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cozage · 1 year ago

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The Daughter's Return Part 3

Chapter 11: Lava and Ice, Together Again

Start From Beginning | Next Chapter | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 1.9k

It took you almost two weeks to find Whitey. The solo sloop you had bought in Nanohana didn’t fare well in storms, so any time you got close to a weather phenomena, you had to reroute. And you got into some kind of weather problem at least once a day.

But weather wasn’t the only issue. Large ships saw you as an easy target, even with you flying your father's flag, and you always had to stop and recuperate after the battle. Just simple lava blasts winded you now; the baby slowly sapping your energy. Sometimes it was easier to run; you were quicker and more skilled on the ocean than the new pirates. But they were relentless, chasing you even as you faded from view, leaving you on edge and constantly looking over your shoulder.

At night you had to stop sailing and rest, or else you would pass out from fatigue in the middle of the day and end up miles off course. You still got sick occasionally, mostly in the morning. You had to force yourself to eat, though you couldn’t really taste food anymore. You did enough to survive. Nothing more.

It didn’t help that Whitey had a much larger ship, and seemed to be doing her own important tasks as well. There would be nights you’d fall asleep with the ship pointed in the right direction, just to wake up the next day and the card pointed a completely different way.

You almost gave up. You almost stepped off the boat and sunk into the ocean to join Thatch. But anytime you got close to the edge, your will to live ignited again, pushing you onward against your wishes.

Even though you were alone, you weren’t really. You had the baby and Ace’s hat to keep you company. And those two reminders of the life to come were enough to keep you away from the ship’s edge.

You didn’t cry for the entire two weeks you spent in solitude. You wanted to. But you couldn’t work up the energy. It was hard enough finding the energy to exist. You couldn’t spare thoughts or emotions for anyone else. It was survival mode. If you let your mind wander too much, the water started looking a bit too enticing. So you didn’t think. And you didn’t cry.

But when you saw Whitey’s ship flying your father’s flag, you finally broke down and sobbed. You blasted a weak stream of lava into the air and hoped that Whitey would understand it was you who was signaling her.

An ice bridge formed from your ship to hers, and you sprinted across it, slipping and sliding as you scrambled to find her.

“Whitey?!” You screamed out, making your way up to the deck.

“Y/N?!?” Whitey called out, rounding a corner and finding you. “What are you doing here?!? You’re supposed to be with-“

You slammed into her, wrapping your arms tightly around her torso, and began sobbing into her shoulder.

She held you, rubbing you back and softly shushing you as you cried. She didn’t rush you. She just held you, completely unbothered by the tear stains you were getting on her captain's outfit.

“It’s too much,” you sobbed into her shoulder, taking quick, unsteady breaths as you spoke. “I can’t do it anymore, Whitey.”

“Of course you can,” she whispered. “You’re so strong and brave. It’s gonna be just fine.”

Her words always soothed you, but you found yourself sobbing even harder into her shoulder. Just having one of these experiences would be life altering for you, but they were stacked atop one another, weighing you down and waiting for you to break.

“Ace abandoned me,” you cried. “He left me in Alabasta and went on without me to-” you sobbed, unable to finish your sentence. “And Thatch-”

“Let’s go call Pops, okay? He’ll know what to do.”

You pulled away, wiping at your puffy eyes. “Okay.”

Your stomach dropped at the thought of contacting your father, but you missed him so much. You missed your entire family. You and Ace never should’ve gone on this revenge mission. You just wanted to be home again, safe on your father’s ship.

“Captain Whitey,” a young boy interrupted you. “The News Coo came in.”

Whitey shot him a glare. “Can it wait, Skip?”

“Quite frankly, ma’am, no.” He held up the front page, which showed a picture of Teach. “A new warlord was named today.”

“What?” You hissed, snatching the paper from him and scanning the page. “How did he get warlord status? Whose position did he take?”

“Crocodile’s,” Whitey answered, looking at the paper over your shoulder. At least Luffy had been successful. At least Alabasta was safe.

“It’s not clear how he got the position,” Skip said. “All the report said was that he turned in a high-bounty pirate to the world government.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “How high?”

“It could be anyone,” Whitey said quickly, resting her hand on your back.

You felt dizzy. Like the world was spinning. A high bounty pirate could be anyone, but it was most likely someone you knew. Someone you loved. Someone who had been looking for Teach in the first place.

You felt your knees give out, and the world went dark.

You were back at your tiny stone cabin that overlooked the ocean. But Ace was nowhere to be found.

“I warned you. You pushed your luck.” Sengoku’s voice rang out as he walked up next to you.

“Let me trade places with him,” you pleaded. “Take me instead.”

“I don’t make deals with pirates.” He chuckled, and you thought you could hear remorse in his voice. “Everything is about to change because of this. The Great Pirate Era will finally come to an end.”

“Please-“

Strong arms wrapped around you, heat enveloping you. “I told you I’d get revenge,” Akainu’s husky’s voice whispered into your ear.

“Please-” you struggled, trying to get out of his grasp. “Sengoku, please! We won’t cause anymore problems, I promise!”

“You won’t,” Akainu laughed maniacally. “Because you’re both going to die.”

You woke with a start, the room pitch black around you. Your stomach churned with discomfort, and you realized your bracelet had been taken off while you slept.

You used your powers to emit a soft glow, searching for the hint of green you had come to hate and love over the past few weeks. You finally found it in a bedside table drawer, and you quickly put it on.

“Sorry,” you whispered softly to your stomach, giving it a light pat. “Please don’t make me puke in front of everyone.”

Your stomach settled slightly, but your body was still tense from anxiety. Your dream had left you nervous. You needed answers. You needed to find Ace. He would know what to do about this whole thing. Seeing him would make everything okay again.

But first, you had to get his vivre card from Whitey. Once you had that, you could set off on your own to find him again. You walked outside, and you were shocked to discover it was still midday. You had expected it to be far later.

You roamed the ship, finally locating the captain's quarters and knocking lightly on the door.

“Come in!” Whitey yelled.

You opened the door to find about 10 people in her office, all of them moving around and writing things on various pieces of paper. Everyone stopped the moment they realized you were there, looking at each other and their captain nervously.

“Everybody out,” Whitey commanded with a sharp tongue, and her subordinates dropped what they were doing and filed out the door instantly.

“How do you feel?” Whitey walked over to you, her hand rubbing over your forehead and cheeks.

“Okay,” you admitted. “Little queasy. How long was I out for?”

“You should sit down,” Whitey offered, holding you arm and guiding you to the sofa.

You knew her well enough to know what she was doing.

“Whitey, don’t avoid the question. How long was I out?”

She sighed in defeat. “Two days.”

“Two days?!” You scanned the room, searching for a newspaper.

“Are you wearing sea prism?” Whitey asked, touching your bracelet and instantly pulling away. “Are your emotions that out of control right now?”

“No, I-“ you stopped, looking at her. This was Whitey. If you couldn’t trust her, you couldn’t trust anyone.

“I’m pregnant.”

Her mouth dropped open, and you could tell she was trying to find the right thing to say.

“The father is…?”

“Ace,” you confirmed. “But we haven’t told anyone yet. Marco might know, though.”

Her eyes darted down to your stomach. “Are you excited?”

You paused, trying to think of a way to appropriately convey your emotions.

“I’m scared out of my mind, Whitey.” You gave a nervous laugh. “I can’t use my powers, I’m sick all the time, and I don’t know what emotions are from the baby and what’s from grief.

“Ace has been perfect though. I can tell he’s scared. He pampers me a bit too much, if you ask me.” Tears filled your eyes again. “It’s the reason he left me behind when he went to fight Teach.”

“Oh, baby,” Whitey wrapped you in a hug, squeezing you tight. “We’ll get through this. I talked to Pops when you arrived and let him know you were here. He seemed to be relieved, and told me to contact him as soon as you woke up.”

“Yeah, we should probably do that,” you groaned. Marco had definitely told him about your bloodwork. You were going to be in so much trouble. “I’m sure he has plenty of things to yell at me about.”

Whitey shook her head. “I think he’ll just be relieved to hear from you.”

“Before we call him,” you took a deep breath. “I need Ace’s vivre card to get back to him. I lost it in Alabasta when-” you hadn’t thought through your lie well enough, but it didn’t matter. Whitey cut you off.

“I can’t give that to you.” Whitey pulled away from you, but she grabbed both of your hands and held them tight. “Let’s talk to Pops first.”

“What?” You chuckled, unsure of what she meant. Fear swam in her eyes, and your heart sank.

“I need you to understand it’s going to be okay,” Whitey said. “Everything will be okay.”

“Whitey, what?” Your chest was tightening. You knew what was coming.

She looked too nervous, like she was debating on if she should tell you. It was clear instructions had been given to her, and she was weighing the decision to break protocol.

“The Navy confirmed that they captured Ace,” she finally said. “They’re in the process of escorting him to Impel Down now.”

You held her hands in a vice grip, trying to keep yourself from hyperventilating. “Then what?” You whispered.

“Y/N-“

“Then what, Whitey?”

“Public execution,” she whispered, tears pooling in her eyes. “The date hasn’t been set yet. We still have time.”

“No,” you whispered. You looked around for something, anything. You had to get out of here. You had to go save him. You couldn’t do this without him. You couldn’t breathe without him.

“We have time,” she said again. “Pops isn’t going to let him die. You know that. So let’s get him on the phone and talk to him first, okay?”

You could feel bile pooling in your throat. Apparently the baby wasn’t going to be cooperative today. You couldn’t blame it.

“I think I need to go throw up first.”

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#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #portgas ace x you #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #ace x y/n #ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas d. ace #cozage #✧˚ace✧˚

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hazbinextgeneration · 1 year ago

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(John) Doe Eyed Ch1 Welcome To Uncanny Valley

Moving out of your house and into a new place is a new experience for anyone. Especially if you have an eldritch abomination that claims to love you.

(Contains oc x cannon ships. John Doe, House Hunted, all related characters, and Uncanny Valley belongs to Mortisfox.)

-PROLOGUE- She's heard it all. Really she has. "You'll never make it on your own out there! Getting a job can't be that hard! You just need to work harder like your brother!" "Honestly you think wasting whatever money you have left to move to the middle of nowhere is a good idea? No wonder you never excelled in class." "Like I know you're down on your luck, Dude, but is moving back in with your parents really that bad? They're loaded and you'd be set for life!' "You're actually insane if you want to move to somewhere you've never even been. I thought you were smarter than that." "You worry too much. Just settle down and work harder." No. No. No. AND ABSOLUTELY NOT!!! It was true she was not that great with her luck in fact she had some of the most terrible luck she had ever seen in another person. But that wouldn't stop her from trying her best to live her life the way SHE wanted and without the influence of those who'd rather want her to live the way they wanted her too or take some advice they shot at her and then got mad when she didn't fall through with it or she didn't act the way they wanted her too or become what they wanted her to become. No. She had her own problems with her family. Her own experiences. And her life here. It was time to move on.

A fresh start to a new place was exactly what she needed .

A nice place she could just set up shop and start a new with new faces and people who wouldn't know her. That was a good idea to make new friends and leave behind the people who didn't who only brought her down. Good bye mother. Good bye stepfather and brother. And good bye to her old life.

Good bye and good riddance and hello new life!

It was a golden opportunity for her to travel abroad so easily and with the help of possibly the only other person who'd understand her. She'd be able to get away from it all at last. It was really the only option she could see. Otherwise she'd be stuck in the same endless loop for the rest of her life so..It wasn't a hard choice to pack up what little belongings she had and boarded a plane to the unknown land she'd hopefully call home.

A bump of a head against cool glass stirred light pain throughout the skin that made contact with it.

"Ow."

A hand immediately responded by reaching up to press against the part of her head that had bumped against the window and she hissed a curse opening her eyes to the sights before her. Well this definitely wasn't a window on a plane. No. No plane would be on the ground anyhow. Not with the visions of the ground, grass, and roads she saw outside. Or had the giant plastic-y seats that could use an upgrade or even the giant wheels the bus had. And just her luck the vehicle had hit a bump on the road and lead her to hitting her forehead against the window waking her from what sleep she had gotten.

Commute from traveling hours on a plane and then a few more hours on a bus to a random meeting point with your cousin wasn't easy. High heights made her nervous and with the anxiety of traveling to an unknown place for the first time to live there permanently had driven a lot of sleep away. She had fallen asleep for a little while on the bus ride from the airport but not enough to make her not feel tired.

With a groan, her face settled in her hands and rubbed circles into the skin. "This sucks."

The seat felt uncomfortable against her back when she leaned back into it. Would everything work out here? She hoped it did. She didn't want to go back. Not now. She invested so much into everything else and it didn't work out. All she wanted was just one break and to make it work out. She wouldn't mind if it was tough. She could handle tough. All she needed was the chance for it to not flop. She paused again as another sound filled her senses. One that wasn't the sounds of the bus's engine, the small murmers of talking from what few people were on the bus with her, or the occasional sigh she gave. It was a cheery tone. One of a small but catchy little tune that was instantly recognizable to her ears.

Her phone was ringing.

She blinked. Before in an instant hands scrambled to pat down her body. Pockets and backpack before digging out the device she was looking for in a back pocket. The pink covered phone cover displayed the screen inside as an incoming call. It was only natural she'd flip it on and curiously hold it to her ear effectively stopping the noise.

"H-Hello?"

A calm, and nice reaction to her question was delivered from phone to ear. "Fae." She could practically hear the smile in her voice. "I thought your plane might've landed by now. Where are you?"

It took her tired brain to respond to the question but soon a small smile was given back to the one on the other side of the line. "I'm currently in the middle of nowhere." Her head slowly leaned up on the seat and stared at the ceiling. "I've been on the bus for hours. I swear my legs are gonna fall asleep forever by this point."

A chuckle escaped from the other side. "I would expect that much. I just wanted to make sure you were ok. I won't be able to meet up with you as planned because of work but you should be able to find your home alright."

"What? You're not coming?!"

A deep sigh was given. "There's a little...'problem' walking around that I've been trying to find and I don't know if I can see you today. It's all a part of my job."

Well that was just great. The one person she was hoping to see here and she won't be able to get to see her at all when she arrived! "Well what about tomorrow? Can you come see me then?"

"Yeah! Of course I can! Just...do me a favor. Just go straight to your apartment as soon as you get off the bus and wait there for me tomorrow. I uh...D-Dont want you to get lost in this place."

She could practically roll her eyes. "Rose, I'm not a child anymore. I'll be fine. But if it really makes you feel better, I'll go straight there. I need to unpack anyways."

"Great!" The voice on the other end sounded relieved. "You still have the map I mailed you right?"

She nodded despite the woman on the phone not being able to see her at all. "And the address of my apartment and the number of the apartment management. Don't worry. Besides if I get lost I'll just call you or ask someone for directions. I'll be perfectly fine."

A small hum came from the other side before the voice sighed. "Alright then. Just...do as you promised. Alright? Around here things aren't always what they seem."

Weird choice of words to describe living in a new city for the first time but she shrugged it off. "I will. See you tomorrow, Rose."

The call was hung up abruptly and the phone settled into her hands as she just looked up at the ceiling and proceeded to get lost in space. This was it. New place. New life. Fresh new start. She had this. She could do this.

One. Two. Three stops later and she stood up. A already a few people were getting off the bus or stepping off. Her stop. A backpack was slung over her shoulder. She walked towards the opening of the bus before it could move again. And stopping in front of the open doors. This was it it. Her first big step into her new life. She inhaled and with one last breath walked down the steps and out into her new horizon.

#john doe game #john doe x you #john doe fanart #john doe art #john doe horror game #john doe visual novel #your boyfriend john doe #john doe #John Doe Plus

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echantedtoon · 1 year ago

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(John) Doe Eyed Ch1 Welcome To Uncanny Valley

Moving out of your house and into a new place is a new experience for anyone. Especially if you have a Eldritch abomination that claims to love you.

(Contains oc x cannon ships. John Doe, House Hunted, all related characters, and Uncanny Valley belongs to Mortisfox.)

A fresh start to a new place was exactly what she needed .

Good bye and good riddance and hello new life!

A bump of a head against cool glass stirred light pain throughout the skin that made contact with it.

"Ow."

With a groan, her face settled in her hands and rubbed circles into the skin. "This sucks."

Her phone was ringing.

"H-Hello?"

A calm, and nice reaction to her question was delivered from phone to ear. "Fae." She could practically hear the smile in her voice. "I thought your plane might've landed by now. Where are you?"

"What? You're not coming?!"

A deep sigh was given. "There's a little...'problem' walking around that I've been trying to find and I don't know if I can see you today. It's all a part of my job."

Well that was just great. The one person she was hoping to see here and she won't be able to get to see her at all when she arrived! "Well what about tomorrow? Can you come see me then?"

"Yeah! Of course I can! Just...do me a favor. Just go straight to your apartment as soon as you get off the bus and wait there for me tomorrow. I uh...D-Dont want you to get lost in this place."

She could practically roll her eyes. "Rose, I'm not a child anymore. I'll be fine. But if it really makes you feel better, I'll go straight there. I need to unpack anyways."

"Great!" The voice on the other end sounded relieved. "You still have the map I mailed you right?"

A small hum came from the other side before the voice sighed. "Alright then. Just...do as you promised. Alright? Around here things aren't always what they seem."

Weird choice of words to describe living in a new city for the first time but she shrugged it off. "I will. See you tomorrow, Rose."

#john doe #john doe game #john doe horror game #john doe visual novel #john doe x you #John Doe Eyed

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yippieitsarvensart · 1 year ago

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OH OH OH CAN I TALK ABOUT AUTISTIC HEADCANONS?? Okay okay- so I'll go in house order ajshdoakdhdjfkfj I'm so exicted!!!

Riddle is RIDDLED with autism and you can't change my mind. Like yeah his mom definitely has a big part on why he's Like That, but the need for routine?? The fucking MELTDOWN when things don't go as planned? When he feels he isn't being listened to/understood and it fills his blood with rage???? When he has trouble understanding tone (the most obvious one being sarcasm, but he's struggled with trying to discern if people are upset with him or not as well, same with patronizing/being teased!!) LIKE?????? He's just like me fr!!!!!

Cater is another that seems so obvious to me, like it's canon he has a way lower social battery than he let's on and he's masking like 24/7! And every autistic person I know is way more popular online than they are irl askgsksshvxkx, it's harder to be perceived as "off" through social media and I think he figured that out awhile ago

Jack's never ending energy when it comes to the things he loves, such as running or gardening? His strict moral code? His discomfort with expressing emotions? His sensitive/heightened senses? (That's probably just a beastman thing but shhhhh)

Literally the whole octatrio. Azul finds comfort in small enclosed spaces and compression, has canon comfort/security items and spaces, has safe foods and not safe foods, more prone to meltdowns than he'd ever let you believe.

You know how Azul needs compression? Yeah the twins HATE that shit, they don't like being restricted but you know what they DO like? Being the compressor! All 3 of them find comfort in giving a good squeeze, only Azul likes to receive the squeeze.

Floyd is SENSORY SEEK9NG ALL THE WAY, he needs loud music he needs to be THROWN he needs to eat rocks and do cartwheels and touch all the weird land textures!!! He HAS to or he's gonna EXPLODE!!!!!

Jade's special interest is mushrooms, that much is obvious, but i also would like to mention that he's kind of the middle ground between Floyd and Azul. He gets so bored and understimulated when everything is smooth sailing, nothing new, no chaos, BUT he needs controlled chaos. He needs chaos that isn't gonna throw him into a sensory overload ya feel? He needs some fun but a specific kind of (cough sadistic cough cough) fun that he controls like puppet master.

I'm gonna stop here so I don't go on forever but!! If you want I can continue!!! I have SO MANY THOUGHTS about these characters and their mental states :D

I LOVE THAT YALL ARE JUST RAMBLING TO ME NOWWW YEAHAHAHA yes yes please continue oh mymy god. I love autism hcs I LOVE HCS SO BAD Literally anyone out there. Come tell me about twst hcs. I'll go absolutely bonkers insane over them <333

Okay I get you so bad rn they're so real. Riddle autism was already so real to me and I love it when people can like actually properly explain how the hc WORKS like this like you make it WORK now I never did think of Jack as autistic, that... GUYS AUTISM TWISTED WONDERLAND REAL??? SO REAL>/????

