#sprinkling a little angsty angst onto them

[mardyart]

dew/phantom

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Rusty | Chapter 13 | S.R

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Summary - Luke finds himself getting acquainted with one of Bandera’s own. When you find a bundle of gifts on Spencer’s front porch, you hatch a plan.

A/N - this chapter kinda came out of left field but I couldn’t leave Luke heart broken so this happened. There are some Spencer x reader snippets but this chapter is very Luke-centric.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - drinking, hangovers, allusions to sex, hints of oral (m receiving), one night stands, needy Spencer, whiny Spencer, swearing, titty sucking, handjob, fingering, ending of this one is pretty angsty.

WC - 6k

Chapter 13 - Friends in Low Places

Luke Alvez was a man of few words, but no fewer were ever spoken from his mouth than that morning as he sat in the little corner booth in Bandera’s lone cafe.

Between sips of bitter coffee from the chipped mug nothing but awkward silence petered around them. Luke couldn’t even bring himself to make eye contact with the other person opposite him. Instead his gaze flitted between his mug and the old clock on the wall, whilst he wondered how long it was polite of him to stay. 

His temples throbbed and the coffee didn’t go anyway to stem the taste of that goddamn home brewed whiskey on his tongue. 

To say he’d made an error in judgement last night was underselling his stupidity. 

Images of the night before flashed in his mind's eyes like a broken movie reel. After leaving Spencer’s lodge he’d needed to take the edge off and found himself in the 11th Street Bar. 

The old bar keep had plied him with his homemade whiskey which was quite possibly the strongest substance that had ever passed by Luke’s lips. 

It didn’t stop him drinking it, shot after shot, until he was bleary eyed and stumbling on his feet. 

When he’d stepped out into the cool night air he’d almost fallen down the high curb, would have landed right on his face if it wasn’t for a strong set of arms steadying him. 

“Whoa there partner, careful as ya go.” The voice belonging to the man who caught him laughed. 

“Oh Jesus, I’m so sorry. I, uh, probably overdid it a little.” 

“No kidding, Cole’s home brew’ll do that.” 

There was something alluring about the tall, broad cowboy. Perhaps it was the alcohol in his system. Possibly it was because he was painfully lonely and his heart had taken a beating upon finding out Spencer had moved on. 

Whatever it was, it led to him happily going home with the man. He knew, even in his drunken state, that it was a bad idea. He knew using some stranger for sex would not make him feel better in the way he wanted. 

Yet he did it anyway.

“You ain’t from around here, are ya?” The man asked him, smiling at Luke. 

“Is it that obvious?” Luke chuckled.

“I just never forget a handsome face, is all.” 

“Oh.” Luke rubbed his neck. “Oh.” 

“What’s ya name?” The man proffered a large hand for which Luke shook.

“L-Luke.” 

“Mighty strong name, Luke.” He held onto Luke’s hand slightly longer than a normal hand shake. “I’m Grant, it's nice to meet you.” 

Grant, as it turned out, lived very close to the bar. Closer than the hotel Luke planned on staying at and insisted it wasn’t a bother for Luke to stay the night. Honestly Luke was a little lost in Grant’s eyes at this point and probably would have agreed to anything.

Grant offered him a strong mug of coffee upon arrival at his ranch. He wasn’t sure what kind of magic it was sprinkled with but it did seem to help him sober up. But maybe not sober enough. 

It was Luke who had made the first move. It had been uncoordinated and unplanned. One minute Grant was talking and the next Luke practically flung himself forward on the couch and kissed him. 

“Whoa there cowboy,” Grant chuckled lightly, guiding Luke back by his shoulders. “You sure you’re sober enough to be making these kinds of decisions?”

“I know what I’m doing.” Luke spoke, surprisingly coherently. “I know that I want this.” 

And at the time he’d meant it, he did want this. He didn’t realise how he would come to regret it later. But Luke had been unintentionally celibate for too long, not quite getting over the hump of his first time post-Spencer. 

Maybe if he could allow himself to take that step, healing his broken heart might not be so difficult. 

He couldn’t deny even now in the morning light that it had been an amazing night. Grant was unfathomably good in bed, with his hands, with his mouth. Luke had so many orgasms he still felt a little overstimulated this morning. 

It probably didn’t help matters that he’d hurriedly agreed to a shared shower this morning in which Grant awarded him release two more times whilst on his knees. 

He hadn’t thought of Spencer last night, but he had however succumbed to thoughts of him this morning. Whilst Grant fellated him in the shower, twice, Luke couldn’t help the way his mind raced over a similar scenario years ago, right before Spencer's arrest, before performing such acts became impossible for him.

Luke didn’t know why Grant had insisted on taking him for coffee this morning but now here they were, in awkward silence whilst they both tried to get out of this situation unscathed. 

“I, uh,” Luke cleared his throat. “Last night was fun but I’m heading back to DC later today.” 

“Wasn’t expecting nothin’ from ya.” Grant chuckled. “I know a one night stand when I see one. Just doing the polite thing, taking you for breakfast.” 

“Right,” Luke nodded, gripping his mug. “I’m sorry, I don’t do this very often.” 

“Yeah, I can tell.” Grant smirked. “It’s fine, don’t you worry about me. I knew that dog weren’t gonna hunt.” 

“Right.” Luke frowned as the saying went over his head. 

“I gotta split anyway. It was nice to meet you Luke.” Grant slid out from the booth and got to his feet, picking up his stetson and placing it back on top of his head. 

“Yeah, uh, you too.” Luke stayed seated, offering a meek smile to the man. 

Grant threw a couple of bills down on the table before turning on the heels of his boots. Luke watched him saunter away, open the cafe door and step outside into the sunshine. Once he was alone, Luke fell back against the chair and rubbed his hands over his face at his own stupidity. You don’t fight fire with fire, but that’s exactly what he’d tried to do. 

He closed his eyes and sat perfectly still, his hangover coupled with the aches and gripes from an extreme amount of physical activity encompassing his entire body. He didn’t need to be back at Quantico until tomorrow. 

Perhaps he’d get a room and sleep for a few hours, maybe try and see Spencer again when he felt less dizzy and catch a late flight back to Virginia tonight. But obviously the universe had other plans as his phone started to ring. 

He grumbled and sat back up, freeing the device from his pocket and groaning at her name flashing on the screen. He sucked in a deep breath before answering it and putting it to his ear.

“Hey Garcia,” he tried to hide his lack of sleep from his voice.

“Hey, I’m sorry to have to do this but there have been some developments, you’re needed back at Quantico ASAP.” She did sound sorry, which was surprising coming from her.

“Right, fine.” He didn’t have the energy to argue with her.

“I’m sorry, I know you really wanted to see boy wonder, I wanted you to see him too.” She was pouting, he could hear it over the phone.

He was silent for a moment or two, staring back at the clock on the wall. He sighed deeply and rubbed his eye with his free hand. 

“I did see him. Last night. I couldn’t wait until this morning.” He admitted, knowing she would get the information out of him one way or another. 

“Ohemgee, Newbie! Way to bury the leash!” She screeched, causing Luke to grimace at the way his head pounded. “How is he? What did you talk about? Is he okay out there all on his own? Gosh I do worry about that boy all alone. He can’t cook, I bet he’s lost weight, has he lost weight? Without my constant force feeding him cookies I bet he’s lost weight.”

He waited for her to exhaust her line of questioning before he spoke again, sounding incredibly sorry for himself. 

“He’s…he’s moved on.” Luke grumbled. 

“Moved on? He’s not in Bandera anymore?” Garcia sounded confused. 

“No, that's not what I meant.” Luke sighed again, not really wanting to have to spell this out. “He’s moved on…with someone else. I found him in bed with a woman.” He was met by a wave of silence and he knew why. “I’m on speaker aren’t I?” 

“Uh, yeah.” Penelope sounded a little guilty. You’ve got Jayje and Em here too.” 

“A heads up in the future would be nice.” Luke downed the coffee and forced himself to his feet. 

“Sorry, Luke.” Emily’s voice carried down the phone as Luke headed towards the door. 

“I had no idea he’d met someone.” JJ added. 

“Yeah well, I think it’s been a long time since any of us really knew him.” He threw open the door and squinted at the assault of sunlight when he stepped outside. 

“I know this isn’t what you want to hear,” Penelope prefaced and Luke held his breath. “And don’t get me wrong, as much as you grate on me Newbie, I do want you to be happy. That being said, is it wrong of me for wanting the same for Reid?” 

Luke huffed down the steps of the cafe towards his SUV. 

“No, of course it isn’t.” He agreed. “I want him to be happy too. A part of me is glad that he’s not completely on his own here but it doesn’t stop me wishing that he could have found that happiness with me. Is this what closure is like, Prentiss?” 

In Penelope’s bat cave, she and JJ looked at Emily with pinched brows, not having been privy to her conversation with Luke at the San Antonio PD. 

“Unfortunately so.” Emily ignored them. “It’s probably better that you know rather than always wondering. You might finally be able to close that book now.” 

“I’m, uh, I’m just heading to my car, Garcia can you get me on the next flight back to Virginia?” He changed the subject as he unlocked the SUV and slid inside. 

“Of course.” She agreed, without her usual flare. “I’ll have the details sent right over.” 

“Thanks. Guess I’ll see you all soon.” He sighed once again. 

“Alvez, wait a second.” Emily’s voice sounded again. 

There was shuffling in which he ascertained she had taken him off of speaker and left the room. 

“Yeah Prentiss?” 

“I know this is hard, but don’t let this destroy you. I love Spencer just as much as anyone but he is not known for dealing with his problems in a healthy way. Don’t let him break you. You can do better.” 

Luke felt tears sting his eyes and he closed them to stop them falling. He leant back against the driver’s seat.

“Thanks, Em. I’ll try.” He mumbled. 

“I mean you’re already trying right?” Emily’s voice had a hint of amusement to it. “What was his name?”

Luke’s eyes shot back open and he stared down at his phone in his hand with a deep frown. 

“Excuse me?” 

“I might have been keeping tabs on you, a part of me didn’t think you’d make it to Reid’s ranch.” She was smiling, he could hear it in her voice. “I checked your GPS coordinates a few times and you never made it to the hotel.”

Luke shook his head as a dry chuckle left his lips. He wasn’t even surprised. 

“His name's Grant, I met him at a bar last night.” Luke confessed. 

“Hmm, sounds like it could be promising.” Emily was walking, he could hear her footsteps. 

“It was a one night stand. And anyway, we live like two thousand miles apart.” He couldn’t help the way he thought that Spencer would know the exact mileage. 

“Distance is nothing.” Emily clucked. “You had a good time, yes?”

“Hmm,” Luke nodded, feeling a pleasurable coiling in his stomach when he thought of last night. 

“Sometimes when one story ends, another begins.” She mused. “All I’m saying is, would it be the worst thing in the world if you stayed in touch?”

Luke closed his eyes again, picturing the tall, strong cowboy and feeling a shiver pass up his spine. It would not be the worst thing, far from it. 

“I gotta go.” He replied. “Got a couple of things I need to take care of before I head back.” 

“Okay,” the amusement danced in her tone. “Good luck with that.” 

Luke hung up the phone and started the engine. And as if on muscle memory, he started in the direction of Grant’s ranch. 

***

You found yourself alone in bed when you woke up the next morning. For a few moments you felt lighter than air. All of your secrets were out in the open, you and Spencer now knew each other on the deepest level. He’d told you he loved you, things were looking up.

But why were you alone?

And then the panic set in. You lept out of bed and hurriedly threw your clothes back on as your heart thundered inside of your chest. Spencer was turning you in. He was on the phone to Luke getting him back here to have you arrested.

You needed to run. 

Your panic was thankfully short lived. Upon rushing out of the bedroom you found a breakfast display much like that he’d left on your doorstep a while ago. A bowl of cereal, a fresh mug of lemon and honey tea and a glass of OJ. This one also had a note to accompany it in his near illegible writing.

I didn’t want to wake you because you looked so peaceful. I’ll be up at the field when you’re awake. Take your time, have breakfast, take a shower or have a bath or something. I’ll always be close by.

Oh and by the way, I love you. 

Your heart soared inside your chest and a smile stretched across your face as you read the words over and over again in your head. You felt a small pang of guilt of thinking even for a second he would turn his back on you. 

You ate the cereal and drank the tea and orange juice before making your way back through to the bathroom. Catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirrored cabinet you spotted the distinctive red blotchy bruise on the front of your throat from Spencer’s lip sucking on your flesh. It made a warmth spread throughout your body at the mere thought.

You brushed your fingers over it a few times, slightly light headed by the way he had marked you. Eventually you turned away and stripped back out of your clothes before hopping in the shower, allowing the water to cleanse you the way your confessions last night had. 

***

Spencer had awoken early, as was the norm for him, and quietly slipped out of bed so as not to disturb you. He showered and washed his hair, one of the harder tasks when only having the use of one hand, and played all the events of the past twelve hours over in his head. 

Having Luke show up here could have been Spencer’s unravelling. If Luke had arrived here prior to Spencer meeting you, the events could have transpired a lot differently. 

Despite it all, Spencer did still love Luke, there was no denying that even from himself. Before you, Luke was Spencer’s only real tangible love. Of course there had been Maeve but there was always a distance between them, he was never able to love her up close. 

Spencer had loved Luke in all the ways he’d ever heard talked about. It was a story book kind of love, the likes of which Spencer never expected to find. Luke was supposed to be the end of Spencer’s story and even sometimes still he struggled to really comprehend that it was over. 

Him showing up here could have been detrimental to Spencer’s mental health. If he hadn’t been for you. 

He knew already, in spite of how little time he’d known you, that you were the big love of his life. And Luke somehow knew it too. 

“You were the love of my life.” 

“I know.” 

“But I wasn’t yours.”

For the last two years Spencer hadn’t been able to let himself consider the way in which his departure hurt Luke. He only had the capacity to focus on his own well-being. 

Maybe that was selfish of him. He disappeared without a goodbye to anyone, he owed Luke a goodbye at the very least. 

But Spencer hadn’t thought about the hurt that would cause, could only reconcile himself with his own need to escape. Seeing Luke made him acutely aware of just how much pain his absence had caused. 

“I expected…maybe I hoped that I wasn’t the only one still pining like an idiot.”

In truth Spencer had been pining, just not for Luke. Spencer had been pining for his old life, perhaps to a degree that included his ex boyfriend. He ached to go back to the time before prison, before he made the decision to go to Mexico. He yearned to do it over, to at the very least tell someone of his plans and not try and go it alone.

But if he hadn’t gone to Mexico, hadn’t gotten arrested and suffered at the hands of his inmates driving him to leave his former life behind he wouldn’t have ended up in Bandera. He wouldn’t have had that run in with Rusty which left him injured at the side of the road.

He would never have met you.

Was he really so in love with you that he would go through all that trauma again in another life if it meant it led to you? That didn’t seem like a rabbit hole that needed traversing and so he cast it from his mind. 

He finished showering and dressed in clean jeans, a grey t-shirt and threw a black flannel shirt over the top while you slept. He ate a bowl of cereal and drank a mug of tea, took his new meds and left you breakfast on the counter before heading out to the stable. 

He took the horses one by one up the field, leaving Rusty for last. He practically had to wrestle her bridle on her as she was still belligerent towards him. She huffed and stomped her hooves aggressively but Spencer was never one to be beaten. 

Eventually he managed to get the thing over her head and lead her out to join the others. Once free to roam she was quick to Willow’s side. Since the trip to Medina Lake the two mares had been inseparable. Spencer had no idea what had transpired to make the two horses become friends but he wished Rusty would warm up to him the way she had his steed.

It occurred to him then that he would probably have to give this place up. With you on the run and on Luke’s radar there was no way the two of you could stay here. Perhaps you could take Willow and Rusty, but Franklin and Wilbur and his cattle wouldn’t be able to follow. Maybe he’d ask around town if anyone was looking to acquire more land and animals to go with it. 

The thought made him a little wistful. He liked his ranch, he liked this life. It had been alien to him at first but in time it had become so beautifully ordinary. Perhaps the two of you could find another ranch somewhere, start over together somewhere Luke or Phil would never find you.

He swallowed that thought down, not wanting to ruin what could be one of his last days here by getting sentimental. He leaned against the fence and watched the horses as they grazed and interacted with one another.

He would surely miss this little slice of paradise.

***

Luke emerged from Grant’s ranch house little over an hour later, his hangover a long distant memory. As he stepped out onto the large porch, he actually had a smile on his face.

“Can’t lie to ya, I’m plumb grateful you decided to come back up here.” Grant smiled at him in the doorway, wearing nothing but a pair of sinfully tight fitting boxers. 

Luke felt himself blushing, something he rarely ever did as he took a last look at the strong body leaning against the door jamb.

Grant’s muscles had muscles, every inch of him sculpted to perfection. He wasn’t Luke's usual type, far from it, but there was something so devilishly alluring about the slightly imposing cowboy. 

And it didn’t hurt that it was some of the best sex he’d ever had in his life. 

“Me too.” Luke confessed, his cheeks burning red. 

“Mighty shame you gotta mosey on back up to the city.” Grant smiled a little sadly at him.

“Yeah, it is.” Luke agreed. “I actually came here to ask for your number, maybe? If there’s any chance you’d wanna stay in touch? I know we live really far apart but, uh, I think that I might…quite like you.” 

His cheeks were even brighter after his admittance and Grant’s smile grew. He reached out and cupped Luke’s jaw in his hand, drawing him closer so he could kiss him. 

“You are one tall drink of ice tea, Luke Alvez.” Grant mumbled against his lips. “And I quite like you too. Gimme ya phone.” 

Luke nodded dumbly and pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Grant. Grant was quick to input his number into the device and hand it back to him. 

“T-thanks.” Luke stuttered. 

“You know I always had a hankering for more than this.” Grant sighed wistfully, casting an open palm across his land. “I was born and raised on this ranch. After my folks died they left this place to me. Never chose this life, it chose me. Always thought I’d get out of the south one day, move to some big city, ya know? New York, LA…maybe even DC. Unless that idea scares ya.” 

