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scuttling · 4 years ago

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(You Want To) Make a Memory

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Latina Original Female Character Word Count: 19,858 Chapters: 5 of 5 Complete Tags: 18+, NSFW, Amnesia, Anxiety attacks, Sex dreams, Dom/sub, Daddy kink, Praise kink, Unprotected sex, Vaginal fingering, Dirty talk, Choking, Biting, Hickies, Oral sex, Making love, Angst and feels, Shower sex, Size kink Summary: Sophie gets amnesia while working a case and forgets everything from the last two years: her friends, her job at the BAU, and her boyfriend, Aaron. Note: This is a reformatted, previously published work. :)

Link to AO3 or read Chapter 1 below!

The thing Sophie finds most complicated about her work at the BAU is that it’s their job to predict the unpredictable. Yes, they are all highly educated, knowledgeable profilers, with decades of experience between them, and human behavior typically follows patterns that are easily discernible if you have the right training. But even armed with all the information, all the statistics, all the data, there’s one thing they can never really know for certain: what a desperate person will do in the heat of the moment.

The unsub they are looking for is a white male, aged 25-35, who lives alone, has a steady daylight job, drives a red pickup truck, and has a problem with older female authority figures. Sophie could go on and on about this particular type of unsub—she could tell you where he shops, how he spends his evenings, his favorite sport/team/player, probably even what he’ll eat for dinner tonight—but there’s no way she can know how he’ll react to the FBI at his door, or the consequences his actions will have.

The team is canvassing the neighborhood they believe the unsub resides in, and she and Spencer were assigned the four hundred block; they each take a separate side of the street, and work their way down house by house trying to find someone who fits the profile, or knows someone who does.

“Any luck?” Sophie asks Spencer when they meet back up at the end of the the block. He grimaces, uncertain.

“There was one guy, but…” She gestures toward the SUV and they walk toward it together.

“What happened? Profile didn’t fit?”

“He was the right demographic, the vehicle fit, but he wasn’t disorganized. In fact, his home looked like it belonged in a catalog: photos on the walls, decorative items, nothing out of place.” She frowns a little, because it’s clear this guy has raised some red flags for her partner, and she trusts his intuition when it comes to stuff like this.

“And he lives alone?” she asks, confirming. That’s a pretty big part of the profile, considering what he does to the victims. He nods.

“Yes, no indication of a girlfriend or wife living there.” Sophie blows out a breath, leans against the side of the SUV.

“Okay, let’s brainstorm. Maybe... he hires a housekeeper.” Spencer shrugs.

“He didn’t seem like the type, but I guess it’s possible.”

“Alright, well… Okay, so our profile is of a man who kills older women because he has an issue with an older woman who is an authority figure in his life. We thought maybe his boss, but what if it’s his mother?” she asks, face lighting up a little. This theory makes more sense, actually. “What if she comes over while he’s at work, cleans the place up, redecorates, just takes complete control of his life, even his private space, and he loses it?” He nods enthusiastically.

“That is extremely more likely. Now that I think of it, all the photos were of him and an older woman who could be his mother.” Sophie pulls out her phone, gestures over her shoulder with her thumb.

“Let’s head back there; Hotch and JJ are just around the corner, I’ll let them know we might need backup. 412?”

“Yeah—hey, that’s the truck. That’s the truck,” he says with more urgency, pointing down the street at a rapidly approaching red pickup truck that matches the description of the unsub’s. Shit.

“Okay, get in the car, call Hotch,” she instructs, and they both barely make it in before the truck rear-ends the SUV on the driver's side; Sophie’s head hits off the steering wheel hard, and the car rocks, and she looks over at Spencer, a little disoriented, to make sure he’s okay. He’s holding his wrist, like maybe he hurt it bracing himself.

When she gets her bearings, she starts the car, throws it into reverse, ready to apply a little force and potentially keep him from striking again, but he backs up, speeds up, and cuts the wheel to go around them, striking her door and driving past. It’s then that another SUV cuts him off, and Hotch and JJ jump out, guns drawn; the unsub raises his hands, surrenders, and it’s over as quickly as it began.

“Sophie?” She can hear her name, but her head is swimming. She touches the cut above her temple, pulls back a hand covered in blood, but she knows head injuries bleed heavily, so she’s not worried. She’s more worried that she can’t tell where that voice is coming from. It’s like she’s in a fun house, sounds echoing from all sides. “Sophie, can you hear me?” She hums in response.

Kind hands are on her face, turning it toward the sun, and she scrunches her eyes at the brightness. She knows the hands are trying to help, but her head already hurts, and the light isn’t doing her any favors.

“Gotta… get up,” she mumbles, and the hands hold her waist, help her out of the car. Her left foot hurts when she puts her weight down on it, and she almost folds, but the hands hold her up, and she thinks she smiles.

“Reid—is she okay?” That voice is a voice that makes her want to answer immediately, even if her brain hasn’t quite caught up. She stumbles over her words.

“‘M okay. Just my… head.” A different pair of hands hold her up, and her brain is working enough to recognize that she loves the smell of the person attached to the hands. They are serious hands, and one of them sweeps gently over her face.

“Can you open your eyes for me, baby, please?” that good voice asks, and she wants to do anything the voice asks, but her eyes really hurt. She must say that out loud, because the voice says softly, “That’s alright, don’t strain yourself. Medics on the way. You’re going to be fine.”

“Tell him…” She is placed back in the car, can feel the softness of the seat against her back, and it’s nice. “Tell him that was mean… and not to do it again.” She feels lips on her face, turns toward them, sighs when they brush over hers. “Mmm. Or I’m going to… tell his mother.” When Sophie wakes up, she feels like she’s been repeatedly punched in the head, thrown down a flight of stairs, and then run over by a truck, so, naturally, she groans. She doesn’t dare open her eyes at first, can already see the fluorescents flickering through her eyelids, but her mouth is dry, and since she knows she must be in a hospital, she knows that there’s a little plastic pitcher of water somewhere within her reach.

Cautiously, she cracks one eye, finds the pitcher and a kind looking woman with fair skin and dark bangs staring back at her.

“You’re awake!” she whispers excitedly, and she leans forward for a hug, which Sophie does not return, because she doesn’t know the woman. The woman must feel the tension in Sophie’s body as she sits, arms at her sides, and waits for the hug to end, because she pulls back, concerned. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she begins, unsure of how to put this politely. Her voice is dry, rough, and the woman pours her a glass of water, which she takes gratefully. “I’m sorry, I just… I don’t… Do I know you?” Her face falls, and she looks confused, and then abruptly worried.

“My name is Emily. Prentiss. Does that ring a bell?” Sophie thinks back, tries to navigate around the pounding in her temples, and ultimately shakes her head.

“No, I’m sorry. And I mean no disrespect—I meet a lot of people for work, so sometimes it’s hard to keep track.”

“Where do you work?”

“I work for the FBI. Intelligence.” Sophie takes in the woman’s outfit—black turtleneck, gray pants, boots, government issued handgun—and tilts her head curiously. “And you?”

“FBI. Behavioral Analysis Unit.” She pulls her bag closer on the seat beside her, pulls out her credentials, lets Sophie hold them. “Have you heard of it?”

“Sure, of course. I have an interview there next week, actually.” She hands back the badge with a smile. “Small world. Uh, do you think that what happened to me occurred because of a crime, or something? Is that why you’re here?"

Agent Prentiss gives her a sad smile, then stands, pulling out her cell phone. “You know, we’re really not sure what’s going on. Excuse me for one moment, I need to make a call. I’ll get your doctor while I’m out there.”

“Okay. Thanks,” Sophie calls as she heads out of the room, and she pours another glass of water.

When the agent returns with the doctor, she looks tenser, but the doctor just shoots her a kind smile. “Hello, Sophie. I’m glad to see you’re awake.”

“Thank you; I’m glad to be awake. How long have I been out?”

“About two days. You were in a car accident, do you remember that?” She’d catalogued her injuries while alone—laceration to the head, some pain and swelling there; aching wrist, sore but unbroken; bruised ankle, tender but okay to put pressure on—and they are consistent with a car accident, but she shakes her head.

“No, ma’am, I don’t remember.” The doctor frowns, an expression the agent behind her mirrors.

“What’s the last thing you do remember?”

“Um.” She closes her eyes, thinks hard for a moment, but it hurts her eyes. “I was driving home from work, I think? Or about to leave for the day. It’s kind of blurry.”

“That’s alright, don’t press too hard. It should come back to you in no time.” She steps around the bed to pull her chart off the wall, skims it briefly. “We’re going to have to run some scans; I’ll give you a moment with Agent Prentiss, and then I’ll send someone in to take you down to the lab, okay?”

“Sure. Thank you, doctor.” The woman smiles and walks out of the room, leaving her with the clearly unhappy agent. “Is everything okay, Agent Prentiss? You look about as bad as I feel.” The woman sighs, drops back down into her seat, folds her hands in her lap.

“The doctor believes you’re suffering from retrograde amnesia. You don’t remember some things you should remember. Quite a bit of time.” Her throat goes dry again, her heart beats rapidly in her chest.

“That’s not possible. I remember driving home from work… or, getting in the car to drive home from work, just the other day.” She shakes her head like she’s not sure what to say.

“I know, Sophie, but that’s not a recent memory. You don’t work at the Grant building anymore.”

“What do you mean? I’m the Intelligence liaison. I mean, I applied for the BAU job…” She’s wanted to work there since she found out about it, to put her degrees to good use; to get an interview is almost unheard of, everyone told her, but she made the cut, even bought a new suit to wear. It’s still hanging in her closet.

“And you got it,” Prentiss says gently, reaching forward to take her hand. “You and I have been working together at the BAU for almost two years.”

Sophie can’t be blamed, she doesn’t think, when she leans over, reaches for the wastebasket, and promptly vomits. “So I’m a profiler, and I’ve been one for two years. I work with you and we’re friends,” Sophie repeats as a bit of a recap. Prentiss nods.

“Yep. Those who profile serial killers together, stick together.” She says it with a smile that doesn’t touch her eyes.

“Wow. Okay. I’m really sorry I don’t remember you.” She shrugs it off, and Sophie sighs. “Any other major life events I should know about? Did I get a cat, go vegan?”

“You don’t have time for a pet, and you like cheese too much,” Prentiss jokes, but that does sound like something she’d say. Her face gets serious after that, and she even looks nervous. It makes Sophie nervous, too. “You have a boyfriend.”

That raises her eyebrows.

“I have a boyfriend.” She smiles softly, nods.

“Yes. He’s… it’s funny, because he’s actually... our boss.” Sophie blanches. Talk about a close-knit group.

“I’m sleeping with my boss? That is not like me.” She barely sleeps with anyone, too busy focusing on her career and not that into one-night-stands, but her boss of all people? That’s just plain stupid.

“It’s really not like that, trust me. You two are in love.” Okay, she’s heard enough. Maybe Prentiss is a prankster, playing some wildly hilarious joke on her amnesiac pal.

“I’m in love. Did I actually say that?” She knows herself pretty well, flaws and all, and she’s been a vehement skeptic when it comes to love for… god, as long as she can remember—no pun intended. Prentiss nods, looks very serious.

“Yes, I’ve heard you say it many, many times. You two live together.”

“We live together? For how long?” This can’t be right; one of the things she values most is her privacy, her solitude. She lives a quiet, simple life, aside from being an FBI agent, and she likes it that way.

“About six months,” she answers carefully.

“We’ve lived together for six months? How long have we been dating?” Her voice sounds a little shrill even to her own ears. Prentiss is being very cool about it all, doesn’t so much as blink.

“It’s a year next week, actually. He’s been trying to come up with a surprise for your anniversary.” Sophie feels a little lightheaded.

“Anniversary. Fuck.” She squeezes her eyes shut, which hurts, opens them only so the pain will go away. She knows they’re teary, can’t help it, but she doesn’t want Prentiss to see her like this. She hates being vulnerable, always has. “I can’t remember two years of my life. I can’t remember my own boyfriend, my own job. My friends.”

“I can tell you about them, if you want,” she offers cautiously. “The doctor said it could help, but if you feel like it’s too much, let me know.”

Sophie nods carefully. She wants to know, she needs to know.

Prentiss—Emily—is so genuinely kind. She sits there for an hour, tells Sophie about work, and their team—their friends, because the group is very tight, gets together for dinner and drinks, and they all support each other’s non-bureau endeavors, and she feels so sad that she can’t remember them, can’t recall anything Emily is rattling off so easily it’s like she doesn’t even have to think about it.

She talks about some tough cases they’ve worked on, and how they always end with a cookout or a family dinner so they can remember why they do the hard things, why they keep fighting. She talks about people they’ve helped, saved, brought comfort to. She talks about flights home on the jet, how sometimes they sit in quiet, companionable silence and other times it’s all teasing and laughter and the good things in life.

Then she starts talking about Aaron—the boss/boyfriend—and Sophie does cry, a couple of tears rolling slowly down her cheeks. She’d never imagined in her life that she would be as loved as she is, if Emily’s stories are true, and the fact that she can’t remember any of it is like a knife to the gut. She wants to scream, to make someone pay for what she’s missing, but she knows none of that will bring her memory back, so she dials back the rage as quickly as it came—huh, that’s new.

Usually, her particular brand of anxiety attack would happen right about now, always worse when she’s afraid or angry. She anticipates tightening in her chest, shortness of breath, ringing in her ears that takes forever to go away, but it doesn’t come. She’s able to calm herself with a deep breath, and despite the fact that the rest of her life is a dumpster fire right now, this feels kind of good. It feels like progress, not a story told through someone else’s eyes, but a tangible feeling she can hold onto and think, I am a different version of Sophie than I was two years ago. A better version, maybe. But at least different. That, above everything else, makes it real.

A nurse walks in to take Sophie down for scans, and Emily just smiles, a bit sadly, and tells her she’ll be there waiting when she returns.

It’s a small comfort, something she holds onto as she’s taken down to the lab. When Sophie makes it back to her room, Emily is waiting there as promised, and she has a duffle bag sitting on the bed. “The doctor says you can go home while they wait for the scans,” she says with a smile; she probably thinks it will make Sophie happy, and it does, but the idea of going to a home she’s never been to is a little unsettling. Still, it’s nice to know there are people who care about her who will help her through it, that she’s not alone. That’s not something Sophie of two years ago would have been able to count on.

She smiles back, and Emily helps her change into clothes that somehow still smell like the hospital, but it feels better to be dressed and not stuck in the flimsy hospital gown that always makes you feel weaker and sicker, more injured than you really are.

She hears a voice from out in the hall, a voice that catches her attention immediately, and she walks over to the door, peeks her head out to see if she can find the man it belongs to.

She does, and he is almost too good-looking to be real. Somehow, she both instinctively knows that this man is Aaron, and can’t see how that could possibly be true.

“Emily. Is that Aaron?” she asks to confirm, pointing to the tall, serious-looking, frankly smoldering hot man having a conversation with her doctor at the end of the hall. She peeks her head out the door too, looks toward him with a smile.

“Yeah, that’s him. Do you remember him?” Her tone is guarded but hopeful, and Sophie sighs.

Remember him, no, not in the way she means, but every cell in her body feels alive and on fire just from catching a glimpse of his face, so she’s pretty sure Emily is right and she’s crazy in love with him. And his suit. Who looks that good in a suit?

Her boyfriend, apparently. Who she lives with. Who she’s been with for a year. Her mind is still a little blown.

“I don’t recall any memories of him,” she whispers, as if he can hear her from down the hall, “but, uh. I think my body remembers him.” Emily looks at her, eyebrow quirked, and she blushes. “Or, you know. Parts of it.”

Realization dawns, and Emily grins. “Okay yeah, that tracks. You two are kind of all over each other. It’s an intense vibe.” Sophie takes a moment to imagine that, what it would be like to be in a relationship with this man.

He looks intense, which can be good or bad, with the kind of mouth you could kiss forever, smile against. He’s taller than her by about a foot, which thrills her, and broad, as evidenced by the jacket stretched across his shoulders, which really thrills her. He’s older, maybe early forties, which she doesn’t feel particularly strongly about one way or another, with gorgeous dark hair and eyes, and when he shakes hands with the doctor, silver wrist watch gleaming under the fluorescent lights, her mouth practically waters.

“Earth to Sophie. You’ve got a little drool, there,” Emily teases, pointing to her own mouth, and Sophie groans.

“You didn’t prepare me. You didn't tell me he was hot.” Aaron turns away from the doctor, starts walking down the hall toward her room, and she ducks out of the doorframe, Emily following suit. She puts a hand to her forehead, not in physical pain, but mental pain for sure. “God, this is going to be so awkward. I’ve got a total lady boner for the guy I’m in love with that I can’t even remember.”

“It might be a little awkward at first, but you guys are sweet together. He’s going to be so caring and understanding, give you all the time you need.” She puts her hands on Sophie’s arms, grounding her. “We’re going to focus on trying to get your memories back, but the doctor said you shouldn’t stress.”

“That’s easy for her to say,” she mutters, crossing her arms, “she didn’t forget her big sexy boyfriend.” She hears a soft chuckle from behind her and instantly flushes, which makes Emily grin.

“Sophie, this is Aaron.” She physically turns her, and Aaron is smiling gently, which makes him look even better than when he was serious and expressionless. Her heart thrums in her chest.

“Hi. I’m sorry I don’t remember you. I want to.” She sticks out her hand for a shake, feels dumb instantly, but he takes it anyway, holds it for a moment. His hand is rough, so much bigger than hers, and part of her hopes he never lets go.

“That’s alright. Dr. Bracken is confident you’ll recover all of your memories in time. She’s given me some instruction on ways we can try to jog your memory, but no stress, like Emily said.”

“I guess we’re not considering the fact that losing two years of your life is a little stressful,” she counters, and he laughs again.

“You haven’t lost anything. Just misplaced them for a while.” He steps toward her, like he wants to touch her, comfort her maybe, but freezes, thinks better of it. She’s torn between wanting to get to know him better first and wanting to jump into his arms immediately, so she decides to let him set the pace. “So… Do you want to come home with me?” His voice is soft, hopeful, matching his eyes. “Garcia—our friend, another coworker of ours—has offered to put you up at her place if you’re not comfortable with that, so no worries either way. You have a place to go.”

Her stomach sinks a little at the thought of being anywhere but home, even though she has no idea where that is, and she looks back at Emily, who smiles encouragingly.

“I think I want to go home,” she decides after a moment, and she turns back to look at Aaron. “Is that okay with you?” He nods seriously.

“Yes, of course. I want you home with me. I just wanted you to know you had other options.” Emily slips past her, a hand on her elbow, and finishes gathering up her belongings while they talk. “The rest of the team is going to come over for a little bit, if you’re okay with that. The doctor said it would be a good idea, since you spend most of your time with them, but if at any point it gets overwhelming, let me know. No hard feelings if we send everyone home.”

“Okay,” she breathes, her head already swimming a bit just from talking to Aaron, and he does step forward, then, giving her her space but indicating that he wants to come closer, if she’ll let him.

“May I put this on you?” he murmurs, and opens his palm to display her rose necklace, the one she wears, must still wear, everyday. At least that hasn’t changed. “The EMTs gave it to me when they brought you in. I’ve been holding onto it for safekeeping.” She nods, turns around, and he slips it around her throat, clasps it, brushes a careful hand over her neck to move her hair out of the way. “That’s better,” he says, his breath ghosting over her skin, and she sighs, wants to sink back against the heat of his body; she just knows how comforting it would be, how safe she would feel. Instead, she turns and smiles softly.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” They hold eye contact for a moment, and then Emily appears at her side, making a face like she knows she’s interrupting something.

“Ready to get going?” she asks, handing Sophie’s duffle bag over to Aaron. “I’m going to stop at home and then I’ll head to your place.”

“Absolutely. Thank you, Emily,” Sophie says sincerely, stepping forward to pull her into a tight hug. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I hope I remember more about you soon.”

“I’m happy I could be here, and I know you will. Just give it some time.” She pats her on the back, and then leaves the room.

Aaron carries her bag and leads her out to the parking garage, toward a standard federal issued SUV, and he opens the door for her, closes it behind her with a gentle smile.

Time to go home.

Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x original female character #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner/original female character #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader

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shurisneakers · 4 years ago

Text

shut in [5]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, threats, implied ptsd, violence

Word count: 2.9k

A/N: sam wilson nation how are we feeling after that trailer. only about a month to go for my two dumbasses to get the recognition they deserve!!

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“Where are they?”

“We don’t know, boss.”

Their eyes glossed over with rising anger, masking its earlier aloofness.

“I’m going to need more than ‘I don’t know’.” Their voice was acidic, dripping with faux politeness. A bad sign.

“Police say they pulled off the highway at one point and then they lost track of them because there were no cameras.” The agent looked at his partner who only nodded in confirmation.

“They could have ditched the car before going on foot,” the partner suggested rather unhelpfully, “We have no idea where they could be”

They were silent, mouth pressed in a hard line, leaving everyone in silence.

“Have I told you about the time my dad hired someone to fix the sink here?” they finally asked, looking away from the agents. “Some drunk fuck got in a fistfight and absolutely decimated the thing. Dad got someone to fix the hole in the wall and the fitting.”

They turned away, facing the wall.

“He did an alright job, that guy. Fixed up the place, installed a new sink. But there was a problem that he said he’d be able to fix only the next day, something about water dripping through an unsealed pipe.”

The agents just sat there on their chairs, feet cold. They knew where the story was going. It was a myth at their organisation, a cautionary tale to everyone who joined.

“My dad, he agreed. Said ‘Yeah sure, come back tomorrow’. Guy packed up his bag and was on his way out when my dad called him back. Asked him to hold out his hand for the money and then he just,” they paused, “cut one of his fingers clean off. Told him that he’d get his payment and his finger when the job was done.”

“I loved my father,” They skipped a beat before whipping their head around to look at the two agents. “But he was a coward. I would have shot him in the head.”

The agents looked paler than what they were a few seconds ago.

“If I tell you to do something, either do it perfectly or don’t do it all because the next time you’re here and those two are still alive,” they sneered, lunging forward to grab one of their collars, “I’ll blow your fucking brains out. Do we have an understanding?”

“Yes boss,” the partner was barely audible, speaking for the one who was breathing heavily, looking like he was on the verge of passing out.

“Go on then.” They smiled, letting go of the agent’s collar as he stayed frozen in his place. They dusted their hands off before straightening up. “Don’t return without good news.”

The frustration of not knowing something was not one you were used to.

You were used to knowing. The satisfaction of a puzzle. The ease of a predictable pattern.

So when this mystery wasn’t getting solved within twenty minutes, it was starting to affect you. You spent hours staring at the ceiling, replaying every detail for months leading up to the case. Every client you shook hands with. Every coworker you greeted with a nod. Every vile sicko you had killed.

And yet, no matter how much you thought and rethought and rethought again, it simply didn’t make sense. There was a piece missing. A hidden variable.

Sam helped wherever he could. He offered up arguments and rebuttals. If you had a theory, he’d find the flaw or the lack of proof. He was keeping it reasonable. Only snorted when you suggested that maybe the president was involved in a large scale extermination of underground mafias. A absurd theory that had no roots in reality.

“You could point out any official on the damn senate and they would have some connection to our gang that you can dig up with one Red Bull and twenty minutes on the internet,” he had said. “It’s too much of a liability if we get caught. They’ll just get exposed for all the nasty shit they’ve been hiding under the carpet.”

You knew this, of course, and it didn’t help to be reminded of it again because it also meant that one more theory was ruled out. And with each theory ruled out, the further away you were from your answer.

It was frustrating.