I'M SO GLAD!!! YOU GET ME !!! WITH FLOYD!!!!!!! I've been fucking saying he needs that loud music and that action but. SLAMS FIST ON TABLE. NO ONE GETS ME. Like I just recently convinced someone that he'd be big on rock/metal music (like me) (I was projecting) because of how dancey it is because of how UPBEAT and CRAZY it can be sometimes!!!!!!!!!!!

Though I personally think that Floyd would be big on compression as well, he's always squeezing ppl but I think he'd also like it if someone squeezed him back. It never happens to him like ever but when it does he just melts. (mecore)

He and Azul wrap their tail/tentacles around each other and SQUEEEEEEZE!!!!!! And sometimes they fall asleep tangled around each other. Side note for that: /p btw I noticed I don't rlly ship the octatrio unless it's yuri jeiazu LOLL Jade being the only one who doesn't enjoy a lot of physical contact IS real to me though. (I love making the twins so #opposites but also #samezies)

#arvy asks #hc talk #gets me insane #YEAHAHAHAHA #YIPPIIEEE

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yesimwriting · 4 years ago

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Hello! Your Nikolai fic tranquility is so beautiful! Can you write more for Nikolai? Maybe the opposite with reader having a nightmare? Or whatever you want just please give me more! If you have a tagging list I'd love to be included btw :)

A/n hii!! first off,, thank you! i was a little nervous about writing him for the first time,, but i love him so much (even though i love a good villain/morally grey character in love i think nikolai would probably make the least toxic bf in the grishaverse lol)

you gave me a little too much freedom here lol bc i have so many ideas for him!! lowkey might need to give him a longer fic/series soon when i catch up with requests!! WOW THIS FIC IS SO LONG AND FOR WHAT

Summary: Reader is a handmaid who has grown up assisting Nikolai. Through the years, the two have developed a special relationship that most definitely breaks royal protocol--they’re best friends and rivals on a good day, and dangerously close to being something more the second either of them is remotely upset or extremely happy. Learning about the fact that Nikolai was almost engaged to Alina (a good friend of yours) and being reminded of the fact that as royalty Nikolai has many prospects (both serious women worthy of his title and women only suitable for trysts meant to relieve tension) has you both realizing something you should have years ago.

Word count: 31210

Warnings: disclaimer--may not be the most cannon thing ever,, but i wanted the ‘child of the help competes and falls in love with the child of royalty’ energy okay?? Lol

I could do a whole blurb series with this dynamic nikolai x reader,, like just stories of them growing up together and randomly realizing they might like each other romantically?? I probably shouldn’t rn but i ADORE this trope.

The perfection of the room is disappointing. Idle hands, idle thoughts--so I work to smooth out a perfect duvet. Still, the thoughts come--aggressive and unavoidable. It’s silly, maybe even sad, to feel possessive over something that’s never been yours, something that could never be yours, but the harder I fight off the feeling the stronger it grows. Jealousy is a weed growing quickly in my chest, vile roots planted firmly in my heart.

Normally my favorite part of the day would be waiting for Nikolai to return to his room in the palace after dinner and his evening duties. He’s always a bit softer in the evenings, during my last check-in of the day. I’m normally thrilled to be done organizing his room early because that means the second he arrives there will be no distraction. Most evenings, he’ll find me perched in the seat by his bed, reading. He’ll mock-scold me for daring to defy his orders and reading ahead from the book we both take turns reading aloud from each night. He then warns me that I better react exactly the way I did when I first read it or else. That threat is always followed by a gentle laugh.

Tonight I’m in no mood for our nightly banter or even our nightly reading. My mother had warned me of the dangers of getting too comfortable with the royal family. I should have heeded that warning when she first gave it to me, the morning she found Nikolai and I fast asleep on a couch in the library as children. The palace likes to bring up the children of the staff by training them to attend to the next generation of royals. It makes the staff more efficient, a lifetime of knowing what someone wants makes you better for them. It also creates some level of connection, making betrayal a little less likely. Nikolai and I might have taken it farther than most. But now I want a reminder of the way we’re supposed to be--maybe if I detach now the bleeding of my heart won’t kill me. That has to remain secret, because if I explain it to Nikolai something in me will break. The one line between us will be crossed.

This will be the sixth secret I’ve kept from Nikolai in my entire life.

The secrets:

I don’t know why I was picked for Nikolai. I wasn’t particularly skilled, but still, the day came when my mother was told that I now worked directly for the Lantsov boy. It’s an honor, a true one, but my mother had been a little nervous. To whom much is given, much is expected--and I detested Nikolai. Not for being a prince, but for being a prince who thought girls couldn’t race or fight.

The day my mother came looking for me because I never showed up for dinner and she found Nikolai and I attempting to fight in the way only a ten-year-old girl and eleven-year-old boy would, she had looked truly mortified. Nikolai had only laughed, either oblivious to my mother’s embarrassment or uncaring about it. He had then hugged me--an expression of care that had left me reeling. I saw him more as a rival than someone to tend to, but in that moment I saw him as a friend. Even more so when he told me he didn’t want me to go yet and that he was upset that so much of the day had been wasted by studies that kept him with boring people and away from me. And then he invited me to his lessons--my mother was quick to attempt to decline politely, but the desires of a prince at any age outweigh that of a mother.

After that, everyone kind of just stopped trying to remind us of our propriety. The tutor at first was concerned about my presence, but Nikolai remained stubborn. I wasn’t a big enough deal to cause an argument, so I began to attend lessons with him almost every day, only staying away when my mother needed aid with laundry or cleaning. His parents must have been somewhat aware of our friendship, but they must have been oblivious to our closeness because it was never mentioned.

My mother’s worry began to ease, she’d even started to take some pride when I’d come to our room proudly proclaiming that I scored two marks higher than Nikolai. She did, however, warn that it might be more tactful to let him score higher.

The comment was casual, just a suggestion, but it left me feeling wrong. It was the first time since we met that I had thought about our different statuses. I didn’t tell him--and that was the first secret I ever kept from him.

As we grew, we traded physical competition for academic rivalry, trying to best each other in both lessons and games of strategy like chess and cards. But with growing comes responsibility. Nikolai started to have obligations that were meant to be private. I couldn’t follow him at all times. But he’d always come back from locked door meetings grinning like he carried schoolyard gossip instead of government secrets. He shared everything with me, even when I playfully warned against it.

He’d always step closer when I teased that perhaps he shouldn’t tell me everything. And then he’d say, “If I can’t trust you, then I can’t trust anyone--and I don’t want to live in a world like that.” Often, he’d give my hand a light squeeze before moving on like he had not said anything intimate.

On a day in which Nikolai was in one of those meetings, I became a woman. When I first saw the blood, I had been horrified--but my mother was quick to explain that it was natural. She said that I was now a woman, a wonderful thing, really--but a thing that came with obligations. She told me that I could no longer have the impromptu ‘sleepovers’ with Nikolai unless he ordered it. I told her he’s never ordered me to do anything for him.

She didn’t ease, something in her had started to become nervous again. My mother had recently started to act the way she did when Nikolai and I first became friends. I didn’t want to fall asleep in Nikolai’s bed while I was bleeding, but I didn’t want to never have another sleepover with him again. Especially not when she refused to explain why being a woman changed so much.

I had decided to avoid Nikolai as much as possible until the sting of my mother’s new rule faded. Unfortunately, that night Nikolai was extra talkative--excited as he insisted I stay for a little longer. Soon, I found his familiar good naturedness melting away my nerves and before I knew it I was laughing in the middle of the night. When my eyelids started to feel heavy, I had moved from the chair, ready to head back to my room.

Nikolai had looked at me oddly before he asked why would I leave so late when it would be easier for me to just sleepover? It was an innocent question, he did not know about my change and I had wanted to keep it that way.

I tried playing coy, but Nikolai has always had a talent for getting around my better judgement. I don’t recall exactly how it happened, but I remember him standing in front of me. It was the first time I noticed how much had actually changed over the years--he was now taller than me for the first time in his life. His hair had started to grow a little longer, golden and soft-looking--and his face seemed much more angular. But he had not lost his boyish charm.

“Y/n?” My name fell softly from his lips, and that was the first time I had ever noted the fullness of them. I didn’t understand why I considered that something worth noting. “Did I do something to make you mad at me?”

Perhaps I had been a little curt--nerves and hormones had left me not feeling like myself. I didn’t tell him about the bleeding, I couldn’t. That became the second secret I kept from him--but I did tell him that my mother had told me I was a woman now, and that women can’t have sleepovers. Not with those of the opposite gender. I made no effort to hide my confusion because I expected him to be as perplexed as I was. But he was not confused--in fact, he had the audacity to laugh. My face flushed, but I did not know why.

“Why is that funny?” Maybe he thought I was still too much of a child to be considered a woman. I assumed it a fair assumption, I had not grown the way he had--my shoulders had not become sturdier and I had not become particularly broader. Still, I would rather melt into the floor than tell him about the reason my mother now considered me a woman. “My mother did say that, and I don’t know what being a ‘woman’ has to do with staying in your room at night.” Something strange had crossed over his features then, something much more brooding than I was used to.

I had blinked at him as unexplained nerves pooled in my stomach. Perhaps that look would have been enough to keep me silent if he had managed to not grin. That self-assured grin that had always challenged me. “Well since you know everything about my mother now, maybe you can tell me why she’s been acting strange. She’s starting to act the way she did when we first became friends.” I expected him to at least pretend to be worried. Perhaps his parents had spoken to her and had mentioned wanting our friendship to end. But his grin had only grown. Pride left me angry. “She did say that I could stay if you ordered it--but I’m glad you’ve never ordered me to do anything, so I can leave right now because you’re acting as odd as her. I don’t understand what you could find funny about our friendship ending.”

He had stopped me from storming out of his room by placing one hand on the wall between me and the door. “Y/n, don’t be cross--I’ll explain it all, I promise.” Angry pride made me want to storm away from him, but curiosity and something unknown and warm kept me in place. “Do you remember when we read the play about the rival families, how the two main characters had kissed?”

I remembered that part of the play especially well. The concept of kissing so casually, outside of marriage, had been jarring to me. “Yes.”

“Now that we’re older, your mother must be worried that we might do that.” He paused before leaning against the arm he placed on the wall to keep me from leaving a little more. “Kiss.”

The clarification was not needed--in that brief pause, I had allowed myself to imagine no distance between our lips. Something in me burned with embarrassment when I realized that some part of me found the thought appealing. The only thing I wanted in that moment was assurance that Nikolai would never know I felt that. That was my third secret, and the weight of it was heavy against my chest.

Still, though, all of my confusion had not yet left. “Is there much harm in a kiss?”

The question had left an odd smile on his lips. “There’s potential harm in what it could lead to for the woman, but not so much for the man.” He exhaled slowly as my face tensed. He could always read me too well because he was quick to add, “What it could lead to isn’t a bad thing, it’s meant to be pleasurable, but it’s serious.” I did not understand, but a part of me was starting to grow okay with that. Nikolai’s voice had started to become lower than ever, and his gaze remained tense. Perhaps if I accepted the confusion for now, things could go back to normal. If the conversation ended, I could stop thinking of his lips and his hands and what it would mean for them to touch me. “It’s considered a vice, like drinking or gambling.” The additional comment helped more than it should have. A vice--not scary and not painful, but not something to indulge in. That’s enough explanation for now. “If you want to know, I won’t deny you.”

I appreciated the offer tremendously. The vice that comes after kissing is clearly something that’s been intentionally kept from me. It’s something he was privy to that I was not, and he offered it to me like so much else. But if knowledge that my mother feared us kissing made me think of his lips, then I doubted I could handle knowing what comes after kissing.

“I’ll let you know when I want to know, but I appreciate the offer.” It felt like a fair response. His snarky grin came back immediately. Irritation rooted itself in my stomach. I hated not knowing more than him for once, but I still had one question I could not relinquish. “But what does that vice have to do with orders?”

At that, his smugness faltered. “It’s not unheard of, for princes and handmaids--for a prince to obligate a handmaid in order to fulfill his vice. Though many handmaids fill the vice of their own will for benefits.

The explanation left him like a confession. I didn’t understand his hesitance--it’s not like he’d ever make me do anything I didn’t want to do. Even when I worked, he was hesitant to ask me to go out of my way to bring him a glass of water. And I couldn’t imagine gaining anything from offering Nikolai something I didn’t really understand. I wasn’t naive to the fact that my life had more privileges than many palace servants. “Oh.”

His eyes hardened. “You know I’d never--”

“I know.” It was finally easy to smile again. “I never thought otherwise.” Something in him seemed to ease at that, his eyes went from hard to warm in less than a second.

I had no more questions for him and I was also no longer a flight risk, but Nikolai did not move. He did not step back to create a more appropriate distance and he did not drop his arm. His gaze, however, did move--dropping downwards, and slightly away from my eyes. I did the same, my eyes falling to his lips.

The silence between us began to make me feel like something in me was in danger of overflowing. “Then I guess my mother is once again worrying for no reason.” Strangely, I did not feel the need to feel embarrassed about staring at his lips. “Because I would never particularly want to kiss you, Nikolai Lantsov.”

The comment was meant to be teasing, a joke to clear away unknown tension. I should have known better than to challenge his pride because he instinctually moved his hand off the wall and beneath my chin. I did not flinch when he tilted my head upwards slightly with his fingers. “I could get you to want to kiss me if I wanted to.”

Three secrets in one night. I did not think I could bear a fourth one. “Hm…” The ground we treaded on felt unstable, but something in me trusted Nikolai to not let me falter. “I should--I should go before I give my mother anymore cause to worry.”

His fingers had brushed down my chin easily as he dropped his hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

And that he did. The days passed without mention of the last time he asked me to sleepover. It was as if nothing had changed except now I found myself noting things I most definitely did not want to note. These didn’t feel like individual secrets because it felt easy to group each admirational thought into one secret. Soon, that became my new normal--easy banter, easy touches of hands, and easy yet silent admirations of his beauty.

I never wandered too hard about what the vice that kissing can lead to entailed. I didn't particularly want to know, but knowing that I could ask Nikolai at any time brought a sense of security to me. But besides that, I never thought of that conversation until the day I was asked to look for Nikolai because he was late for dinner.

That in itself was odd, most of the time when Nikolai was late it was because he was with you. I checked his room, two other rooms he was known to frequent, and then finally the library. First, I noticed a handmaid two years older than me. I was finally at an age when one begins to compare their beauty to those around them, and I recognized the girl as gorgeous. She was better endowed than me, physically, and she always seemed fun. And then I noticed Nikolai, standing closer to her than I’ve ever seen him stand to anyone. His expression was serious as the girl giggled.

Nikolai’s expression shifted from tense to shocked when he saw me. “Y/n.”

It took me a moment longer than it should have to realize what I had interrupted. Guilt and jealousy were quick to twist in my stomach. “Dinner--your parents sent me to look for you.”

He was quick to walk around the girl, who was quick to glare at me. I attempted to disappear down the hall after mumbling a quick apology, but Nikolai was faster than me.

“Y/n,” he did not hesitate to grab my wrist.

It shouldn’t have irked me the way it did, after all, neither of us had ever really hesitated to touch each other. I had always reached for him when I wanted him, and he had done the same. But the thought of the same hands that touched the most beautiful girl I had ever seen on me left me bitter in a way I didn’t understand.

Still, I pushed through all of that. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything, your mother asked me to look for you because she assumed you’d be with me when you were late to dinner. I didn’t think that there’d be--”

“You didn’t interrupt anything.” The words came out flat as his eyes took on the same quality they did the night he explained my mother’s concern to me. “Valaria wishes there was something to interrupt, but there wasn’t.”

Oh. I refused to let the correction inflate me. “Would you like me to not come to your room tonight?”

The offer felt awkward to make. “No,” the answer came quickly, “In fact, go there now--I want to see you right after dinner. I’ve missed you today.” The instruction left my face feeling warm. “We could read an extra chapter of our book if you’d like.”

Despite myself, I grinned. “Yes.”

“Looking forward to it.”

True to his word, Nikolai was quick to return to his room. He had come back to me eagerly, going out of his way to squeeze my shoulder as he entered the room.

I opened the book to the chapter we had left off on, but before I could start reading, Nikolai stopped me. “Sit next to me?”

The question came softly. It had been some time since we sat next to each other on his bed. Still, I moved off of the chair and to his bed. Something in me longed for the familiar closeness of childhood. I allowed him to play with my fingers as I read.

“You know you could take one night off from me if you wanted to.” The admission left me softly, part of unsure if he was still paying attention to my words. “She was pretty, it wouldn’t have hurt my feelings if you told me you wanted me to not come tonight.”

Nikolai exhaled easily, squeezing my fingers once. “I said I wanted to see you and I meant it.”

It took all of my energy to push past the way his words made my stomach leap. “In general, if you ever--”

Nikolai cut me off by laying his head on my lap the way he used to. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” It was the first time in years that he spoke to me in a way that acknowledged his authority. “Keep reading please.”

And that was the last time we had ever mentioned other handmaids in that context. The fifth secret I ever kept from him was the way I worried that one day that would change.

The door creaks open while I’m in the middle of fluffing an already pristine pillow. Nikolai steps into the room, but I continue to work.

“Darling,” he breathes too easily, “Today has been painful.” I straighten, looking at him as casually as I can manage. “And now I have to deal with you being mad at me.”

Damn him and his ability to read me with one look. “I’m not mad.”

“You know you can’t lie to me,” he sighs, stepping forward, “We’ve known each other too long for that.”

I press my lips together, irrational anger pushing itself into me at an odd angle. “We’ve also known each other too long to keep secrets.”

His eyebrows draw together, a look so quizzical I’m reminded of our schooling days. “What secrets have I kept from you?”

Mentioning that had been a mistake. I exhale as flatly as possible. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.” My dismissal only has Nikolai’s expression hardening. I drop my gaze. “Unless you need something, I’m retiring my services for the evening.”

I take a reluctant step towards the door, eyes attached to the floor. “Y/n,” his voice is gentle. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing, I’m just tired.” Please let that be at least somewhat believable. “I’m sure I’ll feel more like myself in the morning.” I take another step, a little more assured. Nikolai’s hand is on my shoulder before I can escape. “Nikolai--”

“Y/n,” his voice is that of velvet, “I can’t have you be mad at me. Not now.”

Sighing, I meet his gaze. The tiredness I see behind his eyes is almost enough to chase away my nerve. What I’d give to be able to melt into our familiar routine. “Then you should have told me you were almost engaged to a literal Saint--the same literal Saint who’s one of my closest friends.”

Nikolai’s expression shifts as his hand drops from my shoulder slowly, fingers brushing down my arm before he finally intertwines our fingers. I bite my tongue to avoid squeezing his hand, but I don’t move to separate us either. He studies me silently, eyebrows drawn together. The longer he stares, the more whatever turmoil he’s experiencing seems to dissipate. After a minute of silence, I can read his expression perfectly. His lips are pressed together in that coy way--the way he only looks when he’s suppressing a smile.

I loathe him for it. “Nikolai Lantsov, don’t you dare laugh--not after what you did. Do you have any idea what it felt like to have Alina casually mention the fact that you almost married her casually? Like that was common knowledge to everyone but me?”

My words break away the last of his self control. He grins, flashing his annoyingly perfect teeth. “Do you have any idea what it feels like for me to want nothing more than to see you and then you let me believe something may actually be wrong when the only issue is your jealousy?”

The amusement in his tone is like poison to me. I find the strength to jerk my hand away from him. “I am not jealous.” He laughs; I am further enraged. “I am not.” The genuineness of my anger must finally register on some level, because he tries to suppress his smile. “I have every right to be mad at my best friend for not telling me that he was almost married.”

“We didn’t exactly come close,” he manages, expression still much too light for my taste. “I’m glad for Alina’s sake, I’m not sure being a Saint would be enough to protect her.”

He is infuriating. “I’m not sure anything you have will be enough to protect you.”

Something in his gaze shifts, softening the tilt of his mouth. “I don’t doubt that.”