“Why would it…why would it scare me?” Luke swallowed thickly at the implication.

“You seem like the jumpy sort.” Grant winked at him. 

Luke sucked in a really deep breath before slowly exhaling. He briefly checked his watch, he was running out time to make his flight and he still had one more stop to make. But he couldn’t pull himself away.

“I was still processing an old break up. It ended suddenly and I never got any closure. But I think I have now, I think I’m ready to move on.” Luke spoke the words out loud and he truly meant them. 

“Well that just makes me wanna slap my mama.” Grant smiled sweetly at him despite Luke’s obvious confusion at his sentiment. “I guess it might be high time for me to reconsider city life. New York, LA…”

“Or DC.” Luke finished him for him.

“Or DC.” Grant nodded, drawing him in for another kiss. 

Luke allowed himself another few moments to be swallowed up by this delicious cowboy before he regretfully had to peel himself away before he missed his flight back home. Although in all honesty, he didn’t think that would have been the worst thing in the world. 

***

You were finishing your tea at the kitchen counter when you heard footsteps on the gravel outside. You smiled to yourself, turning eagerly in your chair, ready to embrace Spencer upon his arrival.

But it wasn’t Spencer you saw heading towards the lodge.

You quickly slipped off the stool to the floor, scrabbling over to the corner you’d inhabited last night while Spencer and Luke had it out. You pulled your knees to your chest, trembling slightly as Luke Alvez’s heavy footsteps climbed the stairs. 

A moment later there was a knock on the door. You held your breath. 

Had you gotten Spencer’s affections all wrong? Was he simply placating you, distracting you so he could call Luke back here? It was imminent. Any minute now he would break down that door and slap his cuffs on your wrists before hauling your ass back to prison.

How could you have been so naive? 

“Spencer?” Luke’s voice carried through the door as he knocked again. “You here, man?” 

You hugged your legs, breathing as shallowly as possible in the hopes he might not realise you were there. If he went looking for Spencer you could quickly make a getaway.

“Look I don’t know if you’re ignoring me or you just don’t wanna talk to me but, uh…” he cleared his throat. “We didn’t forget your birthday. Penelope had a load of gifts FedEx’d out here and she made me promise you’d get them. You know she’d never forgive me if I came home with them. Guess I’ll just leave them here. Happy birthday for Friday.” 

You heard a shuffling and soon after the footsteps took to the stairs again. You dared to get to your feet, crouching down below the window and peaking outside. 

The back of Luke’s head retreated back towards a dark SUV. You watched as he slipped inside of it and then the engine started. It wasn’t long before he was pulling away. 

You frowned to yourself, standing up to your full height. So Spencer hadn’t called him, hadn’t turned you in? 

You exhaled a shaky breath and crept to the door. It could have been a trap but you didn’t think it was. Upon opening the door you saw a pile of gifts wrapped with sparkly bows and bright wrapping paper. On top was a stack of cards. 

Still frowning, you gathered them all up and carried them to the counter. Varying handwriting adorned the multi coloured envelopes, addressed to the likes of Reid, Boy Wonder, Doc and Spence. 

You shook your head. So there was one thing Spencer had kept from you, his birthday. 

You made the decision to hide the gifts away, scurrying up to your lodge and stuffing them away in a cupboard. 

You wanted to do something nice for Spencer, you owed him after everything he’d done for you. Today was Wednesday, Friday was two days away, you were sure you could come up with something before then. You would just have to work fast to put the wheels into motion. 

***

“Remind me again why I can’t come with you?” Spencer’s brows pinched together as he looked up at you with a pout from the couch. 

“Is it really such a big deal? I just want to go on my own.” You rolled your eyes. He was so persistent. 

You needed to go into town and buy some supplies for the small birthday celebration you were planning for him. Yesterday had been busy with cleaning out the stables and barn and you hadn’t had a second alone to contemplate his birthday. It was now Thursday and you just needed to get away from him for an hour or so, but he was being petulant. 

“I don’t like the idea of you going into town on your own.” He grumbled. 

“Why, I’ve done it before? And we both know I can handle myself.” You scoffed. 

“I…those men at the bar, the way they looked at you…I didn’t like it.” His cheeks flushed red. 

You couldn’t help but smile and you sidled closer to him, lowering yourself to sit on his thigh, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Spence, are you jealous?” You smirked at him.

“Yes,” he nodded frantically. “With good reason too, or have you forgotten about making out with Grant?” 

“That was different.” You ran your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “You were adamant we were just friends. I’m fairly certain we’re more than that now. I would never cheat on you Spencer, you understand that right?” 

“Hmm,” he hummed at the feeling of your fingers in his hair. “Might need a little convincing.” 

You chuckled at his whiny words, his lips pouting, desperate to feel yours on his. You relented and offered him a chaste kiss before pulling back. 

“That’s your lot.” You went to stand but suddenly Spencer’s hand was round your waist, holding you down. 

“No, no. Not enough. Not convinced.” He clung to you.

“Is someone a needy boy today?” You laughed, giving him another soft kiss. 

“Hmm,” he nodded. “So needy.” 

You allowed him another kiss and this time his hand flew to the back of your head to keep you close. His tongue was parting your lips within a matter of seconds. You couldn’t pull yourself away even if you wanted to, the ferocity of the kiss rendering you instantly dumb. 

He pulled you properly into his lap so you were straddling his thighs, before his good hand disappeared under your shirt and his fingers brushed across the skin of your back. 

“Spencer,” you mumbled into his lips. “I need to go out.” 

“You don’t need to go anywhere. What you need to do is get rid of some of these clothes.” 

“Spencer,” your tone was warning. 

“Whatever you so desperately need to go out for can wait, surely?” His fingers toyed with your bra clasp beneath your shirt. 

“If you hadn’t been so tired last night and fallen asleep before I’d even brushed my teeth, you could have gotten some then.” You pulled back from his lips and poked the tip of his nose with your index finger. 

“Are you really going to turn me down? When I could freak out at any second, you have to take these good moments when they come, Y/N.” He allowed himself to joke, joking helped him cope. 

Your eyes flit down towards his crotch and the bulge in his slacks. The sight was enough for you to shudder and he knew he had you. 

You cupped his jaw in your hand, rubbing your fingers into his ever growing stubble. He looked at you through large doe eyes. 

“You are so needy today.” You clucked. “What has gotten into you?”

“I have no idea.” Spencer shook his head. “But can we just go with it?” 

“What exactly do you want, Doctor Reid?” You cocked an eyebrow at him and he hissed. 

“Fuck, it’s so hot when you say that.” He pulled you back to kiss you again. “T-touch me? P-please?” 

You moaned into his mouth and grinded against his lap. Your hands wandered down the fabric of his t-shirt until you came to the hem. 

He sat forward so you could lift it over his head, tossing it aside before you helped him remove your own. His fingers were soon back on your bra clasp and he popped it open expertly, practically ripping the garment from your body. 

You sat back, looking at him with a smile. His eyes were unashamedly on your chest. 

“Don’t just stare, Doctor.” You scoffed, reaching into his lap and palming him through his slacks. 

He bucked into your hand with a growl at the same time as he bowed his head, hurriedly taking your nipple into his mouth. 

You closed your eyes as his tongue lapped over your hardened nipple. You stroked him through his pants whilst working the button. 

Once you had them open you reached straight into his boxers and tugged his shaft free of its confines. He hissed again, teeth grazing against your nipple. 

He sat back as you started to stroke him, returning the favour and starting to unbutton your own pants. Much like you he didn’t bother removing them and instead dove his hand straight inside your panties. 

You fisted his shaft at the sensation of his finger brushing over your clit. You kept your eyes on each other firmly. 

“God I love you,” he panted, rolling his hips into your hand. 

“I love you too, Doctor.” You moaned the last word as he pressed against your swollen bud. “And fuck I love those fingers.” 

“I feel the same about your hand.” He nodded. 

A second finger joined his first, using them both in tandem to rub circles on your clit. You puffed out a heavy breath, causing your breasts to bounce and Spencer’s gaze faltered to them. 

“Good god I missed boobs. You have no idea. I am such a boob man.” He was leaning closer again and taking your nipple in his mouth once more. 

You moaned and started to increase your speed on his cock, his own fingers working their magic between your legs. 

You rocked back and forth on his hand whilst he similarly bucked into your own. He was frantically sucking your nipple, intent on bringing you as much pleasure as physically possible. 

It really didn’t take either of you long to orgasm. Somehow the two of you knew each other's bodies so well already that it was such a simple thing for you both to bring the other to your peaks. 

Spencer succumbed first, still suckling on your nipple when he came with a loud groan and bucked into your hand. You felt his come spilling over your hand and probably over his pants too. 

The feeling of his hot seed on your skin and the way he writhed beneath you as you continued leisurely stroking him tipped you over the edge soon after and you shuddered on top of him while your head fell to your chest. 

You collapsed on him, both of you panting loudly and fitfully. He wrapped his arm around you and kissed the top of your head.

“See?” He panted. “Wasn’t that so much better than whatever you were going to do?” 

“I’m still going out.” You mumbled into the skin of his sweat slicked chest. “Just as soon as I can get my legs to cooperate.” 

It was another five minutes before you were able to move and while you redressed and cleaned yourself up, Spencer went back to pouting at you in his disdain for you leaving him alone.

“You were alone for a long time before I came along, you’ll be fine for an hour. You’re a big tough cowboy, remember.” You chuckled, placing a kiss on his lips before heading to the door. 

“I still don’t understand why I can’t come with you.” He grumbled. 

“Because I don’t need a chaperone.” You rolled your eyes. “Read a book or something, time will fly by.” 

He continued to sulk as you headed for the door and swung it open, before closing it behind yourself. Seconds after you left, Spencer started to spiral. The guilt came in waves, thick and fast. His come was still sticky on his stomach, in his pants. He felt sick out of nowhere. 

The thing he felt the most ashamed about was the fact he hadn’t felt ashamed until during the act. He felt guilty for not feeling guilty. 

He allowed himself to forget what had happened to him. How could he ever forget? And just like that he was crumbling, tumbling down into an ether he knew all too well. 

He embraced it, didn’t try to tether himself, didn’t bother to stop the inevitable. He deserved this, he deserved to suffer for letting himself feel an ounce of happiness. 

He wasn’t going to fight it, so instead he let it happen. The anger swelling in his chest, the blurring of his vision. He was ready for it. A part of him welcomed it. 

So he fell into the fringes of reality, no longer in control of his own fucked up mind. Divorce the body from the brain. Detach from a world that had only ever wanted him to suffer. 

Spencer Reid faded away, or at the very least his mind did. And soon all that was left was a shell of himself, a husk of a man who had seen far too much pain. 

He was but an empty vessel. Vacant. Void. Hollow. He surrendered to the momentary bliss he was enveloped into by the promise of detaching from this plane of existence. 

This was why he didn’t want you to leave. He was safe when you were here. When you’re gone anything could happen. 

And so he simply relented to it. He was so far past the point of being broken that he may as well lean into the fray. 

Hello darkness, my old friend. 

@kalulakunundrum @voledart @katrina0-0 @bakugouswh0r3 @prettyboyandthefangirl @zooni92802 @marvellover1819 @babyspiderling

[scrunglepaws]

Tried to fit all my fic ideas on one page, but I still forgot some because they're like... scrawled on random pieces of paper all over my house/in different notebooks/ect. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I tried!

The little branchy-offy things are prequels/sequels of that particular series. Bleeped out things I thought might be spoiler-y to ongoing series. Things with * are super WIP-y titles because I dunno what to call them.

More ramblings under the cut! (Nothing spoilery for the ongoing series; just vague things!)

No Heroes Zone // - I have a lot more generalized worldbuilding, character notes, ect than actual stories. The story ideas are mostly vague/short... Though, I suppose I could stand to write some super short fics. - The exception is an angsty sonighty fic that's basically done, but I just have to fill in all the inbetween, connecty bits. And decide how sonighty-y I really want to go with it. That ship came outta nowhere, I tell ya. - NHZ is really mostly Tails (and Metal) angst, tho. The other day I was thinking about how he tries to latch onto Shadow and even Metal in the absence of having Sonic and was like "Wow, Tails, clingy much? What are you, Nine???" then I felt really bad. T-T; He just misses his brother...!

Kaleidoscope // - The name of this fic is based on an art piece I've been wanting to do for forever: A kaleidoscope of Tails/Nine/Mangey, looking at each other and seeing them each from their own perspective. Because that's the theme of the whole story, funky scifi weirdness aside. But uh, 1) didn't have a decent digital art program for a bit and 2) I'm not good enough at drawing the subtle differences in their appearances to really make it hit how I wanted. Also 3) Tails looks basically the same to all three of them, lmao. - "Mangey Remembers" is Mangey's backstory and "Loneliness*" is... Less of a backstory for Nine, more of a brief showcase of his character in general. Because we already know Nine's whole deal from canon. Same reason Tails doesn't have a backstory- he's supposed to be canon Tails. - "Starless Sky" and "Ruination*" are both poteeeential sequels, but I'm not set on doing them. Ruination would just be a short, noncanon "what if?" bad ending for the heck of it.

Someplace AU (Aquarius) // - Also halfway calling it Aquarius for now because I ended up continuing the first part of the story under that fic name.

- It was originally more focused on Sails, hence Someplace being a play on No Place. But now it's about equally Kit and Sails. I ended up getting SO MANY effing ideas for these dudes, man. ;w;

- "Hollow Existence*" isn't a specific story, but just a sprinkling of scenes/backstory bits that detail why Kit is the way he is. Mostly his relationship with Surge growing up.

- "Sails' Tales" is likewise a collection of random Sails backstory bits. I have a lot more specific/fleshed out things for him, though. BUDDY, did I have fun with the No Place lore. Also, his relationships with Catfish and Black Rose are so cute... ;A;

- The bits to the right are basically going to be chapters in Aquarius. They're vague enough not to be spoilery (other than the blipped ones...)

- "=D?" is a sequel that I'm very excited about. Probably shouldn't say much beyond that.

Everything Else // - CaveTails is a Journey to the Center of the Earth-esque silly, silly thing. That could maybe become a bit more serious? BAsically, I was thinking "Huh, kind of weird that my main kittails fic is with Sails. That'd be funny if I did ones with Nine and Mangey, too. Just for the lulz. Especially the Mangey one." This is the Mangey one. xD Except he's sort of like... Tails AND Mangey at the same time, character-wise? So? :? Also, potentially some wholesome Sonic+Tails moments because I weirdly haven't written any of those yet.

- "Kids" is just a continuation of that goofy Tails Doll+Cream oneshot. Just small ideas for another chapter or two. Cute friendship, fluff, and lots of comfort to make up for the hurt in the first chapter. :3;;

- "Alien*" is what it says on the tin. I have a couple different ideas for how it could go. One of them boots out Silver entirely and had Metal in his place. xD But I might have enough material to write an alien Silver AND alien Metal fic. We'll see whenever I get around to it. :3

- "Nine's Shadow*" is something I've wanted to write ever since I made that joke oc, Stales the Fox aka Zombie Tails variant from the Grim. Probably just a oneshot (or a few short chapters) fic that mostly focuses on Nine being "all alone" after the ending of Sonic Prime.

- "Why is Babies?*" is the second idea I had for a fic. It's just Shadow being awkward and not knowing how to look after a chunk of the main cast that are suddenly tots for unknown reasons. It's very lighthearted, comedic, and cute. Originally a Shadow+Metal fic until I learned more about Eclipse and just HAD to include him. Dude is literally a struggling single parent in canon, how could I not include him in a story about his brother going through something similar? xD Also, I might call this fic "Rascals" as a reference to that one Star Trek episode with a similar premise. Because! Star Trek. 8D

- "The Fifth Element" ... I have put off posting anything about this fic idea for so long because I'm EMBARRASSED IT'S SO STUPID AND CORNY DON'T LOOK AT ME,,, In case you're totally lost, the 1997 film of the same name is my. Favorite movie. So naturally, this was my first idea for a fic. It's so all-over-the-place tonally, though. Obviously, got a LOT of silly, especially the parts that follow the movie almost exactly. But I also added a lot of original bits that help flesh out the characters' relationships. The protag is Shadow, who is very, very soft and introspective in it. Which, like, how did that happen??? But I love it. Metal is his co-lead and is mostly goofy because he's a fish out of water. Sonic is VERY, VERY goofy like goddamn (he's Ruby Rod- if you know, you know). Then there's just the silliest shit ever like Silver. Silver is Shadow's cat. It's stupid, but it's also fun, and maybe even matters to the plot. You don't know. Blaze is the president. Dr. Starline, Surge, Eggman, and The End are in it. Tails has the smallest part of any of my fics, but I think I cast him well. I need to stop now or I never will. Don't look at me. xDD

~

But yeah, as I said, I forgot a lot of other ideas. A few more (still forgetting some, I'm sure): - "Creature from the Black Lagoon" ft. kittails - Steam Powered Giraffe-vibes 50's thing w/ Tails, Cream, and automatons of Kit, Surge, Metal, Belle, Gemerl, ect - Tails Doll trying to be a Real Boy(tm) - Kittails-focused folklore AU with Kit as a kelpie and Tails as a normal mobian. Bunch of other people as fae creatures and villagers, including Starline as the main villain. - Maybe a whispangle oneshot from the above au (Tangle is a mobian, Whisper is. basically a magic wolf? xD) - Knuckles/Tails role-swap

[talk-danmei-to-me]

if you want to write anything horny angsty about ranwan on this beautifully moonlit friday night 🙏

How about Ranwan being horny in the moonlight? With a sprinkle of angst:

...

Mo Ran wrapped his arms around Chu Wanning's waist and rested his head on his shoulder, 'Come on, it'll be fun. I'll make it bigger for you.'

He held him a little tighter, a slight gasp escaped Chu Wanning's throat as he felt Mo Ran's erection pressing against him,

'You don't need my encouragement for that,' he hissed, though he made no attempts to disentangle himself from Mo Ran's embrace.