Sam was in front of the TV, lounging on the couch with the copy of Pride and Prejudice in his hands. You were working on plausible solutions, drawing up flow charts to see what could be connected.

If Pierce wasn’t the common link then it had to be something else. You couldn’t proceed with the other spies theory because no one else immediately sprung to mind. There was one... but you decided against writing it.

If Ransone was telling the truth, and there was no way of knowing he was, Sam and you were unrelated and his being there was coincidental. You just had to rely on the employee-employer relationship you shared, if you could even call it that.

“Fuck,” you cursed loudly, tearing up the piece of paper and crumpling it. You groaned, holding your head in your hands. Your eyes were burning from straining it for too long and your shoulders were in pain from slumping over the table all day.

You took a deep breath, shaking your head before instinctively reaching for another sheet. Your hand came up short so you fumbled around the table blindly, trying to grab at a piece of paper without spending the extra effort of searching.

“You’re not getting another sheet,” Sam’s voice came from above you. “You’re going to watch some shitty movie, eat some soup and relax for today.”

“Give it back, Wilson,” you muttered, reaching out your hand.

“No. You can use your unhealthy coping mechanism when I’m not around to see it. Half of this is my mess too and I’m not going to watch you have a breakdown over it.”

He was going to be annoyingly persistent; somehow he had exhibited that magnificently over the last few days. You knew better than to argue with him over something that he had made his mind up about by now.

“I don’t want to watch a movie.” You let your head fall onto the table, wishing that the cool wood would do something for the headache you felt coming.

You heard him set the paper back down, not saying a word. Your head was throbbing and all you wanted was the frustration to ease. It was killing you.

“Come on. We’re going outside.” That piqued your interest. Sam had never invited you anywhere before.

“Where?”

“Y’know; the outside. I know you haven’t seen it in a while but see if these words jog your memory. Sun. Grass. Win-”

“I know what the outdoors is, Wilson.” You smiled against the table, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing it. “I’m asking where exactly we’re going.”

“You’ll see. Put some shoes on.”

By the time you looked up he was already walking away from the table, leaving you to follow.

You sighed. He sounded too determined and you didn’t have many other options.

Pushing your chair away from the table, you went to go put on your shoes. __

“If in care you were planning to, I’m just going to tell you right now that you can’t kill me.”

The both of you had been wandering along the path for a while. When you met him by the backdoor, he had a bag with him filled with who knows what.

He declined to tell you what was in it either, despite you asking thrice.

“Calm down, Keanu Reeves. That’s not what I was going to do.” Sam gave a short laugh.

“I’m serious. I know karate.”

“So do I.”

“Krav Maga.”

He hummed in agreement.

“Kickboxing.”

“Now you’re just insulting me. That’s level one.”

The path was littered with tree roots that stuck out of the soil, stray branches and leaves that crunched satisfactorily under your feet. One second of distraction and you were sure you’d fall flat to the ground.

You both continued for a few more minutes before he finally came to a stop.

It didn't look very different from the rest of the woods until something caught your eye. In front of you, one of the trees stood out. The bark had large concentric circles, resembling a large dart board. A few indentations were already made in it; clearly it was being used for practice regularly.

“Here you go,” he spoke from beside you, handing you a tomahawk. “Go ahead, throw it at it.”

You looked at the tiny axe in his hand.

“Think of it as adult darts,” he encouraged, “Here, I’ll throw the first one.”

He extended his arm in front of him, pulling his wrist back before effortlessly throwing it at his makeshift board. It was two circles away from the bullseye he had carved out. It must have taken a while to make.

“This doesn’t look very safe,” you commented as he picked up another one, launching it at the tree. You followed its trajectory, watching it embed itself into the bark closer to the centre than the previous turn.

“That’s what makes it fun.” This man had no regard for safety protocols. Given, these were things that came with the job but it didn’t mean you did it in your free time. “It helps, just try.”

“Why are you doing this?” you asked curiously, trying to assess his reaction. Pulling you out of the house for a bar game wasn’t exactly the type of thing people generally did for you.

“Because I wanted to.” He shrugged, not giving you any further explanation. “Try one.”

“Okay.” You followed his example, watching as it glided smoothly before landing close to his initial throw.

“Nice shot.”

A smile made its way to your face automatically as he handed you another one. You repeated your action, an unusual sense of pride establishing itself in you when it came closer to the middle.

“Now what?”

“Now we collect and do the whole thing again till you feel better,” Sam replied, making his way towards the tree and plucking the small axes out easily. His back muscles tightened against the material of his shirt in the process. It wasn’t a bad sight at all. “Endorphins and all that.

“Is this where you keep disappearing to?” you inquired, taking two of them from him when he returned.

“Sometimes.” He took aim before throwing it at the board. “There’s a few things you can do around here.”

“Your coping mechanism is extreme sports without proper guidelines.”

“You gotta do what you gotta do.” Sam took a step to the side, giving you space to take your turn.

“Have you always been this wise, or?” you teased, concentrating on the circles in front of you. Your shot came pretty close.

When you didn’t receive a reply, you glanced at him through your peripheral vision. He wasn’t moving, a thousand yard stare in his eyes.

“Hit it.”

“I can’t.” His fists were bleeding through the bandages wound around them. He could feel the tear in his skin, the burn of flesh against sweat soaked clothes.

“I said, hit it,” Emil commanded once more. Sam could feel his chest rising and falling steadily from beside him, his putrid breath making him want to vomit.

“I can’t.” He could barely stand up. Exhaustion seeped through every muscle in his body.

“You’re weak,” his trainer spat. “Nothing but a fucking child.”

“He’ll die.” Sam looks down at the boy, bloody and mangled on the floor. He had passed out ages ago but that did nothing to stop them from forcing Sam to continue relentlessly.

“It doesn’t deserve mercy. You hear that Wilson?” He leered right into his ear. “Do you fucking hear that?”

Sam flinched, nodding his head. The saltiness of his sweat was fresh on his tongue, burning where it dripped onto his busted lip from his forehead.

“So fucking finish it.” He knew that if he didn’t listen this time, there would be consequences. He didn’t want to find out what it was because he had no doubt it would pain a hell of a lot more than bruised knuckles.

“No,” he whispered, eyes wandering over the body on the floor. “I won’t.”

“What’d you say?” Emil straightened up, taking a step towards him.

“I said no.” Sam turned around on his heel. He could barely stand straight but the spite running through his veins was driving him, giving him enough energy to not collapse right there on the spot.

“He said no,” his trainer repeated, leaning away from Sam. “He said no.”

He turned to look at Ransone. Sam had forgotten he was there in the darkness of the room, observing the fight for the past two hours.

“He said no.” He started chuckling. His chuckles soon gave way to hideous laughter. Stomach clutching, tear inducing laughter.

Before Sam could even realise the change in attitude, Emil’s entire demeanour shifted. He stepped forward, forcefully gripping Sam’s neck. He shoved him backward until his back was pressed against the wall, no doubt bruising his spine further than what it was.

“Say that again, you fucking idiot,” he growled. But Sam couldn’t say anything. He could barely breathe. He was terrified, but determined not to let it show on his face. “When I say something, you better fucking listen.”

His trainer observed his expression for a few more seconds. Sam didn’t open his mouth.

His trainer finally loosened his grip, letting go of his neck.

Sam’s knees nearly buckled but he kept his balance, coughs racking through his body. He felt lightheaded, swollen eyes watching Emil walk towards the body on the floor. The only friend he had.

“Maybe this oughta teach you a lesson.” Emil flashed a quick smirk at Sam before raising his fist above Riley’s face.

Within a split second a guttural cry escaped his throat as he launched himself at the much larger trainer, taking him by surprise. The pure rage he was feeling had him seeing only red, the adrenaline steering his body on autopilot.

With their position suddenly switched, Sam found himself on top of Emil, bloody fists beating down on his face without a break. The pain didn’t even matter anymore.

“Fuck you,” he screamed, not giving him even a second to defend himself. “Fuck you, you fucking dickhead.”

When he could feel his trainer raising his arm to grab from behind, he took a pause from pummelling his face to grab his arm, twisting sharply it till he heard a crack. The roar escaping Emil’s throat didn’t dissuade him from finishing what he started, returning to landing a punch wherever he could.

He didn’t even know how long had passed before his body was being pulled away, kicking and cursing.

“You see how good it feels Wilson? You feel that relief?” Ransone held him tightly as he squirmed furiously trying to get back to beating the shit out of that asshole on the ground. “Next time you’re angry, remember that’s the only way to feel good. If you’re in pain, you cause pain.”

Sam’s flailing was reducing as the adrenaline wore off. The exhaustion was beginning to take hold of his body as he looked at the onslaught of blood splatter everywhere, two bodies side by side on the ground. He did this to both of them.

“Violence is your only friend. Don’t you ever forget that.”

Ransone let go of him. His feet gave out beneath him, chest rising and falling heavily. His shoulders ached as he dragged his body towards Riley, praying to every force in the universe that he wasn’t dead.

He was still breathing. Sam nearly cried out of relief, collapsing next to him. Ready to defend him if Emil woke up.

“Next time you want to let out some anger, come find me,” Ransone called out. “I’ll find you your next victim.”

“You okay?” You waved your hand in front of his face. “Earth to Wilson.”

It seemed to work as he snapped back, blinking rapidly.

“You zoned out a little there. Everything alright?” you asked. He looked at you blankly for a second before realising what you asked.

“Yeah.” He gave you a half smile. “Yeah, I’m good. You done with your turn?”

The light that was there behind his eyes a few minutes ago had dimmed considerably. He looked weary. You recognised what had happened, what he was probably thinking of. You didn’t bring it up, not risking the chance of him reliving it.

“Kinda.” You pointed towards the target where a tomahawk was sticking out of the centre.

“Damn,” he whistled, resting his hands on his waist. “Best of three?”

“Didn’t know it was a competition.” You went to collect it. It was harder to pull out than you thought. You wondered how many times Sam had practiced it to make it look so effortless.

“Only if you want it to be.”

“Nah.” You walked towards him, handing two of them back to him. “Maybe next time.”

“Next time, huh.” He tested his throw before letting go of the handle. Bullseye. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

You only smiled.

Next part

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let-them-read-fics · 4 years ago

Text

Handle With Care

Requested By @posies4rosie: "Jisoo once gave advice in an interview to people who are having anxiety/depression, that when they feel themselves “slipping under”, they can try turning their thoughts to something lighter and focus on the better things instead before getting consumed. -- Request for reader x Jisoo where reader had one of those episodes and failed to pull herself out, which she thinks she’s failing Jisoo by not being able to help herself, causing her to sink even further. -- Jisoo uses her way to help reader. Angst with a happy ending, please <3"

Pairing: Jisoo x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 3,948

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Self-Doubt, Mentions Of Anxiety / Depression, Fluff, Light Smut / Suggestive Themes, Some Cursing, Happy Ending

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hello again, my lovely readers! I really enjoyed writing this one, so thank you very much for requesting. I hope all of you enjoy it -- Happy reading!

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

The day started off like any other, nothing seeming out of place or particularly noteworthy as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and took a look around the room. Jisoo had to leave before you woke up, and a sweet letter on the bedside table served as her parting gift.

My love,

We have an early stage today, but I'll be back before you know it. Turn it on if you miss me too much ;)

All my love and kisses,

Your Jichu

It made you smile, imagining her saying those words with a little smirk on her lips, and you mindlessly toyed with the edge of the paper. The power this woman holds over your heart is a bit frightening, if you're honest with yourself. One simple note, merely a paragraph at best, warms your heart immensely. The thought of her alone is capable of making you giddy, magically turning you into a love stricken teenager. She rules your world with care, always making sure you feel important and valued; she fights your demons right beside you, never backing down for a minute.

Before Jisoo, you falsely thought you knew what love was; the ill-conceived notion that you used as a guide was flawed in every way. You were raised to believe that true, honest love only existed in far-off realms -- in worlds of make-believe; so, naturally, settling had always been your forte. You blended in and stuck with the crowd, always going for the safest option when given the choice. You limited yourself with each decision you made, and deep resentment blossomed within you.

Resentment at your family for allowing the disease of self-doubt to grow within you. They could've stopped it before it really began; they could've assured you of your worth instead of letting you think your insecurities true.

Resentment at yourself for believing them.

Everytime you attempted to break the pattern and listen to your heart when it told you that there was a world beyond such mundanity, some nagging voice in the back of your head told you it was all a lie. Your life so far, as boring as it may have been, was predictable and safe. Although you ached for the unexpected, for some all-consuming thrill to shake up the life you had grown to accept, you always fell back into that old mindset. Your fears outweighed your courage every time, and you knew it was futile to go against them.

But one day -- one beautiful, fateful day -- you met Jisoo. It was a time in your life that you needed a friend; someone to listen and assure you that things would be okay. In allowing your paths to cross, the universe most certainly blessed you; Jisoo became your confidant in the blink of an eye, offering consistency and understanding, and you let her slip past the walls you spent years so meticulously putting up.

You didn't do that often, and yet it seemed like a no-brainer with her. She made you feel as though you were enough, that you mattered in a world that so adamantly tried to make you believe otherwise. Her love was unconditional and fierce, thorough and far-reaching.

Keeping people at arm's length had always been your way of ensuring that life stayed as predictable as ever, precariously balanced in that safe zone of no risk. Even when you dated people, giving into those innate desires to be cherished despite not deeming yourself worthy, you never really let them in. Not all the way, at least. Something always told you that others were better; closer to perfection. No matter the person, you could always find a reason to say that they were better. That they were something you'd never be; that they had something you'd never have.

The comparisons didn't stop when you began dating Jisoo, but they sure as hell slowed down some. All of that was her doing; she filled your mind with constant reassurance and love, always showing you what a healthy relationship looked like. Over the years, she learned to read you well: the shifting of your eyes served as a sign that you were getting overwhelmed; the way that you zoned out told her the negative thoughts were barreling in. Though she's convinced you to give yourself some credit in the matter, she's the main one responsible for getting you where you are today.

She's your strength -- your reason for wanting to be better.

-------

"Dalgooomie," you cheerily sing out, your voice echoing throughout the apartment. That familiar sound of paws on hardwood draws a smile from you, and you turn to see him eagerly scrambling towards you.

"Good morning buddy! Are you ready for a walk?" For a moment, you swear he can understand your high pitched speech; he spins around, wagging his tail happily as he looks towards the door.

With a laugh, you clip his leash on and the two of you begin your walk.

It's a gorgeous morning; the sun is peeking up, illuminating a sky of beautifully pastel colors as the grass shines with dew. The beads spring off in different directions, the surface tension of the water breaking every time Dalgom rustles his way through the lawn. You have a feeling that today will be a good day.

If only you knew.

About 15 minutes later, you unlock the front door and grin as he charges into the familiar space. He tugs you with him, drawing a chuckle from you as your feet stumble in through the doorway.

"Slow down buddy! I know you're hungry but you've gotta give me a second," you shake your head, amused, as you remove his leash and make your way to the kitchen. He follows suit, barking when you take too long for his liking.

"Yah, okay okay!" You scoop his food into the bowl and pat him on the head as he begins to eat.

A ding from your phone sounds off, the notification surprising you a little. Great timing, you think to yourself.

"About to go on stage, I'll text you later. Xoxo"

Your heart warms at the message, and you type a quick reply before heading to the couch to turn the tv on.

At first, all is well: you watch your girlfriend in awe, always so enraptured by her performances. During one portion of the program, you even run upstairs to retrieve your lightstick and dance around in the middle of the living room. As much as Jisoo can't believe you actually bought one, she thinks it's the most adorable thing ever.

Everything was going well, truly, until towards the end of the show, when the girls were interviewed with a few other idols. One in particular, a female soloist, stood beside Jisoo, looking completely at ease next to her. She was beautiful in every way imaginable, and you couldn't help but begin to compare yourself. You tried to focus on how happy Jisoo looked as she joked with her members, answering the questions with that quick wit you love so much. But your mind soon again filled with intrusive thoughts, taking the focus away from Jisoo.

She looks so much prettier than you do

Watch how she's looking at Jisoo

They look pretty together

What if Jisoo likes her?

I bet she does

You physically shake your head in an attempt to force the thoughts out. Jisoo loves you, you know that. She's with you for a reason. Eventually you're able to look at the tv again without grimacing, but soon that progress is destroyed all over again.

The soloist puts her hand on Jisoo's arm, motioning to the girls and herself as she explains something to the MC. She must've cracked a joke, said something really hilarious, because all of them burst into laughter. Jisoo throws her head back, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth as she giggles loudly. That joyous sound hurts you now, almost feeling like she's laughing at you.

It's ridiculous and immature, but your brain takes it there no less. You know better, but your mind is flooded with insecurity and fear, overrun by your unforgiving worries. Tears are streaming down your face as the thoughts grow worse and worse, and it feels suffocating. You consider yourself weak for blowing such a seemingly innocent thing so out of proportion, twisting what should be a positive thing for your girlfriend into something negative. But you can't help it. Your brain betrays you, coming up with hundreds of hurtful scenarios that pile on until you can't breath. It's a physical pain, one far too overwhelming to "wish away" now. You turn off the tv and dart up the stairs, set on crying into your pillow until your mind decides to give you a break.

-------

"Y/N, baby, I'm home." Jisoo calls, and you can hear the material of her jacket slide onto the metal hook beside the front door.

"In here," you say weakly, cursing your voice for even hinting that you're less than okay. For Jisoo, you want to be perfect; you want to seem like you have your shit together. She must not have thought anything out of the ordinary, though, because soon you hear a little giggle from the hallway.

"Hi Dalgomie, did you miss mommy?" She coos, her voice higher than usual and bouncy as she bends down to scoop up the pup. She pads her way into the kitchen, talking to him all the while. Her free arm snakes around your waist once she reaches you, and she leans around to kiss your temple.

The action was loving and simple -- it shouldn't have made your heart ache. Perhaps it wasn't the act itself that caused it; maybe it was the accumulation of all of your emotions from the day coming to the surface. The feeling of Jisoo's arm around you reminded you of earlier; of how close she was to that woman on the program. They looked incredible, clad in the blingy outfits you could never afford and elegant in their mannerisms. It all brought forth the nasty idea that she's just settling for you -- that she's only with you because she feels sorry for you.

When you don't start a conversation like normal or even turn to look at her, Jisoo knows something's wrong. Gently, she kisses Dalgom's head before setting him down on the ground. He trots off towards god-knows-where, and you almost wish to be him. You want to avoid the discussion you'll surely be having any minute now; running away has always been your go-to.

But Jisoo won't stand for that. She's mature and honest in every way, and she knows how to handle you.

"My love, what's wrong?"

She's earnestly concerned, and her tone lets you know she doesn't want you to brush the problem away. Without even knowing the issue yet, Jisoo can tell it's something worth working through.

"I had an episode today and I wasn't able to stop it." You hang your head, your fingers busying themselves by toying with the bread bag in front of you. Once you had stopped crying earlier, you came down to make yourself some food; after all, you hadn't eaten all day.

Jisoo tuts at you, slowly turning you around to face her. The back of your legs lean against the counter now, and tears threaten to spill out of your eyes. A few moments of silence pass, Jisoo giving you the opportunity to elaborate. She always offers you the option to initiate the process, not wanting to risk diminishing your feelings before even knowing what's troubling you. She never patronizes you, and you're endlessly thankful.

With a deep breath, you lower your gaze to the floor and continue. Seeing the disappointment in her eyes is definitely not something you can handle in your already emotional state.

"I turned your show on today and saw the pretty idol you were talking to. I started comparing myself and it all got worse from there." You inform quickly, just wanting to get the words out.

She sets her jaw, clenching and releasing the muscles repeatedly as she decides on how best to respond.

"Did you use the technique we talked about?" She asks gently, releasing the question with care.

"I tried, but it didn't work this time." A single tear rolls down your cheek, and you swipe it away before Jisoo can even notice it.

You feel like you're failing her by giving into your worries, but they're incessant. They fight for your attention, completely overruling any "happy thought" that you might have previously hoped would be capable of mitigating your fears. You're disappointed in yourself, but since when is that a new thing?

"She's an idol, Jisoo. She can relate to you in ways I'll never be able to."

"You think I'd throw away 4 years with you to be with someone I barely know, because we can relate?"

She voices your fears in such a way that you instantly feel foolish for believing them. Nevertheless, you persist.

"She's everything I'm not."

"And that's precisely why you never have to worry."

With furrowed brows, you tilt your head and look at Jisoo: her statement confuses you.

"No one else even comes close to you, baby. You're what I want. You're who I want. Every little thing that makes you who you are is a reason I love you."

Your heart beats harder at her words, taken aback by how genuine they sound. She's saying all the things you need to hear, but it feels too good to be true.

"Loving me is exhausting; I don't see why you keep doing it. You should be with someone who doesn't need coddling… who isn't broken like me. We go in circles, Jisoo. I always go back to giving into my fears."

She lets out a disbelieving scoff, soft in its volume as she says, "If I wanted to leave, I would've. You've given me more than enough chances to go, and still I have yet to find a reason to. I'm not perfect either, Y/N. You act like everyone else is so high above you, but we're really all just dealing with our own baggage."

"I have enough of that for 10 people." The phrase is pointed and self depreciating, and Jisoo can't take it any longer.

"Stop. Look at me, baby." She finally breathes out, hooking her fingers underneath your chin and raising your head.

"Whether or not you think I'm making a mistake, I'm always gonna choose you. My life isn't complete without you in it; our stories became intertwined the day we met."

Her cheek briefly tugs up in a lopsided smile at the memory of your first meeting.

"I'm just scared, Jisoo. Do you know how many times people have told me they'd stay, just to leave the moment they found someone better? I know I'm not easy to love; I know it's difficult. I just can't imagine what I'd do without you. You've made me feel emotions I never even knew existed."

You're more honest with Jisoo than anyone else, and being so vulnerable scares you. Nevertheless, it feels good to open up sometimes.

"You'll never have to find out what that's like, because I'm never leaving. Do you understand how in love with you I am? I don't think you do."

You slip your chin out of her hold again, still disappointed in yourself. The action hurts her more than you know, and you miss the way her face contorts into a sad frown.

"When I roll over in the morning and see your face on that pillow, I don't know what to do with myself. When I'm holding you and Dalgom cuddles in between us, it's like I see a glimpse into my future. When you smile at me it's like I can finally breathe again. My home is with you; please don't ever doubt that. You're my world."

And then, you hear it. The noise that very rarely ever comes from your girlfriend. A sniffle.

Your eyes shoot up to hers in an instant, searching through her deep pools as you step forward to cradle her face in your hands. She tries to turn away, already upset with herself -- she knows you'll blame yourself for her tears.

Jisoo only cries in front of you when she's frustrated or deeply moved, and sometimes when she's scared. As you run a thumb along her cheek, you attempt to figure out her reasoning for it this time.

Once she eventually accepts that you aren't letting her get away, she leans into your touch.

"I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You sell yourself so short. The fact that you think you're anything less than incredible devastates me. You're amazing in every capacity… and so, so beautiful."

Her voice wavers, taut with the emotions she's still reeling from. She says the words so assuredly that you begin to give in and believe them. She makes them sound like simple facts; common knowledge to any and everyone. On top of that, you're pained beyond belief that anything of your doing makes her this sad. She deserves to be smiling constantly, so hard her cheeks hurt and her belly aches from laughing.

"I'll never be able to see myself like you do, Jisoo, but I'm willing to work on it. You've already helped me more than you'll ever know, and I've come pretty far. Sometimes I just can't keep the thoughts at bay."