I don’t know what I expected from him--but not this. I thought he’d be at least somewhat apologetic. “You should have told me.”

“I would have if I felt it was significant.”

“I’m your best friend--your marriage is significant to me. And even though it’s not like you’re engaged to her right now, you should have told me. You know I talk to Alina all the time.”

He sighs once, a hint of apology threatening to ghost over his eyes. “If I knew not knowing would have upset you so much I would have told you. I was--I was just so excited to be around you again I didn’t see much relevance in anything that didn’t involve you.”

The intensity that Nikolai regards me with is enough to wither all of my fury. But without my anger, I am left spiraling in emotion that I’ve been pushing against for years. My mother’s warning about relationships with those above us rings in my ears--sharp and headache inducing. I am still when he reaches for my hand again, but I do no allow myself to return the gentle squeeze of his fingers.

“I’m not sure much outside of you has significance.” He’s giving me a look I am familiar with. A look he often uses to chase away my anger.

Without my anger, I have nothing to keep me from melting into him, indulging in his presence fully. It’s so easy with him and I blinded myself to the danger of that. He may not be marrying Alina, but one day he will marry someone. A person worthy of his status--and what would I be left doing? Washing their laundry? Tearing up when I dusted the library and came across a book we had read together? Enough damage has already been done--I need to cut myself with this blade now in hopes of making sure I can one day recover.

He will get married one day, and nothing will be the same. And that’s a good thing--he deserves the love of a princess or queen. I want his happiness, even if it’s not with me. But some vindictive part of me hopes that some part of him will miss me. That some part of him will be dulled without me.

I’m a fool--he will remember me as the handmaid from his youth. The girl who made him laugh once or twice before he grew up. I force my hand out of his grasp. “You can’t win me over with words every time.” I need to get out of here before he says something that makes me lose all resolve. “Tomorrow morning I’ll be here to prepare you for breakfast.”

“Y/n.”

I step forward, refusing to look at him. “Goodnight.”

He sighs, his hand quick to grab my arm. Before I can question him I feel myself pulled back. I expect him to pull me just close enough so that I have to meet his gaze. He continues, pulling me sharply before placing a quick hand on my shoulder, forcing me down. My back hits his bed.

I sit up as soon as the reality of what just happened seeps into my mind. “Nikolai, what in the Saints--”

“If you’re going to act like a child, I’m going to treat you like one.”

I scoff, thoughts of escaping him put on hold by the principle of pride. Fine. I’ll beat him one last time, and then I’ll let us separate. I shove him. He laughs--of course this is funny to him. He got to keep fighting past the age of about eleven. His laughter adds to my anger, I move to shove him again, but he catches my wrist easily. I struggle against his hold, shoving him a third time with my still free hand. He pushes me slightly. That’s all it takes to unleash familiar habits.

Our small fight is hardly fair. He has all the advantage--more training, and he’s standing above me. When I finally make a move that might give me some success, Nikolai leans forward. He practically tackles me, his weight forcing me flat against the bed.

I move an arm, ready to push him off of me. Nikolai snags my wrists, holding them above my head. “This means I win.” I roll my eyes, anger returning.

“Let me go.”

He sighs tiredly, but the smugness radiating off of him is suffocating. “Admit that you were jealous.”

There are a lot of things I am willing to do for him--but never that. I cannot give him the one separation I still have. “I wasn’t.”

“Then why are you mad?”

I press my lips together. “I told you--”

“Do you really think you could lie to me?”

“You don’t know me that well.”

Nikolai moves his freehand, touching my chin as a way to ask me to look at him. I meet his gaze hesitantly. “Yes, I do, and that’s never bothered you before but it does now.”

Maybe this is a conversation better had bluntly. “It bothers me now because you’re too old to hold onto the daughter of a palace handmaid and I’m too old to pretend that our different statuses don’t matter.”

“Y/n,” he breathes, “Nothing’s changed. Status didn’t matter to me when we were children, and it doesn’t matter to me now.”

“You can afford to say things like that.”

“What good is my title if it means I can’t,” he pauses, eyes hesitant, “If I can’t keep things the same between us?”

I smile, the sadness of the look weighs on me and I can’t even see it. “Nikolai, you always knew things would change.”

“No, I--”

“You can’t tell me you think your future wife would like you having such a close relationship with a handmaid.” I press my lips together. “One day you’ll fall in love and get married and you’ll want me to leave your bedchamber as soon as dinner is over because you’ll be eager to spend time with your wife.” His gaze hardens. “And that’s not a bad thing. It’s actually a really good thi--”

The last syllable of my sentence dies in my throat. Nikolai, who must be possessed by something, leans down and presses his lips against mine. I beg myself to resist, but his gentleness is everything I’ve ever wanted. He releases my hands in favor of holding my face. That’s all it takes--my hands move without my permission, into his hair--pulling him closer to me. What am I doing? I’m insane. Placing my hands on his chest cautiously, I push just slightly. He’s quick to obey, pulling away while allowing his teeth to brush against my bottom lip.

I gape at him--taking in his now slightly swollen lips. “Nikolai.” He can’t do this to me. We’re friends. Despite the fact that I’ve loved him more than I should--we’re friends. “You’re being extremely unfair.”

He draws his eyebrows together, sitting up quickly and moving off of me. “I’m being unfair? I have spent my entire life loving y--”

I sit up, furious in a new way. “You have not!” This is the dumbest I have ever been. I move to stand, still feeling the softness of his lips against mine.

“Your tooth fell out.” The sharpness of his words forces me to still.

“What?”

I can’t bring myself to turn and look at him, but I’ve always been able to feel any heaviness he bears. The weight of it leaves little room for air in my lungs. “You were ten. I told you ‘girls couldn’t fight’ so you punched me in the face. That was the first time we ever fought--I didn’t mean to hit you in the face, but you moved. You moved and I hit you in the mouth and your last baby tooth fell out. I expected you to cry or get angry, but you just blinked at me and laughed. You were happy to lose your last baby tooth because it meant you were grown up. And then you smiled and asked me if you looked older. If anything, the gap in your smile made you look younger but I told you that you looked like a grown-up because I wanted you to keep smiling. Because your smile made me feel like I won something.” I turn on my heels, but I cannot meet his gaze. “That was the moment I fell in love with you--so don’t tell me I haven’t spent my entire life loving you.”

The weight of his words is harder to survive against than the heaviness of his feelings. “Nikolai, you know we can’t ever be together--”

“Why not?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” I manage, voice low, “You almost married the Sun Summoner--”

“That was political--”

“Exactly, your marriage is meant to be political, and if it happens to be out of love--which is what I hope you get, because it is what you deserve--it will be to someone of status.”

Nikolai stands, the movement is that of a king, not the boy I know. “I do not want status or to love someone else--I want you.”

“I can’t take that from you--”

“You can’t take anything from me because I’ve already given it all to you.”

I press my lips together, heart tearing for him. “I love you too much to ruin you.”

My words seem to snap something in him because his eyes darken, the way he watches me adjusting accordingly. “You can’t ruin something that’s always been yours.”

I let myself smile. At him. At his words. At the foolish hope the child in me has clung to after all of these years. I reach for him thoughtlessly, because I have the right to. Because I’ve always had the right to. He’s quick to respond, kissing me with much more security than before.

This time, he pulls away of his own regard. “You still haven’t admitted that you were jealous.”

His teasing smugness isn’t as sour to me anymore. “I wasn’t.”

Nikolai pulls me towards him easily, lips threatening to brush against me, warm breath against my face. “Are you sure, darling? You were awfully quick to claim what’s yours.”

I roll my eyes, grinning so widely I’m surprised my face doesn’t yet hurt. “You’re the one that fell for a ten-year-old girl with a bloody mouth.”

When he smiles back at me, he places a hand on my hip, pulling me forward slightly. “That I did.” He pulls me forward slightly. "Does this mean you can sleep in here again?"

"If anything, this is more reason for me to sleep in another room." He rolls his eyes, pulling me even closer. "But I won't tell if you don't."

Nikolai leans forward, pressing his lips to my forehead. "Deal."

tags: @deardiarystuff @theincredibledeadlyviper, @grishaverse7 @benbarnes-supremacy @tranquilitymoon @kaitlyn2907 @lunamyangel @christinawxxx @deceivedeer @real-mbappe @tonks33

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone imagine #grisha #Grishaverse #grishaverse imagines #grishaverse imagine #grishaverse x reader #shadow and bone netflix

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pettyvxbes · 4 years ago

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FUCKLUST (18 +) - {COLSON BAKER x READER }

Y'all, I got a little carried away on this one. 🙈🥵💦

Warnings: Smut (18+), cursing.

FUCKLUST

Intransitive verb: an insatiable sexual desire to fuck the hell out of that one particular special someone you think about all the time.

Colson towered over you, his strong arms pinning your hands over your head. Leaning down, he captured your lips in a heated kiss. You could feel his hard cock against your thigh, making heat pool in your center. You gasped as Colson pushed his body against yours, sliding his bare length between your folds. You could feel his hot breath on yours as a groan escaped his lips.

Colson took your bottom lip between his teeth, biting hard. You wanted to pull him closer, but he kept a firm grip on your arms which were still positioned above your head. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him as close to you as possible.

"I'm going to fuck you so good you won't be able to remember another man has been inside you, you won't ever want another cock." Colson growled, reaching down to position himself. You could feel the head of his cock pressing at your entrance.

A jolt shuddered through you, making you jump. Your eyes shot open as you awoke from your accidental nap. You were immediately met with the familiar pair of baby blues that belonged to your co-star, Colson Baker.

You two had been working on a movie together for the last three months, and you were set to film your very first kissing scene, which you ultimately blamed for the naughty dream, even though you knew deep down it was much more than that. From the moment you stepped on set, the chemistry between you was undeniable, and the sexual tension was consuming. Colson was always making you laugh uncontrollably or making you wish you were underneath him. Unfortunately, you had both decided for the sake of the film that you would keep it professional. The closer it got to wrapping the first film, the harder it was to resist wrapping yourselves around each other.

"Y/n, are you okay?" Colson asked. Your cheeks flushed red, remembering the dream you were just in the middle of. Colson smirked at you once he noticed the rosy tint to your cheeks. "You were dreaming about me, weren't you?" He joked but had no idea how accurate he was.

You quickly tried to regain your composure, ignoring the intense need for his hands on your body. It took everything in you to not jump him right there in the lounge.

"Yeah, actually," You admitted, catching him off guard at your candor.

"Guys, we need you on set." One of the crew members popped their head in the room, interrupting your conversation. You got up from the chair that you had fallen asleep in, stopping in the doorway, you turned back around to face the handsome man.

"Thank you for the sex. It was mind-blowing." You smirked, making Colson's jaw drop. Although your dream hadn't gone quite that far, you knew it would have been amazing.

It sucked. Liking someone you couldn't have. Seeing Colson every day but knowing that he'd never be yours because of your stupid agreement. It was the worst feeling in the world. All you could do was dream about him and the things that he'd do to you. . .

. . . but you couldn't jeopardize the success of the film, your career, you worked so hard to get to where you were. You refused to be like all of the other Hollywood cliches. Two beautiful people playing two beautiful lovers who accidentally fall for each other in real life but eventually go up in flames. Completely ruining the on-screen chemistry in the sequels or worst-case scenario, one of them being re-casted, which you knew would end up being you.

Not long after stepping on set, you found yourself standing in the middle of a faux lingerie store next to Colson, who was helping your character pick out something to wear.

"Let me guess. You like garters and silk stockings?" You delivered your lines perfectly as you thumbed through the garments on the rack in front of you.

"Two for two, although I'd like you in anything you put on… or take off," Colson smirked, handing you a hanger adorned with a very sexy lace bustier set. You glanced towards the dressing rooms, then back at Colson with a scandalous glimmer in your eye.

"Help me try it on? Just to make sure it fits, of course."

"Of course." Colson mimicked you before following you towards the dressing rooms. After quickly switching scenes on set, you resumed filming in the tiny room.

You pushed Colson toward the bench in the dressing room, forcing him to sit. Looking him straight in the eye, you reached for the hem of your clothes, lifting slowly, exposing your bare skin inch by inch. Colson sat in front of you, clenching his fists in his lap, clearly holding himself back from reaching for you as you stepped out of the last of your clothes and into the lingerie.

"Well?" Does it live up to your imagination?" Your character asked as you looked at yourself in the mirror, adjusting the straps on the bustier and garter belt. Colson's body was pressed up against yours in an instant, meeting your gaze in the mirror. He planted a kiss on your neck, sending shivers down your spine as his hands found their way to your hips. You could feel him growing hard against you. In the moment, you almost forget that you were filming, clearing your throat to break the trance.

"I hope you like this one because I'm pretty sure I have to buy these panties now." You blurted. Those weren't your lines; You had no idea where that came from. You could feel Colson grin against the nape of your neck. Your face flushed in embarrassment, but before anyone could notice, Colson spun you around, threading his fingers through your hair pulling you into a fierce kiss.

You knew this wasn't how the scene was supposed to go, but even as you tried to remind yourself to stick to the script, you found yourself pulling him closer. After the last few months of tension and self-restraint, Colson's mouth, hot and insistent on yours, was a relief.

"Tell me to stop, and I will," Colson whispered against your lips.

"Don't." Was the only word you were able to get out before you melted into his arms. Wrapping your body around his. The kiss grew passionate and intense quickly. You both forgot where you were and what you were doing until the director screamed cut, startling both of you.

"That was phenomenal," the director complimented you two on your improv. The rest of the day was spent filming fill-in scenes with your other castmates; in fact, you hadn't seen Colson once since your little rendezvous in the dressing room. This was probably a good thing because, after that heated kiss, you were sure you wouldn't be able to resist.

Once filming had wrapped for the day, you made your way back to the dressing rooms, still replaying the kiss from earlier in your mind. You were so caught up in your thoughts out hadn't even realized that you walked right past your dressing room door, opening your co-workers as your own.

You were startled to find Colson standing in front of you. Freshly showered in nothing but a small white towel. You could see the outline of his cock through the cotton fabric. It was enough to make you salivate. His eyes locked with yours, the look of lust on your face was apparent, and he reciprocated. The desire absorbed you; you knew that resisting him was no longer an option. That no matter how hard you tried, you wouldn't be able to curb the ache you felt for him until it was satisfied.

Before you could make the first move, Colson's lips were on yours. His kiss was hard as his arms wrapped around you, holding you close to him. His passion was contagious and electrifying. Colson pressed his body flush with yours, sucking on your lower lip as he ran his fingers roughly through your hair.

"Stop teasing and touch me," You demanded. With a smirk, Colsons' hands found your backside lifting you up. You wrapped your legs around his back as he pressed you hard into the wall.

"It's about damn time." He breathed. With his free hand, Colson wrapped your hair around his fist, pulling your head back with a slight yank. He took a second, admiring the view before leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your mouth, so lingering that it made your knees week.

"If we're finally going to do this, I want to hear you say it, y/n." Colson said, looking into your eyes, and without hesitation, you spoke.

"Colson, I need you."

You had a moment to catch Colson's groan before he crashed his lips into yours. You moved frantically together, hands roaming each other's bodies and tongues exploring each other's mouths. Your dress was hiked up around your waist as Colson's hands wandered, feeling every inch of your body. His lips moved down your jaw, his hips grinding into yours. The rub of his bulge against the fabric of the lingerie you had taken from set sent a rush of need to your core, causing you to buck your hips into him.

"Do you feel what you do to me y/n?" Colson growled as he grabbed your hand, guiding it down to the space between you both. "What have you done to me every single goddamn night since I've met you?" He asked, rock hard against your palm. Colson let out an agonizingly sexy groan in response to your touch. You rubbed your hand up and down the length of him, straining hard against the fabric of the towel around his hips. You squeezed your hand around him, stroking slowly. Colson's groans quickly turned to grunts, deep and sexy, until his hand abruptly stopped yours.

"Y/n, you're going to make cum before I even get you naked." He admitted with a slight chuckle. With one smooth move Colson hoisted you into his arms, shifting your weight away from the wall. You locked your ankles around his back, and he carried you across the room. His mouth latched to the skin of your neck.

"Are you marking me, Colson Baker?" You asked seductively. Colson growled low in his throat.

"You haven't seen anything yet, princess." He avowed, tossing you on the chaise lounge. His eyes roamed the curves of your body, still covered in the fabric of your sheer dress. You leaned back on the chair, your skirt hiked up enough to show a peek of the panties beneath. Colson groaned as he dropped to one knee on the lounge so he could lean over you. His eyes were electric as he took in your body. Eyes locked with his, you slowly removed your clothes, tugging your dress over your head and letting it fall to the floor. Colson took in the lingerie that he had picked out for you, his eyes traveling hungrily over your body.

"Seeing you laid out like this in the lingerie that I picked out, it's hard not to feel like. . ." Colson trailed off in thought.

"Like you have a claim on me?" You guessed what he was thinking, and Colsons eyes darkened.

"Exactly like that. It's not a feeling I want to let go of." He remarked. "As much as I love it. . . let me see you without it."

You slipped the straps off your shoulders, watching Colsons eyes follow the movement. You slowly removed the lingerie as he watched your every move. Once you were completely naked, you leaned back on your elbows, biting your lip while looking up at him, waiting to see what he'd do. Colson leaned forward, his eyes locked with yours. His hands framing your body on either side of the lounge chair.

"I want to mark every part of your beautiful body," Colson went on, "after all of that teasing and waiting. . . I want you to think of me every time you look in the mirror." He said, running his finger gently down your neck, your chest, over your nipples. "I want you to see the places I've touched you."

"Do it." You begged.

Colson let out a deep, wild growl that sent a shiver down your body. He dipped down, running his tongue over your collarbone, punctuating the movement with a nip to your shoulder. He pressed a line of soft kisses over the line of your shoulder before his mouth slid up to leave another bite mark on your neck. You gasped at the feeling of his teeth sinking into the curve of your neck. Before the pain could register, Colson licked over the same spot, peppering your skin with kisses. You could feel the trail of marks he was leaving on your neck and down your chest. It stung with pleasure and a hint of pain. He slowly made his way down your body, biting the edge of your hip, almost hard enough to draw blood. A moan escaped your mouth, and you instinctively lifted your hips to meet him.

"Colson"

"Fuck y/n, you're better than any fantasy I could ever have." He marveled as he pulled back to look at you, his gaze full of lust and wonder. Colson tugged on your knees, dragging you to the edge of the lounge chair, your bent legs framed his hips. "I can't wait to taste you. Have you thought about that? What it'd be like to have my mouth on you?"

"I may have considered what it'd be like. . . or how good you'd be. . ." You admitted coyly.

"Trust me, I'm not one to disappoint." He promised. "I can't even tell you how long I've been waiting for this. How many dreams I've had with me between your thighs. . ." desire dripping from every word he spoke.

Colson hovered over you, connecting his lips with yours as your fingers moved down his back. He moved his lips down your body - your neck, your collar bone, your breasts - he left a trail of kisses down your stomach, over your hips, until he reached the place where you craved him most. You arched into his touch, wanting to get closer. Colson lifted his head, grinning wide.

"Eager, are we?" He smirked. Before you could even catch your breath, Colson'sColson's tongue was between your folds, licking you slowly. He looked up to meet your eyes, holding down your hips as his mouth found your bundle of nerves. He sucked your clit like a starved man, enjoying each moan and gasp that he pulled from you. Within seconds you were writhing underneath him as his tongue continued making you sing.

"Oh my god," you moaned, your hand finding its way into his hair. Colson slid a single finger inside of you, working perfectly in time with his mouth against your bud. It sent shockwaves down your body. The rush of pleasure pushing you over the edge.

"Fuck Colson!" You moaned.

"That's it, say my name." He coaxed you. Pulling back enough to speak, Colson used his hand to rub your clit in sharp circles, hard enough to drive you crazy. "Cum for me." He ordered, and your orgasm hit you like a wave, the pleasure shaking through you as you finally let go. You fell back onto the chaise lounge, spent.

Colson climbed on top of you, kissing you passionately. His fingers found their way between your thighs, teasing at your entrance before slipping, not one but two fingers inside. You gasped at the sensation. Colson rocked his hand in smooth, firm strokes, making you moan. He curled his fingers to reach the spot inside that makes fireworks explode behind your eyes. He pumped his fingers in and out of you at a faster pace leaving you breathless, hitting that particular spot every time.

