hands Dean his bag of books with a quiet, “Here you go.”

Dean snatches it away. “Oh, Brent?” he checks over his shoulder to make sure they’re alone and then leans across the counter into Brent’s space. “You should find a new job, one where you don’t have to interact with other people. At least until you learn how to stop being a piece of shit.” He starts to ease away but thinks better about it. “And if you think that’s a suggestion, it’s not. My husband likes this book coming out next month that I’ll need to buy, and if I see you here when I come, well… it would be really embarrassing for you to tell all your little friends that you got your ass beat by a ‘special’ guy, huh?” He pats Brent on the cheek condescendingly and leaves with a huff.

Damn transphobes.

He only remembers the book once he’s back in Baby, and he takes the time to drive out of town before he pulls over to read it. It’s an old abandoned church, the cross long since fallen from the roof and the doors hanging off their hinges. He sits on the steps just because being in Baby seems claustrophobic for once in his life, and going back to the bunker to look at this is just… not happening.

Dean only skims the beginning to see that it starts the same. The ground erupting with bodies, hell spitting out its most-conveniently placed nasties, Rowena sacrificing herself, Cas leaving. His throat closes up at that, at Chuck’s description of Cas’s heartbroken expression as he climbs the stairs of the bunker. He clears his throat and skips to the end, right past Cas’s death that he doesn’t have the time to think about right now, past them defeating Chuck and then stops. He goes back a few pages, trying to find the disconnect.

The story’s different.

After Jack takes on God’s power, in the book, he’s totally fine. Not almost vibrating out of his skin or anything, not crying like the three year old he is because he’s scared. Not like it really happened. He just smiles and leaves him and Sam, and they let him go.

Dean scoffs, skimming over the story as it just gets more ridiculous.

In the book, he doesn’t even try to save Cas. They barely even mention him. And they never mention Eileen, either. In fact, Dean notes disbelievingly, practically the only characters in the last few chapters are him and Sam. They’re hunting again.

“What, is Chuck trying to keep the series going?” he whispers to himself, anger flaring through him. They let Chuck live, and he decided to write obnoxious fanfiction about them? He’s gonna kill that shameless little fucker. For real, this time. He deserves it.

In the book, Sam and Dean torture some vampire mime, and they enjoy it. Dean cringes; this is really what Chuck thinks of them. Then they tussle with more vamps in a barn and-

Dean’s brain stops working. He rereads the scene again and again.

“There’s something in my… something in my back. It feels like it’s right through me.”

Dean Winchester dies in a dirty barn, on a piece of freaking rebar.

More than that, Dean realizes on his fourth read-through. This Dean? He tried to drag out his speech, Dean can tell by the way he pauses for fucking drama. He would never do that. He would never talk to Sam for fifteen hellish minutes when he could be trying. Trying to live, so he can actually get his life back on track, get his family back. No, he made that speech stalling. He made that speech so Sam wouldn’t try to save him.

“You gotta admit, I had one helluva ride.” He was strangely calm.

Chuck made him kill himself.

Dean reads the rest of the book through blurry eyes, reading an ambiguous and nothing-ending, one where he’s somehow happy to be dead and driving around in heaven alone while Sam raises a kid into hunting and cries about Dean decades after he’s died. Eileen isn’t mentioned. Cas is mentioned once, and Bizzarro-Dean doesn’t even think about seeing him, apparently. The whole book ends with a hug between him and Sam, both dead. Both alone.

Dean rips the ending up. He tears through the stupid paper covering and keeps ripping the pages up until they’re the size of confetti. His lower lip wobbles. He throws the whole thing against the side of the building, and it tumbles through the broken doorway and drops into a pile of dust and dirt. “That isn’t the fucking ending.” he grounds out, knocking his hand against the flimsy handrail. It gives a little under his fist and he kicks at it. “That isn’t the fucking ending!”

He’s having a panic attack. Again. He tries to take deep breaths, but they’re gulping, too big, they’re making him panic more. He scrambles back to Baby and grabs his phone, presses the first number on his favorites list and waits for him to answer on speaker phone.