She nods, moving the hand that previously rested on your hip to hold your wrist. She strokes the skin gently, leaning further into your touch as her eyes soften with understanding.

"I love you. Thank you for dealing with me." You utter, leaning forward to rest your forehead against hers. She sighs at your words, rubbing a comforting circle on your back.

"Thank you for letting me in, jagi. Saranghae."

Your lips move to meet hers now, halfway, both of you needing to feel each other. It's slow and meaningful; she takes her time with it, treating it just like she does your heart. You tilt her head to deepen the kiss, noting the warmth that her cheeks still radiate as you trail your fingers over her skin.

A subtle shiver courses through her at your ministrations, drawing a smile from you. You'll never get tired of kissing her; of having her wrapped in your arms, so close to you. Vulnerable moments like these remind you of how different she is from everyone else. She's your everything and then some, and she needs you as much as you need her.

A bit impatient now, Jisoo tugs at your bottom lip, silently asking for more. You tap her thighs before looping your hands underneath them, swiftly lifting her onto the kitchen counter. The thin material of her skirt sits a little higher up on her legs now, having ridden up as you moved her.

She hooks her legs around you as you move to stand in between them, preventing her from falling and keeping her as close as possible. You break the kiss to study her for a moment, lazily running your fingers along the newly exposed skin of her thighs. Her hair is on its way to being mussed, the curls from her earlier performance now coming undone.

Her tongue darts out of her mouth to moisten her lips as she drinks in the sight of you. The top 2 buttons of your blouse are open, allowing her eyes to gaze at your chest wantonly.

She trails a hand up your body, teasing you before she grips your collar and yanks you forward.

Your lips meet again but this kiss holds something different than before: it's passionate, full of need. She adjusts her posture so that her body is flush against you, enabling you to feel how hard her heart is beating. No one else is capable of making her feel this way, and she's determined to remind you of that.

You bite her bottom lip before smoothing your tongue over it to soothe any ache your actions might've caused. The act is welcomed by Jisoo, proven by the groan that vibrates in her throat. Her hands tangle in your hair as you lower your head to her neck, pressing your lips to the tender skin.

"A-ah, right there," she husks out, her voice deepened with desire. Her wish is your command, and you take your time in leaving a mark there. You continue your assault, leaving a trail of purple-ish bruises in your wake as you move to untouched patches of skin. She knowingly spurs your actions on by moaning into your ear when you bite with just the right amount of pressure, her breath hot on your neck.

You pull away to admire your work, knowing her makeup artist will have a field day with covering up all of your marks. She leans back a bit, slowly swiveling her hips as she uses her ankles to pull you closer.

Her movements fuel the heat pooling between your legs, and you don't even attempt to stop the moan that leaves you. She knows you so well; she knows exactly what gets you going, just what to do and say.

"Come here," you command, securing her legs around your waist as you lift her off of the counter. Her lips find yours again, keeping them occupied as you walk towards the couch -- trekking up to the bedroom would take far too long.

"Tell me what you want, baby." You say, laying her down on the plush cushions. She pulls you against herself again, smiling at the feeling of your hips pressed into her. At first, she defies you, opting to push her lips against yours instead of answering your question. You know what to do to make her talk, though. Slyly, you pull away, barely ghosting your lips over hers. It's just enough contact to make her want more, but not enough to satisfy her.

With a press of your thigh to her center, she's already bucking her hips up into you, reaching up to reclaim your lips. She whines as you pull further away, not allowing her to kiss you until she gives you an answer.

"Use your words, Jisoo." You add your hand into the mix of things driving her crazy as you trail it down her body, allowing your fingers to sneak under the hem of her shirt and skim over her abdomen.

She looks at you defiantly, causing you to quirk an eyebrow. Challenging you, is she? Two can play at that game.

You apply more pressure to her core, allowing her to take pleasure in two more strong strokes against your thigh before pulling away completely.

"Fuck- no. Y/N…" she pleads, reaching for you again. She's really getting worked up now.

A smirk crosses your lips at her desperation, and you almost have to stifle a chuckle. She knows you're stubborn, and denying herself release seems idiotic when all she has to do is listen to you. So, she gives in.

"I want your mouth; your fingers. All of you."

Your cocky persona falters a bit at her words and you feel the blood rushing through your veins at the way she said them. Her voice was raw with lust, dripping with desire as she eyed you.

"Was that so hard, baby?" You tease, resuming your previous movements with a smirk.

"Shut up and kiss me." She huffs out, half annoyed and half amused.

"Yes ma'am." You press your lips to hers and get started on meeting her demands.

153 notes · View notes

seokiie · 4 years ago

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𝙱𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚝𝚊𝚗'𝚜 𝚂𝚊𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚅𝚊𝚗 (𝙼)

+ 𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘶𝘱, 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘢𝘯. 𝘐𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦.

𝘖𝘳,

𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘺𝘦.

+ 𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 3.5𝘬

+ 𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘢𝘯/𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘏𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘰𝘬/𝘑𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘯, 𝘛𝘢𝘦𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘨/𝘑𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘬𝘰𝘰𝘬, 𝘑𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘬𝘰𝘰𝘬/𝘠𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘪

+ 𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘮, 𝘷𝘰𝘺𝘦𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘮, 𝘤𝘢𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘮𝘪-𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘴𝘦𝘹??, 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘑𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦

On AO3

"How long till we get back?" Jungkook groans from where he's sat. Namjoon unlocks his phone and looks at the time. It's already past 12.

"I don't know, maybe another hour." Jungkook lets out another long dramatic groan before slumping back in his seat, mumbled curses slipping past his lips.

It was a particularly long shoot today and everyone was frustrated, to say the least. They couldn't quite capture the concept they were going for and it ended up with them staying later than they needed. On top of that, there was a problem with the car situation, and the person who was supposed to take you back to the agency couldn't show up. One of the managers insisted you squeeze yourself into BTS' van considering you were all going to the same place. They had to go back to the dorms, and you had to upload today's footage to your work computer.

You didn't know how to feel about this. BTS' van was... well, it was made for BTS. It had exactly seven seats. Seven. There was simply no room for you. Not to mention, your job was to record the boys, make sure there was content for their youtube channel. You're not supposed to actually interact with them. That just made this whole car situation even weirder. A little awkward, too.

You tried to decline the manager's proposition as respectfully as you could to a higher-up, but that didn't work. Taehyung walked over, his bag in his hand and his coat thrown over his shoulder.

"What's going on?" You looked up at the tall man. Even after following the boys for so long, you still couldn't tell the difference between Taehyung's resting face and his annoyed face. Either way, you felt bad for wasting everyone's time.

"The car that was supposed to pick up y/n here isn't showing up anytime soon. There was a crash on the highway and the traffic isn't moving at all." The manager turns his attention to the taller man and Taehyung crosses his arms and nods his head, showing he was listening.

"I'm telling her to get in your van since you're both heading to the same place, but she keeps refusing. Perhaps she's embarrassed?" The manager teases and you feel your body heat up. Riding in a van with seven other guys seems like a plot straight out of a porno. You shake that thought out of your head before you can delve deeper into it.

"It's not like we don't know her, she's been recording for us for a while. Don't be embarrassed, you can ride with us!" Taehyung pats the top of your head and smiles down at you. You let out a small laugh and nod okay. If Taehyung said so, there's no way you could refuse. You mentally facepalm at your inability to say no to hot people.

When Taehyung slides open the van door, all the members were already inside.

"Aish, Taehyung-ah, finally. We can finally go... home..." Seokjin's words falter when he notices the person standing beside him. You.

"Why's our camera lady here?" The confusion in Seokjins voice practically alerts everyone else in the van who wasn't paying attention. They all turn to you and Taehyung and god, are you embarrassed. You shift awkwardly on your feet.

"She has a name, numbnuts. Y/n over here doesn't have a car so she'll be riding with us." Taehyung wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into his side. It reminds you of a protective brother. Brother. Just a brother, nothing else.

"Uh, yeah, that sounds great except we literally don't have room for another person." Hoseok takes out one of his AirPods and for a brief second, you two make eye contact before you look away, flustered. You're sure his words sound meaner in your head than they actually were.

"Jimin-ah, can you sit on Hoseokie-hyungs lap so y/n can have a seat?" Jimin looks over at Taehyung like he just kicked his dog. There's a brief silence before Taehyung speaks up again.

"Please? For me?" Taehyung pouts and makes little whining sounds. Honestly, his puppy dog face was extremely effective and you had to stop yourself from cooing at the older man.

"Ugh, I hate you. Fine. You owe me." Jimin hisses before unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding into Hoseok's lap. Hoseok's hands come to rest on the youngers waist almost too easily.

Taehyung nudges you lightly, silently ordering you to take the free seat that Jimin just gave up. You get in and Taehyung follows, closing the sliding door behind him.

Taehyung, you, Seokjin, Hoseok, and Jimin were the only ones in the back. Everyone else was in the row right before you and in front of them, there was a dark screen that prevented you from seeing the driver. So this is what fancy seven-seat idol cars look like. Everything was so sleek and leathery and black. You'd probably feel like a famous person if you weren't squished between Taehyung, who was violently manspreading, and Seokjin, who had extremely wide shoulders.

"How long till we get back?" Jungkook groans from where he's sat. Namjoon unlocks his phone and looks at the time.

"We probably won't get back to the dorm for another hour. Traffic is shit right now." Namjoon sighs and leans his head back against the headrest. You watch as he runs a hand through his mint hair, only managing to mess it up even further. A few strands fell back on his forehead and you find yourself admiring the way the blueish-green locks look on top of his slightly sweaty, tan skin.

"You must like Namjoon's hair, huh?" You can feel the ghost of Taehyung's arm as he puts it behind your seat.

"Huh? What?" You jump a bit at how loud Taehyung's voice is in the mostly silent car. He basically just outed that you were ogling Namjon's hair.

"I said, you must like Namjoon's hair. You were staring at it." Taehyung repeats himself louder, a smirk gracing his lips when you look up at him with wide eyes. Taehyung loved people like you. So nervous and easily embarrassed. It was that type of innocence that got Taehyung going. He can't help thinking you'd be a fun little plaything.

"It's okay to admit it. I think it looks good on him, too." Taehyung pats your head before letting it rest on the back of your seat again. "It makes him look so sexy, don't you think?"

At that, you literally choke on your spit, coughing loudly as Taehyung laughed beside you. Namjoon laughs a little, too.

"Ah, cmon, Taehyung. We're gonna be in this car for an hour can you at least try not to scare the girl?" Yoongi turns around to roll his eyes at the younger. Taehyung lets out a few more giggles before nodding and apologizing.

After that, the ride continues on rather quietly. Jungkook is trying to take a nap, so is Seokjin. Namjoon and Yoongi are sharing headphones and listening to a track Yoongi is working on. Next to a sleeping Seokjinnie, Hoseok and Jimin are... whispering into each other's ears?

Okay, no one can blame you for eavesdropping. It was almost impossible not to when the two men were literally inches away from you.

You watch from the corner of your eyes as Hoseok whispers something straight into the shell the Jimin's ear, his hand slipping into his shirt nonchalantly. Jimin would've been doing a great job at keeping a straight face if he wasn't struggling to keep his eyes open. Does Seokjin not see this?

You try to divert your attention elsewhere and it actually works for a bit until Jimin starts literally panting.

This time, you turn your head fully to look at them. Jimin's head was thrown back on Hoseok's shoulder as the older boy kissed his shoulder, teasing nips that slowly led up to his neck. You could see the way Hoseok was playing with the boy's nipples through his shirt. You look around the car, wondering if you're the only one seeing this, hearing this. They really weren't trying to be discreet at all.

When you look over again, Jimin is pushing his hips back against Hoseok's. He audibly moans into his dongsaeng's neck and you have to press your thighs together because holy shit, that was hot.

They were getting louder and nobody was saying anything. It was as if the two dancers weren't practically fucking each other with their clothes on. You swallow lightly and try to ignore what's going on next to you like everyone else is. Even if you can feel your hands get sweaty, even if you feel that familiar hint of arousal deep in your belly.

As you're working hard to maintain a normal breathing pattern, Taehyung places a warm hand on your thigh. It sends sparks through your body and his eyes drop to your lips when your breath hitches.

"Are they turning you on?" This time, Taehyung isn't speaking loudly. His tone is low and there's not one hint of a joke in his voice. You swallow hard and nod softly.

"Good, because it turns me on, too." Taehyung exhales as his eyes flicker between you and the men making out beside you.

"They do this all the time and no matter what, it always gets me so hard." Taehyung's hand slides higher up, towards your inner thigh.

"Is... is this okay?"

"Y-yeah... keep- keep going." You whisper loud enough for only Taehyung to hear. He pulls you closer to him by your thigh before letting his fingers slip past the waistband of the shorts you'd worn today. You bite back a moan when you feel two digits rub against your clit. His fingers were so perfect and long and they knew exactly where to go. You can't remember the last time you were with a guy who knew where your clit was.

"God, I've been thinking about this for so long - every time I see you walk over with that camera of yours... You're such a cute little thing, I bet you'd look great coming all over my fingers." Taehyung licks his lips as his hand travels farther, down to your folds that were already dripping wet from the display of affection going on on your left.

You're a little bewildered at Taehyungs confessions. You've been working as Bangtan's camerawoman for so long that it's hard to tell when he started seeing you as more than just a low paid staff member. Regardless, the fact that he admitted to having such dirty thoughts about you has your body reeling.

Somewhere between Jimin's high pitched moans and Taehyung's fingers slipping inside you, you forgot that a world outside of... this existed, that there were other people in the car.

"Ah, you're kidding me right now." Seokjin groans when he turns to look at you. He must've woken up. "I can understand those two but seriously Taehyung? You can't even take her home first?"

You should be embarrassed. You should be humiliated because Taehyung was knuckles deep inside you and Seokjin was looking straight into your eyes. But for some reason, you didn't want to stop, you couldn't stop. You part your lips and let your eyes flutter close as Taehyung curls his fingers into that beautifully sweet spot deep inside you, a moan that might've been a little more obscene than it needed to be slips past your lips. Seokjin watches intently as it all happens.

"You're practically undressing her with your eyes, hyung. If you want her so bad why don't you join us?" It's more of a tease than a proposition but Jin looks like he genuinely thinks about it.

"How cute. My dongsaeng wants to share something so precious with me. Wouldn't it be rude to decline?" Seokin grabs your chin, his fingers digging into your cheeks in a deliciously possessive way. You look up at him with lidded eyes.

"Ah, you were right, Taehyung-ah. What a pretty face. I just know she'd look amazing with her mouth around some dick." Seokjin smiles down at you and Taehyung groans when you clench around his fingers. You'd never expect such dirty words to leave Seokjin's sweet mouth but you can't say you hate it.

"Say, y/n-ah..." He pauses as if he has to think about what he's about to ask. "How many cocks do you think you can take at once?"

You let out a quiet gasp at the sheer thought of being used by all the members. Them treating you like you were their personal toy, their own little plaything.

It didn't take eyes to know you'd drawn the attention of the three guys in the second row. Jungkook was wide awake and Yoongi's new track was long forgotten.

"Hyung, can you take off her shorts?" Jungkook was leaning over his seat to get a better view.

Taehyung pulls two slicked up fingers out from inside you, keening at how wet you were already. They were barely getting started.

"Suck." Taehyung held his soaked fingers out to the maknae who eagerly wrapped his lips around them. You didn't know how else to describe the tension that hung in the air as Jungkook stared up at Taehyung through his eyelashes, greedily lapping up the crystalline liquid on his fingers.

"Fuck, Jungkookie..." Taehyung practically moans before taking the digits out his mouth and pulling the maknae in for a heated kiss. Is this what bts did behind closed doors? Because honestly, you could seriously get used to this.

"Be a good girl and take off your shorts for me," Seokjin instructs and you eagerly follow the order. You lift your hips up and slide your shorts down your thighs along with your panties. Jin basks in how keen and submissive you are. The perfect toy for him and his members.

"What're you gonna do with her?" Yoongi was also peaking over the seat, clearly interested in what was going on if the slight flush to his cheeks was anything to go by.

"She's gonna ride me and if she allows us, we're gonna take her back to the dorm and have our fun." Your eyes follow Jin's movements as he unzips his jeans and pulls his boxers down, just enough for his cock to spring free. It was big. What he didn't have in length he made up in width.

"I bet she'd look so good bouncing on your cock, hyung." Yoongi's tongue darts out to wet his lips as he watched you climb into Seokjin's lap. When you turn your head to the left, you notice you're mirroring the position Hoseok and Jimin are in. The only difference is they've gotten a lot farther than you and Jin.

"She's so wet, too. Ah, I'm not even in her yet and I know she's gonna feel amazing. Joonie, are you looking? I want you to see this." Namjoon hums, telling his hyung that he was watching. The mint haired man slips a hand past the waistband of his sweatpants and palms at the semi he was sporting thanks to Hoseok and Jimin's little show earlier.

Without much warning, Seokjin is lifting you up by your waist and angling his length straight for your weeping hole. It was practically begging to be filled and who was Jin to decline?

Despite how wet you are, Seokjin was still thick as hell and the tip of his cock was painfully stretching you open as he slowly lowered you down on top of him. A loud whine slips past your lips as your fingers dig into his thighs. He was literally splitting you open, there's no other way you could describe the sensation.

Seokjin's breath fans across your cheek as your hips finally connect with his. It was taking every ounce of self-control left in him not to buck into your tight heat. You wrapped around him so perfectly. It takes you a few seconds, but when you finally adjust to the man inside you, the pain slowly dissipates and turns into pleasure.

"Seokjinnie, fuck me." You enunciate the last word by pushing your hips back against him and he bites back a groan. His hands glide down from your waist to your hips, gripping you hard enough that you can't roll them back anymore.

"So needy, huh? Should I give her what she wants, Jungkookie?" You're once again reminded that there were six other guys in the car. Hoseok and Jimin were essentially morphing into one being, Taehyung and Namjoon already had their hands down their pants, and Jungkook and Yoongi seemed far too interested to look away. It was all a mess. A terribly sinful, hot mess that you simply could not get enough of.

"Fuck, yes, hyung. Fuck her hard. I wanna see your dick sliding in and out of her." Jungkook's voice got breathier the more he spoke. Somehow he managed to turn himself on with his own filthy words. Yoongi's hand slides down to palm at the noticeable bulge in Jungkook's pants. The maknae's face twists into one of pleasure and he has to hold onto Yoongi's shoulder so he doesn't fall over.

Seokjin finally starts you bounce you up and down on his cock. He tries to start off slow for your sake, but his resolve quickly evaporates as you rolled your hips down against him, trying to get him to hit that beautiful bundle of nerves inside you. When your eyes flicker up to see Jungkook's face, utterly fucked out and needy, something snaps inside you, something carnal.

Yoongi wrapped his hand around the maknae's cock and started jerking him off. As he did so, you pull Jungkook in by his chin. There's a surprised expression on his face at first before his eyes drop down to your lips and for what feels like a century you're devouring each other with your eyes. Jungkook is the first to break the weird limbo between you two and press his lips against yours. The kiss is sloppy and wet and every time Seokjin fucks into you, your lips slide up against Jungkook's. The maknae pants into your mouth as Yoongi moves his fists faster around his leaking cock.

"Fuck, look at you. I'd never expect our quiet, considerate camerawoman to be such a slut. Mmh." Jin growls before biting the shell of your ear. You clench hard around him and shift your hips back just right so he's fucking into your sweet spot every time he pulls you down on his cock.

"Hyung! Hyung, 'm close. Gonna cum." Jungkook's lips finally separate from yours as he opens his mouth to let out a loud moan.

"Gonna cum all over hyungs hand? Do it, Jungkookie." Yoongi breathes into Jungkook's ear and Jungkook's head immediately falls back, his body writhing in pleasure as he releases into Yoongi's hand. Some of it lands on the white shirt he was wearing and the expensive leather of the car seat.

The way Seokjin's mumbling dirty things into your ear and pounding into that bundle of nerves inside you has you reeling towards your orgasm. Watching Jungkooks eyes flutter close and his mouth falls open in a subtle 'o' only pushes you further.

"Fuck, Jin!" You say through gritted teeth as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your walls tightening around him only pushes him closer and his thrusts start to get sloppier the more he fucks into you.

"So fucking tight, holy shit..." Jin's nails dig into your side as he brings you down around him one more time before pumping you full of his cum.

"Y/n-ah, you felt so good. You wouldn't mind if I took you back to the dorm and let my dongsaengs try you, right?" Seokjin says through labored breaths. You could already feel him starting to soften inside you and you knew as soon as he pulled out, his cum would be leaking out of you like a broken faucet.

Jin rubs his fingers gently over the marks forming on your waist and hips where he gripped a little too hard. Those bruises would definitely stick around for a few days but you were not complaining. It was almost like a friendly reminder of this moment, not that you'd ever forget.

You bask in post-orgasm bliss as Jin finally pulls out of you. You slide off of his lap and as soon as you're in your seat, Taehyung is pulling you into him and leaning your head on his shoulder. You breathe him in, a light mix of perfume and something perfectly Taehyung filling your senses.

"I have to return the footage of today's shooting to BigHit offices but I'm sure that can wait till the morning." A sleepy smile graces your lips and Jin makes a sound of approval.

It simply wasn't fair if Seokjin had all the fun. He just had to share you with the rest of the boys. He was completely content just watching as he let his dongsaengs absolutely ravish you. The thought in general sent a familiar spark of arousal to his groin.

This wasn't how he expected to spend a Thursday night but he definitely wasn't complaining.

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

[I do not allow any translating, editing, reposting, or use of any my work!!]

528 notes · View notes

jiminrings · 4 years ago

Note

honestly i could talk w band!hobi abt numbers all day, like i wouldn't even mind. what are ur thoughts on 27 hobi? i think they a bad bitch. also UM might i request a drabble abt like a film major! yn (that is very enthusiastic abt films and the aesthetics + cinematography and whatnot) w like,,, a theatre kid?? any of ot7 works fine and it's all good if u can't or don't want to! thankyouu 💜

muse of mine

pairing: namjoon x y/n

wordcount: 4k

glimpse: namjoon’s always been a little sensitive to feedback whether it’s positive or negative, y/n’s an endearing type of talker, and smuggled snacks to the theater haven’t ever tasted this sweet :D // gif from pinterest!

notes: i kinda switched it up a lil bit and made them more established in their respective fields bc my mind went berserk on this concept!!! also this is mayhaps my oNLY piece that’s just pure fluff

“27? The number? Hmm. That sounds... sexy.” - band!hobi

this been’s bugging you for the past half hour

this whole experience feels oddly familiar

you’ve been in this theater for half an hour so far to watch this play!!

lmao ur gonna admit RIGHT off the bat that theatre’s definitely not it for you

your slight unfondness for it is deeply-rooted back to university and for four years, you’ve consistently taken dumps on theatre kids even if it’s under your breath

alright it’s possible that you don’t hATE the actual people ( only some of them ;D ) themselves but rather this whole type of cockiness and the “i’m a direct descendant of shakespeare himself. trust me bro. on god” energy that they always seem to exhude

but realistically, maybe this deep-rooted hate stemmed from seokjin

he was the guy you’d share the exact same elective class with him for two straight whole semesters and you’ve been seatmates from time to time

homie took foreign language as an elective?????

the language is korean?????????????????