You couldn't take it any longer. You ran your nails down his tattooed back, stopping at the only piece of fabric separating his naked body from yours. In one swift motion, you yanked the towel from his hips, making him grin.

"Since the day I met you, all I wanted to do was make you come undone around me," He said, sliding the underside of his cock over your wet center, giving your clit just a hint of the friction that you craved.

Colson pressed his cock over your clit one last time, making you moan before he positioned it against your entrance. He slowly pushed himself inside of you, one pleasurable, tantalizing inch at a time until you were completely full. Visibly restraining himself, Colson stayed still, letting you get used to the size of him. Both of you breathing heavily as you became familiar with the feel of each other. You rocked your hips up, pulling him in deeper. Tipping his head back in pleasure, Colson let out a groan.

"You're going to be the death of me," Colson mumbled before starting to move agonizingly slow, using all of his self-control. He slowly rolled his hips, pressing his pelvis down against your clit, making you moan.

"Do you want me to go faster?" He asked as he slowly pushed himself deep inside of you, brushing against that perfect spot.

"Y-yes," You stammered in between breaths.

"Tell me what you want," Colson demanded. You could see the tension in his shoulders; it was getting difficult for him to hold himself back. His strokes were slow and hard, sending electric sparks through your body - hot, but not enough. He was driving you crazy, and he loved it; you could tell by the smirk he was wearing.

"Want to hear your beg for it." He growled, sliding slowly into you again, stretching you, sending white-hot pleasure through your body. You could swear you saw stars.

"Please fuck me harder," You moaned. It was precisely what he wanted to hear. In a split second, Colson's self-restraint snapped. His hips moving faster, thrusting deep inside you. You let out a moan as you attempted to bring your hips down to meet his, but he set a frenzied pace, so hard that it took your breath away.

You gripped his shoulders, raking your nails down his tattooed back, hard enough to leave a mark. Colson let out a low growl as the knot in your stomach grew taut; you were so close. You closed your eyes, overwhelmed by the sensation.

"Open your eyes. Look at me while you cum on my cock." Colson's nails dug into your hips, and the mixture of pain and pleasure made that knot unravel. Your eyes shot open, meeting those familiar baby blues again.

Colson slammed into you hard and deep, making you scream his name as you fell off the edge, pleasure cascading through your entire body. Colson's lips found their way to yours, swallowing every sound you gave him. The feeling of your release around him causing him to cum even harder, your mouth engulfing his groans. He pulsed inside of you, releasing himself and all the built-up tension from his body until the only thing left between you was heavy breathing.

"Fuck." Colson groaned, lying motionless on top of you for a moment, too fatigued to move. Once he caught his bearings, he rolled off of you, laying on his back next to you. A quiet chuckle escaped his lips.

"What's so funny?" you probed.

"Before you walked in here, I was trying to figure out how I was going to keep myself from accidentally busting while filming our sex scene next week." He answered, still chuckling to himself. His response made you laugh out loud.

"And what makes you think you won't? The sexual tension could easily build back up by then." You challenged him.

"Oh, I have every intention of doing this again" He pointed between you two.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah," He responded, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek, "I thought that your laugh was my favorite. . ." He continued, moving to gently kiss your lips. "but now that I've made you moan. . ." He trailed off, moving down to kiss your neck, sucking just enough to draw a quiet moan from your lips. ". . .I plan on hearing it many times before then" He smirked, and just like that, the insatiable sexual desire to fuck the hell out of Colson Baker returned.

#fucklust #colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker x reader #colson baker smut #smut #insatiable #hot #mgk smut #mgk imagine #mgk x reader #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly x reader #machine gun kelly smut #mgk x reader smut

799 notes · View notes

bi-bard · 3 years ago

Text

Chick Flick Moments - Sam Winchester Imagine (Supernatural)

Title: Chick Flick Moments

Pairing: Sam Winchester X Reader

Requested: by an anonymous reader

Word Count: 2,363 words

Warning(s): violence, cussing, Sam embarrassing himself, spoilers for any movie/show listed in the author's note

Summary: (Season 11) Gabriel takes a break from hiding to teach (Y/n) and Sam to forgive each other.

Author's Note: I had so much fun putting this request together! Also, if I remember correctly, this reader wanted to remain anonymous.

Here are links to all the scenes that inspired parts of this imagine:

1 (Princess Bride), 2 (8x12 Criminal Minds; can't find just the scene to link), 3 (Moulin Rouge), 4 (The Notebook), 5 (The 10 Things I Hate About You), 6 (Gilmore Girls), 7 (La La Land)

Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)

-----------------------------------

I rolled my eyes as I walked through the bunker.

Sam was still ranting about the most recent hunt. I was just tired of listening to it. Dean had long since given up trying to control his brother, who had shown no sign of listening to anyone.

"You can't just throw yourself into every single enemy," Sam yelled. "Fun fact, you're not Superman!"

"Oh my god," I finally, turning around. I had been halfway through the library at this point. Dean continued through the bunker, ignoring us. "I ran up to one extra vamp because you were about to get your throat ripped out! Yes, I put myself in danger but it was to save you!"

"Why are you so desperate to be a hero," he asked.

"Why are you so pissy that I saved you," I shouted back.

I let out a yell before turning and leaving.

"Where are you going?"

"To bed," I shouted from down the hall. "Maybe you'll be nicer in the morning! You're welcome for saving your ass!"

I stormed into my room and slammed the door shut. I changed quickly, throwing my old clothes into the corner before curling up on my bed. My emotions got the better of me. I started crying into my pillow.

Imagine saving the man you secretly loved... and then he got mad at you about it.

I fell asleep crying that night.

--time skip--

I shot awake, cringing at how bright it was.

I looked around, letting my eyes adjust to the light.

I was on a hill. I was on a hill, lying in the grass with the sun shining on my face. This is not good.

I stood up and did a circle to look around the long stretches of grass. Nothing looked even slightly familiar.

"For fuck's sake," I muttered.

I decided that the best option would be to try to climb down and find a person... somewhere.

I was just about to start making my way down the hill when I felt a hand grab me.

Out of pure fear, I grabbed the person and pulled them from behind me. The person went flying down the hill.

"(Y/n)," I heard Sam's voice yell as he rolled down the hill.

I put my hand over my mouth. He soon stopped rolling and then he stood up, scrambling to pull the black mask off of his face. I sighed, dropping my hand when I saw he was alright.

"Sam," I called.

"Your instinct is to throw some down a hill," Sam asked.

"When a masked man tries to grab me, definitely," I replied. "Fun fact, Sam, I can actually defend myself."

He gave me a sarcastic smile. I shot it right back to him.

Sam looked down at his outfit before sighing and shrugging at me. He had just started to move back up the hill when my visions went dark.

I opened my eyes a few moments later.

What had been an open field was now a dark warehouse or factory. I saw Sam across from me, but also a group of people behind him. I recognized them. They were characters from Criminal Minds, a guilty pleasure I watched when we weren't hunting.

I tried to figure out what was happening.

Then, I became all too aware of the barrel of a gun pressing into my neck.

"No," Sam yelled.

It clicked.

Sam was supposed to be Spencer. I was Maeve. This was Zugzwang.

My heart dropped.

"Wait, please, don't," Sam yelled as the gun pressed harder on my neck.

"Sam, shut up," I snapped.

"Me for (Y/n)," he shouted.

"You would do that," Diane- the unsub of that episode- asked.

"Yes," Sam replied.

"No," I yelled. "Sam, shut up."

"You shut up," Diane growled at me.

"One difference between me and her...," I growled back.

I grabbed the gun, pushing it forward, away from my neck. The bullet she tried to fire hit the brick wall. I turned, bringing an elbow down on her arm. Her hand dropped the gun into my grasp. I pointed it toward her.

"...I'm not scared of a simple gun."

The others walked over and arrested her. I looked at Sam.

"If you continued, she would've killed herself, which would've killed me," I explained. He furrowed his eyebrows. "I watch this show when we aren't hunting."

He walks over, going to hug me before the scene changes again.

"Holy...," I trailed off as I looked around.

Around us, we could see the tops of roofs and a beautiful night sky. It was almost a dreamy setting.

"Where are we now," Sam asked.

"Only the great Moulin Rouge," Sam and I both twirled around to face... Gabriel. "I know, I know... I'm not dead, anyway!"

I rolled my eyes.

"You two need to learn a lesson," he pointed at us.

"It's like back in 2010," I mumbled. "Play our roles to get out. Probably why we were pulled out of the last two."

"You'll fall into them naturally, I promise," Gabriel smirked. "And yes. Stop ignoring the plotline."

"Alright... sure, I was gonna get shot for your crappy game," I snapped sarcastically.

Then, he was gone. I rolled my eyes.

"So, what are the roles," Sam asked as I walked around the top of the elephant.

"Well, Christian and Satine," I pointed between us. "Maeve and Spencer. The Princess Bride and Westley. It's all romance."

"Why," Sam scrunched his face up.

"Because Gabe wants to get his rocks off," I said sarcastically, "I don't know, Sam!"

I walked down the stairs of the elephant. It was gorgeous here. It was just as vibrant as the movie made it look.

"Wow," I look back at Sam. "This is awesome."

I chuckled and nodded.

"What seen is it?"

"The Elephant Love Medley," I said. "Ewan McGregor and Nicole Kidman sing this mash-up of famous love songs as his character tries to convince her that there is nothing more important than love."

"I'm not gonna sing," Sam shook his head.

"I was not gonna ask you too," I chuckled. "I've heard you sing."

"Rude."

I just shrugged.

I looked around at the room, trying to figure out how to play these roles without the singing.

"Wait," I said. "Come on."

I grabbed his hand and pulled him back to the stairs.

"What is it," Sam asked as we made it to the top.

"At the end of the medley, Christian and Satine are dancing and they walk out onto this field of clouds and are held up in the sky."

"What-"

"This whole movie feels like a fever dream the first time you watch it."

"Come on," Sam held a hand out to me.

"Can you dance?"

"Not well," he chuckled. "The role didn't say I needed to be good."

He grabbed my hand and pulled me closer to him.

I tried to lead his steps and laughed as he stumbled into a pattern.

"Come on," I moved back so I could grab only one hand.

I led him a few steps forward and onto- what seemed to be- steps in the clouds. I let out an excited laugh when it worked. Sam looked at me and grinned at my excitement.

As soon as got to the top of the steps... it was gone.

We were in the middle of the street now.

"Aw, that was just mean," I mumbled. I glared at Sam when I heard him laughed.

He held his hands up jokingly before extending one toward me. I furrowed my eyebrows at him.

"I know what movie this is," he shrugged. I motioned for him to continue explaining. He walked over, hand still held out to me, "The Notebook. Noah and Allie dance in the street. So... will you dance with me? Even without the sequence where we dance in the clouds."

I bit my lip as I smiled.

I took his hand and let him pull me into the street. I laughed as I stumbled into his chest.

We fell into the scene naturally.

Sam held one of my hands in his and held my waist with the other. I placed my free hand on his shoulder. I looked up at him. It felt strange that we so casually fell into the scene but I was happy.

Sam jokingly twirled me around before pulling me back to his chest. I closed my eyes and chuckled.

"What," he asked.

"Nothing," I shook my head. "I just never saw you as such a romantic."

"Well, don't tell anyone, you'll ruin my reputation," he said sarcastically.

I rolled my eyes.

Sam spun the two of us in a circle before going to dip me. I didn't think I'd ever get to experience something like this. It always just felt like something I should forget about as a hunter. I was starting to forget why I was so angry with Sam in the first place.

I barely noticed that Sam was leaning in before the scene around me changed.

I was on a football field.

I looked around.

There was no sign of Sam.

"Crap," I mumbled, trying to figure out where to look first.

Then, there was a voice going over the field's speakers.

"You're just too good to be true... can't take my eyes off of you..."

I looked around toward the stands to see Sam walking with a mic. Can't sing, my ass.

"You'd be like heaven to touch... I wanna hold you so much"

"Oh my god," I muttered.

"At long last love has arrived... And I thank God I'm alive... You're just too good to be true... Can't take my eyes off of you."

I tried to bite back my laugh. He shrugged at me with an embarrassed smile and stepped into the actual stands.

We both jumped when the marching band started playing. I looked to see Gabriel smirking and leading their march.

Sam and I shrugged at each other. He continued on with the act.

Now, Sam Winchester pretending to be Patrick in "10 Things I Hate About You" was a treat... and was exactly what you imagined it would be.

He was almost stumbling down the steps as he continued on with the act. I was laughing hysterically by the time I saw the security guards starting to run in.

"Sam," I yelled, pointing behind him.

"Crap," I heard through the mic (which made me almost double-over in laughter) as he tried to take off running.

As soon as he was grabbed, the scene changed.

We both took a deep breath when we realized we were sitting together in a car.

"Thank god," Sam mumbled.

"That was a great performance, by the way," I said, still chuckling.

"Shut up," he muttered, laughing along with me. We fell silent after a minute. "So... what scene is this?"

"I have no idea," I replied.

"It's Gilmore Girls, dumbasses," we heard Gabriel's voice but saw no sign of him. "Season 1, Episode 16... absolute idiots."

"Didn't peg him for a Gilmore Girls fan," I said. Sam laughed.

"Me neither."

We fell silent again.

"I'm sorry," Sam said, looking over at me. "You were right. You can defend yourself and you were just trying to help me. I'm sorry for being such a dick about it."

I grinned, "Thanks... I forgive you. I know you were just worried about me."

Sam smiled back.

"I... umm...," Sam looked down for a moment, clearing his throat and collecting his thoughts. "I just... I love you."

My heart leaped up into my throat. I blinked at him a few times and forced a chuckle out. Which was the wrong response but I panicked. Hunters... we could face the devil but emotions were a no-no.

"(Y/n)," Sam's smile dropped slowly when he realized I wasn't responding.

I was just about to respond when the scene changed again.

Sam was gone again and I was on a city street.

"Dammit," I muttered.

I ran down the street, turning the corner. I looked at the wall of the building I was by. Was this a jazz club?

I walked through the door and was guided to a table so I could sit down and watch the performance.

"La La Land," I said.

Sam and I watched this together. Dean had gone to bed. We weren't tired and just turned this movie on because it looked like it was mostly happy.

Big dance numbers, beautiful effects... and the epilogue that made me hide tears from Sam.

I looked at the stage. Sam was sitting there, wearing a suit, looking at the audience nervously. He hesitantly reached toward the piano. It was like it was a prerecorded track. It sounded just like the movie.

I smiled.

I just wanted to talk to him.

Soon the performance ended.

I stood up and started walking over, seeing Sam starting to walk out.

I grinned at him, "Sam-"

He cut me off by cupping the sides of my face and kissing me softly. I touched his sides lightly, smiling against his lips. It was... magic. Absolute magic.

Then, I shot awake, back in my bed in the bunker.

The game was over. Thank God.

"(Y/n)," I heard yell through the bunker hall.

I ran into the hall and ran toward his room.

We stopped as soon as we saw each other.

"Please tell me that wasn't a dream," I said. He shook his head, smiling widely at me.

I ran over, pulling him down to kiss him again. It was softer than our last kiss and I loved it. His arms wrapped around me and pulled me closer. I buried my hands through his hair.

"Woah, what did I miss," we pulled away when we heard Dean.

I could basically feel Sam chuckle against my lips before he moved to look at his brother. I turned around in Sam's arm.

"A chick flick moment," Sam answered.

"Alright," Dean gave us a weird look before leaving without another word.

I looked back at Sam with a smile, "I love you."

"I love you too," he grinned and leaned in to kiss me softly again.

-----------------------------------

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Request Guidelines

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#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester fanfiction #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #imagine #fanfiction #x reader

152 notes · View notes

minniepetals · 5 years ago

Text

nightlight

— summary: things have never been easy for you but you never expected it’d be them that would make things easier

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, fluff, mafia!au, gangsters!bts, rich!reader

— word count: 7.7k

— warnings: (triggering topics!) reader is sold to bangtan, dysfunctional family, allusions to an abusive father/husband, harassment, reader has a tough life growing up, guns, violence, jungkook calls her a whore (but apologizes), mentions of death, minor character death, insomniac!reader, nightmares, hurt and comfort

— rec music: finding hope - nightlight

Starlight star bright.

Fallen stars shooting in your dreams.

A wish, a hope. A prayer to escape from the world. From responsibilities and from the sacrifices that keeps you trapped in these chains of yours.

You keep yourself from feigning a smile, knowing it means nothing, knowing there is no reason to fake anything when the rest of the world is already doing the job.

Your father doesn't love you.

If he does, he wouldn't have thrown you out of his life when things got too hard, too difficult because he messed with the wrong man.

The same man whom you kneel in front of. The same man who takes your face in his hands, gentler than your father can ever, and gives you a blank look when you meet his gaze.

Call it sickening but his eyes look quite lovely.

Beautiful even.

Maybe that is why you don't flinch away when he holds a sinister smirk. Or perhaps you had already gotten used to your father's actions and now he's the only one that can ever make you feel afraid.

That's why you can't be afraid of the mafia boss.

Because even though he kills, he doesn't hurt you.

Maybe not yet, maybe you're still expecting it, but his hands never hangs in the air, hoping to swipe it right across your face.

"Why do you always stay awake?"

You turn around from the window, catching the gaze of one of his most trusted men.

Park Jimin leans against the door to your supposed room, the moonlight illuminating his pretty face. He has an arched brow, pillow lips pressed together, arms crossed against his chest.

"Is the room not to your pleasing?" He asks you. A soft yet hard tone. "Do you need a bigger room, princess?"

He mocks you. The daughter of a businessman who should have known the consequences to his actions and now his business is at stake, with his daughter in the hands of one of the darkest gangs.

He played with the wrong card and these men will never let you forget it.

Yet you remain calm as you shake your head lightly. Sincerely. "I am thankful for this room," you tell him.

"Then sleep."

As if it is easy.

As if it had always been easy.

"I...will try," you promise him, not brave to go up against him or make excuses. He is scary but not as scary as your father.

You wonder what your father is doing right now. Is he sleeping? Living a better life now that you are gone?

You wonder if your mother is alright.

But then again, she's escaped him so perhaps she is indeed living a life far better than when she lived with the two of you.

"Trying is not hard enough," Jimin says and your gaze falls to the floor.

"I'm sorry."

Jimin scoffs. "Sorry?" He repeats. "For what? Not sleeping?"

"Yes," you hum softly, "and for being here."

"Not really your choice now is it?" He steps away from the door, arms uncrossing. "You've got to be braver than this, princess." The name is lighter. "There's no need to apologize for something you had no control over."

"Still, I.." you watch your hands hold each other, gripping against one another tightly, "I'm sorry for what he's done."

"That should be his words, baby, not yours."

You hear the door click closed and his footsteps echoing away.

"You know how to treat wounds?"

Hoseok stares at the concentrated look on your face, lips pursed, eyes barely blinking one bit as your fingers work their ways stitching him up.

"I've often had to do this," you tell him and it's a bit of surprise. "My father..gets in trouble many times."

He raises a brow. "He's messed with other gangs?"

"I have no clue on the backgrounds. He doesn't tell me and I am in no position to ask."

"You're his daughter."

You don't reply, just keeping quiet.

But he sees you blink, sees the slight hesitation in your hands, how your eyes just stares blankly for a brief moment before returning to focus.

You try to hide it but he knows there's something going on that isn't right.

He shouldn't be surprised. Your father is the one who offered Namjoon to take you in the first place and they allowed it only because they believed you were someone worthy to your father.

But it looks like that isn't the likely story.

He's tricked them, so maybe this should be the moment when he lets the rest know to kick you out.

You're not a pawn anymore at this point.

But he doesn't understand why he doesn't feel like making a move.

The halls of the mansion is dark and empty even when it is daylight so you can never really come to understand how much time has passed until you return to your room, tired and drowsy and check the windows.

It is usually dark by the time you come back from your duties of cleaning and cleaning but even then you can't fall asleep.

Some days are harder than the rest but it's better.