Mo Ran sighed, hot breath fanning Chu Wanning's neck, 'You won't go to the baths anymore, you say our secret spots are off limits for Xue Meng's sake, where are we supposed to go? Red Lotus Pavillion?'

'Certainly not!'

'Well, we can't keep sneaking off to inns in town, that's even more suspicious. Thats why I suggested my sword. Discretion is key.'

Chu Wanning spun to face him, Mo Ran caught his hand and guided it within his inner robes, until his desire was flush against Chu Wanning's palm.

He opened his mouth to speak but Mo Ran interrupted him, with pupils blown wide he said, 'Help me, Shizun, it hurts.'

Mo Ran failed to hide the shit-eating grin that covered his face as the tips of his Wanning's ears instantly turned scarlet. Chu Wanning snatched his hand away and stepped onto the blade without saying another word. Mo Ran joined him and raised them up, high into the clouds, far from prying eyes, to look upon his beloved by the light of the moon. Chu Wanning grasped the collar of Mo Ran's robes so tightly his knuckles turned white. His mouth was drawn in a tight line as he focused on keeping his breathing steady as the blade they rode took them higher and higher.

Mo Ran leaned in to place a chaste kiss against his shizun's lips, 'Let go, baby,' he tried to capture Chu Wanning's bottom lip between his teeth with another kiss until he said, 'You need to be able to use your hands.'

Mo Ran's own hands were making quick work of the robe that concealed Chu Wanning's body from prying eyes. Chu Wanning took a couple of tentative steps forward, eager to increase the contact between them.

'I'll fall,' he whispered in the breaks between open-mouthed kisses.

Mo Ran laced their fingers together, parting only to press a line of kisses along Chu Wanning's knuckles, 'I won't let you.'

With that, he lowered Chu Wannings hand.

His touch was cautious at first, the terror of being so high up evident in the way his fingers trembled as they wrapped around Mo Ran's leaking cock. It had been too long since he'd felt his beloved's fingers around him. All at once the sensations were too much and not enough, Mo Ran cried out, his hips bucked up into Chu Wanning's hand. Excitement coursed through his body like electricity as he imagined his tight grip was instead his hole and how amazing it would feel to fuck him.

'Shhh,' Chu Wanning warned, the hand that clung to Mo Ran's robes shot up to cover his mouth, 'Someone will hear.'

Mo Ran shook his head, licking a strip across Chu Wanning's palm so he pulled away in surprise, 'Not up here they wont. You're so good to me, too good to me.'

His praise inspired Chu Wanning to pick up the pace, he stroked him faster, 'Stop spouting nonsense,' he warned.

'Can't help it,' Mo Ran breathed as he rocked against him, craving more friction. His fingers turned greedy as they divested Chu Wanning of his outer robes. They fell from the blade to sink in a lake somewhere beneath them. As Chu Wanning turned to follow their trajectory, Mo Ran's release covered his hands.

Before Chu Wanning could say anything, Mo Ran squatted before him, feet firmly positioned on the elongated blade, he grasped Chu Wanning's hips to keep him steady, 'Your turn,' he promised.

[ghost-proofbaby]

GHOST!!!!! I just finished reading the latest chapter of Maroon and this is my only conclusion

GOD GIVES HIS HARDEST BATTLES TO HIS STRONGEST SOLDIERS. AND I'M NOT ONE OF THEM

Eddie is goddamn menace! The way he knows reader wouldn't just give in so he has to pull out the big guns 😭 His smile??? The smirks??? The bratty attitude??? THE TENSION??? It's like I'm seeing a movie play out in my head while reading it 😭

It was a nice fluffy break from the previous really angsty chapters BUT STILL sprinkled with your signature angst SO I ABSOLUTELY LOVED IT 😭 I cannot wait to DEVOUR the next chapter especially now that my 1989 TV brainrot is OFF THE RAILS

Eddie better not pull any cheeky moves in the next chapter OR ELSE 😭 I hate him but I also want him ugh why does this fictional man HAVE ME ON A CHOKEHOLD

is it really one of my stories if we don't have just a little angst, as a treat, every chapter?

it was a nice fluffy break! i can confirm this is a turning point in the fic, and from here on out, there will be a lot more of these fun little breaks. we're gonna see a lot of growth now that we've set that angsty angry foundation - in the relationship, in eddie, in reader, etc. <3 i'm so hyped haha. there's definitely more angst and devastation i have planned that makes my heart hurt, but at least now we have some of our reprieve.

and listen... define cheeky. i mean, would we be that angry if he kept trying to partake in conversation? would we really be that upset if the poor dude grasps onto this coffee date like a damn life jacket?

would we really be that mad if... say... he reminds us how it used to be?

[lunylune]

Hii 👋🏻😁! I saw your post about the WIP tag game and saw that you had a Rise of the Guardians WIP called Nightlight. The title caught my attention and I was wondering if you could tell me a bit about it?

Hi! ^_^

I was hoping someone would give me an excuse to get back to rise of the guardians! It was a story mainly talking about Jack before him and the man in the moon came to earth (spoilers for the novels, I suppose. Though I have never actually read them...)

Just nightlight taking care of baby Manny and then in the present Jack reminising as he now has found a family with the guardians, with some angst over how it seems every family is taken from him. First the Lunar family by Pitch, then his human family by his death, and then nearly the guardians by Pitch again. It is also some bonding with all of the other guardians, but I mainly wrote him and bunny bonding over losing everything you swore to protect and him amd Sandy bonding over once being up there and now here.

Sounds angsty, was angsty, I was still working on the family part but lost steam.

~~~~~~~~~

Snippit:

Little light,

Burning bright,

During midnight,

Keeping away the fright.

In this night, I am glad.

In this night, I won't be sad.

For I have my little nightlight.

~~~~~~~~~

Nightlight was standing at the door, bouncing back and forth on his heels. They told him to wait here, they told him to guard the door. 

How boring. 

He didn't know what was past the door, but he would guard it, he promised he would. Tsarina lunar gave him a pouch of dreamsand, looking extremely tired. "If he kicks up as fuss, a light sprinkle will do." He never asked who this mysterious he was, nor why he was told to guard this mystery person, but he didn't mind. He liked mystery. It was a fun word, mystery, mysteries.

So outside the door he stood, spear behind his back, bouncing from leg to leg, twirling the spear and listening closely. 

Then he heard it.

A cry.

First he looked around, seeing if there was anyone else to deal with this, but the hallway was empty. They went empty more and more often. He went into the room, hesitant, floating as he peaked around the corner of the door. There was still crying. He landed and walked up to the crib.

The prince... why wouldn't they tell him he was to guard the prince. Did they expect him to know? 

He walked closer, peering over the edge at the little one, who upon spotting him had gone silent. "Hi..." He waved to make his point clear. He would bow, but he doubted a baby understood. The small prince giggled, making grabby hands. Now, Nightlight was strong, but he was also terrified of dropping the crown prince of the lunar realm, so instead of doing that, he went to perch lightly on the edge of the crib. He was made of stardust, he was light. Oh what being made of stardust could do for him. "Hi." He repeated in a silent voice, a bit more sure this time. The prince giggled once more, flapping his little hands around. Nightlight was just glad he stopped crying.

"Do you miss your mommy...?" The baby prince babbled, clearly not really understanding much except mommy. Oh, that must be why he was crying… what to do…? He reached out to… well, he didn't really know. Pet the baby? Was that right? But as he did, the little prince grabbed a hold of his hand, gripping tightly onto his pinky.

Oh no.

Oh no the little prince was adorable.

Nightlight didn't know it yet, not then, and not for a long while. But he made a promise then. He would be there for the prince, in whatever way was needed of him, until the end of time itself.

(This was also the first pinky promise ever made, which honestly, cute.)