“wait b-but i — aren’t you — n-no but i really???”

that’s what you first sputtered to him in realization when he took his seat beside you

the two of you have only ever shown each other notes bc the other was dozing off and the occasional sharing of gummy bears that’s already pre-opened to not make any noise

but for some reason, it’s only dawned in you why seokjin’s a god in this class and he answers your questions without even looking at his notes by hALFWAY through the whole semester of foreign language

one day, u are gonna find a way to bodyslam yourself and never recover from it ever again

“mhmm. don’t sweat it, sweetheart. i personally think it’s very don quixote of me to y’know, take something as impractical and amusing as this.”

you snort at his choice of words because honestly!! you barely remember don quixote and jin’s use of it as an adjective jigs up a refresher course on your brain

who was he again??

was he the donkey

.. or are you thinking about shrek again because of your film analysis

you sWEAR there was a donkey in that story

it’s good fun to talk with jin even if he keeps sliding bourgeoisie words here and there and you’re a lil confused with all these references that he makes but that’s okay !!!

atleast even him saying it in a long-winded way that he was like someone from the merchant of somewhere, you know now that he pretty-pleased and charmed his way to the registrar for him to take korean as an elective

...

two weeks later, jin sits next to you in class

in ACTUAL non-elective, non-native language he already speaks class

now that you’re squinting a bit more, jin does look a little uh?? different

his hair that was once a hybrid of lavender and peach and pink and then blonde was now wholly black and it’s probably his original hair color because it matches with those eyebrows of his!!!

his combo of a black bomber jacket with a silk button-up underneath honestly SLAPS and it makes you forget how he used to exclusively wear only knitted shirts and argyle-patterned cardigans

you have ur jaw dropped because you totally would’ve fallen for seokjin jAW-FIRST

— if only he didn’t strike you as the brother type when he smacked the back of your head because you were falling asleep on class again and uhhh you mUst be forgetting that the two of you were sitting in front

you had no time to reevaluate whether you should develop a crush for him or not

he’s immediately slapping his hands on his knees, looking at you so intensely before pointing a finger at you with so much conviction, and then scoffing to himself

“switched majors to film. theatre was gonna be the death of me!!! y/n, if you even think about trying to switch to that cheap, amazon-ordered quill and tanning lights for stage lighting major, you’re absolutely dEAD to me-”

you’ve never had a conversation this striking nor long with jin but you genuinely have no complaints at all

seokjin talks pure shit about theatre and theatre junkies and everything in between for the WHOLE day

trails beside you for every single class you had, which was convenient because he can then sweet-talk his way again (if anybody even dared to question him) that he’s just newly-switched

sat with you for lunch and him not eating because he just needS to tell you all about it and you trying not to choke on your pasta as you try to reply to him

followed you back hOME and decided to crash the night there

yeah, that. your unfondness for theatre’s rooted on that one

uh-huh safe to say that you’ve become best friends with jin ever since that day

you’re a sponge for your friends and jin’s the closest one you have, so it was only natural that you soak up his distastes and whatnot

not to brag but aha :D

you add salt to the water while you boil pasta so u may be a little bit of a masterchef or somewhat, no big deal :D

he’s absorbed your fascination for all kinds of lights and fixtures that he has about seven different nightlights in the form of squishies or neon and everything else on his bedside table, in which he turns all of them on at night

fun fact: he’s capable of sleeping in the dark

jin’s the whole reason for your stance on this

he’s adamant about his points and you’ve graduated uni four years ago!!!

which is why you DON’T get why jin would give you a scented black envelope, with “don’t come to this” scribbled in gold at the front, carrying a single ticket to this play with a sticky note saying “don’t watch this at 7 pm, wearing your boss lady year-end award show type of clothes, sitting at the ninth row from the back and two seats from your right.”

because of course!! what the hell did he expect you to do? NOT come to this play at 7 pm wearing your boss lady year-end award show type of clothes then sitting at the ninth row from the back, two seats from the right???

OF COURSE YOU WOULD

your goal in life is to do exactly the opposite of what jin tells you. there’s literally nothing else in life you’d want to fulfill

he’s made it quite easy for you to spite him and although you wouldn’t admit it.,,.,., you may be a little petty ok

he’s the even bigger goof out of the two of you and you can never have the final say!! it’s always him and his wit and yOU being the dunce

it’s a lil sus that jin’s basically ASKING for it with his instructions but whatever

whatever it is, this is finally your chance to enact the final say and you’re gonna pull ALL the stops

all you know about theater-goers is that they dress fancy and wear these mini binoculars and that’s about it

there’s not even one film you know that you see anyone in the audience wearing a worn-in cardigan or even a puffer jacket even if the theater’s mad cold

all the people bring are scarves and shawls???? thee thinnest version of a blanket that won’t warm them up against the frigid airconditioning

that whole dress code sounds ridiculous!!! great please ring out this thousand-dollar dress im gonna wear to the theater thank u

you’re a little worried that you’re not gonna blend into the crowd, but after some digging about the invitation, formal wear is most definitely recommended

it’s an exclusive invite-only play which would be later released to the general public later on so yeah the situation dOES call for a gown thank u very much

also how could you forget that jin explicitly told you not to wear this type of attire

if you’re being humble right now, which you always normally are, even if that jUST sounded boastful talking about how you’re humble all the time —

you do look pretty breath-taking :-)

even when the doors weren’t opened and everyone’s just collectively loitering outside the hall, you’d feel glances at you

the sweet security guard did a double-take at you and mumbled a “very very nice evening to you, miss :D” instead of his normal “enjoy the show!” to the other patrons before you

you’re gonna soak all the silent compliments up and try to remember all of them before writing them on your journal later hee-hee

your midnight blue satin dress that’s floor-length and off-shoulder is dEFINITELY in your favor :D

your dress still glimmers even if the spotlight isn’t on you and you wish you weren’t shy to ask a random stranger to take a picture of you

going on self-timer isn’t ideal either when there’s like a hundred other people in the room

they probably wouldn’t even care if you took a picture of yourself!!! but in your head they probably think that you’re laughable so you’d rather not.. do that

the theater’s dark as hell if that wasn’t established

it is literally pitch black in the room and the ushers at each row holding the flashlights that are meant to guide the patrons aren’t exactly helpful

big kudos to them though,, must take a lot of self-control to not wave their lights like it was a rave :D

a flashlight tHAT bright?? whew pls is this what ships feel in the night

the last time you were in a rave, your thirty minutes of fun was cut short when seokjin immediately got hammered and wouldn’t stop throwing a fit if you didn’t drive him home that instant

his energy seemed to compelling everyone that he’s managed to somehow suck the energy out of a WHOLE rave so you took him home for everyone’s enjoyment :(((( except yours apparently

you’re trying hard to focus on the play that’s happening because for the past twenty minutes, all you’ve done is zone out randomly with ideas all of a sudden

you NEED to listen

....

uh-huh...

UH-HUH......

wait this is actually.. good

you find plays hard to follow and absolutely boring when you don’t immerse yourself in a run-down PRIOR to watching it in order to get

it’s the same analogy as reading the plot of a movie on wikipedia before watching the movie at the cinema.... absolutely useless

it sucks out the fun from something you weren’t supposed to know

watching plays is two hours of you being confused, going home to read the plot and only understand it by tHEN, and never coming to the theater again because you’d waste your money.... watching something cluelessly in the theater..... for a plot you’d grasp at home

but no

because this one

actually this one that you’re watching...

it’s not bad

it’s nice, actually.

within two minutes, you managed to grasp that it’s a story about a never-ending spring between these two lovers

there’s something about the whole setting of it actually that just sucks you in

in some plays, the outfits would seem so forced even in the given context that it reminds you of uh a particular superhero movie

and yes ur aware that stage makeup has to be enhanced so that people all the way to the back row would see

but there’s just something in this scene that’s laid out right-now that actually gets you in awe

it’s of the couple in the back of their pick-up truck and everything about it seems so natural

the background straight up looks like what it’d be if you were to go outside

the guy’s arm around her shoulder seems so natural and in nature that it doesn’t feel like a random cue in the script

the girl twinkles and it doesn’t even feel like a forced type of laugh you’d cue in attempt to warm the audience’s hearts

it’s of a plot where the the guy eventually falls out of love with the girl, while girl gets even more smitten with the guy at the same time

it’s what you take from the past ten minutes that you watch in dead silence, and you don’t even remember in the back of your head that you’re supposed to hate plays

“no way.”

you mumble in disbelief under your breath, head shaking profusely

is your mind playing tricks on you???

you’ve got too used to seokjin sitting beside you that you immediately turn to your right, whispering out your concerns

“is it just me or is she wearing a different shade of pink?”

you don’t even buffer for one second when you ask the stranger beside you

you’re so concerned that you’re looking at him intently while waiting for his answer that could either console or despair you, a random theater-goer that’s too noisy with her questions for her own good

it’s absolutely dARK as fuck in the theater but after awhile your eyes adjusted slightly

and the first thing you look at after the stage is him

him as in the dude in your right that you just asked all of a sudden

you could only see his silhouette and the faintest features of his face along with his well-dressed suit but god

... you are totally not lying if you say that even the barest silhouette of him doesn’t look handsome

you’re expecting him to tell you off for being so noisy but instead, he’s the one who takes you by surprise

“how did you notice that?”

“oh my god!” you exclaim almost too loudly that you yourself even jolts, the guy even making you duck with him slightly for a brief second, “im sO sorry!! am i accidentally spoiling it out for you?”

the guy blinks twice, lips slightly parted before shaking his head no

“no, no... this is the first screening — i mean uh, how would you know that?”

oh boy

you’re adjusting yourself on your seat, bum now warm as you try to explain and not be nervous because what if you just made a wrong assumption about this play and you’re sitting next to a goddamn tHEATRE BUFF???

“well i —uh, uhm what’s your name?” you’re flustered and the FIRST thing you ask is what was his name.,.,,

he seems equally as flustered before he adjusts his glasses, “o-oh uhm i’m namjoon...?”

alright! handsome guy is namjoon!

“you see, namjoon — okay it might just be in my head, but i tHINK it looks deeper with the light somehow. but uh...? the spotlight’s not following her and — is it just me or without the light, her sweater looks brown?”

you’re squinting and if u squint even more, maybe your contacts would just crumple by then

hold on a second

“brown, like — oh my gOD LIKE-”

namjoon puts a hand over his mouth before you could even gasp, hand reaching out for your forearm even before you manage to grasp his shoulder to take it in realization

was it under your nose the whole time??

“... fall.”

holy fucking shit

namjoon looks positively euphoric looking at your face of realization, his once-heavy chest about the whole scene becoming completely devoid of weight

“exactly!!”

his confirmation makes you inwardly squeal, grinning as you point at him and the stage back and forth

“i think this is the first play i’ve become ever interested in watching.”

okay what now

his ears perk up at that, your first sentence that you’ve said after your pink sweater that looks like spring also looks brown like fall in certain scene because of the lighting realization

“it is?”

he takes the chance to look at you as best as he could, trying to play his squinting as cool as he can

namjoon’s far sighted and the glasses he’s wearing are nOT up to date with his current grade bc he’s pretty sure his eyesight’s worsened the past month

he can’t make you out wholly, but he does know that you’re pretty

his eyes don’t linger on you because of the snacks you’re fishing from your purse while you talk that are absolutely illegal in this theater house lmao

but instead, his gaze lingers on you because you’re so pretty

the minimal light that’s bouncing off the stage is enough for him to see a faint outline of your features, highlighting your smiles just right and your dress to glint underneath

“mhmm. i actually hate plays,” suddenly, you’re not scared if namjoon happens to be some sort of theatre buff and you’re offending him because honestly, you feel at ease. “crunch?” you’re holding out the mini bar of chocolate out to him, one he politely declines to because his eyes are bulging out the next second

“you do????”

his genuine reaction indulges you, making you grin ultimately that you put off eating snacks for now to focus on him

“yeah! this is my hate outfit :D”

namjoon giggles as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard

you automatically scoot closer because this time, it’s yOUR turn to shush him

this is totally for just the reason of talking more discreetly and not distracting anyone and is totally not an excuse to be closer to the next guy and touch shoulders with him then get a whiff of cologne because it’s rare for a guy to be handsome and aLSO smell good

your eyes get used to the darkness and eventually, you could make out features of namjoon beside you

he has the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen

and the way he looks at you makes you feel safe and even your height difference is visible with how probably lonG his torso is compared to yours, his gaze doesn’t make you feel small

namjoon’s still (unsurprisingly) far-sighted and ur so close that he’s a lil cross-eyed

fuck it he’s gonna go to ophthalmologist FIRST thing in the morning tomorrow

“then why are you here?”

“my friend seokjin,” you lean back upon realizing the original reason why you’re here, the situation being so ironic that you puff out a smile

your friend’s named seokjin?

cool :D kim seokjin is namjoon’s of his favorite directors eVER!!

second best for him actually though.,., no one could quite compare to his first

your explanation makes him cackle several times, a swell of pride recounting why you hate (it’ll be past tense probably after this one) theatre

“what about you?”

you turn the question to him, making his dimples disappear effectively that you think you’ve just spooked him

“i uh, well i always wanted to see a story that went like this, so i’m here.”

“you’re a critic? oh god. please don’t tell me you heard all my mumbles.”

no this is even WORSE

namjoon’s not a theatre buff

HE’S A CRITIC????????????

god im coming up

“don’t worry, i also think that the drapings must probably be dirty.”

he breaks out into a smile recounting how you were talking to yourself earlier, a snort escaping him involuntarily

“RIGHT??? it’s like how do you even clean them?? do they fit in washing machines or-”

my god he’s such a nice guy!!!

in fact, he’s everything you want in a guy

you’ve went through atleast twelve facets of emotions for the past hour and you’re not even dating!!!!!!!

“my thoughts exactly!! and if it’s by hand, how do you even scrub the entirety of it?? or wring the water out??”

namjoon KNOWS exactly what’s up :’)

“is there even a clothesline that’d bEAR the weight??”

the two of you are so happy that you just look at each other laughing, a moment in time before namjoon nudges you to lean back because the ending’s happening

you don’t even question him how he’d know that it’s the ending and not just another opening to a new scene, just listening to him

you’re so happy

the play made you happy but namjoon made you even happier :-)

“if you are a critic, you should probably open up your review with this chatty play-hating girl beside you, then at the end, close it off with how she loves it.”

it’s the parting conversation as you realize and holy fuck you are nOT ready for it

you r gonna drag this out for as long as you could <3

......

and namjoon wants in too <3

“noted. if i was a playwright, i’d even make you the lead. which detail should i include? offering me wrapper-covered rice crispy snacks, or asking how you’d watch it while going thru the bathroom?”

this feels so natural

as natural as the couple in the play you’ve just finished watching :))

“you’re hilarious,” you’re not even the slightest bit annoyed and your restrained smile tells him all about it

yea you may have brought in snacks illegally but you aRE gathering your trash up as you’re a decent human being

namjoon wishes you’d pick up after yourself slowly, standing up from his seat as he has the plan of picking up trash that isn’t even his

“what name should i put then?”

you’re silent and oh god he thinks you found his company stupid and would definitely not give him your name

you’re not ignoring him though!!!

his words are still stuck in your head, realizing it lately with his “which detail should i include?”

“me wanting to turn this into a film, actually.”

you test the words out on your tongue, nodding to yourself after a few seconds that you seem so sure of it

“yeah. i wanna make it into a film.”

the lights turn on after being dim for so long, namjoon’s eyes going wide trying to digest what you’ve just said

“w-what?

.....

no fucking way

HOLY FUCKING SHIT SWFRWFBWRHGBRBVWRV SWBHJSDB SHJAVBHGJDS BWHRGHBSVWBGRH

namjoon’s malfunctioning as he’s looking at you from eye to eye, bottom lip trembling while he’s so keen at pointing at you

“y-you’re miss y/n!!”

....

right

oH RIGHT

he’s a fan of yours??

namjoon’s fanning his face because he’s about to literally burst into tears

how could he nOT???

how could he not be emotional when all along, he’s been talking to his number one favorite director????

you and your films are the absolute gems of his life namjoon’s not even kidding

your films were world-renowned for being so natural and sentimental without loading too much into it!!!! you’re known for being so humble through the multiple back-to-back awards and praise you get!!!!

he cannot calm the fUCK down when you’re rubbing circles on his back

“you w-want to turn my play into a film?”

oh my gOD

you’re fumbling for the envelope and it’s only nOW that you realize that it’s not from seokjin in the first place

spring day a play by kim namjoon an invite for director y/n y/l/n

“it’s you!!!!”

“no it’s YOU!!”

jin’s plan worked alright :D

he’s just FOUR rows behind you lmao

it was just two weeks ago when yoongi, the executive producer of his film that he was directing, let it slip that he was co-financing a play

he met yoongi some semesters later after he became close with you, and he’s aLSO converted yoongi into hating theatre then he fit right in to your little posse of theatre kid-hating film students

that gave jin the laugh of his laugh and yoongi was not joking at all

“no, no. i’m telling you man. it’s different! i even have the script that i’ll let you read.”

and holy shit it IS different

if you see a couple tears on the last seven pages of yoongi’s copy of spring day’s script then mind yo oWN fucking business

then two weeks later, here he is :D

jin managed to also convert you to love theatre even IF it is namjoon’s play that did all the work

( also coincidentally found you a future boyfriend because he’s tired of seeing you alone and the closest you’d get to having someone is projecting your yearning into writing the scripts for the films you’d make )

he’s also secretly co-financed the whole play along with yoongi and he’ll drop that bomb later on lmao

“and that must mean i looked like a total FOOL beside you oh my god im so sorry!!”

namjoon panics at that, about to cry when another realization hits him when he’s about to put his head on his hands

“then that means the friend who gave you the ticket was-”

SEOKJIN VBFHSBVHSFBVSFHDVBSJFV SFJVJSFVSJVSSV SSV V FS FSV SFBVRBVRSVSWVGU

he cries to your shoulder and you never expected to be hugging and consoling someone you’ve just met two hours ago, a more than fond smile on your face he takes advantage of when he sneaks in the chance to ask you

“do you mean that?”

“now why would i lie to the playwright who’s been listening to me talk shit, then theorizing, then crying for the past hour?”

it’s true though

namjoon’s seen it all

he’s still handsome as ever even when he sniffles, his dimples on display when you return his question

“now did you mean it? writing me into your play?”

why are you even ASKING

he’s the biggest fan of u

namjoon’s made notes of your work, dedicated scripts to your movies, and he’s thinking about how it’s not yet hitting you how your whole epiphany about the pink sweater turning brown on his play,,, was entirely inspired from you and your affinity for lighting in your films

he thinks it’s still a little early to kiss you on the cheek even if you’ve already hugged, instead settling on pinching your cheek with satisfaction present in all corners

“you’ve always been my muse.”

#feedback pls and thank you :D I WAS SCREAMING THE WHOLE TIME I HAVE A TEST TOMORROW I NEED TO SLEEP #namjoon #kim namjoon #namjoon imagine #namjoon imagines #namjoon oneshot #namjoon oneshots #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #namjoon au #namjoon fluff imagine #namjoon fluff imagines #namjoon fic #namjoon fics #namjoon fic recs #namjoon scenario #bts namjoon imagine

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thevioletjones · 4 years ago

Note

31, because I can’t see it fitting Ian/Mickey easily and know you’re a good enough writer to prove me wrong ☺️

Thanks! I tried. 🙂

Prompt 6: “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.”

Ian’s Box of Crap

Being currently unemployed, Mickey didn’t have much of a leg to stand on when attempting to deflect Ian’s demands that he get chores and household tasks done while his husband was out earning an honest paycheck. He wasn’t even allowed to shake people down anymore, let alone pull robberies, or get back into the drug trade. Ian had made it clear that divorce wasn't off the table if Mickey deliberately did something stupid that got him thrown back in prison for a long stretch.

He didn’t much like being told what to do, but what he liked even less was not having Ian in his life. He’d had to go too many years without him in the past, and nothing good ever came during those times. Unfortunately, Ian Gallagher was it for Mickey Milkovich. That meant that he actually had to stay in line and put in the work if he didn’t want to lose him again. Ian wasn’t as soft as he used to be. Never really had been at his core, but the maturity of age had cemented his backbone rather rigidly, and Mickey was actually loathe to piss him off too badly these days.

So he did the bullshit grunt work requested of him, just to keep the peace. He was tired of fighting every day of his life, and what was the point of marrying Ian if they weren’t going to try and make each other happy?

In the past couple weeks, Mickey had done everything from laundry and dishes, to vacuuming and mopping. He’d patched up a couple of big holes in the wall that Frank had made, and fixed the loose parts of the wooden outdoor steps and banisters, both front and back. He’d even gone so far as to babysit the tiny, helpless Gallagher spawn a few times, which had been interesting and somewhat terrifying. Then Ian had given him this look when he caught the scene one afternoon, eyes shining, smile beaming. It reminded him of that brief time they’d helped take care of Yevgeny, which made Mickey’s head spin. He didn’t need Gallagher getting the whole ‘having kids’ thing back in his head right now. Mickey was in no way ready for all that. Hadn’t been the first time, and they’d all seen how that turned out.

Today, he was supposed to clean out the attic. He told Ian that asking someone outside the family to do it sounded like a bad idea. How was he supposed to know what shit the Gallaghers wanted to keep, and what they wanted to get rid of? What if he made a mistake? If anyone had asked him what to keep from the hoarded piles of shit in the Milkovich house, he would’ve laughed in their face, then set everything on fire. Mickey wasn’t the sentimental type. So did Ian want him to just toss everything?

Ian had rolled his eyes, clarified that Mickey was a Gallagher now, and given him a run-down. Anything that had obviously been made or cherished by a Gallagher kid, any family photos and albums, or small boxes of keepsakes, those stayed. Anything that wasn’t being used by anyone, but could be of use and handed down to the youngest or recently shacked up of them, set them aside to be put in rotation. Anything that worked, but they already had one of or didn’t need, donation box (because apparently they actually sometimes donated shit to the local shelter). And anything that looked completely unnecessary for anyone, throw it in a Best Choice trash bag, but don't take them to the curb yet. Ian would go over everything when he got home to make sure it was sorted correctly.

“So you’re gettin' me to do all this boring-ass grunt work, then you’re gonna have to go through it anyway? What the fuck, man?” he’d asked.

“It'll make the whole thing way easier on me, so can you just shut the fuck up and do me the favor? I’ll blow you later for your trouble.”

“Like you wouldn’t be doin’ that anyway.”

Ian had shrugged. “If you don’t, I won’t.”

“Threatening to withhold sex? That’s a bitch move if I ever heard one.”

“Whatever, deadbeat. You want me to support you, gotta help out when I ask. A blowjob would just be a bonus, because I’m generous of spirit.”

“I’m not gonna forget this hardcore manipulation, Firecrotch. I’ll get my revenge eventually.”

Ian merely kissed him on the nose. “Sounds like a plan. See ya.”

And he was out the door.

“Asshole,” Mickey’d muttered under his breath.

And now, a few hours later, here he was; sitting on the dusty, hard planks of the weird-smelling Gallagher attic, sorting through the memories and forgotten things of the family he’d married into less than six months ago. He’d dawdled as long as he could on the couch, eating junk food and watching his favorite daytime game shows, judge shows, and salacious ‘who’s the baby daddy?’ shows. The only hint of fun left in the remainder of his day was in the bong and the beer he’d brought with him up the rickety ladder. After every box sorted, he’d take a rip or two and chase the smoke with a long swig of cheap alcohol.

The most interesting things he’d found so far were some old pictures of Ian when he was little, his hair a curly mess, and his pale skin covered in dark freckles. His smile was too big for his face, and he looked goofy as all hell. Nothing like the hot hunk of man he was today. It was the Ian Mickey remembered from Little League a million years ago. And maybe he’d set one of the photos aside to keep for himself and taken some pics of others with his phone, so what?