“Hey Dean, what’s up?” Sam sounds like he’s been laughing. There are voices in the background, and Dean tries to convince himself one of them is Eileen.

“Hey Sammy.” he chokes out, trying to sound normal. “You busy?”

There’s a pause, and then the sounds in the background. “Nah, Rowena’s just over.” he says casually.

“So those voices in the background were-”

“Rowena and Eileen, yeah. They’re trying to convince me we need to go to Mexico. For the beaches.” A smile in his voice. Dean lets out a sigh of relief. What’s up, Dean? You need something?” The smile drops, and Sam’s worried.

Sam’s okay. Sam’s okay. “No, nah. Hey, you heard from Donna lately?” Dean just needs to triple-check.

“Uh, no, not since Sunday dinner… Dean, you okay?”

“Yeah, she just- she hasn’t been answering my texts. Just wanted to make sure.” Dean lies quickly. His breathing is still uneven, but his body is settling into uneven shakes.

Sam sounds skeptical. “Yeah, well, she did tell us it’s been pretty busy at work lately. Y’know, everybody going out for the first time with COVID, getting stupid. Plus, y’know, nowhere’s drowning in EMTs right now.”

“Right. Yeah.” Dean takes a deep breath, a distant memory of Donna talking about that coming back to him.

“Pretty sure you were setting up a D&D session with Charlie while she was talking about that,” Sam laughs. Dean knows he means it as a subtle jab, but there’s too much relief flooding through him to care. Still, a string is pulled taut in him, and Sam can’t fix that completely.

“Gotta go, Sam,” Dean hangs up before Sam can say anything else, and goes to his next contact. It rings for far too long, and Dean’s heartbeat picks back up to thundering.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas,” Dean breathes out. “Cas, you know I love you, right?” He needs to test all the bounds of this, to make sure, just to make sure. Make sure Chuck isn’t still fucking with him. Because apparently, Chuck won’t let him be queer. Not in his story. Not out loud.

He can hear Cas’s eyebrow raise through the phone, and his chest is overcome with stupid fondness. “I would be a little worried if you didn’t.”

Dean grins widely. “Like, romantically. I’m in love with you. Because you’re the love of my life and I’m bisexual.” He says it all like it’s a checklist, like he expects some cosmic being to slap a hand over his mouth before he gets each next phrase out.

“Yes, Dean. We’ve been married almost two months.” Cas is smiling. It happens everytime he talks about their wedding. Dean adores it. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, now it is.” His whole body relaxes, still vibrating with leftover panic, but satisfied. “I got Jack’s book.”

“Oh, good. He’ll be so pleased.” Cas pauses. “Dean, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Dean eases off the ground and sends a last look at the dilapidated church before climbing into Baby. “Just- read a bad book. I’ll tell you about it later. When I get home.”

#i fixed it #god fucking damn it #dean winchester #destiel #saileen #saileena #sam winchester #castiel #eileen leahy #castiel winchester #jack kline #roweena #my writing #ficlet #deancas #trans dean #trans woman OC #tw: transphobia #tw: suicide mention

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sokkascroptop · 4 years ago

Text

More Than Friends (sokka x f!reader)

A/N: Here's a lovely little one-shot written for Nina's (@fromthewatertribe) 1K challenge!! This is technically a modern! AU with a female reader but if one was to think that this Y/N is the same Y/N from Traitor I wouldn't stop you ;)

Years ago… not literally since this blog is like 3 months old, but Like Way Back When I Started writing Traitor, someone mentioned a Modern AU… and I wrote like, a full outline for it… fully not expecting to do anything with it. Well, today is the day. Here you have it, Sokka x Y/N modern au, but like only just a stitch of it since I might want to go somewhere with this eventually. I am purposefully leaving out the explicit content that I wrote for ✨reasons✨

When you come home from work and you notice your front door is unlocked and you know for a fact that you locked it before leaving for work, a normal person’s first thought would be to call the police. Y/N was not a normal person.

She turned the doorknob to her and Katara’s apartment as quietly as she could. As she stepped inside she peered around the living room. No one. Without looking away she felt along the wall for the softball bat she kept propped just inside the door.