As tsarina came back, Nightlight had curled himself around the prince, barely fitting in the crib, with her baby clutching the little light's finger still as the sprite watched him, little cloud of dreamsand floating above her baby. Nightlight's gaze shifted sharpy to her as she opened the door a bit farther, before relaxing once more. "We have returned, Nightlight. Thank you for watching over my treasure this night." He crawled out of the crib, smiling awkwardly, holding out the pouch of dreamsand to her, which was still mostly full. "I'm glad you got him to sleep without any fuss. Sorry if it was a bother." He only shook his head rapidly. "I see. Would you like to watch him again sometime?" Rapid nodding and a bright smile, the starlit being nearly bouncing with excitement.

~~~~~~~~~

Looking back... I wrote a lot for this! Such a shame I never posted it, I think it might have been nearly ready honestly. If anyone wants to ask more, feel free!

Tag game post

[mirahuyooo]

Cold Hands, Warm Heart | jjk

Cold Hands, Warm Heart

— Jeon Jungkook loves you and you—in spite of your many attempts and better judgement—love him just as much. 

Word Count: 1,129 Content/s: fLUFF, romance, established relationship, vague historical setting? (1500s, Joseon, somewhere chilly, cloudy , and by the sea—would it be possible? idk T-T), Jungkook is big ol simp, Yn is kinda tsuntsun, a sprinkle of angst, mentions of blood, an immortal loving a mortal, Vampire AU Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

[masterlist] | read more of [The Undying]!

A/N: I nearly forgot to post this LMAO 😭😭😭 It’s not that angsty but daMN thE IMPLICATIONS OF TRAGEDY HITS 😍😍😍 Also, ik vamp aus are usually the other way around, but im living for jk’s vibe in this lolololol anyways! I hope you guys enjoyed this! (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

P.S. Though this can be read as stand-alone, this is part of a drabble series! 👀👀👀

The cold that nipped and numbed his skin wasn't enough to deter him from the only thing that has occupied his mind for the last few months. Though the rough seas made his heart thrum with utter thrill, nothing quite came close to the way his entire being shook with anticipation at the sight of home. 

See, home, for a rowdy lad like Jeon Jungkook, was a desolate town by a freezing sea. Its streets haunted him of the poor child he was, while a certain part of the neighborhood plagued him of the suffering of his family, but over yonder—a little deeper inland, and on the outskirts of town—was a small cottage that everyone whispered about. It was home to a woman that moved there without anyone ever really noticing—a woman whose presence incited jealousy, curiosity, and hostility alike. 

The very woman who had his heart in her hands. 

"Jungkook, is that you?"

Her voice, though soft, was enough to send shivers down his spine with that elated grin appearing across his lips. Not so far from him was the cottage he's been waiting to see for months, and by it's porch stood the woman he loved, in a worn hanbok and thick coat blown gently by the wind. In spite of her simplicity, she makes his heart skip a beat all the same. 

In that instance, Jungkook secured his bag onto one shoulder and picked up his pace, his boots crunching on dead leaves, to engulf her in his arms which blissfully earned him a surprised gasp. Like the menace he is, he steals a kiss as he swung her around and beams up at her with a bunny-like grin. 

"Missed me, jagi?" 

Jeon Jungkook was a charming man that was determined to get past your walls, climbing the damn thing no matter how many times he fell and hurt himself, but he was successful, wasn't he?

Jeon Jungkook has wriggled himself in the confines of your very being and made a home there with no intentions of leaving, what-so-ever. 

Jeon Jungkook loves you and you—in spite of your many attempts and better judgement—love him just as much. 

"Of course, I missed you," you sweetly say as you cup his cheeks and press a kiss onto his nose, laughing as he scrunched his nose. "It's been so long after all…"

It was then that he set you back down to the ground. "Your hands are cold," he notes worriedly, a pout becoming of his lips as he cups your hands into his and guides it towards his mouth to blow some warmth onto them. "Didn't you have mittens?"

Such a notion brews guilt and panic in you, even as you're endeared by his gestures. Oh, if only he knew. 

Rummaging your brain for excuses, you try to alleviate any suspicion or question. "They got too worn," you sheepishly tell him a little white lie, as you gently ease your hands out of his grasp and consciously keep them tucked within your coat. "I turned them into rags instead."

Jungkook, ever the subconsciously clingy bastard, doesn't make much issue with the way you took away your hands from him and easily settles for wrapping his arms around you. "That simply won't do," he declares, clicking his tongue in disapproval. "We have to get you warm—hup!"

A shocked squeal escapes you as he takes his other arm beneath your knees and lifts you in one fell swoop. If any of the town elders were to see this, the two of you would be in such trouble—more trouble than you were already in. 

Such was the folly for loving a reckless man, you suppose—you’re bound to always invite trouble. Jungkook's brute strength was one of the very reasons he managed to make his way up the ranks of their ship, and  often always makes use of it as he pleases. 

But that doesn't make him any less prone to accidents.

The two of you stumble forth a little, Jungkook grunting as he has a little trouble with the balance of having to carry his luggage, your weight, and himself. "Jungkook!" you exclaimed with a smack onto his shoulder as you try and get yourself off of him for his sake. "Perhaps you should let me down?"

Stubbornly, he marched forth and slid the door to your little home open, before finally setting you down. 

That's when you sensed it. 

The smell you knew all too well—craved by your very being. 

Jungkook only further confirms this as he sets his bag onto your small dining table and sheds his thick coat. There on the sleeve of his arm, against the cream color of his shirt, was an all too telling shade of red. Blood. 

Oh. Oh, no. 

You could feel your fangs daring to protrude, your instincts screaming at you to sink them into his flesh but you grip your hands on the shelf behind you. Shaking as you gathered your wits about you, you took a deep breath and cast your eyes down lest they were showing a terrifying hue of red. Thank the heavens you've yet to begin lighting the candles.

Your demons whisper to you in spite of your reminding that you had fed earlier, tempting you to do the unthinkable. What’s deer blood compared to human, hm? Come on—

"Jungkook…" you instead say, voice faint and gritted. "What's that on your arm?"

Your clueless mortal looks down at his arm, sheepishly rubbing at his nape. "I got injured a few days ago on the ship," he tells you, as he thinks to himself. "The wound must've opened when I… carried you…"

A sigh escapes your lips at his guilty confession. "You reckless oaf," you softly scolded with a click of your tongue as you turned away from him and began scouring the room for something to dress his wounds. 

The hunger is subsiding, you feel. Good. That’s good.  

"Your reckless oaf," Jungkook sweetly muses as he knows well to take his seat and behave. His eyes follow you as you move about, adoration radiating off of them.

You go back to your human, back to your 'normal' self as though nothing had happened—as though you haven’t spent a minute or two battling the monster within you. Casting a fleeting smile, you roll the sleeve up his arm and see the previous dressing now marred with blood. 

Reigning yourself in, you begin tending to him as you distract yourself with words. "Yes," you hum with a teasing lilt, "unfortunately."

Jungkook huffs childishly, hissing occasionally in pain. "You love me, though,” he grins, leaning in as if to conspire, “do you not, my sweet angel?"

There's a soft chuckle from your lips at his playful antics but a heavy feeling in your undead heart. How ironic of him to call you an angel when you are what you are—a monster.

"Of course," you tell him from the bottom of your heart. You love him very much. 

Unfortunately.

▷  𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽

𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 : @mwitsmejk @dreamamubarak @bloodline1632​

[drabbles-mc]

Tagging Out (2)

F!Reader x OC Diego Ramirez (Past Relationship: Horacio Carrillo x F!Reader)

Request by @ashlingiswriting​​: request 🙏 a look at Diego Ramírez/Reader within the Tagging Out!verse - up to you whether it's fluffy, angsty, plotty, or whatever! i just wanna watch them interact 🥺

Part 1, Part 3

Warnings: mostly fluff with lil sprinkles of light angst

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: I literally cannot explain the glee that has been flowing through my brain over the fact that you requested an OC story. I’m weeping tears of joy. Finally building out a life for my fave lil dude. Diego Girlies(gn), it’s our time now. 😌

Narcos/Diego Taglist: @ashlingnarcos​ @narcolini​​ @garbinge​​ @mysun-n-stars​​ @nessamc​​ (Since the main pairing is Reader x Diego, I don’t want to tag my whole Narcos Taglist if others aren’t interested. I tagged people who have shown interest in the past, but if you want to be added I’m more than happy to put you on there! Steve and Javi become much larger facets in this story moving forward as well.)

The apartment was silent when Diego walked in, all the lights off except for the lone light that dangled above the kitchen counter. The deep sigh he let out snuck up on him as he shut and locked the door behind him. He dropped his bags by the door before unlacing his boots to leave them there too. Those were things he could take care of in the morning. 

Making his way over to the kitchen, his original plan was just to shut the light off and head to bed, too exhausted and gutted from the day to think about eating much of anything. But then he saw the note you stuck to the fridge, clearly scrawled on the back of the closest scrap paper you could find, as both your notes often were. This one was on the back of an old receipt. 

Pulling it off the fridge, it got a tired but warm smile out of him, "Leftovers in the fridge for you. Don't burn the place down. xoxo"

He was able to follow the one simple instruction you gave him, and soon enough he was tip-toeing into the room as quietly as he could. Quietly making his way over to his side of the bed, he left a trail of clothing behind him as he went. He paused before sinking down onto the mattress, taking a moment to look at you, still able to see you even in the darkness. He huffed out an almost silent chuckle as he realized he was going to have to try and wrangle some of the covers back from you without waking you. 

Finally lying down next to you, he took a minute to simply just lay, staring up at the ceiling and trying to process everything that the day had thrown his way. There was no escaping it now, but it still didn't quite feel like the reality of it all had sunk in. He wondered when it would. 

Taking a deep breath, he rolled onto his side and started to look for a way to unravel you just enough so that he would have some blanket for himself. He was careful as he started to free some of it from your grasp, doing his best not to disturb you. You mumbled and grumbled a few times, but didn't really stir, and he had to admit that his chest felt a little lighter at the entire scene, the ridiculousness of it. 

He finally managed to get enough cover for himself, letting his body sink down into the mattress a little more. As much as he didn't want to wake you, he wasn't going to deprive himself of the small yet monumental comfort of having you so close. He reached and rested his hand on your hip, allowing the warmth from your skin to radiate into the palm of his hand. He didn't try to pull you closer, just soaking in the proximity as he let his eyes shut. 

You weren't really awake, but you came to just enough to put your hand over his, your body going through the motions of scooching closer to him on the mattress until his back was flush against your chest. You could feel his hum of approval against your skin as he placed a lazy kiss to your shoulder. 

"You're late," you mumbled tiredly, not that it mattered because you'd gone to bed without him anyway. 

He chuckled softly, "I know. I'm sorry– long day."

You hummed understandingly, "I know. How'd it go?" your voice was still gravelly with sleep. 

He sighed, letting his forehead rest against your shoulder, "It went."

"You wanna talk about it?" you tried to sound more alert than you were. 

"In the morning," he kissed your shoulder, "Go back to sleep."

You didn't need to be told twice. Still, before you slipped back off to sleep, you mumbled out, "Proud of you, Diego," giving his hand a tiny squeeze. 

It didn't remedy everything, but they did seem to be the magic words because soon enough he was slowly starting to fall asleep right beside you. After an entire day spent on edge, wanting to shut everything out, he was finally able to.

When the alarm clock started buzzing the next morning, he didn’t even open his eyes as he reached over and turned it off. He let his face stay buried in the pillow for a few moments longer before turning and reaching across the mattress for you. The only thing that got him to open his eyes was the fact that the other side of the bed was empty, the blanket haphazardly kicked lower on the bed.

He forced himself upright, dragging his hands down his face in an attempt to help wake himself up. Leaning back against the headboard for a moment, he listened for you. Sometimes he would wake up to the sound of the radio, music flowing quietly and just barely reaching the bedroom from the living room. Other times he’d wake to the sound of you in the kitchen, busying yourself with whatever you were deciding to make that morning, or he’d hear the shower down the hall. It was quiet this time, though.

Still in a sleepy daze, he got out of bed and made his way toward the kitchen. As he got closer, he could smell the coffee you were brewing and he immediately felt more ready for the day. He rounded the corner into the kitchen to see you standing there braced against the counter, staring at the slow drip of coffee into the pot. The old, oversized t-shirt you were wearing almost completely hid your pajama shorts. Diego smiled as he walked up behind you, slipping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Morning,” you could hear the sleepiness in his voice.

You smiled, taking one hand off the counter and resting it over his, “Morning,” you drummed your fingers against his knuckles, “You sleep alright?”

He nodded, “Yea.”

You chuckled knowingly, “Never enough, though, hm?”

He laughed, kissing your shoulder, “Never enough.”

That was the last thing the two of you said as you each waited for the coffee to brew. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to focus on every other sensation around you instead. The smell of the coffee, the warmth of Diego’s skin soaking through the flimsy cotton of your shirt, the sounds that the coffeemaker always made every morning that made you certain that each day was the day it was finally going to give out but never did—it felt like home.

The few minutes that it took the coffee to struggle through the brewing process came to an end, a rare moment when it felt like it didn’t take quite long enough. You opened your eyes, chuckling quietly to yourself at the way Diego refused to untangle himself from around you as you reached and opened the cabinet, pulling out coffee mugs for the both of you.

“I’m assuming you want some, yea?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

He laughed, lifting his chin from your shoulder, “Yea, please,” he unwound his arms from around you, letting one drop back to his side while his other hand came to rest on your back between your shoulder blades.

You filled one mug and handed it over to him, the smile curling his lips offsetting the tiredness still clinging to the rest of his features. You poured your own cup before putting the pot back and reaching towards the back of the counter for the sugar bowl. After scooping and stirring a few spoonfuls into your cup, you offered the bowl over to Diego, raising your eyebrows in a silent offer. His smile stretched a little wider as he shook his head, opting to drink his as it was, a notion you could never wrap your head around.

You gave yourself a minute to drink your coffee and not do anything else before setting about pulling together something quick for breakfast. Your coffee mug was never far as you cooked. Diego lingered close as well, leaning against the counter out of your way, watching as you went through motions that seemed so second nature to you.

“So,” you asked as you turned the stove on, “do you want to talk about yesterday?”

You might’ve been half asleep when he got home, but you still remembered the brief exchange between the two of you. You hadn’t expected all of it to go smoothly, per se, but you hoped that it wasn’t too catastrophic. You hoped that Carrillo didn’t let a transfer request turn into a termination. Considering the fact that Diego was still up and out of bed early, you assumed that that wasn’t the case. If he didn’t want to get into it, you weren’t going to push it, but you couldn’t not follow up.

He took a deep breath, staring down into the coffee mug cupped between his hands like it was going to tell the story for him. “I got transferred,” he didn’t say it with any finality, and you knew that there was more to it already.

“Where to?” the thought crossed your mind for a moment that Carrillo decided to be cruel and send him as far as he was allowed to.

He laughed, but the sarcasm in it was palpable, “Not far.”

“That…that’s good, though, yea?”

He gave a slow nod, “I mean, yea. But,” he blew out what little air he was still holding in his lungs, “it’s not about where,” he paused, drumming his fingers on his coffee mug in brief hesitation. Looking over at you, he said, “He partnered me with Murphy and Peña.”

You couldn’t get control of your facial expression fast enough, eyes growing wide, “Oh.”

“Yea,” he pressed his lips into a thin line for a moment, “And I, I know they’re good agents. I know I can learn a lot from them, but Jesus, they’re—"

“They’re almost as much Carrillo’s men as the Search Bloc officers,” you finished his sentence with a shake of your head.

His shoulders dropped, partially from defeat, partially from relief that you knew exactly what he was talking about, “Exactly. They weren’t, uh, they weren’t thrilled,” he let out something resembling a hollow laugh, “They didn’t have much to say about it when I dropped some of my things off yesterday.”

You turned back to the stove as you tried to get your thoughts in order, “Did you put a preference down?”

“No,” he chuckled, “Not like he would’ve given it to me anyway.”

A tired smile crossed your face for a moment, “That’s true,” neither of you said anything for a minute, letting the information sit in the air, each of you processing it a little more fully. You took another sip of your coffee before clearing your throat, “Are you planning on staying?”

He looked at you, slightly confused, “Or, what?” he paused, thinking on it, “Leaving? Asking for another transfer?”

You shrugged, “Can you? If you wanted to, I mean? Would Carrillo still be the one approving it?”

“He’s still the Colonel,” he sighed, swirling the coffee around in his mug, “And besides, I don’t want to leave before I even start.”

You smiled over at him even though you still felt bad for the road he was about to set off on. He was right that Steve and Javier were good agents, but you were also right in saying that the two of them would have more loyalty to Carrillo than to Diego. You knew the two of them well, you’d even go so far as to say that you were relatively close with them—or, as close as you could be with two men who were essentially your boyfriend’s colleagues. But that didn’t matter anymore. If anything, it was going to work against both you and Diego. The two DEA agents hadn’t spoken much to you at all since you and Carrillo had split, and you could only imagine the versions of the stories that they heard. You wondered how hard that was going to come down on Diego’s shoulders now that they were all put on the same team together.

Diego could see the worry on your face, and while he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t have, what he assumed, a lot of the same concerns you did, he also knew that there was very little either of you could do about any of it at this point.

“Hey,” he reached out and gently touched your arm for a moment, “whatever it is, it’ll be fine.” Part of him wanted to say, “If I could handle reporting directly to your ex all these months, I think I’ll be able to handle being on the same team as his friends,” but he couldn’t be sure that the statement would come off the way he wanted it to.

What burned you was the fact that the three of them probably would’ve made a great trio if the circumstances had been different. And they still could be, sure, but there was going to be a long acclimation process. Figuring out trust and boundaries among the three of them wasn’t going to be a quick feat, you knew that for certain. They’d get there, though, you had to have faith in that at least.

“They are good agents,” you were trying to choose your words carefully.

“I know.”

You turned the stove off, turning to face him head-on, “And you’re a good officer. Don’t let them forget that. Because,” you shook your head, “they will try to forget that.”

Diego chuckled before setting his coffee cup down, opening the cabinet above his head to grab a plate for each of you, “I think that for a while, it’s not going to matter how good I am.”

You managed a smile, “It matters, Diego. Besides, if nothing else, them seeing that you actually know what the hell you’re doing might not cure their dislike but it will shut them up a little bit.”

He took a deep breath as he handed the plates over to you, “On the bright side,” he grabbed silverware from the drawer while you portioned out the quick meal you’d whipped together, “you’ll only be a couple floors away.”

You laughed, nodding, “That’s true,” you handed him a plate, “We can’t drive in together, though.”

His brows furrowed in confusion, “No? Why not?”

You chuckled as you carried your plate over to the table, “Because you always leave late, and I don’t want to be stuck at the office for that long.”

He laughed, “I’m not always late.”

“Hmm,” you shook your head, smiling as he sat down across from you, “Close enough to always. I’m rounding up.”

He smiled at you, feeling a little better about it all despite the fact that he knew it was going to be an uphill battle. It was the last that you two talked about it as you ate and set about getting ready for the day.

You hadn’t really been joking when you said that the two of you should take your own cars. Aside from the reason you’d given him earlier, you also knew that things were already tense enough because the two of you were together. You were fairly certain that showing up together wasn’t going to do anything to put those fires out, you didn’t say that part out loud, though. In light of all that, you each grabbed your keys on your way out the door.

Once you unlocked your car, pulling the driver’s door open, you turned back around to Diego. He had a decent poker face, but you could still feel his apprehension. You couldn’t say that you blamed him.

Draping your arms over his shoulders, you pulled him into a hug. Pressing a tender kiss to his neck you said, “Like you said—whatever it is, it’ll be fine.”

He squeezed you a little tighter, “I know,” pulling back, he kissed you on the lips, smiling at you when it ended, “Since I can’t do that once we’re there.”