Better than playing your father's puppet in the media as the world's perfect daughter.

"Why don't you ever complain?"

You look up from scrubbing the floors, holding your forearm against your forehead to wipe the sweat.

Yoongi stands in front of you, dirty shoes on so you know you'll have to redo the floors all over again. Yet surprisingly to him, you show no sign of distress.

"You seemed to be living the perfect life as a rich man's daughter," he scoffs, "not that he's rich anymore. So why aren't you saying anything?"

You remain quiet for a moment and usually he'll hurt the ones who hesitates to answer him right away but to your surprise, he does nothing but wait for you.

"It's fake," you whisper.

His brows crease.

"The perfect life," you answer the unspoken question. "It's not perfect, as you can see."

"Oh?" A brow arches and he sounds a little amused. "I thought he was just desperate."

"He is," you say, "desperate to throw me away."

"Well," Yoongi begins to turn away, his steps walking off, "this just got a little more interesting."

You return to your duties, choosing to ignore what he means because you're sure he will not speak his mind if you ask.

You're afraid to ask. .

The library is more difficult to clean because it is so big but you enjoy yourself there more than most rooms.

Mostly because you get to take a moment to read a few things. No one comes in anyways, which brings out the question as to why waste a whole room filled with books when everything is dusty, as if no one has ever touched a thing.

"A-hem."

Your breath hitches at the sound and you're quick to get back on your feet, book slammed closed and placed right back into its slot.

The boss raises his brow. "Mythology?"

"F-forgive me, sir." You lay your head low, too afraid to meet his disapproving eyes.

"You like mythology?" He asks an unexpected question and you know you have to answer.

"It...interests me."

"Does it?" You nod. "Which one?"

"...Hades and Persephone, sir."

Namjoon chuckles. It isn't anything like the dark chuckles he gives to the ones that have offended him and you wonder why.

"What about that story interests you?"

"Well," you say. It's a little easier to speak. "I just..find it quite lovely. Persephone would have been a forgotten goddess if Hades had not given her purpose. Their love created the seasons. The darkness fell in love with the flower."

"More like he fell for her and stole her away to his kingdom."

"But she eventually found love within the Underworld God as well," you point out. "He showed her kindness, showed her that he's capable of love as well, and that he isn't as heartless and cruel as everyone deems him to be."

He takes a moment to be silent, his eyes meeting yours, the same ones that refused to be afraid of him from the moment he had first taken a good look at you.

You were pure, still pure, and too innocent to fall into the hands of a father who couldn't show his own daughter some bit of love.

Namjoon finds it disgusting honestly, and figured that was the case when you were first offered to him. So after finding out it was indeed true from Yoongi, the fact only makes him more bitter.

"I'm sure the God only felt a change in him because of her."

Yet you shake your head gently at his words. "No one can change you, you do that yourself," you say. "The people around you are the ones that inspires you to change."

Namjoon doesn't understand how anyone can ever dare to think of hurting someone like you.

A few days later, you don't know how you got here but here you are, standing in a room filled with people in an ivory dress that falls to the floor.

You've been to parties before, you've been to plenty of parties, and it surprises you that you're let out after just two months of staying with the mafia gang.

Are they not afraid of you escaping?

Then again, perhaps it's because they are prepared for your escape in case you do try to leave.

They'll hunt your father down.

He may not love you as you still dreadfully love him, but you won't risk him at the chance of death.

You stand alone, not understanding what your position is because this is their mission. They're here to hunt someone down.

Distraction, Namjoon states, but you don't understand what that means.

Someone walks up to you, a gentleman, who offers you a drink that you decide to let him down on.

Another walks up to you and another.

You feel uncomfortable in the crowd that surrounds you, making lame jokes, trying too woo you.

"How about we ditch this party?"

Oh no, you certainly cannot do that.

"You know, you look quite familiar."

You don't want to be known and expose your identity, you can't do that when you're in the middle of a mission you're supposed to be a part of.

But with these men around, you can't do your job even though you don't know what exactly you're supposed to be doing.

Someone touches you and you flinch. "Please don't do that."

But he only laughs.

They laugh, shrugging it off as if it is not inappropriate.

But it is and you hate it.

Someone slides a hand along your waist and you flinch again before relaxing when you see who the man is.

"She already came with someone," Seokjin glares at them, ready to hurt the guy who dared to touch you.

You don't know why he makes you relaxed but amongst the crowd that eventually dies down around you, Seokjin feels the safest despite knowing what he does.

Maybe it's because you know him.

A little.

When he turns to you, you lay your head in shame. "I-I'm sorry."

He scoffs. "For what?"

You look up at him, confused. "Hm?"

It's a cute hum. "You did your job distracting them, good job." That was what they meant? You really didn't like it and you think he can understand that by the look on your face. "It's okay, you can leave now. Now go there, we've located our guy."

You look over at where he beckons.

A hallway.

"You're...not coming?" You ask. You know it isn't good to question them and it almost scares you but Seokjin doesn't grow angry.

"I'm shutting this party down," he smirks and you can understand what that means.

When he lets you go, you hesitate for a moment, watching him, and when you come to comprehend the fact that he will do nothing until you leave, you bid him goodbye and rush away.

The gunshot comes a minute later as you're running down the hall and you hear the distant screams.

It's hard but you keep running.

Heels hurt but it doesn't matter.

You have to run.

Find someone, one of them. Leave with them.

Yet you can't get far enough because someone grabs you by the arm, pulls you into a room, and forces themself to hold you against their chest, arm choking you and a gun pointed to your head.

Jungkook stands before you with a gun pointed directly at you. Or maybe not at you, maybe at the man. With a blank stare, showing no sign of weakness.

"Let me go or I'll kill her," the man behind you threatens.

You don't know why he thinks you're important to the man and you're sure even Jungkook thinks that.

Because the youngest only shrugs.

"Kill her," he says nonchalantly. "As if I care."

"Then why'd she come with you?"

"She's just a maid."

The man laughs darkly. "A little whore, huh? I hear you don't usually keep girls around for long. Is she that good?"

"You're sick for an old man."

He laughs again, louder, and it brings shivers down your spine. "I can be sicker." Something wet swipes along your cheek and you realize it's his tongue.

His dirty, disgusting tongue.

It breaks you.

Memories flooding back. Your mother, her tears. You, a little girl, and your father not caring one bit.

Jungkook meets your eyes when it tears up, trembling, but he keeps on the nonchalant facade. As if he doesn't care what the man will do to you, so your tears only falls because you are so, so afraid.

You can't do this.

You're still pure.

You can't...you can't.

"Quite sweet," the man hums and you whimper. "What a sweeter voice."

Jungkook rolls his eyes. "Quit your games and just face me already."

He chuckles. "Alright, fine." He releases you, pushes you down the floor where you yelp at the harsh sensation. "Don't worry sweetie, I'll clean you up later-"

But he doesn't get a chance to say anything further.

Once he's distracted, a bullet has already hit his shoulder with no hesitation.

His head snaps back to Jungkook who shoots again. And then again, and again.

You hold your hands over your ears, tears falling at the continuous gunshots that doesn't seem to ever stop and Jungkook's angry voice rings above it.

"After I'm done with you, I'll deal with your family just like you've done to mine. I'll kill them, each and every one of them. Not even your damn dog will be spared."

He can't hear him, you know he can't. There's no chance of survival left with the continuous gunshots that comes and comes, angry waves of hot tears escaping the maknae's eyes when you look up, and your heart shatters.

A broken little boy of a childhood that forced him into this life.

Seeking for revenge for what someone, that someone on the floor, has done to his very own family.

When the ammo is no longer, Jungkook throws the gun harshly at the wall where it hits and breaks, and runs to hold up the man by his collar, fist coming in contact with his face.

He's already dead but even then Jungkook is not satisfied.

How can he ever be satisfied?

His family is gone, never to return to his side.

A lost man. A lost child.

You get up from where you were thrown and take his arm to pull him away. "Jungkook-"

"Get away from me, you whore!"

You ignore his spiteful words and continue pulling at him. "Stop! He's dead!"

Yet Jungkook doesn't care.

"Jungkook!" A few more punches until you finally got him and push him away. "Jungkook," you call his name a little gentler, "it's okay."

He scoffs and pushes you away. "What does a whore understand?"

He goes to stand again but you force him back down, hands reaching out to lay against his shoulders. "It's okay, Jungkook. It's going to be okay," you repeat again. "You don't have to be afraid anymore."

"I'm not-"

"You're going to be alright." You hold him down, staring straight into his eyes. "I know you're scared," you say, "I know you're confused. But it's going to be alright. You're just a little boy who's gone through so much. You must have been hurting for so long, Jungkook, but you're okay now and I am so, so proud of you."

You hold his face, a soft gentle sensation against him, thumbs brushing away the hot tears that had fallen from his eyes.

You wipe away the blood on his face. Watching him gently, holding him gently.

And Jungkook doesn't understand but he tears up a little more. His chest tightens and he feels himself trembling.

What a lovely pair of hands.

So he surprises you by wrapping his hands around your waist and pulling you in close, face resting against the crook of your neck.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

You freeze for a second before relaxing and holding him still, hairs running along his fluffy hair, stroking it sweetly. "You're alright now. It's okay."

"Jungkook-!"

The rest of them comes rushing into the room only to find a dead body, blood spilled all around, with you and Jungkook holding onto each other as Jungkook cries.

Jungkook's crying.

Holding you.

He doesn't do that unless he absolutely cannot take it anymore.

He doesn't ever do that in front of anyone but them.

And now you.

You look up at their faces, some bits of blood managing to wipe across your face, with eyes of innocence, and Namjoon wonders why you aren't running away despite the blood in the room.

Despite having just witnessed Jungkook killing someone.

Taehyung lays in the pool when you walk in to clean a day later, body floating under the moonlight, eyes laying closed.

So when he hears a soft gasp and a bucket falling against the tiles, his lids open and meets your eyes from where you stand.

Heat rushes to your face and you're quick to turn around. "I-I am so sorry, sir! I didn't know you'd be here. I-I thought that, that I could clean up early since no one would be here."

What a cute little thing.

"Cleaning up at one in the morning?" He swims over slowly to you, arms laying on the edge of the pool, chin resting against his wet skin with an amused grin. "Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"I..I couldn't sleep, sir."

Sir.

He smirks, a hum leaving his lips. "Can't sleep, hm?" Jimin's told him he checks up on you from time to time and always find you awake at night. "Then come join me."

You turn around abruptly. "W-what? No, I can't do that."

"Why not?" Taehyung shrugs casually. "A good swim is a nice way to clear your head. And don't worry, I won't drown you or anything."

You aren't worried about that.

For some reason.

But you still don't think swimming in the middle of the night is a good idea whether he's your superior or not.

But Taehyung isn't a man who takes no as an answer.

He kicks himself out the pool and the next thing you know, he's wrapping his wet body around yours and dropping the both of you straight into the deep pool.

He watches you struggle from down there, a nonchalant expression resting on his face while your eyes are squeezed shut as you try and fail at getting air again.

So Taehyung swims on over and takes you in his arms where he swims back up and lets you breathe again.

You gasp for air while he holds you and lets you sit against his strong arms.

It takes a moment but you manage to come back to him eventually.

You don't rush to yell at him like he expects you to. You don't even make a scowl.

You just rest your hands against his shoulders, holding on tightly and panting and coughing because you don't know how to swim and the deep water scares you.

He's got to admit though, you look quite pretty all wet like this, resting against his hold, clothes completely drenched.

"Um..-"

He adjusts his hold and your face comes closer to him than the two of you expects.

Your face flushes some more, nose slightly touching, and your eyes gaze into one another under the bright moonlight from above.

"...hi," you squeak.

Taehyung laughs. "Hi."

"It's um...cold."

"Is it?" You hum. "I like swimming in the cold."

"Do you often swim at night?"

He nods. "It's nice after a day of...you know what. It's relaxing."

"Won't you get a cold?"

"I have thick skin, little one." You sneeze right then and he chuckles. "But it looks like you don't."

"I'm sorry," you say as he swims on over to the edge of the pool, "for this and for interrupting your time here."

The man shakes his head assuringly as he settles you on the tiles of the pool. "It's nice to get a visitor every once in a while. Can you stay a little longer?"

You blink. "You want me to?"

"I do," he hums. "Besides, you don't have extra clothes and the boss wouldn't want his floors wet."

You bite your lower lip. "Right."

"There's some towels over there and you can wear my clothes."

You look on over where there's a racket of the white towels and his clothes hanging. But is it right? "I..shouldn't."

"Why not?" He asks, stroking back calmly. "Take it or you'll catch a cold staying here all drenched."

It takes a few more moments of hesitation but you eventually give in and does as he's asked.

The night is a little less lonely as you sit beside the pool, watching as Taehyung floats around on his back, eyelids closed, with a soft tune humming from his throat.

"Hey, you okay?"

You look up at the sound of Jungkook's voice who walks into the main living room, a face of concern resting on his face in this late afternoon. He's gotten gentle towards you ever since that night.

"Um..why do you ask that?" You reply with your own question while spraying the coffee table and wiping it down.

"You look tired," he states. "Jimin says he doesn't see you sleeping a lot..or ever."

"I'm fine," you insist.

But he goes on anyways. "Is it the atmosphere? Or maybe you're one of those people who needs something in order to sleep? Taehyung can't sleep without hugging something or someone."

What a cute revelation.

"Do you need to hold something? But then again, you've got pillows." You don't know why he's acting so concerned. "Or maybe you need a physical someone to hold you?"

And if you do, what will he do?

"Or do you need a nightlight?"

"It's okay," you tell him. "I don't need anything."

"But you can't sleep."

"I'm used to it."

Jungkook frowns. "That's not good, Y/N. You need to sleep." He pauses for a brief moment. "Why can't you sleep?" You don't answer him right away so he calls your name sternly. "Y/N."

You may have gotten a little closer but you still work for him, and you and your father's life is indebted to him.

"I get scared."

It's an honest truth, something that scares you for even speaking off it.

He settles down before you, taking your hand from mindlessly wiping at the same spot for the past few minutes.

"Of what?" He asks, silently hoping for you to meet his gaze.

But you don't.

It only falls to your lap.

"The nightmares," you say.

He hums as if he understands and he probably does. A young boy walking into the mafia life. His nightmares may be a little different from yours but nightmares are all the same.

Leaving you afraid, scared, trembling, and weak.

Too weak and terrified to close your eyes again. Afraid for the darkness to consume you all over again.

Even the drowsiness is not strong enough to pull you back asleep.

"What are they of?" He carefully asks.

"It...varies." You stare at the hand that holds yours. "Sometimes it's of me, trapped and vulnerable. Sometimes it's of me dying. Sometimes it's of my father, or my mother."

You've never spoken of your mother except now.

He doesn't think he's ever heard anything about your mother before. Not from your father, not from Namjoon who holds records of your father.

Even the news that had once made your family relevant to the world has never said anything about your mother.

"She left us, thankfully, and I think that she's happier now so I don't really care that she ran away. But sometimes I dream back to the days when things were rougher. Rougher for her and I couldn't do anything to help. When she ran, I was about twelve then. She wanted me to go with her but back then I cared for my father's mentality and what he'd do if the both of us were gone. He wouldn't do well, he grew sick then. So I escaped last minute when we got on the train and made up excuses to my father not to hunt her down."

"Y/N..."

He squeezes your hand and holds his other one up to your face, brushing away the tears you hadn't realized had escaped.

"Jungkook," you hold the hand that touches your face, "I don't think my father is going to pay back what he owes."

"Yeah," he sighs, "we had a haunch since it's been months."

"Are you...angry?" You ask worriedly. "Is Namjoon angry?"

"There's a good and a bad," he tells you. "The bad thing is that there was a lot of money he borrowed from us. The good thing is," his gaze falls soft your way, his hand grazing your cheek in a gentle manner, "I don't care because he won't be taking you back any time soon."

"What if...what if I don't want him to take me back...ever?"

"Are you afraid of him?" You nod, lips quivering and honestly he knows that was a foolish question to ask. "Oh baby, come here." He takes your body, letting you settle against his lap, letting your head rest against his chest, and holds you there as you cry softly. "It's okay, you have us now, you have me." He strokes your cheek, the same one that filthy old baster had licked upon and though Jungkook feels angry for him and your father, he keeps himself calm for your sake.

"There's no need to be afraid anymore, baby." A gentle promise that makes your heart smile and ache all at the same time. "Even if he does ever pay us back, I won't let him near you, you got that? You don't have to worry anymore. I'm right here."

You go missing a few days later and it creates sets of panicking emotions.

"The security cameras didn't catch her anywhere outside," Seokjin claims. "She has to be somewhere in this house. Y/N can't just disappear like that."

"Look around," Namjoon orders and they all begin to split up.

He walks into the library minutes after searching a few other places with Jimin, running around, calling your name. The library is one of the largest rooms and Namjoon curses under his breath because he knows he should have checked here first.

The aisle that holds that mythology book you like so much.

And he does find you, sitting in the dark room, head against the book shelves.

He almost shouts aloud, afraid you had fainted or something, but then he hears a soft snore and he realizes that you've just fallen asleep.

"Hyung, have you-" Jimin pauses when he finds you as well and the two of them both lets out sighs of relief.

"Inform the others," he orders as he walks over to you, kneeling on the floor in front of you.

You're in a deep slumber but he's sure you're neck will be tense if you don't move in to a more comfortable position so he maneuvers you carefully from the support of the shelves to his own chest.

You stir a little and he hushes you softly.

"It's the first time I've seen her sleep," Jimin says in a low whisper as the two of them watch you.

You look so vulnerable.

Peaceful and lovely laying in Namjoon's arms.

But then your face distorts, brows creasing, lips pressed against one another. Your hands come to rest against Namjoon's shirt, clenching onto it tightly, soft whimpers falling from your lips.

There are two stray tears that falls, your head reaching to nuzzle into the comfort of the boss's neck.

"What happened?" Yoongi asks when he and the rest shows up not long after.

"Nightmare," Jimin guesses by what Jungkook has told him.

Namjoon strokes your cheeks gently, brushing away your tears, shushing you lightly. "Wake up, baby," he repeats a few times until you finally open your eyes, the nightmares too hard to bear. More whimpers leave your lips as you sob a little more.

So he holds you a little tighter. "It's okay, baby, I'm right here. I've got you. You're okay now, baby."

"Your father has gone off my radar."

"O..oh..."

You don't know what it means for you, what any of it would mean. But standing here in front of Namjoon's desk, it scares you a bit.

"I assume the man is trying to escape from the consequences of his actions, not that it's going to help him. If anything, this only makes things worse." He watches you steadily from where he sits, leaned back against his chair, one leg over the other. "Can you tell me where he might be?" He asks slowly. "A safe house? Headquarters? A vacation home he may escape to?"

"There's...a place," you say hesitantly. You aren't sure if your father will be happy about this but then again, is he ever happy when it comes to you? "He has a safe house on Jeju Island."

You tell him the address and he jots it down in a notepad.

"He's not going to give up that easily but neither will I. What's his weakness, Y/N? You must know that, right?"

He hopes and he doesn't hope that it will be you.

For one, if you are then it means he cares more about you than what he shows. But it'll mean he won't be able to get through to the man because he knows he will not use you as a pawn in this game. And two, if you aren't then he'll understand just how bad of a human this guy really is.

Worse than him, a mafia leader.

Because at least Namjoon has a heart.

"He cares a lot about his business," you tell him. "It'll hurt him if his business falls and he goes bankrupt."

Business over his own daughter.

What a piece of crap.

"What..." you hesitate again, afraid to look up since the very beginning when you've entered his office. "What will...you do..?"

"Will it hurt you to see him fall?" He asks you, observing you carefully.

There's a moment of silence as you think it over.

"If he falls...will I fall along with him?"

"No," he's quick to say. "Your father doesn't own you, Y/N, this is your life whether he likes it or not. When I'm done with him, you can choose whether to stay or leave. Either choice you make, I'll make sure you will never fall to the position I hope to break him at."

A choice at your own life.

How different has life finally changed for you.

You take another moment to think again. "Do you believe I should still care about him?"

"He doesn't deserve any of your love and care," he tells you honestly. "He deserves to rot away in hell."