Mostly he’d had to sift through little Debbie’s ridiculous girly shit, and Frank’s completely random assortment of insignificant trinkets with a side of what looked like bondage gear. He’d since moved on to a group of boxes obviously labeled by Carl when he was younger. He recognized the scrawl, occasional backwards lettering, and lack of possessive apostrophes. The words were short enough not to be atrociously misspelled, and consisted of a Gallagher first name in plural, followed by: ‘box of crap.’

Everybody had one, including Fiona, who hadn’t taken it with her when she’d left Chicago, and the kids she’d raised as her own, behind. The most scandalous item in there was a dildo of decent size that Mickey definitely would’ve packed in his suitcase if he’d been the one moving away as a single chick. The thought crossed his mind to pilfer it for his own collection, but he figured that Ian would be weirded out by the association. Sex toys were probably the only thing Gallaghers never shared between them.

Carl had a box of his own, semi-well-hidden compared to the others, and Mickey discovered why when he’d managed to get the copious amount of packing tape off. It was full of straight porn mags with big-tittied women and shaved pussies, underneath an array of dangerous weapons the family had forbidden him to have when he was underaged. He found everything from nunchucks, to throwing stars, to switchblades, to brass knuckles. No guns or attempted homemade bombs, thank fuck. He chucked the porn in the trash pile, cuz nobody needed to see that shit, and set the switchblade aside for himself, deciding to give the rest to Ian to sort out.

He saved Ian’s box for last, opening it up to find a grab bag of old army decorations, tattered paperbacks, comics, a bunch of loose paper covered in scribbles, and a stack of notebooks.

Mickey didn’t realize Ian was such a huge nerd that he’d kept his high school notebooks, but giving a quick flip through the first two revealed they weren’t school-related at all. He remembered Ian going through a phase when he was always writing shit down, ranting about having great ideas he needed to save for posterity. Before he went to the hospital. A manic phase. Probably one of many he’d cycled through, yet Mickey had missed some of those extremes.

Everything had been so chaotic then. He’d pushed Ian away, then gotten the same treatment in return. Their typical messiness pervaded everything back then. And now, he had in his hands Ian’s unfiltered thoughts about what happened back then.

“Fuck,” he said to himself, setting the notebooks down and going for the beer/weed combo again.

There were exactly two ways to go about this: he could put the notebooks back into the Ian box and not invade his privacy, or he could skim through them and hone in on the interesting relevant bits and maybe get a few long-pondered answers. On the one hand, Ian would probably get pissed if Mickey read them. On the other hand, Ian never had to know about it, did he?

It really wasn’t much of a choice… he’d always been curious as to what the hell was going through Ian’s head back in the day. They’d never exactly been great at talking things out, and he didn’t have it in him to try and make Ian relive some of the lowest moments of his life just to give Mickey some peace of mind. Plus, they were always facing some new bullshit obstacle head-on, so the past always just kind of got lost in the shuffle of their present difficulties.

Mickey took a deep breath and opened one of the notebooks again. The pages weren’t dated, and a lot of it didn’t make much sense. There were many lists with lines crossed out, but they didn’t describe things ‘to do,’ more like an endless inventory of concepts and feelings. The thought patterns were totally abstract, and Mickey couldn’t really make heads or tails of them. It hit him sharply in the chest when he realized that when Ian had been out of it, he’d really and truly been fucking out of it. These seemed like the crazed rantings of an unmedicated schizophrenic babbling on public transportation. It pained Mickey to the core, and it scared the shit out of him too.

He flipped through it fairly quickly, then opened the next one. It seemed to be calmer, more legible, and less unintelligible. It was more like a diary with bad poetry sprinkled in, and it only took a few pages for Mickey’s own name to jump out at him among the wall of words. It must have been written during Ian’s lost months, after going AWOL from the Army when he was 17.

He described running away from Chicago, scamming his early enlistment, crashing and burning his way out of bootcamp, shaking and selling his ass as a club boy, snorting, smoking, and swallowing all manner of substances, and crashing anywhere from penthouses to flophouses with sexual favors sprinkled in liberally. It was like the chronicle of a person going mad and coping in all the wrong ways. It surprised Mickey how emotional it made him to read these things in vivid detail. He’d completely forgotten how worried he used to be about Ian. When he was gone, when he went missing again, and when he started doing irrational things that could’ve ended so much worse than they did.

Ian was the one that had to live out all the drama and trauma of his disorder, but Mickey was the one caught on the sidelines, not having a single clue what to do or how to fix it. He’d never felt so useless or helpless in his entire life, even through all the bullshit he’d suffered growing up with Terry as a father. Maybe it was because of his age, or how Ian made him feel a certain way he’d never felt before. He just remembered hating it, and being so fucking sad.

These pages reminded him that through the mania, Ian was a bottomless well of sadness himself.

It was tough text to get through, and more than once, he felt like maybe he shouldn’t be reading it at all. Ian had never intended for other people to see his innermost thoughts, even Mickey. But it was impossible to stop now that he’d opened that floodgate. It was like reliving a part of their shared history through the eyes of his partner in crime. It was too fascinating.

After countless pages of dark tales from the void, Mickey came upon a page that was actually addressed to him. Surely, Ian had never intended to hand it over, but it was his nonetheless.

Mickey— I never had the balls to tell you this, But you’re the only boy I’ve ever loved. I thought you loved me too, But now I’m not so sure. I’m so confused and I go back and forth, Never really knowing what to actually think, Or what the truth is. All I really realize now is that I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you. It took you forever to let me, And now I just do it with anyone, Cuz I don’t fucking care. I just miss you, And I wish you were here. But also, I don’t, Cuz I don’t want you to see me like this. I’m having a great time on my own adventure, But also not. You shouldn’t be a part of it right now. You’re on your own strange journey, I guess. Maybe one day we’ll be on the same road together again, And also for the first time, since we never really were.

Mickey barely had enough time to sniff and wipe away the stray tear that had fallen, when his husband’s voice startled him out of his reverie.

“You’re still up here?”

“Jesus Christ!” he cried out with a visible jolt of his body.

His head snapped toward the attic hatch, where Ian’s dumb red head was surveying the musty space. Mickey let the notebook fall from his grasp, but Ian was already climbing the rest of the way in before it occurred to him that he was about to be caught red-handed with journals that were supposed to be deeply private. He could only flip it closed and grab his beer to polish it off, before Ian was crouching in front of him and taking a seat.

“Can’t believe you actually did this for me, to be honest,” Ian said with a chuckle, glancing at the bong. “Anything left?”

“Baggie’s right there,” Mickey replied nodding his head to the left.

“Nice.”

Ian got distracted with loading a bowl, so Mickey very subtly tried to nudge Ian's notebooks aside with his foot, like maybe if they were slightly farther away, he could claim complete innocence as to knowing what they were.

He watched Ian take a couple hits before passing it to him, and Mickey welcomed the opportunity to temper his suddenly sullen mood.

“How was work?” he asked between hits, before passing back to Ian.

Ian snickered and furrowed his brow. “You never ask me about work.”

Mickey shrugged. “Don’t mean I don’t care.”

“Uh huh.” Ian looked even more skeptical, and finally glanced around at what Mickey had in his vicinity. That sent his brow up high, in a decent imitation of Mickey’s usual expressiveness. “Oh. That my box?”

Mickey gulped and nodded. “Yeah. Just sorting it out. Should’ve just left the whole thing for ya. Sorry.”

Ian’s gaze snapped to his face. “You read stuff.”

It was a statement rather than a question.

“Just a little,” Mickey admitted. “I shouldn’t have. Fuck, I’m an asshole.”

But Ian only shook his head. “Nah, it’s okay.”

“You don’t have to say that. I’d be pissed.”

“I’m not. I promise.”

“Really? You’re not mad?”

Ian shook his head again. “No. Actually, I’m kinda relieved.”

“How the fuck so?”

“It's all stuff I wanted you to know. I mean, part of me used to be really ashamed, maybe still is, but… another part of me always just wanted to be totally honest with you. In a way I haven’t ever been with anyone. Even Lip. But I didn’t have the words to say it, you know? And I know a lot of it is just scary rambling. I don’t even understand what some of it means, but the stuff that’s real… the lucid stuff… it’s depressing as fuck, but it’s the truth. We didn’t always tell each other the truth, but we showed each other. And this was something I couldn’t really show you. So maybe you were meant to find these. Do my dirty work for me.”

“Damn, Gallagher, that’s kinda heavy. These were… kinda heavy. Made me feel shit I’d forgotten about, you know?”

Ian nodded. “Yeah. I haven’t read ‘em in years, but I remember. It’s why I wanted to put ‘em away, I guess. Plus, I didn’t want someone else snooping around and finding out too much. I mean, you never know in this house. It’s possible every fucking Gallagher already read them, but I hope not.”

“Ian…” Mickey started, but didn’t know exactly what he wanted to say. Words of reassurance? It was all in the past, and Ian was doing so well now. He was diligent about his medication, and he hadn’t spun out of control since before prison. Anything Mickey said now would just be cold comfort, since that notebook version of Ian barely existed anymore. Ian was always afraid that it would recur, but Mickey wasn’t. They were truly in it together now, and he’d never let Ian cross the threshold into the uncontrollable. “I wish I coulda been what you needed me to be back then. However impossible it was. Some of it was my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t even my fault, really. It was some shitty shit that happened to me. I reacted the only way I thought I could. There’s no use in either of us wishing we’d done things differently now. At least we got the right outcome, right? We’re together.” He clasped their left hands so that their wedding rings touched. “Forever.”

Mickey couldn’t help but snort. “Okay, you didn’t have to get that gay about it. I already had to suffer through a buncha your faggy teen poetry. I deserve a break from the high drama of it all.”

Ian laughed, kissed his hand, dropped it, then smacked him on the cheek. “Fuck you.”

“Just say when,” Mickey responded with a smile.

“After we go through all this shit, Romeo. Explain the piles.”

“Well,” said Mickey, pointing to the nearby corner, “Carl has a shitload of contraband in there. Weapons, not drugs. Frank has some shit that might be S&M gear, not sure, then aside from your lunatic journal ramblings, everything else is boring as shit. Oh, and Fiona left a big blue dildo.”

#ian x mickey #fanfic #gallavich #fanfiction #asks #answers

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bravobeavo · 4 years ago

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Bonnie & Clyde AU Drabble!

@megglepie - I promised you a first kiss, didn’t I? Let’s set the scene - Hizashi & Shouta have gotten separated from Oboro & Nemuri, who had gotten away in their original vehicle after a relatively successful heist.

Hizashi stole the first car they could get their hands on - only to find when he hot-wires it that one of the headlights is out! No worries, the other headlight still works so they hightail it out of the town they’d traveled to and begin driving on the dark, empty highways through the desert back toward Shouta’s hometown/their rendezvous point.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Hizashi cursed loudly as the remaining headlight sputtered and then went dark with an audible ‘crack!’ of electricity.

As they were plunged into darkness, Hizashi kept the wheel steady and slowed down to a stop in the middle of the desolate road, muttering under his breath.

Shouta shifted in the passenger seat and glanced over, “The other headlight?”

“Yep,” Hizashi’s face was barely visible in the sudden darkness, but the lines across his forehead had drawn tight with frustration. He huffed loudly before wrenching the driver’s side door open and climbing out into the open road.

Shouta blinked as he watched the tall blonde stomp up to the front of the car, hands braced on his hips in a telltale sign of annoyance.

He disappeared from sight when he knelt down in front of the car’s darkened headlights and Shouta shifted to brace his feet against the dash, letting his head loll back onto the top of the seat.

He sighed and tapped one foot against the dashboard idly.

He could get out to offer help, but unlike Nemuri and Oboro he knew next to nothing about cars so it was probably better to just let Hizashi look over the problem without getting in the way.

A shimmer in the lapsing moonlight caught his eye and he turned his head slightly to peer over into the back seat, shifting completely to get a better look.

On the floorboard of the backseat, next to the bag of stolen goods and the jacket that Nemuri had dropped, was a single golden earring; one of the heavy diamond ones that Oboro had stolen from a pawn shop a mere month ago.

He’d initially stolen them for Hizashi, but Hizashi had sheepishly grinned and cited the fact that he preferred to only wear silver jewelry. Shouta and Oboro had both scoffed loudly while Hizashi insisted that gold looked tacky with his blonde hair - which had even gotten a laugh from Hitoshi, who usually tended to ignore their antics.

Shouta thought Oboro would have worn them himself if Nemuri hadn’t snatched them up and tried them on, falling in love with the pair.

They were exact type of fancy earrings that she saw on high-class ladies - the ones who turned their noses up at her when she walked by the high-end salons in downtown.

The ones that Nemuri hated, envied... wearing them made her powerful. He could respect that out of his sister.

It must have been in the pocket of the jacket that he had grabbed, after all it had been her jacket that she’d dropped in the chaos of trying to get away. He reached down and slipped the earring pocket, knowing that she’d be wanting it back.

He twirled it between his thumb and index finger in his jacket pocket, still tapping his foot. His feet that were clad in shoes without holes in them for the first in as long as he could remember.

So much had changed over the past few months... all thanks to two men careening into their lives by pure coincidence.

Hitoshi had even done well on his last pop quiz because he’d been able to make flash cards out of some of the paper that Shouta had stolen for him.

He smiled as his heart ached.

Then his gaze drifted, to the object of his thoughts.

Hizashi was still at the front of the car, cursing loud enough that Shouta could hear him even through the closed doors.

His frustration seemed to crest as he stood back to his full height and delivered an angry kick to the burned out headlight, subsequently busting the glass.

Shouta chuckled and pushed his way out of the car, “Well, I suppose that answers my question about whether or not it can be fixed.”

Hizashi gave a weary sigh and then shot him a sheepish grin, “Yeah... piece o’ shit.”

Shouta laughed again and shuffled up to the hood of the car, walking around so that he could lean against the front of the car on Hizashi’s left side - the side he knew the blonde had better hearing in.

He tilted his head up to take in the view of the night sky stretched out above them, feeling Hizashi’s shoulder brush his own.

“The moon might be bright enough to drive without the headlights,” Hizashi observed, gaze drifting up as well.

Shouta pushed his shoulder lightly against the blonde’s, “Are you kidding me? There are too many clouds coming and going.”

“Aw, c’mon, what’s the worst that could happen?” Hizashi whined, sticking out his lower lip even as the corners of his mouth twitched in amusement.

Shouta scoffed, “Hmm, we crash and burn? I don’t know yet if your eyesight is as bad as your hearing.”

“Ch,” Hizashi rolled his eyes dramatically, “Shou~ you’re the last person I expected to underestimate me! Nemuri I could understand, but you?”

“Why don’t we stay here and look at the constellations instead?” Shouta looked back up and drew in a slow breath, “The view here is so much better than it is at home... less trees.”

“Constellations?” Hizashi’s voice was lilted with genuine curiosity as Shouta shot him a glance.

Shouta blinked, “Er, yeah - they’re like... pictures in the stars? I don’t really know how to explain it... they’re stars that form a pattern or picture.”

“Pictures?” Hizashi’s eyes had gone wide with child-like wonder, the look that always made Shouta’s heart skip a beat, “Well then don’t tell me, show me!”

“Sure, we’ll start with one that’s easy to spot,” Shouta chuckled lightly and pressed closer so that the blonde could follow his pointed finger, “See that line of stars right there, the one that curves down? That’s the handle for the big dipper.”

Hizashi was looking up with avid concentration, “Oh! Ha! It looks just like a big scoop, huh?”

“Yeah, exactly,” Shouta hummed, smiling lightly as he watched Hizashi’s lips part in awe.

They stayed there for what felt like hours as Shouta showed the blonde constellation after constellation, sometimes explaining vague origins and other times listening to whatever tangent it sparked from Hizashi.

Finally after watching most of the clouds let up and the moon got bright enough to easily see the road ahead of them, Shouta let the conversation die down as he listed the last constellation that he knew in sight.

“Where’d you learn all this anyway?” Hizashi asked, his tone warm with amusement as he turned to look at the dark-haired man.

“Oh, ah...” Shouta reached up to rub the back of his neck, “I read it in a book when I was younger.”

“A book, huh?” Hizashi’s tone grew heavy with revelry, “I never learned how to read... not very well, at least.”

“Oh,” Shouta shrugged lightly, almost embarrassed at the admission, but relaxing a bit when he registered the sheer admiration in Hizashi’s gaze, “My Ma taught me.”

“Mm,” Hizashi nodded and braced his hands behind himself against the still warm hood of the car as he stared up at the night sky, “I had a... friend who tried to teach me. But he wasn’t around much and... it’s not like I had the stuff to practice on my own.”

Shouta sighed, already familiar with the sad reality, “Nemuri grew up that way. By the time I came around, my Ma had saved up enough for some school supplies... they’re expensive.”

“They’re a luxury,” Hizashi agreed, his voice tight as he shrugged slightly.

Shouta looked away from the stars and at the blonde, “Too many kids can’t get by cause they don’t have the right tools. Pisses me off.”

“That’s why you take the things you do when we raid corner stores, yeah? Pencils, erasers, books...” Hizashi glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, “So no one else has to grow up like that.”

“Mm,” Shouta hummed in agreement and nodded once, returning his gaze to the stars.

They stood there in simple silence for a few minutes, sharing each other’s warmth as they stared up at the night sky.

“What do you think it would look like? If we... were up there, looking down here?” Shouta asked, the low rumble of his voice sounding loud even to him in the silence of the night.

Hizashi was quiet for a moment as he tilted his head to the side thoughtfully, “I dunno, never really thought about.”

Shouta continued to stare up at the vast open sky, eyes flitting between the memorized constellations that his mother used to read about, “I think everything would look awfully small... insignificant.”

“Hm,” Hizashi huffed an almost laugh and leaned closer to follow Shouta’s gaze as the dark-haired man lifted a finger and traced Orion’s Belt, “Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind things seeming small and insignificant for once.”

“Why’s that?” Shouta asked, turning partially and nearly jolting in surprise when his nose brushed against the blonde’s due to their close proximity.

Jade green eyes blinked back at him as Hizashi stayed in place, “Well, problems down here seem so out-of-proportion sometimes, ya know? Overthinking things and... and such.”

Shouta swallowed, feeling a distinct warmth spread through his chest despite the relatively chilly night air, “You overthinking things? I thought that was my job.”

His joke felt hollow and flat, breath shallow with anticipation as Hizashi’s gaze flickered down to his parted lips just briefly.

“I only overthink one thing,” Hizashi said with a weak shrug, his voice coming out barely above a hushed whisper - so light that the faintest breeze might have carried it away before it ever reached Shouta’s ears.

“Care to share with the class?” Shouta leaned impossibly closer, their shoulders pressed flush together.

Hizashi stared at him unwaveringly, “We’ve got a good thing going, the four of us and Hitoshi. Oboro and I, we... we consider you lot to be the closest thing to family that we’ve got.”

“You know Nem and I feel the same,” Shouta answered, a wry smile twisting at his lips, “And Toshi’ll come around... we’re a family now.”

“Mm... I’d be a damned fool if I went and ruined that, huh?” Hizashi said finally, a faint tone of remorse ringing in his quiet voice.

Shouta’s heart stuttered in his chest and for a moment, he just breathed. The desert around them was dry and desolate, the crisp night air sharp with the musty smell of gasoline from the car and the sweetness of the cactus blossoms scattered across the sandy hillside.

“Ruined it?” Shouta breathed, his dark eyes going half-lidded, “What would ruin it?”

He knew the answer, had felt it himself, but god he wanted nothing more than to hear it said aloud in Hizashi’s raspy, melodic tones.

Hizashi exhaled slowly, his warm breath ghosting over Shouta’s parted lips as he inched closer, “The way I’ve fallen in love with you.”

Closer, closer until their noses brushed and Hizashi’s lashes fluttered closed as he inhaled sharply in anticipation.

The corners of Shouta’s lips quirked into a smile.

“Then I guess I’m a damned fool too,” Shouta murmured as he finally closed the gap between them, their lips meeting in a dry, chaste kiss that both of them melted into.

Shouta couldn’t help the reflex to raise both hands and tangle his fingers in Hizashi’s long hair, grinning into the kiss when he realized that it was just as silky smooth as he’d always imagined it to be.

They kissed until they were light-headed, grinning dopily as they pulled apart to gasp for breath, but stayed close enough to press their foreheads together.

Hizashi’s emerald gaze sparkled with amusement, “Clouds are gone... it’s light enough to drive again.”

“Is it?” Shouta asked with an equal air of mischievousness.

Hizashi chuckled warmly, then pressed forward for another brief kiss before he spun them around to reverse their positions and began pulling Shouta around the car by his loose tie. The dark-haired man raised an eyebrow as the blonde bypassed the driver’s seat and opened the back door.

“Probably safer if we wait till morning, though.” Hizashi winked at him, and Shouta laughed aloud as he clambered into the cramped back seat with the blonde.

It felt like they were the only two beings that existed in the entire world in that moment, under the stars. And Shouta would have been a damned fool if he didn’t cling to every moment that he could get.

#bonnie and clyde au #drabble #my fics #THEY DID THE KISS KISS #and maybe more than that hehe we'll never know #this is mega cheesy #so I hope you all still like it #erasermic #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #*sigh* this feels a little disconjointed to me???#idk I’m not 100% satisfied with it - I think because it’s both too long and too short

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kakakakashi · 4 years ago

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Hokage’s Office: The Wall

100 Follower Celebration - Day 3

Kakashi Hatake x Reader || NSFW

Warnings: porn without plot, light choking, Kakashi’s Sukea’s Kakashi’s filthy mouth, cursing, just filth really

Word count: 2,281

A/N: Sukea makes me feel like that one part in Friends where Rachel says “He’s so pretty! I want to cry!”

“Get your ass over here.” He wasn’t asking despite the lilt of playfulness in his voice. The tone sent heat straight to your core. It was his fault, really. He knew you couldn’t resist him in that getup. Who could blame you? The entire land of fire had a crush on Kakashi and Sukea. Lucky you, you had both.

You stood from your spot propped on the edge of his desk and strolled over to where he was currently removing his boxy coat from his frame to hang it on the rack beside the wall.

You reached around his waist innocently, but he flipped your position, leaving you pinned against the wall with a thump. With his arms caging you in on either side of your head, his lips were mere inches from, but you didn’t dare to meet him in a kiss. The look in his eyes shone through the green contacts. You still hadn’t achieved your goal.

“What?” you inquired; lips crooked in a teasing smirk.

Kakashi returned your expression, grinning like temptation itself. “Don’t play dumb,” he practically teased you, “We both know you were flirting with Genma just to get my attention.”

He had never been the jealous type. You’d known that about Kakashi since you’d met him, but sometimes, you just wanted him to get possessive and make you his. However, he always found a way to remain in control. It drove you insane sometimes.

“So what if I was?” you were still trying to provoke him, even now that you were back in his office. Twirling the ends of his patterned scarf between your fingers, you gently dug your teeth into your lower lip. The staring contest between you two continued while you fiddled with the fabric. There was no way either of you were backing down without a fight.

“You know,” Kakashi’s breath tickled against your face, “if you want my attention, all you have to do is ask. I’d rather avoid this juvenile little game of yours.”

“So, let’s spice it up then?” you retorted without thinking. Only, halfway through your sentence, you realized that you’d conceded. He’d tricked you into chasing after him even though your initial intent was for him to chase after you. The clever bastard knew what he was doing this whole time.

“Or,” he drawled, voice dropping just a tad while he leaned in to place a single, lingering peck to the side of your neck, “I could leave you here to suffer for your little stunt. In case you forgot, there is a reason I’m dressed as Sukea today.”