You laughed, “You’re right,” you gave him a quick peck on the lips, “Drive safe.”

He nodded, walking off towards his own car, “You too.”

The two of you rolled into the parking lot at the same time, which obviously wasn’t a surprise. Out of habit, you almost wanted to walk in with him, but you knew that would defeat the whole purpose of driving in separately. You lingered a beat by your car, giving Diego the opportunity to walk in ahead of you. 

He stopped, looking back at you and shaking his head, “C’mon.”

“Diego—" you started to protest but he cut you off.

“It’s not like they don’t know,” his tone was even, knowing there was no getting away from whatever was going to come his way.

You sighed, not wanting to press the issue and also knowing deep down that he was right, “Right.”

He held the door open for you, offering you a reassuring smile as you walked through. Both of you made your way toward the elevator. You reached out and hit the up arrow, fighting the natural instinct to slip your hand into his as the two of you stood there. You wondered if he was battling with the same thing.

The bell dinged and the doors slid open. The two of you stepped into the empty elevator and thankfully, no one else followed behind you. You each hit the button for the floor that you needed to go to, and you knew that he was going to be getting off the elevator first, only two floors beneath you. The elevator started to rise and you took the privacy of the small space to reach out and give his hand a reassuring squeeze, a brief gesture that wasn’t accompanied by any words, a gesture that he returned by squeezing your hand back before it fell back to his side.

The elevator reached his floor and he looked over at you, flashing you a smile as the doors slowly opened, “I’ll try not to be too late.”

You chuckled, “I won’t hold my breath.”

He stepped off the elevator and you watched as he walked, unable to miss the fact that Steve and Javier were standing by their desks, already wrapped up in conversation. They’d stopped when the elevator doors opened, looking over to see who it was. You saw the looks that they gave Diego, and also the looks that they gave you. Their anger with you would have to die off eventually—they didn’t get enough out of holding onto it. You just hoped that the same would be true for their feelings towards Diego.

A weak smile crossed your face out of habit. Javi didn’t acknowledge it as he turned his attention to Diego, but you could’ve sworn that you saw a flicker of something on Steve’s face, and it gave you a little bit of hope. As much as you wanted to see what happened next, the elevator doors shut again and you were left on your own. Letting out a deep sigh, you leaned back against the wall and shut your eyes until you heard the ding letting you know that the short trip up the next two floors was over. As the doors opened again, you stood up straight, putting on the most convincing smile you could as you stepped out and onto the floor, as ready as you could be for whatever the day had in store.

[another-fantasy-world]

5:1 with Natasha Romanoff

GIF isn’t mine

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Title: The 5 Times Natasha Held Her Tears Back, And The One Time She Couldn't

Pairings: (Romantic) Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: Angst. Just pure angst. Maybe a sprinkle of Fluff. Major Character Death

Reader Pronouns: She/They, (I don't even think I put the reader's pronouns in, but it's what I was thinking of.)

Word Count: 5065 words

Author's note: I was feeling angsty these past few weeks so why not? I think this is all the angst I have stored in my body for this month. I'll go back to writing fluff now. I sincerely apologize for this.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

I.

You hated this.

Of course you did. SHIELD managed to destroy what you considered a home. It wasn't the best, they made you fight each other, they made you sit in a chair, electrocuting you or injecting you with weird chemicals. But you were their best, the best in that institute, and now you would have to fight for the top spot again.

“You. You're facing our newbie. We need to test her strength.” This too old to be alive, bulky man pointed at a brunette girl, who was now shaking.

“Let's see if you are what they made you out to be.” Madame B uttered as the guy pushed you to the center.

“Begin.” She said, her eyes focused on your movement.

You begin by circling the brunette, sizing her up. The perks of the power you were born with is that you can easily see their weak spots, parts that would make them cry out for mercy that you'll never give.

She begins the fight with a fatal mistake, running at you with her fist almost hitting your face, you caught the fist and twisted it just enough for her wrist to be broken. She didn't scream, which was disappointing.

You decided to do the next move, still holding her broken wrist, you held her elbow and flipped her onto her back, knocking the air out of her.

“Stand up.” You glared at the brunette, pissed that she was knocked down way too easily.

And she stands up, hiding her broken wrist behind her back as she fought with her legs and feet instead. Blocking a high kick, you held her right foot and slammed your elbow to her knee as hard as you can, making her leg bend in an unnatural way, this time making her scream in pain as she fell down to the ground.

“Eliminate the weak.” Madame B's voice echoed in the room

“Understood.” You replied, kicking the brunette so her face is on the ground. No matter how hard they train and brainwash you, you refused to see the face of your victims as they died, so you always turn their head the opposite way. She cries and begs for mercy, and you smirk at her pathetic attempts of surviving. Should've fought better then.

Producing a dagger from your thigh, you straddled her hips and plunged the dagger deep into where you know her heart is, making blood pool around her.

“Hmm.” Madame B hummed, her body language shows her positivity.

“Fine. We'll take her in.” Madame B said to your previous handler

You stand there, bored out of your brain as people clean the mess you made.

“Natalia.” The name Madame B mumbled brought you back to reality as a gorgeous redhead made her way to you.

“She's going to be the one you'll see frequently. Both of you are going on missions, so get along girls. I can't have our greatest assets kill each other.”

“Natalia.”

“Y/N” you accepted her handshake, her tight grip on your hand as she pulls you close.

“You'll regret killing her.” her voice faltered, giving away that she's close to sobbing her little heart out.

“The weak has no place in this world. It's kill or be killed, Natalia.” You bit back, your grip also tightening

As your handler led you away to a cell specifically made for you, You could swear you heard Natalia say something.

You turned back to see Natasha's beautiful green eyes lined with tears she desperately pulled back.

“Remember me.” She mouthed, tilting her head up to prevent the tears from falling.

It was the first time you saw Natalia hold her tears back

II.

You don't know how to feel.

Natalia escaped the Red room. You were extremely proud of her for escaping this hell. But you were pissed that she didn't even try to inform you of it.

You had been in a mission, an attempt for you to forget about the bond you and Natalia had, It didn't work, because the second you landed, you teleported to her room. A new power that you obtained from them, only to find her bed occupied with another. You grit your teeth and opted to kill this girl that's laying on your beloved's bed.

“Silence. Don't waste your time. She is not here, and killing that girl will not erase that feeling in your heart. We have another mission, let all your frustration out on that.” Your new handler said. This handler was much more gentler than the last one you killed, and you refrained from killing her because of that. She had become a mother of sorts.

“Another mission? I just got back.” You shook your head.

“You need to. I think you'll be interested in this one. Budapest” She hands you a file.

…and Natalia's face was plastered on the file.

“What is this?” You grit out

“Natalia joined SHIELD.”

The anger you felt was what led to where you are now.

“Y/N! Stop! Listen to me!” She grunts as you both land blow, after blow. You, letting all your frustrations out with your body, and her defending herself

“Why should I? You left me. YOU BETRAYED ME!” You say, your thoughts clouded

“They're using you! Fuck. They only see you as an asset for fucks sake!” She winces in pain as your dagger nicks her face, blood dripping from the wound on her face

“I know. So come and save me.” You mumbled when you had her in your arms, a dagger on her throat, threatening to slice it open.

“...I can't” She says, holding back her tears, her hands trying to find your other hand, trying to find comfort in this sick reality

“Then so be it.” You say with finality, hearing your handler say that the mission was complete, and you fulfilled your role of being the distraction.

You drop Natalia, her hand on her throat, trying to stop the bleeding. You both know it wasn't lethal, but it was still bleeding a lot.

“Be careful Natalia.” You whispered, before turning away from her, refusing to see her teary eyes. The sharpshooter was by her side in an instant, making you wish that it was you comforting her, not this man named after a bird.

Natalia can't help but stare at your retreating figure, guilt, regret, anger and sadness weighing her down. 8 years of training with each other, 8 years of flirty missions that would get you both punished, and 8 years of friendship, thrown down the drain, all because she refused to fight for you, all because she was following the rules set for her. It was then she realized, SHIELD isn't that much different from the red room and HYDRA.

Natasha held her tears back once again.

III.

You felt excited for once.

After years of boring, too easy missions that were given to you, you were finally qualified enough for a mission with the Avengers, as if mass murdering people and assassinating people weren't enough qualification. HYDRA suspects that the Avengers will interfere with this specific mission, so they sent you to be a guard of some sort. You complained at first, wanting to move around and not be a body guard, but now you were relieved that your handler persisted you take this role.

“Come here often?” The green-eyed woman says, ordering herself a cocktail.

“No. Not at all. My sister was invited to this whole thing, and I just tagged along. Her personal bodyguard if you will.” You say, facing her and sipping your drink

“Natasha.” She chuckles, extending her hand

“Y/N” You chuckle back, she changed her name again.

“You never changed your name?” She asked, scooting closer to you, sipping on her orange-colored cocktail.

“It's part of my charm, why change it?” You smirked

“What are you doing here, Silence.” She says, her playful attitude disappearing, a frown now placed on her pretty face.

“Ouch, Natalia. Busting out the professional nicknames, that's painful. And giving up on that flirty tactic already? My, my. You must be getting rusty then.” You say, clutching your heart in faux pain

“I don't have time to waste, Y/LN. What. Does. HYDRA. Want. From. Samantha. Durkink?” You chuckled at her attempt of fishing out info

“Why don't you ask Samantha herself?” You say, lifting your glass to the target's general direction.

Natasha's eyes followed the direction you pointed, and there she was, the target, dressed in a dark violet medieval era-like gown, her eyes then roamed around to the delicately decorated ballroom, fit for a royal ball.

You watch her as she tried to get through the crowed that was dancing, laughing lightly when you see her struggling. You then laughed once again when a man mistook her for a dancing partner and instantly pulled her to dance, the crowd was dancing together, all in sync, which amazed you.

After a few minutes, you decide to take Natasha out of her misery.

“May I cut in?” You ask the man who was dressed like that one prince from that movie, Ice or something. You only saw it when you babysat Red room candidates.

He nodded and you slipped Natasha into your arms, your hands on her waist and palm, while her hands were on your shoulder and palm. The two of you waltz quietly for a few minutes, before you leaned into her ear, the one you knew had her comms.

“You have approximately 7 minutes to leave the building with your team. I personally dislike what they are about to do, but HYDRA has found a rather unorthodox way of burning evidence. And as much as I don't like it. It's a way easier way of...burning the evidence away with a bang. You understand right?” You pat her head, looking into her eyes fondly, letting your guard slip for just a second.

“I'm proud of you.”

And that was all Natasha could hear for the past hour. Even as she stared at the now burning mansion, the screams of people that were trapped in that building resonating in the air. Even as she was being suffocated by her team's emotions because the mission failed. All she can hear and see is you. Your eyes burning with passion she had never seen before, not even in missions, you always had an emotionless look on your face, much like hers. And yet, there you were, under the chandelier, looking at her like you care for her, looking at her like she's your world, looking at as if you...love her.

And that was what led Natasha to hold her tears back, even if she was in the privacy of her own room, her eyes on the small rectangular box you gave her.

She refused to believe that you love her. No. Love is for children. Love isn't meant for her. Love isn't meant for you. Love. No. She doesn't deserve love. Especially not from you.

She held her tears back harder when she realized. When all the “unexplained circumstances” happened, she never found who caused it. And now she knew. Now she realized.

You never stopped caring for her after all these years.

IV.

You care for her

After months of beating yourself up, you finally accepted it. You care for this reckless, red-haired assassin, who always seem like she never gets her life together. This green-eyed goddess who can never catch a break. This assassin who betrayed you. This woman who babysits Gods. This woman, who's sleeping beside you, her face oddly peaceful and calm, a complete opposite for what you were feeling.

“Idiot. Spending time with other idiots has made her an idiot herself.” You mumbled, flipping a page of this random fantasy story that's been translated to Russian.

“Hmmn. You were talking shit there Y/LN?” She stirred

“I was. You slept for 2 days Nat.” You say with no emotion in your voice.

“So mean.” She says, reaching around you, pulling you close and buried her head on your stomach. You were taken aback. She was never like this...unless

“What happened yesterday Nat? You know how forgetful I get.” You smiled at her sweetly

“Well, we were on a mission in Indonesia, and you killed your handler to give me ice cream.” She smiled

…ah- her brain must've reset itself when she almost drowned

“...I'm sorry Nat.” You say, a frown on your face.

“When did you start calling me Nat?” She asks, to which you just smirked

“Free, Proven, Easy, Loyal, Secret, Care, Loyal, Love.” You spoke in Russian, and Natasha's eyes turned blank, before they turned into panic

“Y/N? Oh my god.”

“...You have become annoyingly American.” You scoffed, annoyed that her first words after being brought back to reality are that of a Typical American

“Well, I at least needed to pass as American born or else I would've been deported you ass!” She goes to punch your face, but you blocked it with your book.

“Not the face Natalia.” You mumbled, rolling your eyes when she winced in pain

“Don't force your body. You have a flesh wound from the bullet that grazed you.” You say, placing your book on the nightstand and guide her to lay down.

“You promised not to use those words unless needed, Atrax.” She grunts, a cold hard glare directed to you.

“And I knew you wouldn't like living in a false reality, Widow.” You thumped her head with your palm.

“...That reality is a dream we once knew.” She mumbles, tears threatening to fall

You hold her face, wiping the tears before they fall. You knew her as much as she knows you. She hates showing weakness, She hates crying, So you vowed to never let her cry in front of you again.

“It's a dream that I can make a reality.” You nodded

“what?” She asks after a while, surprised

“If I could escape this hell, I would. And I'll bring you along with me, even if I have to tie a rope on your waist. We'll travel to a peaceful land far away and build ourselves a beautiful house with a backyard. Maybe a kid or two. But no more than that. 2 dogs, 2 cats, 3 spiders and 1 snake” You quoted yourself from 10 years ago, making her chuckle, but abruptly stops

“We were young.” She says, frowning

“And?”

“We were foolish Y/N. We were kids!” She shouts in your face

“...ah. I understand. You think that I break my promises? Well newsflash widow. I didn't break a single promise I made!” A look of anger in your face, you drag Natasha by her uninjured arm and pulled her right in front of the bathroom mirror.

“Look at me. Look at you. I promised you that someday you'll look at ballet as a form of comfort and not remind you of the pain it caused, You dance whenever you feel the need to cry! I promised you that you'll get out of that damn red room with or without me, And look what happened! Granted that I wasn't the one to get you out, I made sure you never returned. I promised that someday we'll look into each other's eyes without a dagger on each other's throat...” You trailed off, her green eyes tearing up again.

“I promised that I'll never let you cry in front of me. And I intend to fulfill that.” You say, wiping the tears before they fell once again

“It's not crying if tears don't fall.” You quote her from 12 years ago

And at that moment, Natasha let herself indulge in this sinful dream of hers. Her lips touched yours as moonlight made her bare skin glow, her taking what's rightfully hers, sitting on her own throne. The sweat trailing down her skin as quiet music erupt from both of you. You never wanted this moment to end, but alas the sun rose, and it was time to face reality once again.

“I can't...” She says the moment the sun shone through the curtains.

“I understand.” You say, standing up to get yourself dressed

“I'll leave you with a choice then. If you change your mind.” You softly say to her, left hand clutching the bag that you need and the other holding her face softly.

“See you in a minute.”

Natasha once again held her tears back, her hands trembling as it held the two envelopes that seem so heavy. One containing fresh, new, fake identity and a plane ticket to God knows where. And the other held a car key, a house key and some money to aid her travel back to the compound. Well the choice is heavy. To leave the Avengers behind, and rekindle a lost flame in a faraway land, or to stay, and continue to fight and to protect.

In the end, Natasha chose them.

V.

You felt at peace.

A couple months at a quiet town did wonders to your mental health. You were now playing piano in an old studio made to teach young students ballet. It was now abandoned, but you bought it, just for the nostalgia

“I knew I'd find you here.” You hear her voice echoing, You stopped playing Swan Lake, OP.20, Act II for a second

“Hmmhmmn. You've always been the better spy out of both of us.” You say, switching your piece to The Nutcracker: Dance of Sugar-Plum Fairy

“Ah. My outfit isn't fit for ballet” She says

“That never stopped you before, Widow.” You chuckled, smiling wider when she started to dance to the rhythm you set.

“Why didn't you stay there?” She asked while floating around the room, your piece now switched to The Sleeping Beauty, Ballet Suite, Op.66a: V. Valse.

“Not my scene, as I hate to admit. I missed the chaos. But I miss the silence too. It's a tough choice.”

“Trust me. I know.” She scoffs, then her eye widens at how insensitive that sounded

“Heh. Of course.”

“Switch to Giselle, will you?” She asks, her toes supported her weight even though she's not wearing pointe shoes

“Bossy.” You mumbled, but complying anyways

And there you both reveled in the bond you both had. Both expressing your feelings in the way that you knew the most. Music and Ballet. Your feelings of Regret, merging with Natasha's, Your feelings of Shame, battled Natasha's sadness, Your pride shoved down your throat as Natasha also shoved hers. As the melody you played turned into a much softer tune, Natasha's love vibrated through the air, as did yours, The feelings you held back came crashing down as you too try to hold back your tears.

There was no need to explain to each other. You both knew. Well, you sure hope she knew what you think. After all, you left her a letter in each envelope. And while she never sent a letter back, she had the habit of hacking into your morning radio and deliver small messages through Morse code, leaving you to figure out her puzzle of a message.

“You're happy. I like that.” You say, abandoning your piano to approach her

“I'm happy because of them.” She says, her green eyes staring back at yours

“Good. I'm glad. You seem different now.” Your eyes filled with tears, turning your back to her as you wiped the tears from your eyes

“Dance with me?” You take the hand on your shoulder, and let her guide you in dancing. Waltz has always been your favorite.

“I felt like we've done this before.” She says, her head dropping on your shoulders

“Perhaps in another life.” You concluded, spinning her

As you continue dancing to the silent music, you can't help but think how much you loved this woman. And that you could never handle the pain of letting her go again.

You also knew what this felt like. Farewell. Last Dance. You held her closer.

Natasha was saying farewell.

Natasha was saying farewell.

Natasha was saying farewell.

Natasha was saying farewell.

Natasha was saying farewell.

But you can't let her go. Not now. Not when you just accepted that you do love her, you're in love with this divine being, you're in love with Natasha Romanoff.

Even when no one taught you how to love, even when you knew love is for children, even when you know she's too good for you, even when she's an entirely different person when she's with you, her gentle gazes drown you, even when you know you're not worth of even touching her. You still accepted that you are in love. You are in love with Natalia Alianovna Romanoff.

And you know she feels the same. So why?

Why?

Why was she walking away now?

Why?

Why?

Why are you letting her get away?

Why?

Why?

Why did you let her break your peace?

Why?

Why did you let her break you?

“Take care of yourself.”

Four words and the sight of her back getting farther and farther away is enough to completely shatter your already broken heart.

Madame B was right. Love is for children.

Natasha didn't need to look back.

She couldn't

Not when your sobs ring throughout the whole studio

Natasha once again held back her tears.

Natasha once again held back the words.

Natasha once again held back her feelings.

Natasha once again held back her tears.

She can never get you back now can she?

Natasha held her tears back.

I.

Pain. Dark. Cold.

That was all you felt right now.

Hours ago, you fulfilled another promise you made when Natasha left you. To make her feel pain. To make her feel the pain she caused you. You fought the Avengers one by one. Catching them off guard and capturing them. Creating cells for them and them only.

You created an elaborate trap for all of them.

You wanted all of them to feel your pain.

You wanted them to know the feeling.

The feeling. The feeling of pain you felt every time Natasha chose them over you.

The feeling of pain when they stole Natasha over and over again.