Yet he is still your father.

A father who hurts, a father who doesn't care.

"It's your call, baby."

Your call.

No one has ever given you a choice at anything. First your father, and then the society he had place you in.

Serving as the perfect daughter. Smart, pretty, dependable, and listens well. You don't speak up for your own self even when others criticize you. You don't make friends because your father forbade it. You've never fallen in love, never felt love of any sorts.

And now Namjoon, mafia boss, leader to a ruthless, dark gang, one many fears, is asking for your call.

But you don't know what to do.

"I-I'm sorry, I...I don't know," you admit.

Yet Namjoon remains patient.

"Do you wish to live an independent life, Y/N?" He leans away from his seat, legs uncrossing, elbows resting upon his desk. "Without having to worry about your father or anyone else but yourself? Live your own life, care for your own self and just yourself."

It may sound better than living with your father but it sounds lonely.

So lonely.

So you shake your head. "I want to stay," you tell him and he raises a brow, a bit surprised.

"You don't hate it here?"

You shake your head again. "I like talking," you say, "I like having someone else to talk to. I don't wanna be alone anymore, it scares me."

"This world I live in should scare you more."

"But you're more human than my father can ever be and you care more than what my father can ever give. I-I'm sorry if I'm being selfish, I just-"

"You deserve to be selfish once in a while."

He stands from his chair, rolling it back to take slow steps your way. You look up, meeting his gaze, those intense, piercing gaze, and the world seems to fall silent.

All but the intense beating of your heart.

All but his slow footsteps making his way towards you.

It stops when he's just a few inches away, his height hovering over you and you feel oh so small.

"Human," he says lowly, "no one's ever called me that in a while. It sounds refreshing, like I actually have a heart."

"But you do," you say and point right at his chest. "It's right here."

Namjoon chuckles. "Yes," he hums, taking your small hand into his own, "it is." Your heart skips a beat. "I believe the members won't mind another one added to the family."

"And...you?"

A smirk dances on his lips. "Isn't it obvious? Of course I want you to stay." You let out the breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding onto and he finds it amusing yet sad. "I'll take care of your father," he tells you, a hand reaching out to stroke your soft cheek, "just stay with the maknaes until we get back, alright?"

You nod at his words and he smiles, patting your head.

"Good girl."

Three days later at around 3 am, the door to your room creaks open and you turn from the window to find Hoseok standing in your doorway.

"He's dealt with," the man informs you.

Black suit on, a messy hairstyle yet he still manages to look good.

More than good.

You don't know what to say, how to deal with this. On one side, this is your fault, you've exposed his weakness and location. Your own father.

But on the other side, he's never treated you as human, never treated you as the daughter you deserved to feel like.

So maybe this is the right thing? Staying in a large mansion bigger than yours once was, living a life far better than your father who...who knows what's happened to him exactly.

"He isn't dead," Hoseok tells you, "but he probably feels that way at this point."

"Did he...mention me?"

A part of you still has hope that he has some humanity left in him, wondering whether he's asked about you, whether he's worried what will happen to you.

And Hoseok sees that without you voicing your thoughts so he keeps the story to himself.

You don't need to know how your father only belittled you some more, or blamed you, calling you plain useless, and not caring about what they'd do to you from now on.

Yoongi punched him a good few times for that.

You didn't deserve such words and the old man doesn't deserve you.

So Hoseok just remains silent as he walks through the door, watching you steadily from where you stand.

He stops where you are, brows furrowing at the sight he sees. "You're tired," he says softly with a hand going on to stroke your cheek.

You take that hand, hold it between yours. "You're cold, Hoseok."

Small hands caressing his, rubbing it to give it your own warmth.

"Sleep, sweetheart."

He presses a kiss against your forehead. A soft kiss.

So maybe it's what makes you a little braver to rest yourself against his chest, against his hold.

He's cold but you welcome it.

"Thank you, Hoseok."

"You didn't come back last night," Taehyung smirks at his hyung's way when he walks into the kitchen, hair ruffled and messy from just waking up.

Hoseok doesn't hide it. "How could I?" He says, shrugging. "I wanted to make sure the little one fell asleep."

Fresh morning light filters into the room after years of living in just the darkness. Coffee beans and scrambled eggs filling the room.

Yoongi takes a sip of his hot drink with eyes checking the clock that reads somewhere around nine. "She finally slept."

"So what'd you do to the old man?" Jungkook asks.

"Left him to rot away like the life he deserves," Seokjin says bitterly.

"And Y/N? The media isn't going to try and get into her life are they?"

"I've dealt with them last night," Namjoon tells him. "She can live a peaceful life now."

"Not entirely," Jimin points out with a light scoff. "Since when have our lives been peaceful?"

"Well," Yoongi shrugs, "at least there's some light now."

Footsteps are heard, coming from afar, nearing and nearing, and they almost consciously reach for their guns but the steps are two soft for anyone threatening.

Too soft.

And quick.

You run in, stopping at the sight of them with a soft gasp and Jimin stands from where he sits to instantly rush to your side.

Tears fall from your eyes. You're scared, the nightmares making you feel terrified.

"Hey, it's okay, baby," he holds your face, brushing the tears away, gives you kisses on both your eyelids as the rest joins to surround you with worry. "It's okay. We're right here, baby. You're alright now. You're okay."

"Jin...?"

He hums, asking you to go on when you walk into his office hesitantly, eyes never straying from the computers that surrounds his office, fingers typing away with codes of black and green letters rushing through the screen.

Something you can never come to ever decipher.

"You..you're good with...tracking people down...right?"

He hums again and you fall a little more hesitantly this time.

When he doesn't hear your voice again after a few long seconds, Seokjin stops typing and turns his chair around to face you. "What is it, little one?" He asks. "Do you need me to track someone down?"

His brows are a little furrowed, hoping you don't mean your father. The same one who unfortunately doesn't care much about you.

He doesn't understand why you had the heart to stay and not run away, but then again, perhaps there was no escape.

After all, where would you have gone? He just wishes you hadn't loved him as much.

But the words that comes out of your mouth is something entirely different from what he expects.

"I want you to find...my mother." He stares at you for a moment, a little taken back, and you swallow a lump in your throat. "I just need to know if she's alright," you tell him. "At least then," you pause, "hopefully...another nightmare may go away."

The nightmares, right.

"I just need to know."

He lets himself take a breather, arms opening up for you. "Come here, sweetie." He snakes his arms around your waist, allowing you to fall against his lap. A hand comes up to your hair, fingers playing along a few strands. "If I find her, what will you do? Will you go to find out?"

You're adorable with the slight pout of confusion on your face. He just wishes you smiled more often.

"...may I?"

He gifts you a soft smile, planting a kiss on your temple. "I'll come with you, alright?"

You nod, knowing it'll be better that way. "Thank you, Seokjin."

The street looks like a nice neighborhood. Suburban home miles away from Seoul.

Peaceful and friendly looking.

"There it is," you say softly under your breath as you stop walking, staring at the number of the house a few feet away.

It's a pretty home with a spacious yard, and suddenly you're feeling quite nervous. Small and timid.

How will she react? Will she even want to see you? You had deserted her on that train after all, left her crying and calling out for you from the window. Her shouts echoes in your dreams from time to time, moments you shall never forget.

You told her you'd head to the bathroom, only to escape, hoping she wouldn't catch you. So the instant her eyes met yours outside the train, all thoughts of watching her quietly leave were thrown out and you ran.

Ran and ran without giving her a chance to chase after you because the train had already began to depart.

You left her a letter in your backpack. She had asked you to pack, fully expecting a few clothes and snacks.

But the only thing in it was a photo of you and her with departing words in sloppy handwriting on the back, signed your name.

Would she forgive you for leaving without a proper goodbye?

Would she forgive you at all?

Seokjin takes your hand without a word, squeezing it for comfort as if he understands your thoughts and insecurities.

You look up at him, smiling, and his heart almost melts.

It's a little sad but you haven't smiled so much so he knows that this is good enough.

You hear voices, a cheery child laughing as she jumps and gasp as you grip onto Seokjin's hand tightly and rush to hide the both of you behind a fence.

There's a child with her parents, holding onto their hands as she skips happily.

Her father makes a joke and they laugh. Her and...

Your heart skips a beat, breath held back, tears forming at the brim of your eyes, throat clogged up, mouth feeling dry all of a sudden.

"Careful, sweetie," she tells the child just around seven years old. "You might fall if you aren't too careful."

"But you and Daddy will be there to catch me, mummy."

"Even so," she grins, picking her up in her arms, "I don't want you getting hurt, okay?"

"Ah, mom, you're always so worried about the slightest thing!"

Her father chuckles as he places a sweet kiss on his wife's temple. They share an understanding gaze, something the daughter will not come to comprehend just yet, and walk into the very home you had been seeking for.

Your mother is always worried about the slightest thing because of you, a young child who's often clumsy, a young child who should have never been exposed to the dysfunctional life of what was supposed to be a lovely household.

But she's escaped that.

Got a new husband, a loving husband, and another daughter.

Your half sister, your step father.

"Y/N?" He calls your name, one of the seven reasons why your life has gotten better, why you're saved.

So you turn to him, smiling sweetly even with tears falling away, and take his hand.

"Let's go home."

Home.

The sun has already set when the two of you return, lights by the entrance doorway flicking on when you and Seokjin walk up the doorsteps.

The doors open, revealing Yoongi who has on a grumpy frown.

"Where have you been? It's late and you never answered. Do you have any idea how-"

You wrap your arms around him, falling against his chest, and he freezes up, eyes blinking in confusion, looking at his hyung for an explanation.

Seokjin just smiles and though he remains perplexed, he allows your warmth to welcome him and pulls you in closer.

"You okay, baby?"

You nod against him. "Hungry."

He chuckles lightly.

2 am.

There's a knock at their door and Taehyung comes to open it.

You stand there, looking up at him looking oh so small and adorable. There's hesitation in your eyes, small body rocking slightly from side to side, unsure if this is the right place to come to.

"Nightmare, sweet one?" He asks you.

You shake your head, rubbing at your sleepy eyes. "Can't sleep, want my nightlight."

He tilts his head slightly to the side. "Nightlight?"

"You."

How cute.

It has him smiling no matter how hard he tries to hide it because he likes it. He likes the sound of that.

"Come in, then."

They're already settled in, just a lamp turned on by the bedside and you crawl in to the middle of the large bed.

"Sorry," you mumble quietly as you settle in between Jungkook and Namjoon who holds onto you securely.

Jungkook has his arms around you from the back, spooning you and pressing a soft kiss on your shoulder. "It's okay, baby, don't apologize."

"Sweet dreams." Another kiss pressed against your head, Namjoon pulling the covers up to your neck as your eyes slowly closes.

Your hear the light flickering off and you know you'll have a pleasant dream you haven't had in a long, long time.

"Thank you," you whisper into the quiet night, a confession just on the tip of your tongue but you know you don't have to say it aloud for them to understand.

And they don't have to say a word for you to know either.

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amerrierworld · 4 years ago

Text

Lullaby

Ocean’s 8 fanfiction

for the request: More Lou x reader plssss they’re so good! Maybe a protective!Lou fic

Summary: Lou is there for you as you struggle with incessant nightmares.

Characters: Lou x gn!reader, the team mentioned in passing

Word Count: 2,071

Warnings: comfort and fluffffff. a bit dark in reference to scary nightmares, restlessness, worry, etc! some fluffy suggestiveness, but nothing smutty

You knew you needed to sleep. Hell, you wanted to sleep. Your eyes were burning as you stared at the ceiling fan high above you, spinning gently and sending cool air to the sleeping bodies below.

The ladies had all crashed at Lou’s that night, an impromptu sleep-over after a night drinking in celebration. There was plenty of couch space to go around, and an extra mattress was pulled out for the remaining few. Pillows and blankets were tossed about and shared.

You heard Rose snoring quietly at the other end of the mattress. At some point in the night, you had rolled off of your side onto the hardwood floor, blankets half-covering your restless body.

The ground was hard and cold against your back, but it was a welcomed feeling, because you’d woken up in a fit, heart pounding, drenched in sweat and gripping the blankets with trembling hands.

You didn’t expect nightmares to visit you tonight. You’d drank happily and were exhausted from the day’s events, and you were out cold as soon as everyone turned out the lights and said goodnight.

But shadowy figures danced about your brain as you laid there, staring up at the ceiling fan, trying to decide what to do next. Memories of the nightmare were already fading due to the drunken haze you had fallen asleep in, but the panic was still heavy in your chest.

Suddenly, your body tingled with restlessness and you sat up. Wincing at the stickiness of your sweaty shirt peeling off the floor, you got up and gingerly stepped around your sleeping friends. You needed to move, or do something, before your heavy breathing woke anyone else up.

You went to the bathroom, used the toilet, combed your fingers through your wild hair. Wandered around the small space for a bit, opened the cupboards and inspected what kind of hair products Lou liked to use.

It was eerily quiet, the kind of quiet in someone else’s house that you’re not used to. You sat on the edge of the bathtub, which was wondrously large, and debated drawing yourself a bath. It’d be too loud to fill it, you figured. You’d feel like you were imposing, no matter how comfortably you knew Lou and the rest of the team.

But you also didn’t want to go back yet either. The cool bathroom floor tiles were jarring but relaxing to your aching feet, and the harsh bright light dispelled any shadows around you.

Wild, hot tears prickled the edges of your eyes and you sniffled. You rubbed your face with a shaky hand, irritated at your drowsiness but inability to sleep peacefully which only made you cry harder.

Wind roared outside and the lights flickered for a split second as you sobbed silently into your hands.

Lou wasn’t a light sleeper by any means, but if something sounded off in her own home, she’d be the first to wake up. And so, when she heard soft footsteps creaking up her staircase, she was awake in seconds.

She peeked down the hall and saw the light coming from the bathroom as you snuck in, clicking it shut slowly, as if all hell would break loose if someone heard you.

Lou normally wouldn’t have done anything, considering there were eight people sleeping over and someone was bound to use the toilet in the middle of the night, but the way your feet shuffled weakly and your head was bowed down in fear made her worry.

She waited for you to come back out. Heard the flushing of the toilet, the running of the sink, and expected you to open the door again immediately. But you didn’t. And when she walked over, leaned her ear towards the door and heard quiet sobs coming through, she nearly broke down the door with how swiftly she opened it, fearing the worst.

Your back straightened, squeaking in surprise at the sight of Lou in the doorway, her eyebrows furrowed.

You both stared at each other for a moment. Lou opened her mouth and closed it again, swallowing thickly. She realized how invasive it was for her to burst through the door, but the sound of you in torment pushed any rational thoughts out of her brain.

Rubbing your eyes quickly, you got up and wrung your hands in front of you.

“S-sorry I took so long,” you said, thinking she needed to hurriedly use the bathroom. Lou’s brain was short-circuiting with both worry and confusion. Your clothes stuck to your body and seemed damp, and your face was red and splotchy, despite your attempt to hide any signs of your crying.

You felt bad for waking Lou and keeping her waiting. She was wearing an oversized rock ‘n roll t-shirt that nearly reached her knees, and her hair stuck out in all directions, a low bun drooping and threatening to fall out entirely.

“It’s alright,” Lou replied dumbly, not realizing why you were apologizing.

You got closer, trying to think of how to get past her without making it obvious how much you were struggling, hoping her sky-blue eyes wouldn’t catch on.

But a gentle hand stopped you before you could walk past her and you knew that she had.

“Y/N,” she whispered, pushing you back a bit so she could close the bathroom door, giving you privacy, “what’s wrong?”

You nonchalantly leaned against the sink, looking at your toes, “nothing.”

The lights flickered again as the wind howled outside. Suddenly the space felt too surreal, too harsh and bright, and you ached.

Lou turned away from you, rummaging around and pulling out a washcloth. She used the sink behind you to dampen it, and you wondered what she needed it for. Maybe she needed to wash her face, or had some makeup left over...

Then she reached for your hand and gently pressed the fabric against the back of it. The lukewarm temperature of it zapped through your body like a shot and your clammy hand went limp in hers.

She searched your eyes, looking for fear, for rejection. Instead she found pleading, drowsiness and trust.

“I’m not good with words,” she muttered as she rubbed the cloth over your fingers and forearm, before moving to the other. “But does this help?”

You nodded, face scrunching up as tears threatened to flow again and you wanted to hold them back.

Then she pressed the damp cloth against your collarbones and shoulders, where you felt sickly sweaty, shuddering. When she reached behind to cup your neck and work her fingers into your muscles through the cloth, you surrendered. Your body tipped forward, following the pressure of her hand and resting your forehead against her shoulder.

She stilled, holding the cloth against your bare, clammy skin.

“I can’t sleep,” you muttered thickly into her shirt, voice breaking.

Immediately the cloth was gone and her hands replaced the absence, holding you closely and letting your entire weight rest against her. Hot tears flowed again.

“Did Tammy kick you in her sleep?” Lou asked, “apparently she does that. If she did you just gotta kick her back-”

You chuckled, pulling away a bit, and replied, “no, it wasn’t Tam. I get these.. nightmares.”

Lou’s eyebrow raised in curiosity. Her hands held your waist as she let you speak, the warmth and heaviness of them a grounding feeling for you.

“I have trouble sleeping at really stupid times,” you muttered, “And then I’m stressed about it. When I wake up I- I’m afraid to even think about going back to sleep.

“Like- I- I don’t know, they just happen and I wake up, but I don’t feel like myself when I do, and- and it takes ages to feel okay again. I just..”

You trailed off, biting your lip in worry, clenching Lou’s shirt in your hands as you looked at her chin to avoid her piercing gaze.

Lou’s heart broke a bit at the sight of you fighting with yourself, and she sighed. One of her hands came up to cup your cheek, making you meet her eyes.

“Would it help if someone was with you?” she asked.

“Well.. no, clearly, because even with the whole team down there-”

“I meant someone who was with you. Making sure you’re okay and safe to fall sleep,” Lou corrected herself, smiling at your doe-eyed look, eyes wide, cheeks still splotchy. She picked up the washcloth, ran it under the water again and rubbed it gently against your cheeks.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you tried to form words, feeling wonderfully sleepy in her arms,

“I- I suppose so.. maybe. I don’t know.”

“My bed is a lot cozier than the couches downstairs,” Lou suggested, picking her words carefully. “If you’d like you could...”

“Sleep with you?”

“Not sleep with me,” Lou said hastily, “but.. yes. If it'd be more comfortable.”

You smirked a little, looking up at her and batting your eyelashes, “What if I did want to... sleep with you?”

Lou snorted, “not with the state you’re in right now, missy. You look ready to fall over and snore all on my floors.”

You blushed, rubbing your thumbs over the middle of Lou’s shirt, too distracted by the design on it to notice you were pressing your fingers against her abdomen and warm skin, making her nostrils flare and her grip tighten.

“You can say no, Y/N.”

“No, I’d like that, but.. why? You’re not just feeling bad for me are you?”

“No, of course not,” Lou sighed, “Y/N..”

She cupped your cheek and looked you squarely in the eyes, “you mean the world to me, darling. I mean that. Let me take care of you, at least for tonight. Let me help.”

You blushed, again feeling your emotions well up and threaten to spill over but Lou rubbed your cheeks with her thumbs, brushed back your hair, pulled you closer to her warm body.

You nodded and felt Lou take your hand, open the door and turn off the bathroom light, swallowing both of you in darkness. She lead you and you followed blindly to her bedroom, where a massive bed awaited.

You put a hand on the mattress, feeling that it was still warm from where Lou was sleeping, and the thought made you blush. There was a glass of water on the nightstand that Lou encouraged you to drink.

“Crying makes you dehydrated,” she said as she went through her drawers. “Drink something, it’ll help.”

You downed the glass in nearly one gulp, and your throat felt less like sandpaper after finishing it.

“Here,” Lou whispered softly. She was holding out another oversized shirt to you, “It’ll be easier to sleep with something clean.”

You nodded and lifted your arms as Lou reached for the hem of your shirt, tugging it off of your body. In the semi-darkness, the only light being Lou’s lamp on her nightstand, you should have felt exposed, but Lou did nothing that made you feel uncomfortable.