“Kakashi please!”

You sounded far more desperate than you wanted to come across, but you couldn’t help it. Your cunt was already throbbing with need just from an innocent kiss, fists balled into the scarf around Kakashi’s neck.

“See, love,” His voice was low, rumbling against the skin of your neck like a growl. Another kiss was placed to your neck, a tad bit lower than the previous one. Kakashi had opened his mouth too, gently licking at the flesh to tease you so. The feeling had a whimper escaping your throat without your consent. “All you have to do is ask.”

Kakashi’s hands slipped down the wall. One found a spot on your hip while the other trailed to the waistband of your pants, slowly fiddling with the fastenings while his lips continued their assault on your neck. He pressed kisses downward until he arrived at your clavicle, gently nipping at the skin lightly enough to leave you unmarked. Once he was satisfied with your neck, he returned his lips to yours, and your hands moved up his chest to grip at his neck. Your fingers tangled into the synthetic brown hair at the back of his head to hold him in place while you gently nibbled on his lower lip.

His lips immediately parted to allow you access while his fingers dipped below the waistband of your pants along with your underwear. He smirked against your lips when he was met with the sensation of your already slick folds sliding against the rough pads of his fingers.

A moan escaped your lips, but Kakashi’s embrace muffled the sound. He was quick to start circling your clit, drunk on the sensation of your hips rocking to meet his movements. It was obvious that you were already hot and bothered, so Kakashi wasted no time moving his fingers lower to circle your entrance.

When he inserted the first one, your body shuddered with the relief of finally having something inside you, but you needed more. You bucked your hips against him to encourage him, and he completely understood your body language. His second finger had you throwing your head back, and Kakashi took the opportunity to return to your neck, now working on the other side.

Pleasure consumed you when Kakashi began pumping his digits inside you, curling them the way he knew would make you keen. The reaction he got out of you when the heel of his palm made contact with your clit must have played right into what he was planning because you could feel the vibration of his chuckle against the sweet spot his mouth was currently sucking on.

You couldn’t take it anymore, the heat flushing through your body was beginning to become unbearable. You could feel your orgasm rising within you so rapidly, you were humping Kakashi’s hand as hard as your hips could manage. When he found the small place inside you that had your knees buckling, his lips retreated.

His purple makeup under his eyes was smudged from ravishing you, and the sight made you whimper. You didn’t care, though. All you could think about was how you were getting closer and closer with each stroke of Kakashi’s hand in your pants.

“You should see yourself, sweetheart, all needy and flushed. You look like such a slut.” He was enjoying this too much, but you couldn’t find it in you to argue. All you could do was nod in response. You were so close. Just a little bit more, and you’d be quaking on his fingers. But then, it stopped.

Your hips bucked in search of the lost friction when Kakashi pulled is hand from between your legs only to stick his fingers between his pink, swollen lips to lick your essence off. Out of frustration, you threw your head back against the wall with a thump, effectively rattling the framed map on the wall beside you. A whine bubbled in your throat, but when your palm was about to replace Kakashi’s, he swatted your touch away.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tutted while unraveling the scarf from his neck. “Be a good girl and give me a little show.”

You drew in a breath, trying to regain your composure from the orgasm you’d lost. Meanwhile, Kakashi had slipped out of the black long sleeve he was wearing. The sight of his rippling muscles had you aching and practically drooling, but he was quick to quirk a brow at you. Taking the hint, you quickly peeled off your top as well, shucking your pants and underwear off at once before unhooking your bra. The whole time you scrambled out of everything, you watched Kakashi unhook his belt and discard his own pants. You were done undressing by the time he slid his tented underwear off, allowing his hard length to spring out of it’s confines, leaking a drip of precum down his swollen head.

“Someone’s eager,” he noted, stalking towards you in all his glory. The emptiness you were currently feeling had you practically shaking with anticipation. The sight of Kakashi naked never ceased to leave you in awe. Your hands reached out to him, running across his broad shoulders, past his defined pecs and abs until your fingers traced the v leading down to where you wanted him most.

His length twitched at the slight stimulation, but before you could grab his throbbing erection, Kakashi’s large palms yanked at your hips to spin you around. Thankfully, your palms caught against the wall with a thump. The frame rattling against the wall again. It made you groan out of neediness. You were practically dripping at this point, electricity sparking between your legs in desire.

One of Kakashi’s knees knocked between your thighs, effectively spreading your legs as wide as he wanted them, the cool air hitting your core more prominently when you bent over, arching your back until your tits were pressed up against the wall.

Glancing over your shoulder, you were blessed with the sight of Kakashi stroking his shaft a few times, spreading his own arousal over the tip with his thumb before aligning himself with your entrance and nudging the head between your folds.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed when he slowly slipped inside you just slow enough for you to feel every ridge of him stretching you out so deliciously. You moaned out while your open palms closed into fists against the wall. When he was fully sheathed inside you to the point where you could feel his pubic bone pressed against your ass, one of his hands snaked over your hip and pressed against where you were bulging with his cock.

The groan in your ear had a shiver running down your spine, landing where you and Kakashi were connected. “Do you feel that? Do you feel how deep I can fuck you? How well this pretty little pussy takes my cock?”

A strangled cry crept from your throat. “Please!”

You needed him to move, but you knew he was enjoying this too much. All you could do was beg since his free hand kept your hips from moving in a vicelike grip. You knew there would be bruises tomorrow, but the pain felt so delicious in the moment.

There was amusement in his voice when Kakashi spoke again. “Shit, you look like a dog in heat. Are you really that desperate?”

Somehow, your subconscious must have snapped. You couldn’t take it anymore. You needed to cum, and you were going to annihilate anything in your way.

“I’d think twice before calling me the dog here.” The hiss in your voice had Kakashi growling from deep within his chest. Your pussy clenched around him at the sound, turning his growl into a moan.

“You wanna run that smart mouth of yours? Fine. I know how to shut you up.”

The large palm splayed against your lower body snuck up to your neck. Long, lean fingers stretched around the column stained with kisses from earlier before applying a bit of pressure.

Meanwhile Kakashi’s hips retreated from your heat, leaving only the tip in. The feeling of just the head left you feeling impossibly empty and incomplete. At least, it did until his hips collided with yours, plunging his entire length deep into your cunt, sheathing himself so deep inside you, your legs almost gave out.

Your lungs attempted to gasp for air, but the fingers constricting your intake made your head spin. Kakashi continued slamming into you at a merciless pace. With each thrust, he made you moan, further fucking you into the wall. The map was now crooked, not that either of you noticed.

Instead, you were clawing at the wall in an attempt to hold on to this world. Your eyes rolled back into your head with each slap of his balls against your clit, and each time he sheathed his impressive dick inside you, your body quaked.

Between the grunting in your ear and the panting against your neck, Kakashi obviously felt just as dizzy. Even the purple makeup he was sweating into his eyes was worth it. You felt too good for him to stop fucking you like this.

You reached a hand around him to grab at the brown wig again while Kakashi’s lips met your shoulder in an attempt to muffle his sounds, his length growing harder and harder each time it dragged against your plush walls, shooting ecstasy through both of you.

The previously ruined orgasm that had been in your grasp quickly returned tenfold. You were trying to keep quiet, but the moans kept tumbling from your lips with each slap of Kakashi’s hips against yours. The sound of your fucking practically shook the room while your legs began to shake, that lightning from earlier burning brightly in every nerve on your body.

“Kakashi! I’m so close!” you almost choked out, “Please let me cum. Please!”

“Good girl. Cum all over me. Go ahead,” he grunted, working his cock into you so beautifully you couldn’t help but feel the tears prickling in your eyes.

Your entire body cracked with that lightning, feeling absolutely weightless in that moment between, and then the thunder roared. You felt your entire body tense while you cried out his name, clamping his pulsating shaft inside you while your legs began to wobble. The second your orgasm crashed, Kakashi released the pressure on your throat, and you gasped, the oxygen rush to your brain making you even more dizzy.

His hand clamped against your other hip, continuing to fuck you and support you while you shook, the constant rhythm of pleasure drumming your entire being while Kakashi’s hips erratically bucked into yours. He twitched frantically inside you while you squeezed him so tight, you milked his seed when he spurt out his orgasm deep inside you. His entire body tightened, spasming with his release until the both of you came down from your highs, leaning against the walls squished together in a sweaty mess of limbs with Kakashi still inside you.

“Fuck,” you panted.

“Fuck,” Kakashi agreed.

#cherry's 100 follower celebration #naruto imagines #kakashi x reader #cherry has ideas sometimes #hi. i’m cherry queen of the sin bin.#cherry posts about ninja nerds #100

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justreadingfics · 5 years ago

Text

Looking For a Heartbeat (25/26)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Series Summary: You and Bucky used to be in a relationship. Feelings were hurt, you left. It’s been two years and you’re back. You both will handle the reunion well, won’t you?

Word Count: 8k

Warnings for this chapter: angst, canon type violence, warnings in the middle of text becaus the author didn’t wanna give spoilers of any kind.

A/N: That’s it. One more chapter and we’re done. I have this one planned ever since the very beginning of the story and I thought it would be easy to write it, but like I said to my beautiful beta @suz-123, it wasn’t. I hope it makes sense. Love you, guys. Any feedback is highly appreciated. And I’m sorry if the post is a bit messy, I’m posting from my hotel’s computer and it kinda sucks. No gifs today.

The address Bucky has remembered takes you and the team to what, at least from the surface, looks like an abandoned building in Detroit in where used to be a car factory, shut down many years ago. By Captain’s orders, the two jets are landed a few feet away from the place, so it wouldn’t attract any unwanted attention. Tony and Vision fly ahead of you all, and after their sign of clear, the rest of you head to the construction, some flying with their powers or suits, others, more specifically you, Bucky and Steve, run towards it.

Your mind is clear just like your senses are sharper than ever. Your suit is filled with weapons of all kinds, the comms are fully working in your ears. You’re ready. Every emotion that could get in the way of you fighting to bring back your girl is pushed aside. This, fighting, is what you do best, and if it means you’ll have your daughter safe and sound, nothing would stop you. You have your team on your side, but most importantly, you have Bucky. Your strength, your hope, your love.

When you get closer to the building, Steve’s voice sounds into your ears, “Ok, this place is damn huge, we’re gonna need to split up…”And then he divides the team in pairs so you could properly scavenge the truly enormous construction. You and Bucky take one side, as Wanda and Steve, Vision and Tony, Sam and Thor take others. Steve doesn’t even need to put you and Bucky together as neither of the team members even thought of taking you apart from each other. This mission belongs to the both of you, together.

The M249 is secured on his hands as he points it ahead and you two quietly stepped into the huge shed. You know the machine gun is not the only weapon he has on him, but it’s his favorite and he clings to it, ready to use it if needed. It’s almost morning, but it’s still dark, so you two have flashlights propped on each unarmed wrist. The shed is completely empty apart from a few abandoned car structures and other tools, construction pieces and so on. It’s quiet. Too quiet.

“Are you sure this is the place?” You whisper.

“Yeah,” his whisper is shaky, “I’ve been here before, but not quite here. It’s a bit fuzzy in my mind, but I’m sure this is the place, they used to… work on me and others here.” He clears his throat, “Let’s just… keep moving.”

You can only imagine how hard all of this must be for him. Harder than for you, you dare say, to have his daughter somehow repeating his own story. You nod, not touching the subject again, as you explore the place further in silence.

When you pass through a specific skeleton of car, he comes to a halt. You stop in your tracks, too, watching as he blankly stares at the junk, a single drop of sweat running down his forehead as he illuminates it with his flashlight. His breathing hitches and without uttering a single word he places the light on his pocket and nods towards the car. Right away you use your flashlight to illuminate the spot and, without taking the machine gun off his flesh arm he steps further and, using the metal one, flips the car over without trouble.

You jump at the resounding and thunderous noise, but what really makes your heart race is what was hidden beneath the apparently forgotten car wreck. A small squared door. Being followed by Bucky, you crouch beside it and you almost throw up at what you see. It’s tiny, almost imperceptible, but it’s there. The skull and the tentacles around it. A small HYDRA logo on the iron handle.

Your eyes are widened when your head snaps to Bucky at the same time his gaze flashes to yours, “It’s here.” He pants.

“Guys, we found something,” You say through the comms as your voice comes out breathless.

“So did we,” Tony answers.

“Yeah, us too,” Steve informs, “There is what seems like an elevator to the underground here, Wanda and I are going down.”

“Do you want us there, Y/N?” Sam’s voice is firm through the comms.

You lick your lips, thinking. “No, you and Thor keep looking.” You answer while you and Bucky nod at each other, “If there are other hidden entrances, like the one the others have found, you may also find something else, and we don’t know which one will lead us to the right spot, if any. We call you if we need you guys.”

“Roger that.”

“It’s fucking locked.” Bucky curses, after pulling the handle up and down repeatedly with his metal arm, but not succeeding in opening it.

“No,” You whisper loudly, stopping him when he’s ready to punch the door opened. “ We don’t need anymore attention. I got this.” You clarify while he frowns at you.

Reaching for the back of your suit you dig your hand in one of the many secret compartments before pulling out a small round device. While Bucky watches you with curiosity, you attach it to the door’s surface. A few seconds later and a discreet red line circles the edges before you hear the clicking sound of the little door unlocking itself. You lift it up with ease, before looking up at a puzzled Bucky.

“Christmas gift from Nat.” You shrug and when he smirks at you, the corner of your lips also pulls up in a curl. It’s been a really long time since you two have gone on a mission together and, despite the circumstances, you can’t help but notice it’s still all there. The partnership, the complicity, the camaraderie. It’s like you two met again in a dance you’ve spent a real long time without dancing, but the moves have always been there, dormant.

You two look down and you use the flashlight to find a steep and narrow stairs uncovered by the door. Despite not being able to see where it leads to, you don’t waste another second before jumping to climbing it down.

“Wait,” Bucky whispers, stepping down right behind you.

As you move down further, a repeating echo of a droplet meeting a surface is the only sound that reaches your senses. As your feet meet the ground, you take two or three steps ahead before Bucky swiftly passes by you and takes your front in a protective manner, making your eyes roll. But you let him lead the way regardless, at least for now, no time for discussions.

You still have to use flashlights to illuminate the narrow aisle. The floor is only made by cement and it’s hot, dirty and humid. You and Bucky walk in silence, gun propped and pointed ahead in your steady arms.

You almost bump against his back when he stops at once, “Look,” he nods ahead. A few feet away from you is a brick wall.

“Come on,” You rush him further.

You two walk until you’re side by side staring at the concrete barrier right in front of you. It goes from the floor to the low ceiling of the dark aisle. A clear sign of the end of the line… for those who aren’t you and Bucky.

“Secret door,” You two say in unison glancing at each other.

Bucky positions himself a few feet back and points his machine gun to the door, while you put your glock in your thigh holster to start working your magic. Secret doors are one of your specialties and a guilty pleasure. You move in silence when you crouch and knock three times over a brick close to the floor and stand up to repeat the action in four more spots on the wall. Like you’ve done countless times before, you listen attentively to the sounds; run your hands over the bricks, feeling the wall and its patterns until you stop over a specific one.

Touché.

You pull the loose brick with ease and the rumble resounds through the cavernous passage as the wall slides back and then left, revealing a complete different aisle before you. Fucking HYDRA. You don’t wait for Bucky before you step inside, pulling back your gun and meeting the complete changed atmosphere in the cold and highly illuminated new aisle, packed with white doors on its left and right side, resembling a hospital or something like it. You put away the flashlight.

“Shit,” Bucky curses behind you, “Look.”

Yes, you’ve already noticed the cameras on the ceiling.

“We don’t have much time.” You assert.

“No, and it doesn’t seem right.”

You know it. It’s too quiet… too simple. But you don’t care, you really don’t.

“I know,” You nod and lick your lips, “It’s probably a trap.”

“Yeah,” he sighs.

“Shall we?” You point to the doors.

“Let’s go.”

Each one of you takes one side of the aisle and starts towards the doors. The first one and the others are surprisingly unlocked- yeah, fucking too easy- and what you meet in each one of them are high tech labs and medical rooms. It makes you sick to your stomach to think all of the atrocities HYDRA must have done there and now they have your little baby.

It’s by the fourth door you open that the shout rips out of your lungs, taking out all of your air, “Bucky!”

In a split second, he’s on your step as you run into the large room. She’s there. Summer. On the farthest corner of the room, sitting over a mat with a few toys around her, to which she plays with, as carefree as she could be.

“Summer, baby,” You desperately chokes on your voice and stumble over a bed and a few machines making a lot of noise on your frantic run to her. As the adrenaline washes over your veins you think nothing of it when she doesn’t turn towards the sound or towards the calls of her name.

“Y/N, wait.”

When Bucky shouts your name and you think you’re about to get closer to your baby, your body hits against something hard and you fall backwards to the floor. You don’t really register the pain, but you look up to see golden little points emerging out of nowhere right in the spot where you hit to what you thought it was nothing but air. The little points fade and you go back to see like there’s nothing between you and Summer. You turn back to her, who still haven’t noticed you there.

“It’s a damn stealth door, fuck,” Bucky grunts loudly and kicks the air in front of you, making the little golden points appear again right where he has hit.

You swiftly get up. You’re not thinking right when you drop your gun and start tapping at the invisible barrier in front of you, “Summer, Summer,” You scream for your daughter’s name as you feel the warm tears running down your cheeks. She’s so close. So close and the thought alone clouds everything else in your mind.

“It’s soundproofed. She won’t hear us.” Bucky pants and you can hear the anguish in his voice.

You keep screaming and calling for her, tapping and punching and kicking the hidden wall. You can’t help it, you just can’t. You don’t notice Bucky stomping through the entire room, searching for something, anything…

She’s there, with her back to you, sitting on the mat over the floor, playing, like nothing bad has happened to her. She doesn’t seem hurt, thank God, she’s ok. All you need is to get to her and hold her in your arms and make her safe. You’re still calling for her when she turns to grab a toy behind her. That’s when she spots you. Your heart stops at the grin that swiftly curls on her pretty face.

“Oh, baby, my baby,” You smile through your tears as Bucky bolts to your side again, “Mommy is here, you’re safe, mommy and daddy are here, my love-”

And that’s when she does something you would never expect to happen at that moment. She forces her little hands on the floor to take the necessary impulse to get up. She doesn’t fall, unlike many times before and, while you and Bucky watch with jaws to the floor, this time she gets up and shakily takes her first step towards you, with the huge grin plastered on her face, proud of her achievement.

“Oh, my God,” Bucky gasps, as you bring a hand to cover your mouth.

You can read her lips chanting mama and dada as she unsteadily makes her way towards you both. Her very first steps. You realized what’s gonna happen when she’s a few inches from you raising her little arms.

“Oh no, baby, no, no.” Bucky pleads quietly, utter pain in his voice as he sees her coming closer.

And just like you two predicted she straight up bumps her forehead onto the invisible barrier and her little body drops back. Making your heart shrink even more, your baby sits up crying and wiggling her arms for you to grab her. You never felt such sheer desperation. Being so close to her and helplessly not being able to do anything like grabbing her in your arms and soothing her suffering.

“Bucky,” you sob his name on a beg, like somehow, unlike you, he would be able to do anything.

And it sort of seems like he can when he rushes to a dashboard which is right next to where you’re standing, but you’ve failed to see it in the blur of finding Summer again. You kneel, not taking your eyes from your crying daughter as Bucky stares at the panel, frantic eyes studying it, thinking, searching… In a hurry, he taps something on the panel and just like magic, the little points emerge all around the surface in front of you and quickly disappears again.

It’s gone. The barrier between you and your daughter is gone, you know it and without wasting anymore time, you lean over and without the barrier, you finally take Summer in your arms again. Her little body instantly relaxes and molds to your chest as her loud cries turn into deep shuddering breaths.

“It's ok, my love. Mommy’s here, you’re safe, you’re safe.” You’re not sure if the words are meant to calm her or yourself, when eyes shut in utter relief as you soothe her, running your hand up and down her back and she lays her head on your shoulder.

You feel Bucky’s hand on your lower back when he approaches you again and you look to the side, watching the relieved and incredulous expression which he gazes at Summer with, like he can’t believe she’s actually there. But she is, she is. Through the tears, you shoot him a smile.

He gulps, responding you with a shy curl on his lips, “Thank God,” he manages to whisper, before taking a long breath.

“What a beautiful family.”

You grip on Summer tightens as you swiftly turn around. Bucky does the same, pointing his machine gun towards the familiar voice, only to discover that, in the daze of getting Summer away from the barrier, you and Bucky missed a strange figure with a purple mask and maybe 15 or 17 armed men and women has invaded the room. It’s been too fucking easy, alright.

“I can see the past is still very much alive in you, Sergeant Barnes… Even remembered the code to open the door, I’ve been told this place has been the stage to a lot of your… missions …What? You don’t recognize me?”

You damn well know it’s Zemo. You’d recognize that voice any time of your life, but you rather not answer and, still holding Summer like your life depends on it – which it does- you prefer to study the situation, figure out a way you and Bucky could make sure Summer wouldn’t end up hurt and as a plus, neither would you and Bucky. You know he’s doing the same beside as his gun keeps pointed at Zemo’s covered head.

“I know, I know, the mask…” He waves his hand in front of it, “But, like Sergeant Barnes here knows damn well, not all HYDRA experiments are a success, “ he shrugs, “And we gotta live with the consequences.” His voice comes out darker.

As Summer whimpers in your arms, trying to turn around since you keep a gentle but efficient grip on her head, avoiding that she spots what’s in front of you, Bucky’s finger press the trigger a bit harder and you don’t miss it. Neither does Zemo.

“Don’t even think about it, Barnes.” Zemo warns and points to the nape of Summer’s head. It kicks the air out of your lungs to spot three little red dots signalizing the guns pointed at her, “Put your gun down.”

Bucky’s hands shake as he keeps the machine gun pointed ahead. From the side of your eyes you catch how tight his jaw is.

“Bucky, please…” you beg. You can’t risk Summer’s life like that. You need to be cautious, mindful.

At your plea, he relents and his finger loosen up before he leans down to put the weapon on the floor.

Zemo chuckles in front of you as all the guns keep pointed at the three of you, “You’ve always been such an easy piece to play with, Barnes… I broke an entire empire by playing with your strings if I remember correctly.”

“It doesn’t seem like you succeeded. You may have missed it in your time in prison, but the Avengers are stronger than never.” Bucky taunts and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat. Teasing Zemo might be a dangerous game to play right now.

He huffs, clearly annoyed, “Well, then I have to build my own empire, haven’t I?” He raises his hands, showing off the HYDRA operatives and other hostiles on his group.

“So I’ve heard, Masters of Evil, right?” Bucky smirks, keeping the same provoking tone.

You know what he’s doing, he’s gaining time, he’s accessing the possibilities. He has a plan. You just wish you knew what it was so you could help him.

“Yes, and you’re trying to take away a valuable addition to my own empire, Barnes.” He nods at Summer in your arms, “Can't have that, can I?”

“Don’t let her see it.”

When you register Bucky’s whisper is too late for you to do anything. It all happens so fast as he pushes you and summer back to the corner you’ve found her and he moves like a true ray of light as he pushes a big blue button on the panel, making the golden points appear again and lift up the invisible barrier. He smashes the dashboard to pieces after.

“Bucky,” You shout and Summer starts screaming and crying in your arms again after the violent jerk when he pushed you two and noticing your desperation.

“Don’t let her see it.” You can’t hear anything, but you can see his mouth moving again as he pleads and uses his metal arm to block away the shooting fire that sets against him before grabbing his and your gun from the floor to attack.