“It’s for protection, Katara!” She would always say whenever Katara opened the door a bit too far and sent the bat sliding down the wall to clang against the hardwoods. Katara hated that bat. Y/N, in the moment, loved it.

Y/N slowly started creeping towards the hallway that led to her bedroom and bathroom, but a sudden noise from the kitchen startled her. She backtracked and stood just outside the doorway, the bat hefted in the air, ready to roll heads in a moment’s notice.

She jumped when she heard another noise, like metal scraping on metal, followed by someone singing quietly under their breath. What kind of robber does that?!

“Whoever is in there, I have a bat and I’m not afraid to use it!” Y/N yelled.

She heard a laugh and then a head peeked around the corner. Sokka smiled at her defensive stance. “Still thinking about using it?”

Y/N let out a heavy sigh of relief and dropped her arms, letting the top of the bat hit the floor. She could feel the pounding of her heart slow. “Why do you do this to me?”

Sokka frowned and held up a spatula. “I am literally making you food. Don’t be snotty.”

Y/N’s eyes widened and she rushed forward. “What are you making me? I don’t smell anything.” She stood on her tiptoes to look over Sokka’s shoulder.

Sokka placed his hands on her shoulders and pressed her back down to flat-feet. “I just started. Patience. Go shower or something and I’ll be done when you get back.” He turned her around and gave her a gentle push out of the kitchen.

“What would I do without you?” Y/N asked over her shoulder.

She was met with a very exasperated groan. “Well apparently, neither you or Katara would ever eat. There was nothing in your fridge!”

Y/N hid a giggle behind her hand as she walked to the bathroom. It was true, she and Katara lived on take-out most of the time.

---

Y/N did what Sokka told her to and took her time in the shower, letting the warm water relax her tense muscles. Between classes and work, she barely had any time to do anything; cooking and showers longer than five minutes included.

The food was even better than she had hoped; she tried to remember the last time she had a meal that wasn’t from a box or off a take-out menu.

“It was alright,” Y/N shrugged as she licked the edge of her spoon and set her empty bowl on the center table. She leaned back on the couch and wrapped her blanket tighter around her shoulders.

Sokka scoffed. “I can tell since you practically licked the bowl clean.”

Y/N leaned forward and grabbed the tv remote. “Shut it,” she murmured with a smile. “You could have eaten some too you know.”

“Nah, I put the leftovers in the fridge for you and Katara tomorrow. I can’t be here cooking every night.”

“Why not? I’d like that.”

Sokka rolled his eyes. “Of course you would, you’re obsessed with me.”

Y/N scoffed. “You were the one who let himself into my apartment to make me dinner. Sounds like you’re obsessed with me! Do I need to revoke your key?”

“That’s it. I’m taking the leftovers and leaving.” Sokka made to stand but Y/N wrapped her hands around his bicep.

“Can you stay for a bit? I wanna watch something scary and I can’t do that by myself.”

Sokka snuggled in next to her under the blanket. “Sure thing.”

---

It was about halfway through the movie when the exhaustion of the day hit her. Y/N slid down further on the couch and rested her cheek against Sokka’s shoulder.

“You’re not going to fall asleep on me, are you?” Sokka murmured, just louder than the tv.

“I’m just preparing to hide my face is all.”

At that, Sokka lifted his arm and she slid under it and pressed her cheek against his chest. She was warm and content and she definitely could have fallen asleep had the music of the movie not begun to change. It was something faster-paced and anxiety inducing.

Much like she anticipated, the next scene made her gasp in fear and jump half-way into Sokka’s lap.

Sokka chuckled. “Are you okay?” His hands settled on her hips, holding her close.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Yeah, of course. I’m not even scared.”

“Do we need to get your bat? For protection from the clown on the television?” Sokka’s hands didn’t move from her, in fact Y/N was sure they tightened when she began to move away. So she stopped.

Y/N felt a little breathless. Probably just from the scary movie.

“Maybe. You think it’ll help?” There was a stillness in the air between them and Y/N realized how close they had gotten in the moment.