She tugged her shirt over your head and helped your arms through, the soft fabric falling against your skin with a welcomed sigh.

Then she kneeled down and tugged your pants off for you too, palms rubbing at your calves and heels in assurance.

She pushed back the comforter and climbed in on the other side of the bad, tucking her long legs under the sheets and holding out her hand for you to take.

You snuggled in beside her, warm from where she’d been sleeping, her scent enveloping you and blurring your mind like a drug.

“Feeling better?”

You nodded, admiring her in the soft light. You looked so cozy, swaddled by her comforter and pillows that Lou couldn’t bear to ask you to turn out the light. So instead, she reached over you with long arms, turning out the light herself.

As she did, your body rolled towards her as she came closer to you, and she blinked in surprise just as darkness surrounded you.

Once Lou got comfortable, you were pressed up against her side, face buried in the crook of her neck, and your breathing was coming out slowly, evenly.

Lou smiled as she realized you’d fallen asleep, peacefully, it seemed. She draped an arm over your middle and pressed a kiss on your head, holding you tightly and mentally fighting off all the nightmares threatening to come into her room tonight.

A/N: this was very cathartic for me to write, I hope it may do the same for you reading it <3

#lou #lou miller #lou miller x reader #lou miller x you #cate blanchett #cate blanchett x you #cate blanchett x reader #wlw #lgbt #ocean's eight #oceans 8 #oceans8 #oceans 8 fanfic #ocean's 8 #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #merry writes

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artificialdaydreamer · 4 years ago

Text

How to Say "I Love You"

Emotions are hard to understand, conveying how one feels to the person they love is even harder.

Jon had never been good at expressing his emotions. Growing up he mostly absorbed their descriptions from books, how a character was excited for something to happen, how another was jealous of someone else. The feeling he found hardest to comprehend was love. How was it possible to be so completely devoted to another person that it shifted the way you felt about everything? He loved his parents, even now that they were gone. He loved his grandmother, but he got the feeling that the type of love written about in books was different from the emotions he was actually experiencing.

When he started dating Georgie, something he’d entirely misinterpreted when it had first happened, Jon wasn’t sure what the emotions he felt were. Was the yearning to be close to her love? The happiness to have someone he could talk with about inconsequential things? Then again, if what he felt wasn’t love, then what was? Eventually Georgie came to him, told him that while she liked Jon as a friend she didn’t think their relationship was working out. They’d broken up without much fanfare and going from dating to friends didn’t really change how they interacted with each other.

As he watched Martin sleep, his coppery curls catching the light of the rising sun, his face close enough to Jon’s that it was possible to count every freckle, Jon thought he might finally have an answer. He loved Martin, that was the only explanation for why his heart clenched whenever Martin smiled, why his cheeks flushed and his palms started to sweat from the smallest things. This was what people talked about in those books, what they yearned for with such intensity, wasn’t it?

When had he started feeling like this? When had Jon’s feelings for Martin turned to love? Was it when he’d gone into the Lonely? When Martin had started working for Peter Lukas and Jon was no longer able to see him? Earlier? How long had he loved Martin and just not realized it?

Jon lay there, thinking back to their interactions over the years. Next to him Martin started to stir, blue eyes blinking open slowly. “Morning.” Martin said with a smile.

“Good morning.” Jon tried to keep his voice from shaking as his heart pounded in time with his thoughts. I love you, I love you, I love you.

From then on it was hard to not feel overwhelmed by the love, like a wave crashing over him. Jon would be in the middle of a sentence before getting distracted by Martin, how beautiful he was, his laugh. I love you, I love you, I love you. How did people deal with these emotions?

He started to use actions instead of the words he could not say. Making sure they had enough of Martin’s favorite tea in the safehouse. I love you, I love you, I love you. Offering to cook breakfast so Martin could stay in bed a bit longer. I love you, I love you, I love you. Letting his fingers linger a bit longer than was necessary whenever they touched. I love you, I love you, I love you.

They’d decided to take a walk into town, grab some groceries, and stretch their legs, passing the field full of cows Martin stopped and cooed over them. He’d gotten out his phone to take pictures and the moment was so... normal compared to everything they’d been through that Jon started chuckling.

“What’s so funny?” Martin had asked, tearing his eyes from the cows to look at Jon in confusion.

“Nothing,” Jon took a breath, trying to burn this moment into his memory. “I just love you so much.”

There was a moment of silence where Martin just stared at him, his freckled face looking even redder thanks to the glow of the setting sun. “Wait... What?”

For a heartbeat Jon wondered if he’d said the wrong thing, although he hadn’t even meant to say it at all. He couldn’t help but question if Martin’s confession of “I really loved you” meant that those feelings were gone. Had he been the only one who worried about just what the emotions flooding through his veins meant? Was he just imagining that Martin felt the same way?

“I- I’m sorry... I didn’t mean-” Jon was floundering now, scrambling for something to say to make the situation right again. “If you don’t- I’m sorry.”

“You... Do you mean that?” Martin’s cheeks were practically scarlet, his phone now dangling precariously in one hand.

“I... Yes?” Despite the fact Jon had already come to terms with his feelings, had already said the words aloud, it felt like an entirely different thing to answer when his thoughts were in such turmoil. He didn’t know how to respond in a way that wouldn’t sound selfish, asking for affection he knew in his heart he didn’t deserve. Even if Martin did still like him there wasn’t anything that Jon could do to atone for the thing’s he had said, the things he had done, the person he’d been to have treated Martin so terribly. It was ironic, that at the time he’d swatted away such affection yet now he craved it as though he were an addict suffering from withdrawal. As though he’d been living underground and now that he’d seen sunlight he couldn’t get enough.

The expression on Martin’s face was hard to understand. Was it sadness? Pity? The books Jon had read as a child had talked about brows furrowing, lips being bitten, eyes not being met, but those individual descriptions could apply to so many emotions and Jon didn’t know what it was Martin might be feeling. It was all Jon could do to not scrunch his eyes up as Martin took a tentative step closer, then another, bridging the gap between them and effectively forcing all the air from Jon’s lungs. Then he’d swept Jon up in his arms, Jon’s face nestling into the crook of his neck. It was so warm and comfortable... It felt like Jon belonged there.

“S-sorry...” Martin gasped as they broke apart, his face still red as he seemed to examine Jon for some sort of reaction. “I should have asked first, but I- Are you okay?”

In all honesty Jon was not okay. His brain was attempting to sort out just what he was feeling, synapses firing and crossing out things like anger and disgust with only his limited knowledge of emotions to go off of. Again, the words and feeling threatened to overwhelm him with the constant pounding of I love you, I love you, I love you.

“Jon?” Martin waved a hand in front of his face and it was a real effort for Jon to pull himself out of his thoughts enough to meet Martin’s gaze. “Did I do something wrong?”

“N-no... I just... I wasn’t expecting- I didn’t know if-”

“Wait... Jon, did you not think I felt the same?” Martin’s eyes were wide, reflecting the setting sun.

“I, I’m not sure.” He’d spent so much time absorbed in his own thoughts that he hadn’t actually thought of what might happen if he confessed. He hadn’t even thought about confessing. Jon realized that he’d somehow become content with just loving Martin and not telling him. He’d convinced himself that Martin was better off without him, and that there wasn’t a point in confessing.

“Jon, I’ve loved you for the past two years.” Martin’s voice was soft, his cheeks still flushed as he stared at Jon.

“What?” Jon squawked, taking a step back in surprise. Martin reached out and grabbed Jon’s hand in his own, it was so warm, so comforting.

“Well, not exactly two years...” Martin ran his free hand through his coppery curls. “Since the thing with Prentiss, when you let me stay in the Archives...”

Jon remembered those long nights they’d spent together after Martin had started living in the document storage room. At first Jon had found Martin’s presence kind of annoying, it was impossible to get some time by himself. Then he’d realized what was going on, although he couldn’t explain just how he’d known.

Martin didn’t want to be alone.

While he’d admitted during his statement that boredom had been the thing that had been the hardest to deal with, Jon suspected loneliness had also plagued him. Cut off from everyone, no internet, no phone, and it wasn’t like he could talk to Jane Prentiss. It certainly explained why Martin felt the need to check on Jon every half hour.

Once he’d realized why Martin was acting like a concerned parent he made an effort to take more breaks so they could talk. At first it had been hard to find topics for discussion, as Jon was as good with small talk as he was with emotions, but bringing up the Admiral had certainly broken the ice. After that Jon found it easier to connect with Martin, it was still somewhat awkward, but he certainly made an effort. Jon had also ended up staying in the Archives overnight a handful of times as well, partially because he had work to do and partially to keep Martin company.

It had been those nights where they’d started to connect, going out to eat so they could both eat a decent meal, talking about random things to pass the time while they struggled to fall asleep. Jon had started to get a sense of who Martin was, underneath the jumpers and tea. He was earnest and always tried his best to do whatever task Jon set for him, no matter how absurd it was. He also had a mischievous side to him and had no problem joining Tim in his pranks, although Martin was much better at keeping the pranks a secret.

It felt strange, getting to know a person through whispered conversations, over tea breaks, or at a cafe. Jon was never good with friendships, never good at telling what people wanted from him, so he’d ended up pushing everyone away. After his encounter with Mr. Spider he only became more withdrawn, survivor’s guilt eating him up inside. Martin wasn’t like the others though. Despite the fact that Jon was horrible at communicating, horrible at deciphering what emotions anyone might be feeling at any given time, Martin didn’t seem to care. He seemed to be genuinely happy to spend time with Jon, which was just as foreign a concept.

Now, despite everything that had happened in the past few years, Martin had stayed with him. An anchor in the churning waves that threatened to wash him away from everything he knew and cared about. Jon loved him for that. “I think that’s when I started to fall for you too. I didn’t- I didn’t realize at the time...”

“Oh, I definitely didn’t realize either.” Martin’s cheeks were slightly less flushed than they had been. “I think I realized it when- this is going to sound crazy...”

“You realized it when, Martin?” Jon couldn’t help but ask, smiling at the flustered look on Martin’s face.

“It... It was when I told you about lying on my CV.” Martin sighed, not daring to meet Jon’s gaze. “You, you were so mad at first but after I told you... You just started laughing and I remember looking at you and thinking ‘really? This is the man I fell in love with?’ Thankfully Tim... Tim was too distracted by everything else going on to pay attention to my hopeless crush.”

“Not so hopeless.” Jon squeezed Martin’s hand. “I knew how much I cared about you when I woke up in the hospital after my coma. Georgie was there, and I remember being sad because it was you I wanted to see.” It felt strange to say the words aloud, as though he was only understanding what had happened. He’d been thinking about it so much over the past few weeks, since he’d realized that he loved Martin, but it took saying the words aloud for him to notice. “It was funny, the months that followed, I thought it was a fitting punishment for how I’d treated you. Wanting to be close to someone and yet unable to do so. I knew I loved you a few days after we arrived here.”

“Is that why you were acting so weird?”

“Look, I... I’m not the best with emotions. I don’t get them, I don’t understand how I feel half the time. With other people it’s even harder, trying to piece together how they’re feeling based on their expression or the tone of their voice...” Since he was still holding Martin’s hand Jon couldn’t cross his arms defensively over his chest, so he settled for putting his free hand in his pocket. “This is the first time I’ve ever... I’ve ever felt something so intensely. I didn’t know what to do, how to act, now that I knew I loved you.”

“I get it, emotions are hard. Can I help?” Martin asked, his lips quirked in a small smile.

“Sure? I guess so?”

“How did you feel when I told you that I loved you?”

Jon had to think about it, he’d been so overwhelmed by the tidal wave of emotions that he wasn’t sure what any of them had been. “I was... I think I was happy.”

“You think?”

“I was happy, alright?” Jon huffed. “I was also shocked, and confused... Mostly I was happy, because I loved you so much.”

“Alright, that’s good to know.” Martin took a step closer, still smiling. “How would you feel if I kissed you?”

The answer came easier this time. “Happy. I’d feel happy.”

“May I kiss you?”

“Absolutely.” Jon didn’t know what to expect from Martin kissing him. He’d kissed Georgie and while it hadn’t been unpleasant he hadn’t gotten anything from the experience. This time however, Jon could taste the remnants of whatever chapstick Martin had used, strawberry maybe? He felt how warm Martin’s lips were, despite the cold day, their heat bleeding into him. He wrapped his arms around Martin and pulled them closer, trying to memorize everything as it happened. Martin’s scent, the wool of his jumper, how fast both their hearts were beating. In his head Jon was panicking. He didn’t know what to do, or if what he was doing was the right thing to do. He attempted to understand what the emotions he felt were: happiness... amazement... and love. So much love. Was love even an emotion? He didn’t know, but it certainly overwhelmed his senses.

When they broke apart Martin was smiling and, more surprisingly, Jon was smiling back. “Let’s take it one day at a time, alright? We can work out what you might be feeling together.”

“I- I’d like that.”

I love you, I love you, I love you.

The words still rattled around in his mind, but for once they didn’t worry him. Jon might not understand love, or emotions, or why the characters in his books had behaved a certain way, but it didn’t matter. Martin loved him back, and that was more than enough for him.

I've been sitting on this fic for a year due to some personal issues, on a related note this is not betaed, I apologize for any mistakes there might be

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #jmart #tma fic #my fic

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sugarmaplewings-fics · 5 years ago

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How Y'all Sleep

Pairing: BNHA boys x reader

Warnings: None, although I do break some gender neutrality. There's a warning before it, though.

I'm back with my first headcanons!

Still on the topic of sleep, we have a few little wholesome things the two of you (even the three of you!) do in the night.

Enjoy, lovelies!

-Sugar

Characters: Midoriya, Bakugou, Todoroki, Kirishima, Shinsou, Amajiki

Izuku:

● Lots of cuddles

● 100% the best time for cuddles because he gets so snuggly when he's sleepy

● You're constantly on top of or pressed up against each other

● You like to take turns using each other's chest as a pillow

● Usually he's the big spoon, but lets you have the position whenever you ask

● Prefers being able to see you in front of him, though

● Usually sleeps in an oversized t-shirt or hoodie and shorts, but sometimes you can get him shirtless

● He tends to wake up first

● Really likes to kiss you awake

Katsuki:

● Likes to be the one holding you

● Is ALWAYS the big spoon

● You normally have your head on his chest

● The only times he falls asleep with his head on your chest is accidentally when you're cuddling

● Is actually a very touchy person in private, so he likes to have you close to him

● You can't tell anyone and he denies everything, even while he's got his arms around your waist and his head on top of yours

● Aah sorry this was supposed to be about sleep. I'm falling asleep while writing this lol.

● Sleeps either in one of his black tank tops or shirtless (just for you)

● Very much a sweatpants boi (especially the gray ones; he knows how they hit different)

● Always wakes up first

● Sometimes he'll get up without you and let you sleep for a little while so he can make breakfast

● Sometimes he'll stay and cuddle with you, not wanting to get up on a day off

● Usually wakes you up by shaking you gently and saying your name

Shouto:

● Pretty touch starved, so there's a lot of cuddles

● You usually have your head on his chest, but after a bad day, he likes to lay his head on you. He finds it very comforting

● Definitely prefers to be the big spoon

● Still super enjoys being held, though

● Sleeps in oversized tees. Takes some persuading to get him shirtless (if that's what ya like)

● He typically wakes up first

● Watches you sleep for a bit until he kisses you awake and whispers your name in your ear

● Some mornings you just lay in bed and talk, conversations sometimes getting a little deep

● Really likes to take naps on your thighs

Eijirou:

● You're all over each other

● We're talking HUGE cuddle monster here, there's no escape

● Some nights, you're practically on top of him, and he hugs you until you fall asleep

● Other nights you switch, and he really likes putting his head on your chest

● Y'all like playing with each other's hands while you drift off, sometimes even keeping your fingers intertwined in your sleep

● He's definitely more of a big spoon and you like being held in his strong arms. It makes him feel manly to be able to hold you, no matter how big or small you are compared to him

● Will let you be the big spoon every once and a while, but doesn't go for it often (although he does like the feeling of your chest squished against his back)

● He started out sleeping in the classic oversized tee, but after you kept pestering him to take them off, he just kinda sleeps shirtless out of habit now

● Is a sweatpants boi

● You wake up around the same time

● You like waking each other up with snuggles and kisses

Hitoshi:

● Lots of naps together

● Literally you can come over to his house or his dorm room and just hop into bed with him

● You switch up sleeping positions a lot, but he's not aggressively cuddly like someone like Izuku or Eijirou

● He does still like putting his head on you and also likes the feeling of your head on him

● He tends to be the big spoon, but isn't opposed to being the little spoon

● Will sleep in anything from a t-shirt to a hoodie to a tank top to just shirtless

● Has some really cute pajama pants with cats on them which you totally don't steal from time to time

● Kind of a gamble which one of you wakes up first

● Sometimes he'll get up without you and let you sleep

● Some mornings you'll wake up first and just kind of run your hands up and down his arms and draw shapes on his chest with your fingertips until he wakes up

● Takes a while for you both to get out of bed, since you're just so content to lay together in each other's arms, even simply in sleepy silence

Tamaki:

● Takes some time before he's comfortable with touching you and being touched by you, but once he gets over it, he's all over you

● Big cuddle bug and likes it when you hold him

● Usually has his head on your chest rather than the other way around

● When it comes to spooning it's pretty fifty-fifty

● He loves being in your arms but he also loves having you in his

● Pretty much always sleeps in a t-shirt and pajama pants

● You wake up together; you're just kind of in sync like that

● Likes to hug you for a bit before getting out of bed

● Another boyo who likes to take naps on your thighs

Tododeku:

● Y'all change positions pretty much every night

● Everyone is so cuddly it's insane

● Izuku tends to be the one who likes to be held, while Shouto is often slept on top of

● Shouto still needs the hugs tho, and you two deliver

● It's usually either you in between them or Izuku between you and Shouto, depending on what moods you're in

● Everyone takes turns with spooning. You're all super affectionate so it doesn't really matter

● It still ends up being rare for you to be Big Spoon, either being the littlest or in the middle ( p_q)

● They both are oversized t-shirt bois

● Shouto wakes up first

● He likes to watch the two of you sleep

● Next either you or Deku gets up, it's a tossup of who

● You all just lay in bed until everyone's awake and then you cuddle for a bit until someone has to get up

Kiribaku:

● Also a pretty cuddly relationship, but a little less so than YouTodoDeku because of Bakugou (;¬_¬)

● Took Bakugou a while to really accept cuddles. It was harder for him with two of you, actually

● After watching you and Kiri for a while though, he warmed up to the idea

● He's still his tsundere self

● You do a lot of sleep position changing

● Everyone gets slept on top of, everyone gets hugs

● When you're doing a sandwich, it's rare for Bakugou to be in the middle

● He still can't handle all the hugs you and Kiri have to offer

● So your heads go on his chest

●(Fem readers only, I'm sorry)

● Eijirou and Katsuki low key fight over who gets the boob pillow

● You tried to take them both at once one time but it didn't really work

● Kinda just have to take turns, although there have been multiple heated matches of Rock Paper Scissors

● Kiri is the real winner, though

● He gets your titty pillow AND Bakugou's

●(Okay, I'm done with titty talk, you can come back)

● Most days you and Baku sandwich Kiri, but after more *cough* intimate nights, they like to cuddle up to you

● Bakugou likes to be the biggest spoon, then Kiri, then you

● A lot of times they both just sleep shirtless, but it depends on their mood

● Bakugou always wakes up first and just lets you and Kiri sleep

● You wake up next and cuddle Kirishima awake

● Sometimes Bakugou will come back and cuddle you two while you both wake up

● Then he makes you all get out of bed

#deku x reader #izuku midoria x reader #bakugou x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #kirishima x reader #shinsou x reader #tamaki x reader #amajiki x reader #x reader fluff #bnha x reader #sugar hcs

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babyjamiebarnes · 4 years ago

Text

Build-A-Bear

Part Three

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, Morgan, various characters in other chapters

Warnings: language, sexual innuendos and implications

Chapter Summary: Reader has dinner with her family and gets grilled even harder than her food. But she’s turned to a light simmer when Bucky takes her out for their first date.