You can hardly breathe or think when you drop to the floor, folding your legs with your knees up and adjusting Summer’s crying and shivering little form in your lap to face you. “Bees-” You take in some necessary air, before continuing, “Bees'll buzz…kids'll blow dandelion fuzz and- and I'll be doing whatever snow does in summer…” The only thing that comes to your mind to try and calm her down and also force her focus on you is to sing her favorite song from one of her favorite movies. She absolutely loves hearing Olaf saying her name so many times and it’s always a win with her.

“Probably getting gorgeously tanned in summer,”

She’s still crying, but at least she’s not screaming anymore, laying her wet and red eyes on you.

“A drink in my hand, my snow up against the burning sand,” You force yourself to smile and put on a happy face as your shaky hands hold her and she keeps oblivious to the fact that, behind her back, a war takes over the place as Bucky faces alone – all fucking alone, goddammit – Zemo and his accomplices.

It’s a complete carnage, you can see it. The invisible barrier is not so invisible anymore as spills of blood tell on it. Because it’s soundproofed, you can only hear muffled thuds when bodies are thrown against the wall or shots hit on it, trying to break the barrier between them and you two.

“I'll finally see a summer breeze, blow away a winter storm… Just imagine how much cooler I'll be in summer…. Dah dah, da doo, uh bah bah bah bah bah boo,” Summer giggles and claps her little hands, not crying at all anymore and you just envy the ability that babies have to bouncing back the worst situations so easily.

Behind her shoulder, it becomes a bit easier to breathe when you spot that Bucky’s still standing… You haven’t even gotten to the half of the song and only three other men stand with him, but it takes a kick in the chest and a shot of your gun to take down two. The expression you see on his face is of pure and raw rage. There’s blood dripping down his metal finger as the plates are also covered in red. In fact, blood is all around the room with agonizing and still bodies sprawled on the floor. Some would say it’s the Winter Soldier taking over and doing it all by himself, but you know better. It’s Bucky… All Bucky, protecting and avenging his little girl, the way you would have, too. But you know that, unlike what would happen to you, this rage, this outburst, this violence will take its toll on him at some point…

“The hot and the cold are both so intense…Put 'em together it just makes sense!”

The last man standing before him is Zemo, who now can ́t keep taking cover from the others as he’s been doing so far. You know he’s saying something to Bucky, whose eyes burn with fury before he steps back and grab him by the throat, lifting him up with ease using his flesh hand. He’ll kill him, you know he’ll kill him.

You hold your breath. God knows how much you would like to end with Zemo yourself, but you don’t want this weighing on Bucky’s already heavy conscience, you just don’t. But as Summer whines, annoyed for your singing coming to a stop, Sam and Thor burst into the room. It takes a second for them to access the situation, before Sam runs to pull Bucky back and succeeds in making him drop Zemo to the floor, who instantly takes his own hands to his throat, fighting for air. You know Sam would never overcome Bucky when it comes to physical strength and the fact he let him pull him back shows you what his conscious really needed. You sigh, relieved.

Thor traps Zemo down on the floor with a fence of lightning and while Bucky keeps his back to you and Summer, he says something to the God, who then spots you two behind the now mostly red barrier.

You get up and step back, turning around to shield Summer with your body, while Thor uses Mjönir to turn the wall down, since Bucky has smashed the dashboard that could control it so no one would get to you two.

Keeping your promise to Bucky, you bury Summer’s face in your neck to walk through the sea of blood and knocked out bodies and finally – finally- get out of that nightmare. Noticing that Bucky doesn’t let himself look at you and Summer as he keeps his distance and his head hung low, you resume singing to distract her on your way out.

“When life gets rough, I like to hold on to my dream

Of relaxing in the summer sun, just lettin' off steam

Oh the sky would be blue, and you guys will be there too

When I finally do what frozen things do in summer

In summer.”

~~~

After every single one of your friends makes sure to check their little Sun is safe and finally let out a relieved and content sigh, you rush to the jet, wanting nothing more than to get home. Steve and Sam stay behind handling with the standard procedures after a mission, as a SHIELD team arrives. Normally, Tony would stay too, but he doesn’t want to spend another second without working on fixing FRIDAY and on the Tower’s- therefore Summer’s- safety. You know Bucky has left a mess behind him and this will give Steve and Sam a lot to deal with, but it doesn’t really matter right now. All that matters is the little kid in your arms.

As soon as you take your seat, you zip down the front of your suit, adjust Summer on your lap and nurse her, which she accepts with a happy sigh. You can’t take your eyes off of her as you run your fingers through her hair and you feel her body relaxing in your arms as though she holds her little unicorn tightly. She’s smart. You know she has sensed the danger she’s been to and that now she’s safe again with her mama. And dada.

Bucky’s sitting right by your side but he’s nothing but distant from you and Summer ever since Thor released you. He smiles at you and at her, but it doesn’t reach his eyes and he has yet to touch Summer. And your little baby, your little heart, who is far smarter than she should at the age of one, doesn’t let it go. She hasn’t begged for him to hold her, like she often does when she has a boo-boo, and probably would have already done in other circumstances, but, as you nurse her and he sits beside you staring vacantly ahead, your baby girl stretches out her chubby legs to allow her little feet to casually rest on his flesh arm, the one which is within reach of her. You watch as she finds a way to include her dada to her own comfort, but still respecting his boundaries… You can’t help but smile a little when you notice him taking a deep breath and looking down at her little feet.

When you arrive to the Tower, after Nat and Sharon greet you and relish on Summer’s safety and the baby is checked by Doctor Cho herself, you, Bucky and your girl go straight up to your apartment. Despite his still distant behavior, Bucky doesn’t seem to want to stay physically away from her and he follows you to your room, while you give Summer a bath in your bathroom, taking one for yourself as you do so.

After Summer’s cleaned and changed and you have your own pjs on, her eyes are already heavy and you only need to rock her for a few minutes before she’s fast asleep. It’s been one hell of a night and you hope she will stay sleeping for a long while. As Bucky watches you both, quietly and vigilantly standing on the corner, you choose to place her on a crib you keep in your room, right by your bed. After you take one last and long glance at your sleeping baby, incredibly thankful for her safety, you turn to Bucky.

“Are you alright?” You ask even though he obviously isn’t.

His eyes snap from Summer to yours, startled by your question. He just keeps staring at you for a while, before nodding, “I-I should go to my room-”

“No,” you cut him off, “No, Bucky. Please stay with us.” You can’t even think about being away from him in that moment and, to be honest, you don’t think it’s what he really wants as he looked visibly relieved by you asking him to stay.

“Ok.” He licks his lips, “But I-I need a shower,” His jaw clenched as he looks away from you. He’s still covered in the blood he shed and he’s evidently ashamed of it.

“Alright,” You nod, “But you can take it in here.” You add firmly.

He just looks at you for a moment and doesn’t say anything before exiting the room. You sigh, in defeat.

After a little while, you’re sitting on your bed next to Summer’s crib when he walks back through the door, holding a change of clean clothes. You can’t help but smile at him and he just excuses himself to walk into your bathroom.

As you hear the water of the shower running your mind races with everything that has happened that night. The party, Anna, the confessions of love, Summer missing, Bucky’s violent outburst… he’s not ok, he just isn’t and you need to do something. Pondering all the options you have, only one seems right at that moment.

Acting mostly by instinct, you swiftly get up from your bed and lock the door in your bedroom. You check on Summer, making sure she’s still peacefully sleeping. By the determined look on Tony’s face when he got to the tower, you know he’ll be doing anything in his power to make the tower safe for that night and all the other nights after this one. It’s more than enough.

Barefoot, you walk towards the bathroom’s door.

When you step into the bathroom, the sight before you makes your break all over again for god knows how many times in the period of 24 hours. The shower is on, alright, but he’s out of it, sitting down on the floor away from the water, still fully clothed in his suit, except for his boots, legs folded up in front of him, supporting his elbows while his hands hide his face and his back rests against the wall. The shower has been turned on to hide the sounds of his sobs, which you catch by the uncontrollable shake of his shoulders. He’s allowing himself to cry for the first time ever since Summer was taken. The fact that he feels the need to hide it from you is what breaks your heart.

Letting the door opened behind you – just in case Summer wakes up – you make your way towards him. You know he’s aware of your presence, but it doesn’t make him take his hands away from his face as he keeps violently crying, like you have never seen him doing before. After turning the shower off, you place your feet on each side of his thighs, before slowly descending to sit down on his lap, straddling him. As soon as you on him his hands leave his face and he envelopes his arms around your waist, pulling your body tightly to his and nestling his face on the crook of your neck.

You hold him back just as tightly, thankful he hasn’t pushed you away and hoping that your warmth, your touch, your silent presence could show him he can let it all out with you. And he does… the tears wet your neck as his whole body shakes against yours… The pain, the fear, the desperation you’ve both shared today… ne needs to let it all out.

It still takes several minutes before he says the first words, “I’ve never wanted her to be touched by all that violence,” His voice against your skin holds an incredible pain behind it and your chest shrinks because if you know Bucky, and you truly do, you know exactly which violence he’s talking about.

Your fingers dig into his dirty locks and you start caressing them at the same time your other hand brush his back up and down in a slow rhythm. You need him to let it all out, so you keep yourself quiet, expecting him to continue.

“I-I could’ve killed them all…Maybe I’ve-” He chokes, “And she was there, she was there…I’ve never wanted her to see that…She’s so pure, so innocent, my baby… And I-”

“You’re her father,” You cut him off firmly. You need him to understand, “You’re her dada…” You repeat just as steadily, you don’t want him to hear any sign of doubt in you because there isn’t any, “She loves you and she relies on you to protect her,” You lean back and when his red rimmed eyes meet yours, you cup his face, holding his saddened gaze to yours, “That’s what you did, you protected her. You protected us. They were gonna hurt her… our baby, they were gonna hurt our baby, Bucky,” You breathe, the mere thought making your stomach hurt, “But you stopped them,” You nod towards the now dried blood in his metal arm, “This… this saved our baby.”

Despite his breathing is now calmer and the tears are just silently running down his face, he turns away from you and you know he still struggles to believe you.

“Listen to me,” You turn his face back to yours, “She’s lucky to have you…I’m lucky to have you. The three of us, we’re a family and together we’re strong. We’re unstoppable, because we love each other… I love you. I fucking love you, baby.”

You lean in as your hands snake down to his neck and you place a slow kiss to his cheek, “You’re my love,” You turn to kiss his other cheek and his chest move up and down as he sighs deeply, “My heart,” You drag your lips to his ear and whisper, “My man…”

He presses your closer to him as you keep kissing every little inch of his face, every little bruise and every little cut, and his breathing grows frantic again. But this time not from crying.

“Don’t let me go, please don’t let me go.” He begs, his hands roaming around your waist, clamoring your skin tightly, “I love you, so much.”

“Never…” You drag your opened mouth up his neck. Your own breath falters as the atmosphere around you takes a changing turn, “Never,” You whisper before your lips finally move to his. The salt of his tears mingle with the taste of him and your heart flutters as he kisses you with fierce determination, taking the love you said you have for him out of your touches, your lips… His tongue meet yours in a caress and you could melt at the feeling, letting yours entangle to his. Slowly, tenderly as your mind fuzzes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~SMUT~~~~~ ~~~~

Your hands move down to work on the straps of his jacket, not caring that he still has traces of his recent battle all over his body, but mostly on his metal arm.You need to show him you accept him, all of him, even what he, himself, struggles to accept. You love him, no matter what, and it’s time to show him. You groan against his lips, because you’ve forgotten what a pain in the ass his suit it to take off- especially when you’re desperate to feel his warm skin against yours- but without parting your lips from each other, he helps you open each strap up. Despite the longing for touch, for feeling all of each other, there’s no hurry in your moves.

You two are here to stay.

Breaking the kiss, you let him out of his jacket and toss the heavy garment away from the shower stall. You lean back to allow a few inches between you two and your gaze sticks to the bare and broad chest before you as your heart skips a bit at how handsome he is. You can feel his eyes on you while you lightly drag your fingertips over his skin, marveling at the touch as you bite your lip. The last time you two have been together was all a rush and now that you both know exactly what you want you want to savor every bit of him.

And apparently so does he, because as you let your hands explore his body, his are being hooked under your top. You seize the touch on him to raise your arms and let him remove it from you. After he tosses the fabric away, you feel yourself burning under the intensity of his gaze on your chest and there’s only pure instinct and need guiding you when you grab his hands and places them over your breasts, your eyes fluttering shut at the touch. You can hear him breathing hard and your lips part as he gently squeezes them. You suck in a breath as his thumbs grazes against your sensitive nipples, it’s been too much without that kind of sensation and his touch is all you ever wanted, so everything is overly and throughout felted, relished, longed for.

It’s a few more seconds before the cold touch of metal is replaced by the warmth of his lips and tongue. You hold on to his locks and your hips start rocking on its own against his thighs as he kisses, sucks, licks… alternating from one breast to another.

“I want you, I want you, my love,” You voice comes out in a hoarse before he parts himself from ravishing your breasts to push you gently against the floor. Your bathroom stall is big enough to accommodate you both and, while you know the place is not ideal, it’s perfect and everything you’ve ever longed for all these years, because it’s him. It’s finally you and him finding each other again.

While your burning skin lays on the cold floor, he kneels in front of you and you lick your lips as he starts working on his belt. He gets rid of his combat pants and underwear in a heartbeat and your mind goes dizzy when he frees himself and you see him rock hard, hitting against his stomach, ready for you as much as you’re ready for him.

Keeping his eyes on yours he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your shorts and your move your legs up so he can take it off of you. You let your feet back to the floor and keep your knees apart from each other. Your exposed core coils under the hunger of his gaze to your body. Bringing flesh hand to curl around his cock, he takes his time looking at you, moving his hand up and down himself slowly, studying, remembering, attaching every little inch of you to his mind, and, as much as you desperately want to feel him, you let him. You have all the time in the world now.

“I love you,” he whispers when his eyes meet yours again, making your heart skip a bit.

He doesn’t wait much longer before lowering himself to you. You open your legs further to accommodate him and you love the familiarity of his weight over you. He kisses your lips one more time and your arms circle around his neck as his mouth explores your neck, setting your body into flames, a burning hot longing for him.

“Please,” you beg against his ear and you don’t get to say what you’re begging for before his flesh hand digs between your bodies and find your damp sex, kicking the words out of your brain.

“Fuck,” he breathes before inserting one finger inside you

You gasp against his lips as he bumps his finger in you and uses his thumb to caress your clit, a move he knows damn well that drives you crazy. A particularly languid moan from you through the kiss seems to set him off and his fingers leave your pussy to his cock.

You breathe hard through the kiss as he glides himself into your wetness and then drives the tip of his cock to your entrance.

He breaks the kiss to look at your face as he penetrates you. His eyes flutter for a moment before he focuses back on you, registering every expression, every sound as you feel him, finally feel him. When every inch of him is inside you, stretching you in the most delicious way, his hand leaves the space between your bodies.

Breathing through his parted mouth, he watches with hooded eyes as you swirl your tongue around the finger he was using to pleasure you when he offers it to you. His hot breath fans against yours before he leans in and have a taste of you, brushing his tongue against your lips.

His mouth keeps hovering yours as he supports himself with both forearms on each side of your head and, for an eternal moment you stay like that. Feeling… breathing each other… letting your bodies getting acquainted again.

God knows for how many times you’ve been dreaming about a moment like this but nothing could ever compare with the reality of having him again. You can’t help when a single tear to run down the corner of your eye as a smile curls up your lips to express the kind of powerful emotion running through all of your right now.

Your heart thuds heavily against your chest when he smiles back and leans in to bring his lips to the side of your face, wiping the tears with a kiss at the same time his hips start moving against yours.

Soft whimpers leave your parted lips when picks up his pace and your hands explore the muscles on his back. You feel him, all of him as he moans against your ear between gentle and long kisses wherever his lips can reach.

You’ve had sex before, obviously. And you’ve made love tons of times, if there’s a difference. Each of these times was nothing but amazing and filled with love and lust and desire. This one feels just as special as each of these times and yet, there’s something entirely new and unique on it as his body mingles to yours. It’s a reborn feeling, no strings of fear attached to it, no restraints, just the sheer need to express your love for each other somehow.

He dips his flesh fingers into your now messy locks as his metal hand finds your clit, making you lose your breath as he matches his thrusts with caresses around the sensitive nub. His forehead links to yours and the coils of pleasure grow stronger in your core. Your nails dig on his back and your legs fly in a circle around his waist, encouraging him to move faster and deeper into you.

You can feel it coming and he groans when you clench around him. He speeds his metal finger and with a silent cry, you come. Your vision is a blur as the powerful pleasure washes over you and he whispers how beautiful you are and how much he loves you. As you’re still recovering from your orgasm, your whole body trembles and his rhythm becomes erratic.

“I want all of you, my love,” you whisper, leaning in to bite his earlobe, feeling him pulsing inside you.

He can’t control his particularly loud moan as he reaches his climax. He grinds his hips against yours a few more times, before his body stills completely.

You have no idea how long you stay like this, hot skin to hot skin. Heartbeat to heartbeat. You hold him tightly against you as he softly kisses your neck, in the pure bliss of having him inside you, taking pleasure in the love you feel for each other and are finally being able to openly express and experience it. This old new love of yours.

When your breaths calm down, he pulls out of you and move to get up, offering a smile and his hand to help you stand up with him. He guides you to the shower and turns it back on, leaving in the temperature he knows it’s how you like it.

No words are needed when he squeezes the shower gel in his flesh hand and lather your whole body up, taking his time in that little spots he knows that makes your eyes and your core flutter. You put some of the shower gel in your hands to do the same for him and as he washes your body and your hair in a slow and not deliberately sensuous pace you run the lather over the hard muscles of his stomach, back, thighs... loving how they flex under your touch as the relaxing water cascades over the both of you.

When he grows hard again, you drop to your knees and take him in your mouth. And after he makes you come one more time with his fingers, you finish washing each other, through smiles, giggles, playful spills of water, words of love and devotion and kisses, lots of kisses. You just can’t get enough of each other after so long with denying yourselves to live your love fully.

After you get off the shower, you put on your pjs again as he puts on his and uses your one of your brushes to brush his damp hair. Standing behind him on the mirror by the sink, you envelope your arms around his waist and can’t help but smile at his dripping locks.

“I need a haircut, I know,” He smiles back at you as red flushes to his cheeks.

“You’ll make a little girl pout…”

“Oh, yeah?” He raises an eyebrow, “You or Summer?”

“Both of us.” You lay a kiss on his shoulder.

He laughs and spins around, locking his lips to yours again. Seeing him so light, without that weight on his shoulders of just now makes your chest bigger and feeling his tongue in yours brings fluttering butterflies to your stomach. You chuckle through the kiss and, without breaking it, you guide him walking backwards towards the door and inside the bedroom.

Parting from your lips, he still places a few chaste kisses on your mouth and face, “I love you,” He says one more time cupping your cheeks and you think you’ll never get tired of hearing it, ever.

“Me too, so much,” You lean over, placing a single kiss to his neck and giggling like a teenager when he tries to grab you by the waist to kiss you again but you evade him, “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

“Alright, alright,” He exaggerates the defeat in his voice as he follows you.

As you pull up the sheets and adjusts the pillows for you two to lay down, he walks to the other side of the bed, towards Summer’s crib. He stops and looks down at her. His eyebrows furrowed and he breathes in deeply before leaning down and taking her in his arms, as gently as ever so he wouldn’t wake her up.

Looking down at her with sheer adoration on his face, he slowly walks towards the bed and after placing a long kiss on her forehead, he carefully lays her down in the center of your mattress.

From the other side of the bed, you smile softly at him and he just shrugs, before gently lying down to his side and propping his head on his hand. You do the same, mimicking his position lying down on your side, and Summer remains sleeping like the beautiful angel she is the middle of you and him.

“How could we ever think our love was bad for us when we had her out of it?” He breaks the silence in a whisper and lifts his eyes from Summer to you.

“We were just scared….” You whisper back, locking your gaze on his, “I’m not afraid of loving you anymore,” You state, “A long time ago I thought loving you would make me weak, but now I see,” You smile as he keeps listening to you intently, “I’m strong either way, but you, me and Summer.” You run your hand through her hair and she sighs in her sleep, “We’re undefeatable together.”

He just looks at you for a moment before, without uttering another word, leaning over and softly placing his lips on yours.

You kiss him back, pouring everything you just said into the gesture, knowing that this time he believes you and there’s nothing more to be afraid of.

A weak whine makes you two break the kiss and look down at your daughter, who is still asleep, but her forehead frowns as she tosses a bit. Instinctively, you two place your hands over her little belly and make shushing sounds to soothe her. Just like that, she calms down, but before you could remove your hands, she puts her little ones over yours and grabs your pointing fingers, bringing them close to each of her cheeks and continuing to sleep soundly.

Neither of you can shake the smile off your lips or move your hands until you fall asleep.

~~~~

Final Chapter coming soon.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky angst #angst #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #looking for a heartbeat

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oh-for-fic-sake · 5 years ago

Text

I Just Move Things

Whilst looking through luthors drives the league find a new metahuman who is to powerfull for her own good.

Masterlist

Warnings: swearing

A/n:So this is a new series of imagines with Justice league/ teen reader obviously no smut but fluff angst and everything in between i know that the pic is starlight but that’s there more for the eyes.

(not my gif/pic)

I Just Move Things

"Seriously this girl, shes incredible, Lex didn’t have much on her he only just got the footage a day or so before the whole supes vs bat thing but we are soo lucky she wasn't involved, if she uses her head she could probably wipe all of us out, we need to get here to join" Barry was giddy as he started gushing over the new mysterious metahuman who was a prime candidate for the justice league. Arthur sighed crossing his arms

"Oh really? I'm sorry but I don't see how that tiny thing could do much damage wheres her weapon?" He said unconvinced Bruce and Clark agreed somewhat looking at the photo victor had pulled up on the screen a girl who looked around sixteen sitting at a table outside a Starbucks reading a book, she looked like a typical teenager, no muscle definition to her small form, so obviously had no combat training she looked like a regular man could snap her in two, easy to over power. Victor sighed at them.

"Looks can be deceiving every thing you see in that photo is her weapon, the ground, the air, the glass in the window behind her even the chair she's sitting on she could use all of these to impale you if she wanted to ,its quite incredible watch her here look at this video." The clip was grainy showing the inside of a corner shop, she was standing by the counter blowing bubbles in her gum paying for a small bag of groceries when a man came in holding a gun screaming at the girl at the register who quickly turned around to the cash register fumbling trying to open the cash draw as he shouted pointing the gun at her making her scream and struggle even more. The teen in question moved only to be ordered to put both her hands on the counter, she did so but as soon as she did looked over her shoulder to the door blowing yet another bubble letting it pop she was very calm for a young girl who had a gun in her face she huffed took a deep breath you could see her eyes light up a little and the metal frame above the door caved in enough to hold it closed trapping them inside, neither of the others noticed to preoccupied quickly she slid a tin can into her hand and looked at the gun tilted her head to the side eyes flickering once again and the barrel caved in on itself looking like someone had pinched the end closing the hole completely making it useless, no bullets would be firing from the weapon the man when to scream confused but was struck in the temple by the can of beans dropping to the floor in a crumpled heap she kicked the gun away in case he got up. The cashier looked around crying in relief as she saw the thief had been knocked unconscious and with a quick look the metal frame quickly snapped back to its original state. She exchanged a few words with the girl who was now on the phone to the police nodding towards the security camera the surprised she looked up you could see her curse as she looked into the lenses a grim expression eyes flashing and the video cut off, she had broke it trying to cover herself. Silence washed over the group as they came to terms with what they saw. Clark was the first to break it

"That was, different she helped tho that is a good thing she wants to do good. To protect people" Bruce spoke up next

"She didn't take chances, but that ability, what she can do its not something to take lightly, we don't know the extent of it can she do other things?" The question was directed at victor who had been scouring the cities surveillance for her.