But you knew you were only making excuses for yourself.

Who could blame you?

Well, all of them apparently.

And then you saw how Natasha fought for them. Screaming for you to let them go. Her resolve never faltering as she fought, taking the floors of the building by storm. Reaching each area where you keep each Avenger captive.

It was then you knew.

They were the villains in your story. Always in the way of you getting your princess back.

Oh how blind and foolish you were.

You were always the villain in their story. The ex-hydra agent who killed more than The Winter Soldier and Black Widow combined. You were the evil sorcerer.

And them? They were the royal knights protecting the Queen.

You scoffed at yourself. Of course you would make a grave mistake. You let yourself drown in the emotions you weren't supposed to have anyways.

“That heart is what'll get you killed. Mark my words, Silence.” Madame B's last words before you killed her.

You deactivated the whole building before leaving a note for Natalia.

You teleported to the rooftop, letting the air kiss your skin. You let yourself enjoy.

Because for once in your life, you don't know what happens next.

“... Atrax.”

“Widow.”

“How could you?”

“...A circle has no beginning nor end. What happens in the beginning shall happen again in the end to fulfill the cycle.” You say, drawing your dagger and turning to face her in all her glory.

The Sun's rays gently touches her skin, leaving her glowing slightly. This. This is one of the many memories you wish to remember when you get reincarnated once again.

She pulls out a familiar dagger. The one you gave her before you blew up that one mansion.

“Are we really going to end this way?” She says, anger and pain shone in her eyes as her face mimicked an emotionless stare.

“It would seem so.”

And so the clashing of blades began. Punch after punch. Kick after kick. Takedowns after takedowns. You don't want to lose. And neither does she.

You both then engaged into what you can call, the dance of death. With the clashing daggers as the music and combat as your choreography.

And then Natasha changed the rhythm. Using her dagger to slice your cheek, just as you did her in Budapest. But that also caused her to open a weak spot of hers.

Ignoring the pain, you decide to change the rhythm as well. Moving like a snake, tangling your feet to hers, making her fall down. You then slammed your boot on her chest, slowly putting pressure, slowly smashing her ribs, making her clutch your ankle, trying to gasp for air.

“Any last words Nat- Black Widow?” You ask, pointing the dagger right above her heart.

“...I love you.” Natasha finally let the three words out of her mouth, regretting not saying it earlier.

You tensed up, your shoulders tensing. Anger flared in your eyes.

Why now?

Why?

Is this fake?

Is she lying?

Why?

“Why now?” You whispered, not even bothering to hold back your tears.

You're tired.

Too tired.

“I always did. I just- Ugh. I just never had the courage to tell you.” She grunts out, trying to push your foot away, but you ended up digging it into her deeper.

“...Liar.” You gritted out, swiftly plunging the knife deep in her heart, enjoying the feel of her blood slowly emerging from her heart, the sight of the life in her eyes slowly fade.

You broke your ritual. You didn't turn her back to you. You saw her face.

…

Why?

Because you didn't kill her.

Natasha thought she was dead. In fact, she felt your dagger dig into her skin.

So why?

Why does she feel your hand in hers.

Right...

You have powers.

…

You have powers.

She instantly opened her eyes, her brain catching up.

“NO! What have you done! You stupid! Reckless! Piece of Shit!” She says, she slaps your face as she sees your eyes closing.

Pain Transfer.

You transferred her pain to your body. You transferred her lethal wound into yours. You sacrificed yourself to save her from the death that you, yourself, caused

You basically killed yourself.

“Forgive me, Natalia. I broke our promise.” You pulled her bloody hand from your chest and held it tightly in your hand.

“You promised to stay alive as long as I am. You never break your promises.” Natasha held her tears back, crying will make it real.

Your death isn't real. No. But loving you is.

She never got the chance to show you how much she loves you.

“This is our reality Nat. I was foolish to think I could ever change it...” You trailed off, coughing out blood. This was the first time you thanked your powers for moving so slow. You have more time. With her. And that's all you could ever ask for,

“...Stop crying Natalia. Heroes always win remember? Besides, I knew you'd let yourself die before you ever think of killing me, so I did it myself.” You grinned at her as best as you can.

“Idiot.” She whispered

“I love you too you know? Please remember that I love you. They love you too. But I love you the most.” You whispered back, the moonlight shining on your bare skin.

Natasha always go back to that night you shared whenever she sees the moonlight, but now, it's corrupted by the feeling of your grip slowly loosening, until it's only her that's holding on.

It was you who always held on.

You held on to the bond no matter how many times you got hurt because of it.

You held on to the hope that someday, you'll get to call her yours, and she gets to call you hers.

You held on, even as she repeatedly let you go.

And she can't help but regret that. She regrets it so much more now.

Now, she's the only one left.

There was nothing more to hold on to.

Nothing but the promise of living a life without you by her side.

Nothing but the memory of your smile.

The memory of you scolding her every time she got hurt.

Memories of you laughing

Memories of you dancing. Dancing with her.

She doesn't know how to say bye to you.

She doesn't know how to let you go now.

It seems like, she's done it so much that she forgot how to do so now.

She remembers every single promise you made. And the one promise you broke.

She can only hope that you can forgive her.

She's going to make you break your own promise.

But it's void now right?

You're gone.

She can cry now right?

She can cry as she reads the last letter you left?

She can cry as she reads the journal where you put all your memories in, because you're afraid of forgetting her, right?

She can cry as she opens the velvet box right?

She can cry as she puts the ring you left her as her necklace right?

She can cry as she reads that all your properties are now hers, right?

She can cry now.

She can let go of her feelings now.

But she can never let you go.

And then, for once Natasha used FRIDAY's soundproof function.

For once. Natasha let her emotions run rampant.

For once, she cried. She sobbed. She screamed. As if it'd make you come back.

If you were foolish enough to think that you can change reality, Then Natasha was foolish enough to hope you come back.

Natasha couldn't hold her tears back anymore.

Taglist: @jj-arms​ @satxnsupreme​ ​

[crystalcow]

𝑀𝑦 𝑝𝑒𝑡𝑎𝑙//𝐾𝑎𝑟𝑙 𝐽𝑎𝑐𝑜𝑏𝑠

Masterlist

Karl Jacobs x reader blurb !c?

Pronouns used: they/them

Warnings: fluff-angst, death, betrayal

𖦹╔═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════╗𖦹

I’l“I like the way your hands fit in mine” I said as I watched sprinkles of pink dust fall upon their beautiful cheeks while she snuggles into my shoulder. “I love you..” I heard a small voice as I laughed putting my arm around them. “I love you too.” I said while they smiled.

How do you know you mean it.. How can I just stand here walking along my supposed soulmates side lying at every word that comes to play. How could I hurt such a graceful soul that I believe fell from the heavens beyond..

Why shall I be so cruel, hurtful, why can’t I just say the truth. If I let them go I will disintegrate into pure dust and despair.

My ashes will be thrown into the dirt opposed from the sea, as the sea is beautiful and calm and my actions are devious and horrific. What does I love you mean? Tis it really even special at this point? I’m able to sin and throw around such a weight, determination, and such a pure promise so lightly.

How shall I ever watch as the light leaves their eyes as the word around shatters. How can I live and love with another or myself when I know I had hurt them, the very one I promised to protect with my life.

Maybe I truly don’t love. I’m a heartless soul that does not deserve any good that comes upon onto me. I don’t deserve a flower that blooms all year long and never dries out.

I’m only stepping onto this flower crushing it as the petals fly around in the wind, those beautiful beautiful petals that once brought joy and an aura of miracles.

But now as I stand here in the middle of October as the rain pours down while I stand in the middle of the graveyard a single rose on the dirt as I read out your name. I never told you the truth, and yet that is what had killed you

But every time I try to reverse, I do it again.

𖦹╔═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════╗𖦹

Just a small little angsty blurb.! Request or ask anything or ask if you wanna be on a tag list!

[binniesthighs]

hello stranger | reader x changbin |

WELP here it is, my totally self indulgent reader x binsung fic that has developed into so much more than I expected!! thank you lovelies for hyping me up to write more of this story ily!! hehe we are indeed in for a spicy, angsty, and fluffy time!! You can read part 1 here

Part 2  

Paring: self insert, female reader x seo changbin, female reader x han jisung 

Genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, smut, angst, 

Tags: (of this part) college au, rapper!jisung, rapper!changbin, artist!reader, established fwb!jisung, explicit language, oral (f receiving), that good, good makin’ out,   sub!reader, cockydom!jisung, on that note, jisung being horny as hellll, the cutest bestfriend!felix there is, changbin’s flirty ass, a sprinkling of angst, ro being in her fanfic writer element uwu 

Word count: 3.1k

Chapters 

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

[00:19] 

han jisung: you like the performance? 

you looked stunning. 

where did you go? i couldn’t find you. i even stayed after. 

[00:28] 

me: oh really? just for me? 

han jisung: you left something at my place last time, I was going to give it back to you. 

me: that’s why you wanted to see me? i don’t believe you. 

[00:36] 

han jisung: are you doing anything right now? 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

Against the heat of your sweating body on the matted quilt, a winter chill seeped in through the wooden windowsill, dusty with age. Had you not been burning with heat, you would have been freezing. Fistfuls of the quilt filled up your hands, and your fingers dug into the fabric hard enough to make your nailbeds change color. You hadn’t even noticed that you had been slightly grinding into his mouth. 

“you taste so good baby,” Jisung’s breath swirled into your swollen clit.

A tiny squeak escaped your lips at the sensation.

Both of his arms had curled under your legs to pull them farther apart, lending his nails to dig lightly into your skin. He chuckled out pridefully onto your sensitive bud, the vibrations heightening your arousal. Jisung kissed gently into you with the luxurious sounds of your excitement and his saliva mixing on his lips. His eyes held a mischievous green haze as he would look up at you with his big brown eyes, flattening out his tongue to lick at you in thick, agonizing lines. At last, he would suck and on your clit, flicking his tongue around it sporadically, as if he was giving every nerve ending his complete attention.

The way that he would suck on your clit was unreal.

As if to balance yourself, you raked one of your hands instinctually through his nearly black strands.  

“Ji--” You choked out half of his name, too weak to summon the rest.

You were impossibly close. With eyes scrunched up a little, they rolled up from his taunting gaze to your ceiling.

On the shitty paint job up there, there was a crack. It was an ugly crack at that: the kind that was browning from water damage and segued into other tinier veins. Your apartment was old anyway. It wasn’t uncommon for old apartments like that to have cracks in the ceiling.  

You hadn’t really recognized it before.

Why haven’t I noticed that before?

“fuck, you’re so wet for me, aren’t you?”

“Mmhm.” You focused back on his lapping tongue, feeling the tension build once more. “ ‘M close.”

Jisung quickened his pace, sucking harder and rubbing the tip of his tongue over your mound. You could even feel the little haughty smile on his mouth when your hips jerked up toward him.

As you neared your orgasm, memories fogged your eyes, you let them roll over and over, relishing in how good it had all felt. Suddenly you wanted nothing more than to feel filled up hopelessly deep inside.

“f-fingers” Your whispers begged.

Jisung obliged, sliding his index and ring in to pump in and out of your walls.

Perhaps you had made it up to feel better than it was in your head.

You came a couple minutes after, limbs shaking under his teasing while he helped you ride out your high, tongue still circling around your clit. Shallow inhales filled up your lungs as you calmed your body.

You didn’t remember it feeling like that...you remembered it being...unreal.

Jisung lead kisses up your stomach before giving a couple fleeting kisses to your breast, smug as he always was.

“-Felt good?”

Little aftershocks still tugged at your body. “...As always Ji.”

“Mm. Good.” He beamed widely with the pearly white grin that had drawn you to him in the first place. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.” Jisung tugged his boxers down, letting free his properly hardened member, veiny and tip dripping with his eager pre-cum. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

Jisung prowled over your body, stretching out your legs up in front of him.

Your thighs shook in his hands.

“Jisung, wait--”

“--What is it?” Worriedly, his eyes widened looking down at you.

“...can we give it a sec? Can you give me a sec?”

His puzzled expression gave you his answer.

“I just fucking came Ji, can’t you give me a damn minute to settle down before we go at it again?”

His mouth formed a little “oh” then he slid down to lay beside you, brows crossed slightly. “...you’ve never asked for this before.”

“just shut up and kiss me alright?”

Jisung nodded, bridging the gap between your faces and the mess of pillows under your heads.

When Jisung wasn’t trying to fuck you, he was actually a decent kisser. Against your better judgement, there had been times when you would let your mind linger over these kisses that you had wished he had given you more of. His mouth was warm, and tasted slightly of your arousal from before. Jisung’s tongue asked for permission on your bottom lip, which you granted entrance. He leaned himself further into you, moaning breathily into your mouth. Just because you liked how he would whine for you, you pulled at his lip with your teeth.

You don’t know why your eyes had opened, but there it was again. The crack.

How long had it been there?

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“I just can’t believe you, Y/n.”  

Felix’s voiced echoed though the empty alley, your favored shortcut to campus. Dumpsters covered with snow lined the road riddled in potholes. In each hole, melted snow had leaked in to turn to ice once more. Felix had already slipped three times. Both of your arms linked together to make him feel better.

“How many times are you gonna make me apologize? It ended up being fine anyway.”

“When I say to text me when you get back, what are you supposed to do?”

“Text when I get ba-- “

“--Text when you get back!!!” The little puffball on Felix’s hat bounced in his frustration. “You couldn’t even text me to tell me that something had happened? Do you know how nervous I was?”

“Felix, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Does that do it?”

Your adorable companion grimaced at you, unamused. “I just think that I’m more astonished that you actually stayed over. What the hell did he offer to you? Food? Money?”

“Felix!!” You shoved him away from your body in your dramatic shock. “How dare you think that I would stoop that low!”

“...Well...”

“HEY!”

“You know how I feel about Jisung.”

“He’s not Jisung...that’s for sure.”

“You know about them Y/n. You yourself have said that they’re all the same.”

“Cocky, overzealous dickheads who know exactly what to do with their mouths?”

Felix rolled his eyes coupled with an annoyed groan under his breath. “You know that’s not what I mean.” He huffed out his breath into the freezing air. “His presence didn’t nauseate you?”

“I was tired. I honestly don’t remember falling asleep, I only remember waking up before the sun came up and leaving.”

“-Didn’t even say goodbye? See you again? Your phone number?”

“I don’t plan on seeing him again.”

“You don’t?”

“He...looked at me weird.”

Felix let out a flabbergasted pshhhh, which turned into a startled little gasp when his foot caught the ice. As always, you were there to catch his falls.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That he looked at me weird! What the hell else is it supposed to mean?”

“Care to expand?”

It had been four days. Four days that had felt much longer than four days. Four days since he had looked at you like you like you were the only person to ever live and breathe. You knew what was in his eyes. It was something you hadn’t truly felt on your body for a long time.

“You’re perfect.” He had said to you, barely knowing more than your name.

In your lusty haze that night, you had said something about being all his.

You barely knew more than his name.

In the days after when you recalled the whole night, searching for answers to why you had said what you had, no explaination pieced together. You hadn’t belonged to anyone in such a long time, and you certainly didn’t belong to him.

He had asked to know you better, but you kissed the words away on his lips before he could say any more.

Your body shivered placing the memory of his fingers tracing up and down your back as you had studied his features, the two of you still connected.

You turned to your friend, “No. Because there isn’t anything more to talk about. He looked at me weird, and I’d rather not see him again.”

“~Oookay then~” Felix nuzzled into your arm. “You working today? Can you make it Chan’s after? We’re gonna play some Smash and there’s a new DLC!”

“-Can’t make it, I’ve got some projects to work on.”

“School or the other kind?”

“Both. My new paper should be coming today.”

“Suit yourself...but we’ll miss youuuu.” The peppy blonde squeezed hard where he held onto you, only to have his feet fall out from under him on the ice.

You quickly softened his fall, holding his body up before his butt would hit the concrete. “I don’t think that I’m the one that you should be worrying about ‘lix.”

╚ ——————————————— ╝

From your favorite corner of the library, the sun would shine the brightest at sunset, and luckily, often your scheduling would let you see it. Sometimes you liked to think that you owned it in this little corner on the fourth floor. Better yet, it was situated near the stacks of old newspapers and periodicals so seldom did this corner see anyone else other than you.

The shelf was nestled near to one of the floor-length windows which overlooked the skyline. At this time of year nearest to the aftermath of Christmas, the city lights were still peppered with greens, reds, yellows and blues. You thought to yourself that there was nothing more magnificent than the way the sky would fade from the color of blood oranges to the depths of the ocean with the dawn. You had painted it nearly a hundred times, but each time you were left unsatisfied; it was impossible for your hands to recreate something so unique.

Standing this close to the glass, you could feel the winter cold emanating off of it.

“--Beautiful right?”

His voice had startled you, and for a moment you had thought that you had imagined him.

“‘Kinda thing makes me wanna write.”

He walked up right next to you, hands in his pant’s pockets. A billowy looking black hoodie wrapped around his body and his gaudy silver chain peeked from under his collar. You shouldn’t have expected him to look directly at you. He still wouldn’t give you the pleasure until you demanded it.

Silently the two of you stood watching the sun dissipate beyond the horizon for what seemed like hours. Just as you remembered, his massive aura was nearly suffocating. There was something new however: the scent of rosemary and cedarwood which hung around him.

At long last, he muttered, “You didn’t give me a chance to see you off.”

You swallowed dry. “What are you doing here?”

“You gonna answer my question first?” From the corner of his eyes, his stormy pupils teased you.

“You first.” You straightened yourself best you could.

“My roommate goes here. I was looking around for him. Your turn.”

Changbin took his hands out from his pockets to intentionally twist the silver rings around his fingers.

“I work here.” You answered, opting to finesse your way out of answering his question by answering yours.

“Huh. You’re a librarian?” He scoffed out a single laugh. “Why do I find this slightly ironic...considering where we met.”

“I just move stuff around. Ever heard of a part time job?” You clenched out the words between your teeth.

“Oh believe me, I have. Got a few myself. It’s what I get for choosing music over school.”

“How honorable.”

“I’m a man of honor...as you know.” His eyes finally cast down at you.

Frankly, your memory must’ve been shit, because he looked even more unreal than you remembered.  

“Actually, I’m kind of glad that I ran into you here. What a coincidence, huh?”

“--Sure.” You quipped.

Changbin tilted his head with a growing smirk. “Knees feeling better?”

“They’re fine.”

“Good thing that I was there to help you.”

“You don’t have to pretend like you’re talking about my knees Changbin.”

You turned to walk away, only for him to twist himself around into your path.

“You’ve got me.” He rose his arms up in defeat. “Since I didn’t get your number, I didn’t get the chance to tell you--” Changbin’s body mass leaned ever so slightly closer to you, his dark eyes glossing over with that same confidence that he held so naturally. He breathed into your ear, “I really enjoyed our time together.”

His words send a shiver down your entire body that you prayed he didn’t see. You took a hand flat to his chest to remove him from your space.

“D-don’t you have a roommate that you should be finding?”

“Libraries are big places. Plenty of places for me to get lost...”

He advanced again, cupping a hand to the side of your face and rubbing his thumb into the soft of your cheek.

There he was, looking at you again like that. Had it not been addicting, you would have been terribly annoyed by it now.

Changbin tilted his face nearer, his lips just barely grazing over yours. Something about his scent made you feel like you were enchanted.

“Have you been thinking of me as much as I have of you?”

He sucked in a sharp inhale, then sealed your lips with his. He took both sides of your face in his hands, holding on you with such a dire grip it was as if he felt like you would melt into nothing in his hands. Every run of his lips over yours was different from the last; but the way in which he poured himself into it all was the exact same. He used his full weight to push the two of you into the metal shelf, bracing the back of your head so you wouldn’t get hurt. Changbin pressed his body into you fully, nearly engulfing you with his broad chest. There was nothing else in his kisses besides pure, unadulterated desire.

Four days since he had kissed you. Four days that had felt much longer than four days.