“Yeah, I think you can take him,” Sokka whispered. His words were meant to be banter but it didn’t feel like it anymore, not with the way Sokka was looking at her with eyes that were so dark they looked like the night sky.

Y/N leaned in first. She was drawn towards him like a magnet. She had lost all self control and for the first time Y/N just wanted to know what he tasted like.

The second their lips connected, Y/N waited for Sokka to move away. To detach himself from her and push the blanket away and make some excuse about how he had to be up early and let himself out. So she was all the more pleased when he didn’t.

The kiss was slow and chaste and hesitant as if both of them were waiting for the other’s revulsion. But it never came.

One second, Y/N was high in the clouds and the next she was standing and pacing in the middle of the living room, the movie in the background long forgotten.

“Oh my spirits, Sokka!”

“What? It wasn’t bad, was it?” The smirk on his face was clear. This was not a one-sided thing.

Y/N’s thoughts swirled in her head. Was she missing something? Because unless she was hallucinating, Sokka definitely just kissed her back and then acted like it was normal for two best friends to do that.

It didn’t matter what she was thinking, her mouth answered for her. “Well, no but–”

Sokka’s smile widened and Y/N blushed.

He reached out and grabbed her hand. “That’s great, let’s do it again.”

“But you’re my best friend! And Katara!” Y/N’s head felt it was going to explode. “Katara is my best friend too!”

She twisted her hand around, not pulling away but sliding their fingers to interlock them. She sat back down on the couch, trying to remember where she was before. Was she too close now? Too far away? She didn’t want to send the wrong message. What was the right message?

He smiled knowingly at her. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Of course I know that...”

Sokka was slowly pulling her closer to him with the grip on her hand and Y/N was completely letting him.

This time when they kissed, she could feel him smiling against her lips. Not that Y/N wasn’t doing the same thing. Sokka! Her brain screamed. She was actually kissing Sokka and she liked it!

Y/N pulled away and let out a little giggle. She didn’t even have time to ask him what they were doing when Sokka pulled her back in for another kiss.

“Stop moving away from me,” He murmured. His thumb traced her jawline and the other hand was on her thigh.Y/N’s heart raced as she began to wonder how far this was going to go.

All thoughts were quickly dashed as Y/N parted her lips and Sokka slipped his tongue inside. She grabbed his wrists and pushed his hands off of her.

Sokka jerked away suddenly, his face a mask of horror, clearly concerned that somewhere he had crossed the line. However, Y/N was thinking the opposite. Maybe he hadn’t quite gone far enough.

She climbed over his legs to straddle him and pressed his hands into the back of the couch. Sokka’s eyes widened and Y/N gave a little shrug before she kissed the corner of his mouth. She trailed down his jawline and neck, placing soft kisses along the way. She stopped at his collarbone, leaving a love bite that made Sokka groan.

Y/N let go his hands to take out his ponytail because she just wanted to run her fingers through his hair like she knew he liked. Sokka took that opportunity to grab her waist and pull her closer, as if they weren’t already flush against each other.

They were kissing again, hard, as if this was the only thing left in the world. Sokka’s teeth clacked painfully against hers but it didn’t stop either of them. They just needed to be closer. Just them. Together. Sokka’s hands roamed over her body, never stopping in once place for too long, like he was trying to make up for lost time that he wasn’t able to touch her in this way.

Y/N broke away even though every muscle in her body told her not to and sat back on Sokka’s thighs. Sokka swiped a thumb over her bottom lip and Y/N grinned.

She shook her head in disbelief as she tried to wrap her mind around the last few minutes. Her fingers traced over his cheekbones and jaw as she tried to memorize this feeling of pleasure and excitement in one. She needed to remember the look in Sokka’s eyes in case this never happened again.

“How did we get here?” She asked softly.

“I think it was a long time coming.” Sokka mirrored the smile on her face.

“Yeah?”

“We’re more than friends and you know it. Always have been.”

“Well, I wish you would have said something sooner,” Y/N pouted. “We could have been doing this a long time ago.”

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