"I've caught her a few times on cctv doing things, she practices at night around Gotham docks. And its amazing to watch, so far from what I can tell its molecular based, solids liquids and gases. I've seen her change the shape of containers, fix broken glass, she can't fly but seems she has just started to make invisible platforms to stand on and climb and when she fell she managed to make the ground sort of turn sand like to make her fall softer and she doesn't even seem to do it consciously it just sort of happens once she got up it settled like water becoming regular concrete again. Where ever she got the gift it hasn't been long, she is still trying to control them, small things are easier, like the gun and the door, but the first time she made the invisible stairs she got a nosebleed and passed out I lost her for a few weeks but when I found her again she did it again, must have practiced somewhere else as she only got a little nose bleed and didn't pass out just got dizzy" Diana sat there contemplating

"So basically this incredible power is wrapped up in a hormonal teenager who doesn't know how to use it yet, she is still trying to figure out what she can and cant do? And no doubt soon will start testing her limits? Bruce we need to pull her in now we can't waste any time she could hurt herself or someone else" Barry nodded they all shared a look agreeing. Time to bring her in.

"Where is she?"

"She will be at the docks again tonight around nine o'clock, she has a pattern its like clock work, docks ,chemical factory and just recently started down under the main bridge towards Metropolis playing around with water". They nodded she seemed shy Clark showing up could scare her same with Diana, Barry wouldn't be a good idea he tended to fumble his words and Arthur was well Arthur. In the end it was decided Bruce would go do the talking, after all Gotham was his turf.

Well shit gonna be hard to explain this one.... you looked down sighing it was very typical tho well for you any way. You see you had a problem, or should you say gift, you could move things not just the whole abracadabra Matilda floating thing, you could move things on a molecular level..... like clay everything is clay. After practicing you now know that you can break down solids into teeny tiny grains like sand using it as sinking sand or putting it back together in a new shape and recently discovered you could pull all the teeny tiny molecules in the air together really tight it becomes an invisible force field type thingy like an instant piece of bullet proof glass, or like a platform to stand on . It was cool but difficult to control some things more then others, for instance solids where the molecules are pack tighter are easier to manipulate then water where they are all moving then air that was tricky they were fast and hard to control. And there was limitations you couldn't change anything living or growing, no plants, no animals and consequently no people. You cant heal people which you learned the hard way after cutting yourself for the sole purpose of sewing it back up nope didn't work and you wished you'd don't a shallower cut knowing it was going to leave a scar. Which sucks, but you can control the air in their lungs technically it wasn't apart of them. Loopholes, there is always a loophole. But you can fix things, like a crack phone screens burst pipes you just had to stretch things a bit or zip them up. Which brings us to this little mishap. How the fuck can you explain this, you had been trying to feel the air. You felt with your powers you liked to think of it as ripples you know like when you wave one hand under water you can feel the ripples hit the other? It was like that except you felt what the ripple hit. Kind of strange but that was the best you could come up with. So hear you was scratching your head looking at a half sunk boat, now you may be thinking boats sink all the time whats the problem?.... well normally boats sink in water not solid concrete, you had been trying to feel your ripples and pull the air below a small boat making it 'levitate' but lost your cool dropped the fucking thing panicked tried catching it and wham bam thank you ma'am boat is now half sticking out of the dock floor with a broken window. You looked up into the sky.

"Really? As if my life wasn't already a joke you gotta throw bad luck in the mix to?" You quickly closed your eyes willing the glass to reform feeling each the large pieces lift joining them selves back together slowly setting them back into the frame concentrating in 'zipping up' the seams at such a microscopic level no one would know any better. Once finished you opened your eyes, boat was still in the ground but the window was back in place. 'Yay go me' You smiled, you may not have achieved your goal of safely moving the boat but you did fix the window you broke. You sighed trying to pull the thing up again but stopped when you heard a large ominous crunching sound coming from the hull. You jumped growling pulling at you hair near your scalp.

"No no no no no this is not meant to happen just fucking move! Move up damn it!"

"Need some help?" You screamed jumping turning around as the ground flicked up around your feet creating a small knee high spikes pointing between you and Batman?. You took a step back quickly stomping the small barrier away

"Err no no I err just out for a nice stroll haha." He hummed unconvinced looking at the boat sticking out of the ground you followed his gaze chuckling nervously scratching at your chin

".....that was like that when I got here....... I mean you see some weird shit in Gotham huh?" He looked back at you.

"I already know about your gift, you can't control it yet?" You gasped taking another step back

"Gift? What gift nope no sir-y no gifts round here."

"So I didn't just watch you drop a boat into concrete and fix the window on it?" You blinked slowly at him then heaved a heavy sigh stuffing your hand in your pockets.

"Y-you saw that? Shit I didn't mean to, I promise its just hard and i just want to stop doing things on accident....then other accidents happen a vicious cycle really" You said waving over the little accident. He nodded

"I believe you, but you were panicking, concentrate try making it sand again then harden from the bottom push up like layers like your filling in a hole go from the bottom up" you looked at him a little shocked but nodded looking at the boat feeling around beneath it with your 'ripples' making the concrete go lax hearing the hiss of it as it became loose grains before pushing up hardening thin layers from the bottom finally bringing it to the surface. You smiled happy at fixing your problem. He smirked seeing you giddy from your achievement.

"Wow thank you that helped a lot I would have been here all night before figuring that out." He nodded

"Your welcome, I'm glad I found you, we have been watching you for a while, we would like to talk to you"

"We?" You asked not really understanding

"The Justice league, you have a strong ability that we think would be useful and we wanted to see if we can help you control it we can give you training in combat weapons and hand to hand which ever you prefer." You looked at him jaw hanging open

"Your joking? You've gotta be, I just move things not really worthy of being up there with you guys,but I don't want to be used then thrown away but thanks for the help" you said turning to walk away he frowned

"We wont please you can trust us" he said reaching out quickly holding an arm dragging you back a little making you gasp and jump he then winced hissing as a thin spike quickly pierced the side of his hand that held you, you panicked.

"OH MY GOD! I'm sorry I didn't mean to! it just happens when I get scared or startled!" You quickly pushed the spike down grabbing his hand and twisting it with trembling hands hope he didn't beat the shit out of you, you'd basically just attacked him.

"Erm please stay still there are a few bits in there" you said before pulling at the little pieces of debris from the small puncture hole, when you react on instinct it doesn't end up as put together as when you actively control things hence little bits falling off and such.

"Your powers are strong I don't think your fully aware of what your capable of crushing a gun with a look is just the start, just give us a chance trust us"You let go of him hugging yourself taking a step back you felt bad you didn't mean you stood looking down waiting to see if he was angry, he seemed more sympathetic.

"Its not that I don't trust you, fuck how can I not I'm just....scared, you don't know the things I've done.....I could accidentally kill one of you then what? Be hunted down by you guys? I'm not indestructible I'm human and I haven't got control of it.... I don't even know what it is.....but its probably about time I found out I suppose I just simplify it so I don't you know....loose my nerve, bad things happen when that happens , its always frightened me... if-if I did come with you what do you guys get out of helping me? There’s always a price" he regarded you carefully he could see the fear the uncertainty in your voice it made you seem younger ,smaller lost he could tell you wanted to find somewhere to go, to find a home base and people who understood a bit like Barry in that sense he sighed smiling softly before speaking.

"Hopefully a team mate, one day someone will come and pick another fight and when they do we need to be ready, to have people we can call on to help, your strong a lot stronger then you realize this gift it-its probably made you one of the strongest metahumans on the planet,even superman was a little concerned of encountering you that's why I'm here he chickened out." You giggled a little and he smiled relaxing, you were a good kid he could tell just scared and lost the league would be good for you give you direction.

"Really? I'm pretty sure I've got more reason to be wary of him" he smiled a little "The point is your strong and will only get stronger ,your still just learning about it we want help you, give you a safe place to learn how to control it, test your limits. Your a good kid I can see you want to help and we will give you the opportunities to do that." You nodded it did sound good, the chance to practice using this gift away from people, in a safe and controlled environment the only people around would be able to dodge and escape if things did go wrong you looked at your hands for a moment.

"...You'd really help me?"he nodded

"Not just you but we will also help protect those closest to you" you looked away

"Don’t have anyone." He stopped at that

"What? Your alone?" You shrugged nodding throwing your bag on your shoulder

"You mean family right? Don’t have one I told you bad things happen when I loose my control, I just have foster homes well had I left,better off on my own" you held his gaze you were testing him, letting him know exactly what you'd done with out saying the words guard up and waiting to see if he'd try to over power you or change his mind. He didn't know what to say to that, he could hear the others through the comms warning him to back off asking if he wanted back up, he ignored them you had killed them accidentally that much was clear. You had no one he couldn't imagine just what you had been through, but he also knew this was a test he had done it himself when he was younger, you were waiting to see if he would judge you or leave you here alone, the others wont understand that’s why they were panicking telling him to leave if he did you'd never trust them again something none of them could risk, but it was also your way of trying to push them away. He shook his head coming closer slowing when your eyes began to glow and the floor rippled beneath his feet he raised his hands slowly the others were shouting down the line at him but you was getting defensive not readying for an attack.

"That’s why we want to help you, so nothing like that happens again I cant imagine what you've been through or what it was like but you don't have to be alone anymore or be scared" you believed him, something told you he understood pulling back from the concrete, he had plenty of time to attack you but didn't.

"And you wont be mad if I break something?" He shook his head releasing a breath he wasn't aware he was holding

"If you break something you can keep practicing until you fix it" you contemplated for a second.

"Okay then but just to see if I can fit in, don't let them make me jump.....I don't wanna shank them....you got off lightly it was aiming to go straight threw to your face... I sort of caught it a little" Bruce tensed but quickly controlled himself, the last thing you needed was to see he was slightly afraid of your gift it could feed your own fear.

"They already know, they've been watching in case they needed to help if things went bad its up to you" you gulped and nodded a little as he began walking away you hesitated looking the opposite way you could run, forget this whole meeting and leave, you sighed watching his back you had no doubt he was giving you the chance to leave you took a deep breath they could help and if it does become a con you would find a way to leave and disappear nodding you quickly jogged up behind him following him to the bat mobile he opened the back revealing two seats.

"This thing has extra seats?" He smirked down at you

"Well this one does some of the others don't." You tilted your head

"How many of them do you have?" He chuckled as you slid into the seat

"Quite a few buckle up and hold on" he said nodding the the strategically placed grab rails the shut the door a few seconds later you were moving. You shivered a little nervous you didn't think it was a bad thing to go and train somewhere more secure but one mistake and you could easily become an enemy and contrary to what they may believe you couldn't take any of them on you was still a human you still bled. You sighed leaning back a little resting your head on the seat behind you as he drove you god knows where.

#dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc x y/n #justice league #justice league x reader

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diyunho · 4 years ago

Text

The Joker x Reader - “Trapped” Part 5

Almost one year ago, someone tried to kill The Joker in a speeding car and Y/N pushed him out of the way, getting hit instead. With a fractured skull and broken bones, she was out of business for 6 months; when she finally recovered, The Queen of Gotham wasn’t the same anymore. Trapped inside her own mind and exhibiting severe cognitive impairment, Y/N’s life switched upside down without any hope of ever returning to normal.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

4 Months Pregnant

“I need customized stickers that say Baby On Board for my purple Lamborghini and the other cars I drive,” The Joker growls at his own idea whilst sharing it with the person fulfilling his wacko trades: Franco Rossi, the leader of best underground supply chain in Gotham.

“When would you like them ready Mister J? After Y/N gives birth?”

“Nope! Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?...” Franco hesitantly inquiries about the sudden emergency since he can’t understand why The King of Gotham demands them so fast.

The Joker hates explaining yet certain people are obtuse thus they necessitate enlightenment.

“Y/N’s pregnant: when she gets in a car, the baby is also. Baby on board! Hello??” the father-to-be loses his temper.

Who can argue with The Joker’s logic? Nobody. It sort of makes sense anyway.

“Of course, Mister J. I’ll have them ready. If you drop by after 6pm, I’ll have your guns ready too.”

“Perfect!” the Joker hangs up among the ruckus coming from the office near the kitchen: sounds of shattered objects and yelling alert Richard aka Panda you’re at it again. He nonchalantly passes by in order to deliver the items to The Clown.

“Your drinks Mister J,” he gives one cup with Starbucks caramel latte to his boss and the other is placed on the table. Why does your boyfriend require 2 identical containers? It won’t take long to solve the mystery.

“Are the lids glued?”

Strange question but there’s a purpose in it.

“Yes sir. How is she doing?”

“She’s hormonal: breaking things makes her feel better which reminds me we have to hoard porcelain objects for her to wreck. NO glass!”

“Sure, I’ll tell the crew,” Richard leaves the kitchen while texting Frost. “Hulk needs more to smash,” he types the code name they gave you in the last weeks although The King knows about it: J’s the one that came up with it.

“Hey Pumpkin,” you are greeted as soon as you pop up from the office. “How’d it go?” he scrolls down on his phone and takes a sip of hot liquid.

“Ugghh!” a frustrated Y/N swings the yellow teddy bear The Joker stole for her on their first date, hitting his hand in the process. The drink flies near the fridge and splatters on the floor with minimal damage: only a tiny puddle instead of a disaster, that’s why the lids are glued.

Safety measure for The Queen’s unpredictability.

J grabs his reserve cup of coffee, paying attention now hence he dodges your renewed attack and keeps his coffee intact.

That’s why his drinks have the lids glued, in case you catch him off guard the second time it will result in negligible destruction.

It happened before.

“I don’t think so Princess,” The Joker strong grip on the container calms you a bit because you won’t be able to win this round. “Are you hungry?”

“No,” you pout and sit in his lap.

“I bet the baby is,” the secret weapon is unleashed: J discovered such a gem by accident and it works like a charm. How can Y/N say “no” if the baby is involved? She can’t.

A plate filled with a bunch of your favorite breakfast food is placed in front of you and strangely enough you’re instantly hungry.

“Extra bacon,” he purrs. “Plus chocolate dip and honey mustard for your pickled cherries. I added peanut butter olives as a bonus.”

In your defense, you’ve been having weird cravings lately.

You place the toy on the chair nearby and start eating, ogling a Joker texting back and forth with his business partners. He chews the morsel you just offered and shivers: waffle dipped in clam juice is disgusting. Maybe he should look at the food you shove in his mouth.

“Gross,” J washes the terrible taste with coffee and gets a kiss for encouragement, yet he’s aware of the connotations. Another kiss confirms it.

Let’s put it this way: besides the hormonal episodes and food demands, The Queen has had a fresh type of craving recently - The Joker kind.

More than usually.

That’s why he has to clear it up.

“I’m flattered for being the center of attention; we gotta keep in mind that contrary to the popular belief, I don’t have unlimited stamina, Pumpkin.”

You nod in agreement and unbutton his pants, then unzip them also.

“Y/N, pay attention!” J insists since you don’t give a damn about his woes. “Think about it as a two way street: The Joker Street and I Want To Break Things Street. Are you with me so far?” he double checks.

Why is he yapping so much??! I guess you should make an effort to comprehend: he’s even doodling patterns on his phone to emphasize the speech.

“When you get hormonal, Princess, let’s try and walk on the I Want To Break Things Street instead of The Joker Street, hm? The Joker Street is sometimes closed for repairs until further announcement.”

OK, OK, this is a lecture. Something about a Joker Street, he seems upset he doesn’t have one…?... Right?...

If you were him, you would be pissed Gotham didn’t name a street in your honor when you’re so important for the town.

Another peck on his neck, then your lips go down his collar bone.

“You’re not paying attention, are you?” J mutters when it’s clear his shirt won’t remain on his body for too long.

“I am,” you defend yourself.

“Oh yeah? What did I say then?”

“Ummm…” you try to piece together words among estrogen taking over. “No Joker Street?...”

“Bingo, that’s it Princess! No Joker Street, correct! Choose the other street, yes?”

This time he kisses you, excited his idea was well received when in fact, both parties are referring to unrelated concepts.

“Wait,” J dodges your touch, “Richard is calling.”

Because he’s on the phone ignoring Y/N, she is ensuring a nice surprise for later; concentrating to the maximum to avoid misspelling, the following message is sent to Franco Rossi from her cell:

“Make a landmark sign that says Joker Street.”

The King’s conversation is prolonged more than anticipated until he discerns you’re not wiggling: you feel asleep, softly snoring on his shoulder and he definitely can’t afford to wake you up.

The doctors said your body is trying to cope with the pregnancy the best way it can: if you doze off at random hours it means you ran out of fuel and you should rest. After cheating death and surviving the accident, the future mother is at high risk of serious complications which is why each day could lead to unforeseen problems.

The Joker rises from the chair holding you in his arms and after a few steps he realizes it’s difficult to walk: thanks to his unbuttoned and unzipped pants, they keep sliding lower and lower. There’s no way he will make it upstairs so maybe the sofa in the living room is the best option. He almost trips thus he begins to drag his feet on the carpet, the pants at knee level now.

“I’m reduced to a piece of meat,” J grumbles, finally making it to the couch and placing Y/N on it so she can have her power nap.

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

6:02pm

You accompanied The King to a meeting with Seraphim, the best hacker/strategist J uses: they’ve been plotting for a while concerning D.A. Kevin Winchester. The politician is becoming a huge pain in the butt for Gotham’s underworld and something must be done; either annihilation or blackmail, it truly doesn’t matter since he’s bad for business. Due to a total lack of interest in the subject, you are exploring the surroundings quite angry The Joker dragged you here.

Luckily there’s stuff to do.

Bam! you punch the fragile glass sculpture and it splinters into a million pieces on the lavish marble floor.

Seraphim jumps at the noise, immediately recognizing his beloved possession:

“That’s…,” he gulps, appalled. “That’s a Vitriol!”

Yup, the one and only Degas Vitriol, the latest sensation taking the art universe by storm.

“She’s hormonal,” J sneers. “She breaks shit!”

“That’s valued at 150,000 dollars!” the hacker breaths in much needed oxygen regarding the atrocity unfolding at his hideout.

“So??!!” your boyfriend sucks on his teeth, irritated. “Serves you right for buying that asshole’s artsy fartsy crap!”

The Joker actually has 4 Vitriol masterpieces at the mansion yet you were strictly forbidden to destroy them, alas he gave you the office for your rampages.

You continue your exploration as they talk about God knows what until you perceive an alarming detail: Seraphim is literally screaming having a gun pointed at J.

You sneak behind him then in a split second you strike the pistol out of his hand and your fist lands on his temple with such brutality it knocks him out unconscious.

“What the hell are you doing, Y/N???” The Clown hisses at your erratic behavior.

“Hm?”

“What are you doing??!!!” he repeats, annoyed.

“S-saving you…,” you stutter, confused on why J is mad. “He was yelling and…mmm, had a gun,” you wince in pain because your knuckles hurt from the impact.

“The guy’s half deaf and sometimes he raises his voice without noticing, or did you forget??!! Now I have to wait until he comes to his senses and that’s a waste of my time, Y/N!!! Seraphim wasn’t threatening me, he was showing me his newest collectible!!! I suppose someone with half a brain can’t acknowledge the mess they’ve created!!!”

A lot of accusations thrown your way still… the last sentence brings tears in your eyes.

“I…” you bite your lower lip. “…I don’t have half of brain…”

“Wanna bet??” The Joker bites more instead of leveling with your logic: you though he was in danger and took action. If it was a real emergency, yes, you would have been the hero; it’s not and apparently he can’t appreciate your fast intervention in these circumstances.

“Y-you’re stupid…” you whisper, frustrated. “You don’t understand anything…”

Here it is -- the cataclysmic event of the century: someone called The Joker stupid. He’s beyond outraged with nothing better to utter besides a very childish:

“You’re stupid!”

Y/N turns around and stomps out of the house leaving a trail of destruction outside: she slaps the bottled water out of The Shark’s hand, kicks Panda’s shin and snatches Frost’s donut basically inhaling the sweet treat.

“I want to go h-home!!” you shout and enter the first vehicle you see, slamming the door so hard the window on the passenger side cracks.

“Jesus…” Jonny mumbles and being the sensible man that he is you are offered the whole box of pastries he purchased for his family. He can acquire more, but there’s no way in hell he wants to endure Y/N in the state she’s in.

Gotta keep Hulk calm somehow…

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

3 Hours Afterwards

You sulk when The Joker strolls in the master bathroom frantically searching the cabinets.

“Did you see my shaver?” he asks.

“Hm?”

“Did you see my shaver?”

“I…I wouldn’t know. I only have half a brain,” the surprisingly eloquent phrase queues J his woman is holding a grudge for his earlier statement. Why wouldn’t she? He was a complete jerk.

At least you didn’t catch on to the obvious: The King of Gotham doesn’t own a shaver; hair just grows on his head.

He glimpses at Y/N soaking in the bathtub with a kid’s book in her left hand and the right hand fingers sunk into a bowl filled with ice placed at the edge of the Jacuzzi. The Joker leans over and switches your book since it’s upside down.

You huff at the unwanted help and stare at the pictures expecting he’ll look for his shaver and disappear.

You’re not that fortunate today.

“Imagine my surprise when I drove the main alley and detected a sign that says The Joker Street,” he brings up the topic.

Franco Rossi was super-efficient …sadly you ordered the item before J ran his mouth at the hacker’s place, otherwise you wouldn’t care he wants a street with his name.

“You said no… no Joker Street,” you stammer. “Now you have one,” the bitter tone makes him roll his eyes: Y/N’s brain got what it could from his monologue, he should have known better than to make it complicated.

“Excellent…” The King starts rubbing your tummy, “… precisely what I was aiming for. I’m washing the baby, not you!” he underlines when you move farther from him.

You scrunch your face displeased but let him do it because it’s for the baby.

“I know what you’re doing,” Y/N gives him a cold gaze. “U-using the baby… I’m not stupid!”

Busted, The Joker thinks. The schemer in him won’t accept defeat though.

“I didn’t say you were.”

“Yes you did!”

“You said it first!!!” he reckons, antagonized. “Therefore two stupid people put together gotta make up for a smart one!!’

“I… I don’t wanna make out…” you frown at his suggestion.

The Joker sighs, deciding not to correct the trajectory of your judgement; it sure sounds like an opportunity.

“Why not?”

“I’m tired and…and I h-hate you,” your heavy eyelids close.

“Both viable reasons, even if I have to admit you striking Seraphim like that got me quite worked up. He’s no small fry! I had to wait for one hour for him to recover; you got a mean punch, woman! The more I reflect on it, the hornier I get. Which reminds me, Pumpkin: guess what?... … … I’m hormonal too.”

No answer, Pumpkin’s out.

“Of course nobody gives a damn if I’m hormonal!” he complaints while grabbing you from the bathtub. You cling to him for a few moments prior to drifting back into your dreams.

“Thanks for getting me all wet,” J snarls at the cruel reality of having his favorite Prada suit ruined.

“You…you’re welcome…” his Queen replies in her sleep, somehow her mind clutching to reality amidst pure relaxation.

This is what two hormonal individuals are reduced to: one’s dozing off, the other is suffering in silence, although being the proud owner of the tiniest road in Gotham compensates for the mishap.

It’s a two way street.