Hesitantly, your hands twitched at your sides, deciding to hold him back. You hadn’t noticed, but his own hands had fallen from your face to cascade down your arms to wrap them around him himself. Under the fabric of his hoodie, you could feel every single curved muscle. Before you could explain it, your fingers traversed all around the expanse, drawing in all the pieces that your brain hadn’t thought to commit to memory. The second that you did, he smiled into your mouth.

“So you have.” His husky tone spilled into your ear after he gently broke from your lips.

Changbin moved to kiss at your pulse at your neck, leaving you to tremble under his fluttering movements. Your teeth bit into your lip as to not produce a sound; your fear of someone walking round the corner only made you more anxious and thrilled. He pulled the collar of your sweater down to increase the pressure of his mouth, drawing little whimpers from your throat.

“Changbin, what are you--”

Before he could do any more damage, he pulled back, putting your collar right back in place. Between the two of you, your exasperated little gasps filled the air. Slowly, he run his thumb over your slightly swollen lips.

“I meant it, I’d like to get to know you more.” He swept your hair back with a couple fingers.

“I was planning on not seeing you again.” You gathered up your will again.

Changbin tsked, “That wasn’t how you kiss someone you don’t want to see again.”

You pulled his hands from off your face. “I should be going. And you should too.”

“You’re unbelievable.” He scoffed with disbelief.

You really were. Just from kissing him, you had felt how inexplicably wet you had become. Every part of your body ached for just a little more, and you could have it. But you wouldn’t let yourself. He didn’t own you.

“Need me to show you to the stairs?”

“No.” He spat out the word. “Don’t walk away from this.”

“Who are you to tell me what to do?”

“I thought that I just made myself pretty damn clear.”

“--As did I.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Changbin strode up to you, the little thin chain on his pants swaying.

“Give me your number.” He said in earnest. For once, you saw his confidence falter.

“I said, I don’t plan on seeing you again.”

“--Then I’ll give you mine. You don’t even have to use it and I can’t reach out to you, how’s that?”

“You’re acting like I’ll want to.”

He exhaled out cooly, “Why the hell else would you kiss me like that?”

Why did you kiss him like that?

You reached out from your back pocket to slide out your phone. “Don’t expect anything. I’ll probably just delete it after long.”

He typed in the numbers, then grinned, announcing, “I doubt that.” Once done, he pulled your collar back up just a little bit higher to fix how it had become askew on your frame.

He sighed with finality, toying with his rings once more. “I think that I’ve been lost in here long enough.”

╚ ——————————————— ╝

[01:47]

han jisung: are you doing anything right now?

Your pencil clicked down to your desk with a wooden little thunk. The state of your room was a mess; not like he would have cared. Back at your desk, you glanced down at your unfinished sketch and the scattering of watercolor paintbrushes and paints. During the late hours of the night, your brain would get hazy, and your inhibitions would likely smear like the little pools of blue watercolor accidently spilled on your desktop.

Your tired fingers typed out the word “no.”

Outside of your tiny window dusty with age, you could still see a bit of the twinkling of lights on the cityscape. During the night, they looked like a rainbow of stars reflected upon the night’s ocean.

Your tired fingers deleted the word “no”, then opened a new message. For a moment, you hovered over the keyboard.

[01:49] CB

You really were unbelievable.

me: are you doing anything right now?

[iwantitiwriteit]

Love Lockdown - Part 4

Begin Again

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: You and Chris have your first serious conversation after being apart for the first few weeks of lockdown.

Warnings: Angst, Pandemic backdrop, Profanity, dash of Fluff, sprinkle of Sexual suggestiveness

Notes: Another In My Feelings Monday™ yesterday! Hopefully there’ll be more musings as the weeks go on, but I loved the whimsy the mindset added to me day! 🥰 This part y’all! Whew! Tried to get as much angsty good tension in there as I could muster-- I won’t rest until we’re all bawling lol Read the previous part here!

Let it be known, that for a professional writer, you were shit with words. 

Though you were a force with pen to paper, fingertips to keyboard, and a mirage of emotions… maybe some wine, when it came to verbal expression, you were more tongue-tied than a motherfu—

“What do you mean?”

Your mouth is dry as it opens and closes like a fish out of water, a lame attempt at finding the words to answer Chris’ valid question.

“Baby, please talk to me. What do you mean ‘you don’t wanna do this… with me’?”

His heart is on the fritz. His mind is everywhere and nowhere. Chris decides to focus on what he sees, what is real, like that will do him any better. Seeing the soft lines of your face tensed into sharp, anguished angles and you’re hugging yourself so tightly only makes him want to replace your arms with his. 

To Chris, you’ve never seemed to need his help, though. You seemed strong, self-sufficient, self-healing, even. He loved and admired that about you. How you didn’t need, but just wanted him around. But if he thought too hard about it, it scared him. He wanted you to want him as much as he wanted you. He’s never really been sure of how much you wanted him. You also seemed to struggle with saying how you felt. The one thing he was probably too good at. The one thing he could help you with. 

But he’s the one who’s got the two of you thousands of miles away from each other. Now, you’re having this make or break your relationship discussion over FaceTime. He doesn’t get to do that. He doesn’t get to jump in. Might not be the worst thing in the world, considering all his efforts of jumping to “make things right” in the past few months have landed you both in your current situation.

His options are limited now. It feels like his hands are tied behind his back, and you’ve got your finger on his chest. Will you use the slightest force to push him away forever, or open your palms and bring him closer to you?

Chris is trying his best to maintain composure, but his voice is giving him away as he asks one last time, ‘what do you mean?’.

You, too, are trying to remain composed.

You’re not entirely sure what you meant, but felt compelled to say it. You’re trying to be vulnerable and let your heart speak for once, so aware of the discomfort in your chest that your arms are crossed tightly over it. You weren’t one to let your heart move on it’s on volition, finding it smarter and more self-preserving to let your brain take the wheel. Your aversion mostly coming from what it makes you look like. Take your state at this moment: lip quivering, throat constricting, eyes burning, and rimming with tears. On the verge of being a mess.

You always hated when people cried in uncomfortable situations. “It’s a cheap shot,” you’d say, feeling like it wasn’t fair to make the other person feel bad. You refuse to cry. Instead, you screw your eyes shut, and take a few deep breaths. There’s an intense white noise in your head keeping you from thinking straight. Maybe taking a moment will give you some clarity.

After a few seconds, your senses come back to the room. You hear the rustling of wind outside the window in front of you, the hum of the A/C, and Chris shuffling on his end of this caustic call. You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes just yet, but you found your bearings enough to speak.

“Ok…” Your eyes finally meet Chris’ eyes through the camera. He’s poorly holding back his pain in those ocean blue eyes of his. You consider backtracking, engaging your filter. You could ease his mind like always, telling him “never mind” or “it’s nothing”. You could just let him speak like always. He’s always been better with his words. You loved and admired that about him.

He always seems to know how to poetically and intellectually verbalize exactly how he feels, be it about a movie he’d seen, a tweet he read, a song he heard, a woman he loved. A woman he probably was tired of her tongue-tied bullshit. Not that you weren’t a little exhausted from his B.S. You could just let him break up with you, say “ok”, and go your separate ways. A nice, clean break. The hell it would be. You’d be wrecked, you just know it.

But your sister’s words from a moment ago ring in your head:

It’s good to feel. It’s okay to show it sometimes, too. Especially with the ones who showed and proved they won’t judge you for it.

Chris has never judged you. Maybe it’ll be ok to lose composure just a little, halt your filter for just a second or two.

“Chris, I don’t wanna do this with you— this acting like strangers, acting like nothing’s wrong. This hurting each other, but still holding on to each other? I don’t wanna do that to you. I don’t want to hurt you. I’m sorry that I hurt you. That I let contempt build up until I explode instead of just talking to you about what I was feeling. I understand if—“ you take a breath to keep calm and keep your emotive stride, “I know what you wanted to talk about, and I understand.”

“What do you think I wanna talk about?”

“I—” your filter kicks back in as you hold back your thoughts. Despite your front, you hadn’t fully come terms with it. Saying it would make it real, and you weren’t ready for that.

“You thought what?” His tone was slightly accusatory, causing you to cover your face with your hands, engulfing you in embarrassment over your doubts as you realize that ending your relationship was not what Chris wanted to do. You let out a baited breath, as you drop your hands. You had nothing to say, casting your eyes down to your twirling thumbs in your lap.

Chris’ eyes grow ever so slightly wider as his jaw relaxes and lips form into the slightest frown. “I would… I would never…” he stutters out. Chris goes to bring his hand down his face, a subconscious tick for when he’s exasperated, but stops short with the thought in his mind of germs and viruses and fucking Corona. He’s settled on a sigh, it all settling in the difficulty of everything in life at the moment. It’s exhausting.

You’re hurting. He’s hurting. It feels like a never ending cycle. But he’s determined to break the cycle. 

“Do you remember what I said that night in my kitchen? Back in December?” All you could respond with was a nod, your eyes still fixated on your lap. December’s events still left a little bit of a bad taste in your mouth, but with each passing day you were sure you were getting over it. “Well, I fucking meant it.” Slowly, you raise your head to your screen. Chris looks like a wounded puppy that’s still game to play.

“And I should be the one apologizing. Obviously I haven't been doing the best job of living up to my words from that night. I’m sorry.” Then you couldn’t help it. But what would one tear hurt? Chris clocked the tiny droplet streaking your glowing cheeks. His soft smile at it was so small and so brief before he continued. “I never meant to hurt you with my ignorance. But I did, and I’m doing the work and the reading to be better. What happened when you were here should’ve never happened, but I made it worse by not listening to you, really listening to you, and—“

“My love,” your voice stops Chris mid-ramble. That pet name. He hasn’t heard it from you in a long time. Too long, in fact. Hearing it now almost makes his heart burst. “You’ve got to stop beating yourselves up about it.”

“But aren’t you mad?” He was projecting. 

“Mad about what happened? Yeah, kinda. Mad at you? No… not anymore. I stopped being mad as soon as you did listen to me, really listen to me,” you echo his words. A small smile graces your lips, and you’re able to coax one onto his. For a moment it’s sweet. You then notice his smile disappear as the gears in his head start to overwork again.

“But then I did it again! With the shitty shit with my shitty friends. I’m sorry for my shitty friends.”

“I feel sorry for them too,” you joke with a tentative smirk.

Chris laughs, appreciating that you’re able to find humor in any moment. His chest feels a little lighter now. He thinks back to your earlier statement. “I agree; I don’t wanna do this. Cos it just feels like I’ll lose you, and I don’t want that. I want you. For as long as you’ll have me. Can you forgive me for all the stupid shit I’ve done in past few months?”

“As long as you can pardon my behavior as well.”

“Of course. I love you.”

“I love you,” you stress to him.

Chris places his arms on the table, leaning into the camera, his gorgeous face taking up more of your screen. He’s got a sort of glossed over look in his eyes as he says matter-of-fact-ly, “I wish I could kiss you right now.” There’s no suggestiveness, just a statement of a very pure desire. Yet, your face heats up at his words. You take a quick glance down and bite your bottom lip to hide your smile. 

“It’s too bad you can’t.”

“I know, I know. That’s my own fault.”

“Not gonna fight you on that.” you lightheartedly say. At least you meant it that way. Although he should’ve expected it and is usually a good sport with digs, it still… stings. He grimaces and you know that it’s just too soon.

“But maybe…” your low, sultry tone brings his attention back to you, “you could…” you purr slowly and suggestively as you lean into your computer while pouting your lip.

Chris raises his brows as his jaw slacks. “Yeah…?” 

Your mischievous smile is met with his eager one. “KISS ME THROUGH THE PHONE?!” You belt out the familiar melody, shocking Chris to point that he jumps a little in his seat. You’re in stitches, clutching your chest. You hadn’t laughed this hard in a while. You get a good belly laugh out of Chris as well, his head tilted back, the glorious sound filling your ears as the sight of all 32 of his teeth please your eyes. His spirits are instantly lifted. You love that you can make him laugh like that, it satisfies a part of your soul you were unaware of.

The two of you come down some from your laughing fit. “Cute… real cute,” sarcasm never more evident in Chris’ voice.

“Hahaha you thought you were gonna get a show! Nope, buddy… not this time.”

There’s a quick quirk of his brows at the possibility of him getting to see you in all of your hot, sexy, naked glory. His mind gets lost in the last time he had you like that: your back arched, your nails dug into his back, your legs—

“Ahem! Eyes up here dude!”

“Oh my g— I’m—“

“You’re forgiven, you’re only human,” you smile at him coyly.

Silence settles around you, as you steal glances and smiles at one another through your screens. The air is free of pleas and sighs and stupidity and jokes. Hopefulness moves in for the first time in weeks, evicting the uneasiness that had made a home out of the deepening space between you two. You just watched each other, adoringly and longingly, watching your love for each other begin again.

Part 5

[fanfictionaries]

Giiiiirl, I am CRAVING some baking with Bucky. Like some good old recipe from his mom or sisters, eating half the batter, being all innocent and goofy. Maybe Reader introducing him to the world of cupcakes with a second batch of batter they make. Just a sweeeet baking day ❤️

I made myself happy sad with this one. XD 

Might be a little more angsty than you were looking for, but all the sweet fluff is there as well! 

Inspired by my own great great grandmother’s recipe. 

Orange Rolls

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Words: 3k

Warnings: None, just the fluffiest fluff you can imagine; slight angst. 

Author’s Note: I loved doing this, so please people. Send me more requests! ALSO this is an actual family recipe of mine. I recommend trying it! 

I recommend listening to this song while reading this: https://open.spotify.com/track/7pR7yPgbYcipmTUHT5g68p?si=nQZeCOmoTcm43qOI1YRPNA

***

Step 1. Dissolve 2 yeast cakes in ¼ cup warm water.

The room was alight in the glow of soft warm sun. Nestled in your blankets, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and yawned widely, stretching and turning to snuggle into the familiar warmth of Bucky. Firm muscle, soft skin, ticklish arm hair – all missing. Instead only cool sheets, drawn back on his side of the bed. You didn’t have to check the time to know it was early, but you rolled over to the bedside table to check your phone anyways. Five AM. Much too early to be up on a Sunday morning, even for your early bird of a super soldier. Rolling onto your back, you stayed quiet, attempting to hear any signs of life in the small apartment. Perhaps he’d only gotten up to use the bathroom. The sound of heavy items falling and a string of curses coming from the kitchen brushed away the thought. Jumping out of bed, you pulled one of Bucky’s large sweatshirts over your head and stepped into your slippers.

When you rounded the corner, the first thing you noticed was the expanse of your pantry laid out onto the floor. The second thing you noticed was Bucky, sat cross-legged in the middle of the array of flours, sugars, and spices, head in his hands. You knew this look. This crumpled, defeated look that so few had the privilege to witness. Everyone saw the stoic, cold Winter Soldier. So little saw Bucky Barnes, a kid from Brooklyn. Tiptoeing around the spilled bags of sugar, flour, and sprinkles, you stood beside him, leaning over and placing a gentle hand to his back, rubbing soft, slow circles.

“Nightmares?” you asked, moving your hand up to thread through his freshly cropped hair, scraping your fingernails against his scalp. Bucky tilted his head back, leaning into your touch like a cat leaving its scent. You could see the telltale signs; red rimmed eyes, pink tipped nose, raw bitten lips.

“No, no nightmares. I uh…I had a dream about my mom,” Bucky answered, the end of his sentence biting off in a short, harsh laugh. You held your breath. It flattered you that Bucky felt comfortable enough with you to share the gory, ugly details of his past – the things that kept him up at night. The things he thought you couldn’t love him for. But never had he talked about his family. The only memories of his past life you ever heard were the ones Steve brought up, the rowdy stories of two young men up to no good in 40’s Brooklyn. Yet on his own, Bucky remained silent about his life before the war. You never pushed him. It would be cruel of you to press a subject that was most likely too painful for him to think about. Now, the waver in his voice and the tears that welled in his eyes told you that that assumption had been correct.

“I was sittin’ in my old kitchen and uh—” he sniffed, taking a moment to clear his throat “—it was Easter. I know it was Easter ‘cause ma made orange rolls. She only ever made them on Easter. And it—it was the best damn orange roll I’ve ever had. I woke up and I remembered Steve brought over some boxes of my family’s old things, stuff Rebecca left behind I guess, and I found this.”

In his hand he held an aged recipe card, stained from years of use. The yellowed card stock was bent and torn, but the writing still held clear, thick and messy in some places as if it had been traced over multiple times. It was well used. Well loved. At the top, clearly labeled in large looped font, were the words ‘Orange Rolls’.

“I couldn’t get the taste out of my mouth. I figured I’d try to make them, but I wasn’t much for the kitchen back then, let alone now. And—and you don’t have any yeast cakes. I can’t make them without yeast cakes (Y/N). It’s the first ingredient and I can’t—” The words broke off, catching in the back of his throat. He wrapped his arms around your legs, clinging to them like a broken child. Rolling off of him in waves, the permeating sadness and longing washed over you, breaking your heart with each hit.

“I don’t think they make yeast cakes anymore Bucky—” you spoke slowly, choosing your words carefully. At the statement, you felt his arms tighten in a panic. You were quick to placate him “—but I have some dry active yeast that I think should work. Why don’t we clean this up and then see what we can do, yea?”

Step 2. Warm 1 cup milk, add ½ cup sugar, 3 Tbsp shortening, 2 tsp salt.

Turns out, a single yeast cake is equal to approximately 4 and ½ tsps of dry active yeast. After this joyous announcement and your internal praise to Google’s ever living library of knowledge, Bucky was up on his feet, standing in front of the stove over a saucepan of milk.

“How do you know when it’s warm?” he asked, looking curiously down at the pan of milk in front of him.

“Stick your finger in it, if it feels warm, then it’s probably warm,” you answered sarcastically, reaching into the depths of your pantry for the Crisco. A rarely used, but very important staple for any kitchen.

“What? I’m not sticking my finger in it,” said Bucky, watching with rapt horror as you walked up beside him and dipped the tip of your pointer finger into the warm, white liquid.

“I think it’s warm enough to put the sugar in. What?” you asked him when you saw the look of exasperation on your boyfriend’s face.

“You put your finger in the milk.”

“And? My hands are clean. You watched me wash them. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of catching cooties. Cause I hate to break it to you but, you probably already have them.” Lifting on your toes, you placed a sweet, soft kiss to his lips. Catching you around the waist before you could drop back down, Bucky kissed you back with slow purpose.

“Is that right?” he asked teasingly, breaking away from your lips ever so slightly.

“Afraid so,” you murmured against the soft, heat of his mouth.

Step 3. Beat in 3 eggs, 2 cups flour, and add dissolved yeast. Let rise for 1 hour.

The wet dough sat on the counter; a kitchen towel draped lightly over it. By this time, the sun had fully crested over the city skyline, pouring blinding light into the small space of your kitchen. The two of you sat at the kitchen island, sipping your coffee as you waited for the dough to rise. Your bare feet sat, propped in Bucky’s lap, the thumb of his metal hand absentmindedly rubbing the arch of your right foot as he spoke animatedly.

“You should have seen her. Becca was so mad; I thought her head was going to spin all the way around!” laughed Bucky, the creases at the corners of his eyes making a warm and welcome appearance as he regaled a story that you had never heard before.

“Well that’s what she got for touching your stuff,” you said, taking Bucky’s side in the long forgotten sibling argument.

“Thank you! See, you get it. I wish I could say the same for my parents. My pa gave me such a lickin’ and then ma sent me off to bed with no dinner. All for putting worms in her bed!”

“Did she get in trouble for letting your pet frog loose?” you asked, enraptured by the story.

“No! Do you know how hard it was to find a frog in Brooklyn?”

“Impossible. I don’t even know how you did it.”

“Well, really it was Steve that found him—”

“Him? Did he have a name?” you interrupted him with a cheeky smile.

Bucky scratched the back of his head, a light pinkness appearing on his cheeks, “He might of…”

“Aaaand?” you pressed, wanting to know the name even more at the prospect of it being embarrassing.

“I don’t know if I wanna’ tell you. I think you’re just gonna laugh.”

“I won’t! I promise!” you exclaimed, drawing an invisible cross over you heart.

Bucky looked at you skeptically, a raised eye trained on you before answering, “Fine. It was Mr. Ribbits.”

You tried your hardest, really you did. But a snort escaped your nose before you could stop it and then Bucky was playfully pushing your legs off of his lap and turning away from you, “See! I knew you’d laugh. You’re such a bad liar!”

“I’m sorry!” You reached for him, still attempting to stifle your giggles as you pulled at Bucky’s arm, turning him back towards you. “Really, I am. I think Mr. Ribbits is a respectable name.”