Author’s Note: This chapter is fucking monstrous lol. I did not expect it to be this long so it might be a couple extra days before the next chapter so I can catch up! I’m also not sure if my Italian is accurate so I apologize in advance. I used to work for a man named Gennaro from Naples and he called me “bella” so hopefully I’m sort of right? If you like the story so far, feel free to buy me a coffee!

Part One • Part Two

Tags: @kennedywxlsh

Dinner that night was tense, to say the least. It was nice to have your dad, step-mom, sister, and uncles Happy and Rhodey over again, but your dad wasn’t quick to forget what he saw earlier.

“What was that with Barnes today?” Tony asked as you all sat around the dining room table in your midtown flat, poking away at the remnants of your meals.

“What do you mean?” you asked innocently.

Your dad just gave you an incredulous look. “You know what I mean.”

You sighed and avoided meeting his eyes. “I was just working on his arm, dad. I didn’t wanna make him lie down on a hard lab table while I poked around to do what you wanted and quiet his arm,” you explained.

“Wait, Barnes as in Bucky Barnes?” Uncle Rhodey clarified.

“Yeah,” your dad confirmed, not taking his eyes off of you. “I found her kneeling between his legs while he sat shirtless on the couch.”

“You’re sleeping with Bucky?!” Rhodey asked.

“I’m not sleeping with anyone!” you defended, dropping your fork onto your plate. “I’ve known him for a month.”

“That’s never stopped your father,” Pepper mumbled under her breath, making you huff out a laugh despite your current grilling.

“Listen, when I said ‘no fraternizing with coworkers,’ I meant it,” your dad said.

“Please stop saying ‘fraternizing.’ It’s weird.”

Tony sighed and crossed his arms. “No ‘slumber parties’ with coworkers,” he rephrased.

This made Morgan perk up in her seat, having spent the past couple minutes confusedly watching you and your dad bicker.

“Can we have a slumber party, [Y/N]?” she asked.

“Yes, honey, we can have a slumber party,” you responded.

“Tonight?” she continued.

At this, you pointedly looked at your dad and raised your eyebrows as a way of saying ‘are we done now?’ You could tell he didn’t want to end the conversation, but you were grateful for the sudden change of topic. Tony uncrossed his arms and leaned against the table as he replied to your sister.

“If your big sister says it’s okay, you can have a slumber party tonight.”

Morgan lit up like the Fourth of July, quickly listing off all the movies she wanted to watch even though you knew she’d fall asleep halfway through the first movie.

As your family packed up to leave, leaving Morgan since she had a drawer of clothes for the impromptu sleepovers you’ve had before, you calmed your racing heart before saying the words that would either make your father more suspicious or completely quash his suspicions.

“You’ll have to pick her up by four tomorrow. I have a date.”

All of the adults turned to face you. Pepper had a huge smile on her face, clearly excited for you, but your dad and Rhodey looked ready to fight. Happy looked curious, maybe even worried, but he played a big role in raising you so while Tony was the overprotective parent, Happy was the comforting parent (not that he’d ever let anyone know that).

“A date?” The tone of your dad’s voice made you roll your eyes at him.

“I’m a grown woman. I’m allowed to go on dates.”

Your dad let out a quiet harumph at that, but understood where you were coming from. “I know, sweetheart. Forgive me for being a bit overprotective of my little girl.”

“I get it. I appreciate your concern,” you said with a smile, “but this is good for me. You want grandkids eventually, right?”

“Oh god,” your dad groaned, pressing a hand to his chest. “I’m not old enough to be a grandpa but I’m old enough to have a heart attack at the mention of it.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

“So what’s this person’s name?” Pepper piped up. You visibly tensed and internally panicked. You couldn’t just admit it was Bucky after denying anything there. But his name was technically pretty common...

“His name is James.”

Rhodey snapped his fingers and pointed at you as he said, “I like him already.”

‘Yeah, sure you do,’ you thought. The sight of your dad narrowing his eyes at you and crossing his arms as he stood in the entryway of your apartment made you nervous. Maybe James wasn’t good enough to get him off your trail (probably because he was right).

“How did you meet this guy?” Tony asked.

If anyone else had asked, you would’ve said ‘work,’ but that’s the last place you could say to your dad — with whom you worked.

“Uhh, at the grocery store. We accidentally followed each other and got a lot of the same food so he jokingly accused me of stalking him and we just hit it off,” you rattled off. It’s a good thing he didn’t know how your friend Monique met her girlfriend or he’d know you were lying.

“That’s so cute,” Pepper cooed. She was definitely the more relaxed of your parents, possibly because she wasn’t your biological mom. She had been raising you since you were ten though, so she played a big part in your upbringing.

“Text me his last name so I can run a background check,” your dad said. You’d love to think he was joking, but you knew he was serious.

And as much as you knew you’d regret it, you had to make a joke…

“His last name is Barnes,” you said, keeping your face as serious as possible. “James Barnes. I actually know his middle name too: Buchanan.”

“[Y/N] [Y/M/N] [Y/L/N], you better be joking right now,” Tony said. He was already getting red in the face, clearly unenthused at the prospect of you dating the man who, admittedly, killed his parents — your grandparents. Yeah, understandable.

“I’m obviously kidding,” you said, forcing a laugh. “It’s just funny that they have the same first name and you’re so anti-Bucky.”

“You’re gonna send me to an early grave,” he muttered. “I’m going home before I actually have a heart attack.”

You said your goodbyes and ‘I love you’s before you and Morgan put on your pajamas and set up a pillow fort in the middle of your living room to watch her favorite sleepover movie: “Shrek.”

As the movie went on, you leaned back in the fort to take a photo of Morgan with the movie in the background. Well, the back of Morgan’s head as she was engrossed in the movie she’d seen a million times.

[Image attached] She’s got her teddy bear but where’s my Bucky Bear? 🥺

Across the city, Bucky’s phone buzzed from its spot on the kitchen counter as he made himself a late dinner. He didn’t recognize the number, but smiled when he saw the picture of who he assumed was your sister or niece.

I never got an invite. Looks like more fun than my night.

You smiled to yourself when you saw his reply, rolling your eyes at the lack of exclamation points and emojis. Typical man.

What does your night look like?

Eating a late dinner and talking to you.

Talking to me isn’t fun?! I’m hurt 😢

Not as fun as actually being with you.

Even though he wasn’t there and didn’t say it verbally, you could feel your cheeks get hot at his words.

There’s no way sweet talk like that didn’t get you in more than four beds.

You’re still on that? I swear doll, I have the same number as you.

Whatever you say! 🙄

There was a lull in conversation after that, giving you time to move your sister to lie on her back with pillows and blankets in the fort so she could sleep more comfortably.

Are we still going out tomorrow?

You let the next Shrek movie start automatically, but you didn’t pay any attention as you texted Bucky.

I’m still down if you are 👀

You sent him your address and let him know you’d wait on the front steps for him so he didn’t have to come all the way up. With the exchange of ‘good night’ messages, you drifted asleep to the sounds of Shrek 2.

•

The next morning, you somehow managed to wake up before your sister, then brought her back to the land of the living with the smell of French toast.

You spent your day watching another movie with Morgan before fixing lunch and taking her to a park down the road. Morgan’s childhood was definitely different from yours. Happy was the one who took you to parks and shopping, but Tony parented at home. Morgan would have the same early experiences, but the world knew Tony and Pepper had a daughter. They kept her identity hidden for now, waiting until she could decide if she wanted to reveal herself later in life. The world never knew about you.

And you had to be somewhat grateful for that. You still got all the perks of being a Stark — the money, the Tower, meeting the Avengers (and having James Rhodes as your godfather) — without the stress of fame. But part of you still wished you could talk about your father without keeping his occupation vague and referring to him as “Anthony” when telling stories instead of Tony.

Morgan also got to know her mom. You only spent the first seven years of your life with your mom before she was killed in a drive-by shooting. The police investigated it like crazy because everyone thought since it was Tony Stark’s wife, it had to be a targeted hit. But since she never took the same jogging route twice, all they came up with was an unplanned drive-by. You cherished the memories you had with her, but still openly welcomed Pepper when she came into the picture. She may not have played the same type of role in your life, but she helped shape your middle and high school years.

By the time you and Morgan got back to your place, she was exhausted, climbing back into the still-intact blanket fort to take a nap. When your dad and Pepper stopped by to pick her up, she was still knocked out.

“We’ll get out of your hair so you can get ready for your date,” your dad said with Morgan in his arms. “Send me this James guy’s last name. I still want to run a background check.”

“Dad,” you grumbled. “I already did my research. He’s clear.” Kind of. He technically has murdered hundreds of people, including your grandparents, but he’s reformed and fighting for the good guys now. Not that your dad would let it slide if you told him that.

“That’s my girl,” he grinned. “Let me know if you need to hide any bodies, okay?”

“You got it,” you said with a laugh as they headed out. You had two hours to get ready for Bucky, giving you plenty of time to look extra cute.

By the time six rolled around, you were all dolled up and ready to go. The autumn weather had you in a jacket and boots, but that just pulled your outfit together.

Your doorman Matt was standing inside the lobby when you ran downstairs, tossing him a small wave as you left.

“Have a good night, Miss [Y/L/N],” he said with a nod.

“See you later, Matt!”

You stood at the bottom of your building’s front steps, checking your phone and looking up and down the block for Bucky. It was six on the dot, so you figured he’d be there soon.

“Hey!” You looked up from your phone to see Bucky jogging toward you, a black leather jacket covering his arms and a black glove hiding his left hand. “Sorry I’m late. I couldn’t get away from Sam. Had to tell him I was gonna check out my old stomping grounds in Brooklyn.”

“You’re, like, 30 seconds late. I’m just glad you’re here,” you said with a smile. “So what are we doing tonight?”

Bucky’s smile faltered as he looked down at you. Your boots gave you a bit of a height bump, but Bucky still stood taller than you.

“I, uh, I kinda thought you had something planned,” he said softly.

“Oh, oops,” you laughed. “Well… what about those Brooklyn stomping grounds of yours? Care to show me around?”

Bucky lit up at the recommendation and started leading the way to the nearest subway stop. Before you started down the stairs, he paused and turned to you with a sour expression.

“I probably should’ve asked if you’d rather get a cab,” he said.

“Bucky, I take the subway to work every day. It’s fine.”

“Why do you take the train? You don’t live too far away.” You two made your way down the steps to the bustling station.

“It’s just easier. Less work for me,” you explained. “I didn’t take the train much as a kid so I like taking the opportunity now that I can.”

“Most people don’t willingly take the subway,” he laughed. “Steve and I always used to talk about how we’d be rich enough to have a car someday. But now that I could get any car I wanted, I don’t think I want one. I like the subway.”

“Even though it’s smelly and dirty?” you joked.

“Yeah,” he laughed. “It’s one of the things that still reminds me of home.”

The gentleness in his voice nearly brought you to tears. This man had been through so much and was still the sweetest soul you’d ever met. Forced into a war he didn’t want to join, experimented on, tortured and brainwashed, hunted by every government in the world, captured, frozen, and forced into another war and more battles he shouldn’t have to join. He just couldn’t catch a break.

“Well I’m excited to see what else reminds you of home,” you replied.

The trains to and through Brooklyn were relatively busy so you and Bucky couldn’t really talk much, but it was a Saturday night so you couldn’t blame people for getting out. It was tough to find seats, but Bucky was willing to stand to make sure you could have a seat. Ever the gentleman.

When you made it to Bucky’s Brooklyn stop of choice, he started telling you more stories from the ‘40s, like when Steve couldn’t get off the train in time and accidentally went down another stop so Bucky ran to the next stop and found Steve heading his way anyway. And how he and Steve followed his sister Rebecca on a date “to watch out for her,” he said, and her date thought they were stalking her and tried to beat them up. And all the fights he pulled Steve out of.

“Punk was a chihuahua who thought he was a Rottweiler.”

For a while, you two walked around the streets of Brooklyn just telling each other stories. You were careful about names you used, often just calling Happy “Uncle Harry” and Rhodey “Uncle James.”

Bucky showed you the movie theater he and Steve used to go to, which was surprisingly still in business. You walked past what used to be a diner Bucky frequented but was converted into a bridal shop.

“This used to be a magic store Steve loved,” he said, looking up at the bank on the corner of the street. “Things have changed a lot.”

You heard the nostalgia in his voice, clearly missing the New York he grew up to love. He had a soft smile on his lips as he reminisced, though.

“What about where you lived?” you asked. “Do you remember where that is?”

“Oh yeah,” he chuckled. “I could never forget that.”

Everything was within a fifteen minute walk of where you got off the subway so even though your feet were getting tired, you followed alongside Bucky as he led the way up and down the streets. Before too long, you strode up to a large brick building that had clearly been remodeled recently, if the fresh windows and front doors were any indication.

“It’s… a lot nicer than when I lived here,” Bucky said with a sigh. “But it’s been nearly 100 years so I can’t blame them for updating things.”

“Brooklyn is kind of booming now, too,” you added. “More people to appeal to, ya know?”

You stared up at him again, seeing that same lost look as before, like he wished to turn back time and show you the Brooklyn he knew. So you decided since he couldn’t do that, you’d show him the Brooklyn you knew.

“Come here. My turn to show you around,” you said, holding your hand out to him. He gave you a small smile before grabbing your hand in his and letting you pull him back to the subway.

Ten minutes later, you hopped off the train with Bucky in tow and headed to the little Italian restaurant you found while exploring the city a couple years before. It wasn’t anything elaborate; it was honestly more of a little hole-in-the-wall, but you liked the quiet atmosphere.

“Bella!” the owner shouted as you walked in.

“Hey Genny,” you smiled at him.

“Who’s this?” he asked as he approached you, raising his eyebrows when he saw Bucky.

“This is James,” you said. You opted against using his more common nickname to avoid any recognition.

“James, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Gennaro, but you can call me Genny. Welcome to my restaurant.” The two men shook hands before Genny ushered you two to a table and handed you menus. “Would you like to start with focaccia?”

“Yes please!”

“Con formaggi?”

“Si! Grazie!”

Gennaro left you and Bucky while he started your appetizer.

“You speak Italian?” Bucky asked.

“Definitely not,” you laughed. “I’ve just been coming here for a while and have picked up on some things Genny says. Like ‘bella’ means ‘beautiful,’ this pizza,” you pointed to your favorite pizza on the menu, “‘cinque formaggi’ means ‘five cheese.’ But I could never hold a conversation.”

“Un peccato,” Bucky sighed before flashing a smile at you.

“You speak Italian?!” you nearly shrieked. “No way! Don’t talk shit with Gennaro behind my back.” You pouted at Bucky, but knew he wouldn’t say anything bad about you. Maybe an embarrassing moment or two — like your dad walking in on you between his knees — but nothing negative.

“I picked it up pretty quickly back in the day,” Bucky explained. “Before I was sent to Germany, I was stationed in a small town in Italy for a while. The locals didn’t mind having us there because we kept the Nazis out, so they taught us some Italian when we were in town.”

“Maybe I should take Gennaro up on his offer to learn Italian,” you mused.

“Or you could learn from me,” Bucky was quick to offer. “I’ll teach you some stuff when you’re working on my arm.”

Your server arrived with the focaccia and water for both of you, before giving you more time to actually look at the menus instead of talking. You decided to split a bottle of red wine and two pizzas, one of your choice and one of Bucky’s. As the night went on, you and Bucky both opened up to each other even more than before. You could easily blame the buzz from a couple glasses of wine, but Bucky’s super soldier serum made you confused. His cheeks were flushed and he had more than half the bottle, so you wondered if maybe...

“Can you still get drunk?”

“Unlike Steve, yes. It takes more than this,” he said, lifting the nearly empty bottle of wine, “but since Steve and I received different serums, they work a little differently. I can definitely get drunk. Marijuana admittedly hits harder.”

You paused as you stared back at him, his elbows perched on the table and his clasped hands propped under his chin.

“Are you drunk now?”

“No,” he laughed quietly. “A little tipsy, sure, but not drunk by a long shot.”

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully, reluctantly accepting that he was just as buzzed as you but not quite drunk.

Before long, your server brought over your tab and you realized how empty the restaurant had gotten. Then you noticed the broom and mop the server had brought out to the floor, then the dark ‘open’ sign, and finally the clock on the wall.

“You closed 20 minutes ago and didn’t kick us out?” you shouted at Gennaro. “Genny, you can always kick me out! I feel bad!”

Gennaro walked over to your table as you scrambled for your wallet and handed the server your card to run.

“I can’t kick you out, bella. You and your moroso are welcome any time.”

“I think this poor girl would beg to differ,” you said as the server handed your card and signature slip back. She just laughed at your comment, agreeing without saying it outright.

You left a hefty tip and hugged Genny before you and Bucky, both still a bit tipsy, shuffled outside.

“Thanks for buying dinner,” Bucky said. “This means I get to pay next time, though.”

He said it so casually and you already planned on another date, but it still kind of caught you off guard.

“Next time?” You smiled up at him and took a step closer until you were almost toe-to-toe. “There’s gonna be a ‘next time’?”

“I sure hope there is,” he said quietly, his smirk sending a rush up your spine.

“If you insist,” you sighed. He knew better than to believe you weren’t excited for your future plans. “I’m cold. Care to get an Uber with me?”

He gently grabbed your shoulders and spun you around, pulling the loose opening of his jacket over your arms and wrapping his arms around you to help keep you warm.

“Well, yeah. I need to make sure you get home safe so ‘next time’ can happen,” Bucky said as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“You know, I don’t usually let men spoon me on the first date,” you joked as you tapped away to order an Uber.

“I can stop, if you want,” he teased.

You gripped his arm as he started to pull away. “I never said that.”

Bucky rode back to your place with you, keeping conversation casual as you both avoided the controversy you were about to face: to kiss on the first date or not. You never really had any issues with it before, but you already really liked Bucky. You didn’t want to risk messing it up by moving too fast. But what grown man would think a kiss on a first date was too fast? Well… maybe one born in the early 1900s…

Before your thoughts could throw you into a downward spiral, the driver pulled up outside your apartment complex. Bucky stepped out first and held the door open for you to scoot out after him. As you stood at the bottom of the stairs to your building, you felt those nerves creeping up on you again. God, you hadn’t felt this nervous about a date since high school.

“I had fun tonight,” Bucky said first, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Me too,” you smiled back. “I’m excited for what you plan for next time.”

Bucky laughed at this, the crinkle of his nose making your own smile grow. God, you wanted to invite him inside already. In your defense, you’ve known him for a full month and spent even longer getting heart-eyes over him in college.

But you reined in your hormones and just took a step closer to him to rest your hands on his chest. His right hand came up to rest on your waist, but he kept the metal hand in his pocket. With your hand placement, you could feel the thrum of his heartbeat and judging by the pace, you knew you were both on the same page. As you were trying to shove your nerves aside, Bucky asked the one question you were hoping for.

“Can I kiss you?”

Knowing he wanted this as much as you did relieved some of your nerves, but also made the moment that much more real. You smiled up at him and nodded your head.

“Yes, please do.”

You perched up on your toes to meet him halfway, letting his lips mold to yours. His hold on your waist tightened as he pulled you closer; you gripped the lapel of his jacket in your fists. Suddenly the cold of the night no longer existed. All you could feel was the warmth radiating off of him as he held you close. He pulled back for a second before diving right back in, this time nipping at your bottom lip. You giggled against him, but didn’t stop him from taking the innocent kiss a step further. Your hands slid from his chest to the nape of his neck before tangling into his long hair. The vibration from his moan as you tugged on his hair ran straight down your spine, making it even harder to leave the date alone.

Reluctantly, you both pulled apart just enough for your noses to brush against each other, the stubble of his beard still tickling your nose. You opened your eyes enough to see the smile on his lips as he pulled back a bit more to see your face.

“I’ll see you Monday?” you said quietly, as if speaking any louder would break you two out of your bubble.

“See you Monday, [Y/N],” Bucky replied just as quietly. His hand slipped from your waist as you backed away, biting your lip at him before you turned and scurried up the steps. Bucky stood on the sidewalk until he could see the light in your apartment flick on, just to make sure you were safe.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x Stark!reader #bucky barnes x stark!reader #Stark!reader #dad!tony #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fic

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