“Thank you. It is.” His tone was resolute, but it didn’t take a trained eye to spot the small smile working its way onto the corner of his lips. “But no, Becca didn’t get in trouble. In fact, my pa said I was too old to be picking up animals off the street anyways.”

“How old were you?”

“I think I was about ten.”

Step 4. Add 3 cups flour and beat in with spoon. Let raise 1 and ½ hours.

“We have to wait again?!”

“Yea, we have to let the dough rise, otherwise the rolls will be tough and there won’t be enough to roll out,” you explained, placing the towel over the bowl once again and reaching for your empty coffee cups.

“But I thought we just did that,” said Bucky in confusion. You tried not to smile at him, but the cute little scrunch of his eyebrows made you a weak and gooey fool.

“Baking is more of an art in patience than skill. Especially any kind of bread, babe. Don’t worry, once they’re done, they’ll be more than worth the wait,” you reassured him, patting his cheek gently.

“Well…can we make something else while we wait? What’s your favorite thing to bake?” Bucky asked, his innocent tone making him sound like a wide-eyed child.

You smiled, big and happy, and walked over to the recipe box that sat atop the fridge. Taking it down and setting in on the counter in front of you, you dug into the baking section and produced a handful of recipe cards.

“Take your pick soldier.”

Step 5. Roll out dough and spread on icing – 2 cups sugar, 1 orange: rind grated and juiced, 6 Tbsp melted butter. Roll, cut, and place in muffin tin. Cover and let raise 20 mins.

“Stop eating all the batter!” you scolded, whacking the back of Bucky’s hand with a spatula. The impact had no effect, the sneaking man having had the forethought to use his metal hand.

“If I wasn’t supposed to eat it this way, then why is it so delicious?” he argued, sneaking another finger into the chocolate concoction and bringing it to his mouth.

“Because it’s five pounds of sugar and fat,” you laughed, grabbing hold of his wrist and bringing the chocolate covered finger to your mouth instead. “Also – how is it gross for me to dip my finger into the milk but you can have these grubby little paws buried deep in my brownie batter?”

The question caught Bucky off guard. Raising his hand up, he wiggled the vibranium fingers in your face, “Metal arm – they’re, uh, sterile.”

You guffawed, absolutely tickled by the lame response, “Sterile. Okay. Well, preheat the oven Mr. Sterile.”

Using the spatula, you scraped the double chocolate chip brownie batter into the greased pan. Strong arms wrapped around your waist and a head came to rest on your shoulder, watching you scrape the sides of the bowl. Nuzzling his face into your neck, he placed a gentle kiss just below your ear.

“You know, you’re getting pretty mouthy these days. I have half a mind to take you over my knee,” Bucky growled playfully.

Before your brain could connect with what your body was doing, the spatula had already lifted away from the bowl and made contact with the side of his face. The wet splat of batter to skin sounded plainly through the kitchen. Releasing you from his hold, Bucky stepped back, his expression vacant and shell-shocked.  Dropping the spatula back into the bowl, you covered your face with your hands as you tried not to lose it. He looked positively ridiculous. Chocolate covered the left side of his face, dripping down from his brow bone to his chin. You watched as he brought a hand up slowly, touching his face and bringing it back down to examine it. He stared at the chocolate proof on his fingertips for a few moments as you waited with horrific anticipation.  

“Oh, that’s it, doll. You better run.”

The menacing words sent your heart rate soaring. A playful shriek escaped your lungs as you bolted from the kitchen, Bucky on your heel with a growl in the back of his throat.

Step 6. Place in the oven at 375 for 10-15 minutes. Makes around 3 dozen.

The brownies, already baked and cooling on the counter, were long forgotten as Bucky sat in front of the oven. Arms wrapped around his bent legs, he watched as the orange rolls slowly rose in their muffin tins.

“When are they gonna be done?” he asked you, staring into the depths of the oven like a fortune teller stares into their crystal ball. Like if he looked hard enough, he’d find all the answers to the universe.

“About five more minutes.” You sat down beside him, leaning into his side as the two of you watched his long-forgotten memories rise. You were excited to try the rolls. It was a recipe you had never heard of, which was a rare thing. But most importantly you were excited to try a little piece of Bucky’s life. A piece of the man, the boy, that he used to be before life happened. It felt special and intimate.

“What if they’re not as good as I remember?” The words were soft and honest. You could feel the same sadness and apprehension as earlier that morning drift from him to you. Leaning against him firmer, you took his hand into yours. Threading the warm flesh into your own, you continued to stare into the heat of the oven.

“They will be.”

Step 7. Enjoy.

The rolls were a beautiful sight. Small, golden brown swirls in a neat, compact shape. The sugar filling had melted down into the bottom of the pan, creating and thick and chewy caramel layer at the bottom of each one. A delicious detail that Bucky said was supposed to happen, but also made it incredibly difficult to pry them from their tins. Still, with the help of a butter knife and a lot of patience, the two of you were able to get most of them out unscathed. A buttery orange scent swirled through the air, causing your mouth to salivate as they sat atop of the wire cooling rack. The two of you sat at the kitchen island, staring at the rolls in silence – you with a look of anticipation, Bucky with a look of confusion.

“What is it?” you asked, wondering if he still doubted that they would hold up to his dream.

“I’m pretty sure they had frosting.”

While the recipe didn’t call for it, Bucky insisted that they always had a frosting on them. After a few minutes of questioning about what kind of frosting it was, or at least what it looked and tasted like, you came to the conclusion that it was most likely a simple glaze. A few minutes later, you each had a plate in front of you with a single, gooey, glistening orange roll sat pristinely on it.

You were starving. You’d been up for nearly five hours and you hadn’t eaten anything yet. But you didn’t dare dig in until Bucky had his first bite. Reaching out tentatively, he picked up the roll, twisting and turning it, inspecting it with a warry expression. Holding your breath, you watched as he brought the baked good to his lips and took a generous bite. He chewed, and chewed, and chewed – each second leaving you with more consternation than the last. When he finally swallowed, he set the rest of the roll down onto his plate and heaved a heavy sigh. Your heart dropped.

“No good?” you asked, fearing you already knew the answer from the way his shoulders bunched over the counter.

Looking to you, tears once again welling in his eyes, Bucky did something unexpected. He kissed you. A firm, chaste kiss that lasted only a moment but formed butterflies in your stomach before he pulled back.

“They’re even better than I remember.”

The proclamation sent your heart soaring. You let out the breath you’d been holding, feeling your own tears of relief and joy begin to well. Blinking them back, you smiled at him, blinded by the dazzling smile you received in turn.

“Well then, let’s eat them all because I am famished,” you replied, picking up your own orange roll and taking a giant bite. The mix of soft, warm bread, zesty orange, chewy caramel, and sweet frosting set your taste buds alight. As you chewed, you envisioned a ten year old Bucky sitting in his mother’s kitchen on Easter morning. Curly brown hair, all teeth and dimples in his Sunday best and as happy as a kid could be. Why?

Because this was the best damn orange roll you’d ever had.

Marvel Taglist: 

@caffiend-queen

@hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall

[the-13th-battalion]

creator appreciation tag!

I was tagged by @meantforinfinitesadness thank you so much!!

RULES: It's time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works.

OK HERE'S MINE! There's no order, only chaos :)

Hold Onto Me

This one is my most recent fic! I picked it because it's actually one of my favorite fics I've ever written, despite being in a really rough place mentally when I posted it. I hated everything I was writing. It wasn't good. HOWEVER it's gotten a lot of love and now that I've taken the time to go back and read it, I actually love it dearly!! The Zygerria arc has always stood out to me because there's very little resolution at the end. I wanted to see some hugs, so I wrote some hugs :D This also came into existence because one day at work I was hit with a vivid image of Anakin upset because Obi-Wan understood what it was like to be a slave and it hurt me so I wanted to share the pain I guess lol!

The Warmth of my Heart

SPEAKING OF HUGS there's this one I wrote in the summer! I was fresh from watching Avatar: The Last Airbender for the second time in a row. I was scrolling through Zuko fanart and headcanons on here and I realized Zuko definitely needs more hugs. I wrote him some hugs :) he deserves them! I picked this one because I love writing hug fics with a sprinkling of angst! Also my friend drew fanart for it and every time I look at my fic, I think "wow this one has fanart" :)))

The Shadow of War

Another thing I love to write is nightmares! I...don't know why, but I really do. Probably because it's angsty, and there's usually hugs involved in the aftermath. I love that! So I wrote it! Sprinkle in some protective Anakin and this easily becomes one of my favorite fics I've written.

Shattered Glass

Ok this one didn't get a whole lot of attention but I'm ok with that! It's kind of my own little self indulgent feels-y fic. I had just watched The Lawless and I was drowning in my Obitine feels. I had an idea bouncing around my head that Obi-Wan writes in a journal for Satine, like he did for Luke. I wrote his last entry, the one after her death, and I decided to write a fic to showcase it. I'm not a huge fan of the opening of this fic, but the rest is kind of weirdly comforting to me. Plus there's some more protective Anakin, which I love :)

A Light in the Dark

I read @kckenobi 's fic Six Feet Under and it absolutely KILLED me! So I got a little inspiration from that and wrote a fic where poor Obi-Wan is trapped in his crashed ship. Honestly I just picked this to talk about Six Feet Under again...but also because I wrote protective Anakin and have I mentioned I love him?? I also like some of the scene descriptions I wrote here. They're a little dramatic but I AM a sucker for dramatics in fics :))

HONORABLE MENTION - To Light And Guard

I just wanted to throw this one out here because the whole concept of a Jedi healer Anakin gives me a lot of comfort! I love the universe I've built in my head, and although this fic is under a BUNCH of reconstruction, I wanted to mention it still :))) I'm excited to share all my ideas with y'all!

No pressure tagging: @katierosefun @kcrabb88 and anyone else who sees this and wants to do it!!

[ladybugsfanfics]

Redamancy | Tom Hiddleston

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x reader

Style: One Shot

WC: 4.3k

Warnings: Angst, so much angst (though with a happy ending), I want to be clear that there is smth going on here that isn’t light and is pretty serious. I don’t want to tag it due to spoilers, but I also feel the need to say so. I’ve tagged the theme in the actual tags as a tw so if you feel like this may apply to you, please check or send me a message and I’ll let you know (if anyone feels i should i add it here, i will do so. just let me know). 

Summary:  Anonymous requested: “Reader and Tom are dating for years and he's planning on proposing, but on the day he does, Reader says no and break up with him. The poor guy is devasted, and he keeps thinking during months what he did wrong... [request cut due to spoilers]”

A/N: This is some of the hardest shit I’ve ever written. It’s angsty, it’s heartbreaking, but there is a happy ending and I hope you all like this and that your hearts break as much as mine did writing it ^_^

redamancy (n.) 

the act of loving the one who loves you; a love returned in full

Tom opens the black box one more time.

On the inside lies a ring. Its silver metal works its way into a perfect circle, though a little before the diamond takes its place, the circle cuts into two lines that snake around each other. One of the snakes is lined with diamonds, but the real eye catcher is the round diamond perched on top. 

When he’d picked it out, he’d told the goldsmith he didn’t have a budget (now he didn’t spend that much on it, but he didn’t hold back either). The diamond is a flawless, one carat that he hopes will tell you how much he loves you. 

He’s even planned the night down to the second. And it’s all about to start, as soon as you leave out the door. 

Tom closes the box again, sighs happily, and holds onto the ache in his lungs. The butterflies have been fluttering around his gut for two weeks, finally it’s settled for another (albeit not better) feeling. 

He slips the box into the inner pocket of his jacket and walks out of your shared bedroom. And in the hallway, twirling in front of the mirror, stands you. You’re dressed in a beautiful black dress that hugs your torso and flows into a deep length at your legs―the only reason it doesn’t reach the floor is the pair of high heels you’re wearing. 

“You look…” The word gets lost in his throat as you turn around, the dazzling smile on your lips now directed at him. “... absolutely stunning.” 

“Thanks, handsome.” You walk the few steps needed to get close to him. “You look absolutely dazzling, yourself.” And Tom isn’t sure he can speak after you press your lips to his. 

Maybe he should just skip the whole plan and propose to you now, only so that he can take off that dress and show you how good you make him feel, show you how much he loves you. 

But he clears his mind and smiles. “Shall we go, m’lady?” he asks and holds out his arm for you to take. 

“We shall, m’lord.” You giggle up at him as you take his arm, and you walk like that to the limousine Tom had ordered for the evening. Something which is a surprise to you and have you look up at him with wide eyes and the biggest smile Tom has ever seen. 

He had listened that time you told him you wanted to take one. Why not make the most of it when he’s going to propose anyway?

The driver holds the door open for the two of you. You both thank him as you get in, and a few short moments later, the car is driving and you’re both sitting with a champagne glass each in your hands. You’re leaning on Tom, chin on his shoulder and looking up at him with the most adorable smile he’s ever seen. 

He can’t help himself; he presses a kiss to your lips, though when you pull back a little, he doesn’t let you go and captures your lips with his again. Every moment with you, is a moment his world is on fire, and by each moment, his world gets better and better. Tom is never letting you go. 

After a half hour drive, the limousine pulls to a stop. The driver is quickly there to open the door and Tom helps you out after he’s gotten out himself. A few stares from the pavement comes your way, but when you don’t seem to notice, Tom lets himself ignore them as well. 

(It is the first time you’re really out, despite having been together for exactly three years―the anniversary part was a great excuse to get you dazzled up and out for his plan―but Tom’s always been secretive and you’ve never minded the privacy shared within your home. So going out into the public eye hasn’t been done a lot, but if you don’t mind now that he’s finally going to propose, he doesn’t either.)

“Tom,” you say, lightly hitting him in the chest, as you make your way inside the restaurant. “This is a really expensive restaurant. I know you’re rich and all but… Isn’t it too much?” 

“For you, darling, nothing is ever too much.” It sounds as cheesy as it did in his head, but by the smile on your face, he doesn’t care. He presses another kiss to your lips before you stop by the hostess’s stand. 

A woman behind it greets you with a big smile, and asks if you’ve reserved or not. Tom smiles at her and says his last name, garnering a bigger smile and a bright ‘follow me’. She brings with her two menus and leads the two of you to the back of the restaurant. 

Compared to the front, it’s far more romantic. With candles lit, the light slightly dimmed and a window seating staring out onto the Thames. The night has fallen over London, and the table you get basks in the little moonlight that streams in through the window. 

Tom’s heart squeezes when you try to suppress a slight squeal at the sight. He helps you with your chair as you’re about to sit down, and moves for a kiss before he sits down himself. 

(He’s catching himself doing that a lot more than he usually does, but seeing as he enjoys it and it seems you do too, he makes a mental note not to stop.)

“We’re only doing dinner and dessert, right? Not an appetizer or more shit that’ll make me feel as if my anniversary present isn’t enough?” Your tone is playful and light, but Tom can hear the slight insecurity behind it. 

He shakes his head. “Only dinner and dessert,” he replies. “Only, you can’t choose the dessert. I’ve already chosen one and I can’t have you suddenly changing your mind even though I suppose you would choose it anyway.”

“Now I can’t wait for dessert,” you say, and laugh. “But I bet you’re also choosing the wine, and the dinner and maybe even how I eat?” 

You’re smiling, but Tom feels slightly self-conscious about it. He had said it was a surprise, but admittedly, he had probably also been a bit bossy whilst getting you to go along with everything. “You can choose whatever you like. I recommend a wine that goes with your food, though, love.”

“You do? How surprising.” 

Tom nods and smiles at the glint in your eyes. God, you’re beautiful. 

And that’s how the rest of dinner goes. Tom focuses on all the little aspects of you. The way you laugh; the slight tug at your lips whenever you think you’re being clever; the sparkle in your eyes that draws him in and doesn’t let go; the mesmerizing smile that rips out his heart and swallows it, keeping it to yourself forever. 

There isn’t anything about you that makes Tom question your worth, but everything has him second guessing your choice of him. He can’t fathom what he ever did to deserve you. 

Something he will show when the dessert comes. 

It comes whilst you’re laughing at something he said. A simple brownie with raspberries and strawberries on top, sprinkled with powdered sugar. The dish itself looks simple, as if today is nothing more than an ordinary day. 

(And he didn’t do the thing about hiding the ring in the dish. He didn’t dare). 

However, the brownie means something. To both of you. 

On your very first date, you’d ordered a simple brownie with berries on top and sprinkled with powdered sugar. Just before the dessert comes―and Tom had ordered something else―you’d said that when it came to sweets, you sucked at sharing and that he should never expect to get any if you got your hands on something good. But when it came, and he didn’t mind letting you taste his, you let him taste yours and, as a slip of the tongue, said that that was the first time you’d ever shared food on a date. 

Tom had never felt as special as he did that day. The date had ended with a kiss, a sweet kiss that to this day lingered on his lips. But the brownie symbolized the very start of your relationship, and he’d always joked that if he ever were to propose, he’d make a reference back to when you first started dating. 

Now, he can see it dawns on you that that’s what today is. Your face goes through a series of emotions; starting from happy at the sight, to confusion, to shock, to a stare at Tom that takes his breath away, and then, your face blanks. 

However, Tom has already stood up. He’s making his way down on one knee and he’s pulled the black box out of where it lay in his pocket. He holds it securely between his hands and looks up at you with the most loving expression he knows. 

A hand covers your mouth. A tear runs down your face. 

“Y/N,” he starts. The nerves can be heard in his voice, already on your name it shakes. “On this day, three years ago, we went out on our first date. I could never have wished for a more perfect night than that night, and yet you give me a more perfect night every night. Every moment I’m with you is the best of my life, and I want nothing more than to share the rest of my life with you.” 

He takes a deep breath. His eyes find yours, tears are streaming down your face. In the moment, he isn’t sure whether they’re happy tears or not. But he gathers the rest of his courage, and as the words leave his mouth he opens the black box. “Y/N Y/L/N, will you be my wife? Will you marry me?”

Tom gazes expectantly up at you. He’s been planning this for so long, he’s been waiting to hear a yes for so long. How could you say anything less when, despite the occasional fights, you seem to love him more and more each day?

Only, you’re not saying anything. And if Tom’s not wrong, there’s a slight look of horror on your face. 

Tom’s heart shatters into a million pieces as you shake your head. “No,” you whisper, the word barely audible. “No, Tom, I can’t… I can’t.” 

“Why?” he asks, and he holds the ring with one hand only, taking your hand in his. You’re shaking, and the tears he couldn’t decipher before he can now see are sad tears. 

“I can’t.” You shake your head. “I have to go.” 

Before Tom can say anything, you’ve stood up from your seat and are rushing out of the restaurant. Tom falls to his butt on the floor, his heart lost somewhere on the ground and his lungs constricting in on him. He’s not sure he can breathe, he’s not sure he has any ounce of energy left in him to get up. 

The only thought swirling around in his mind is the one that will be his downfall. 

What did I do wrong?

---

It took two days before the text came. A text that twisted his heart, had his already bloodshot eyes fill with more tears, and his heart crush into a million tiny pieces he was certain he couldn’t ever glue back together. 

At least not without you. 

I’m sorry, Tom, but I don’t think we should see each other anymore. 

The text haunts him every time he looks at it, and he keeps looking at it, hoping it’s a nightmare. But when your best friend comes a few days later with their partner and clears out your belongings, it hits him how real it is. 

He tries not to let it show. He doesn’t want them to know how much he’s hurting. But he isn’t sure how well it comes off, not with how his clutching Bobby to his chest and the dog keeps licking away his tears. 

Tom knows he’s a mess, and he lets it show when the two friends of yours leave with your things. He lets the tears stream down his cheeks, lets the sobs loose, and clutches Bobby tighter to his chest―but not so tight it hurts the dog. 

And that’s how he is for the next few months. He keeps up appearances wherever he’s needed, and he continues to do his job, keeping up the pretence that nothing’s bothering him. But he crashes on his couch whenever he gets home, he cries himself to sleep night after night after night. 

During it all, he racks his brain as to why you would leave him. It doesn’t add up, it doesn’t make sense, he can’t seem to figure out the reason. Maybe if you had given him one, it would have been easier to get through it…

However, Tom doesn’t give up. He sends you countless texts, doesn’t care that you leave them all on read. He calls, his heart breaking every time you don’t pick up. Yet, he isn’t sure if he has a heart left breaking after all. 

It’s late at night when his phone rings. The snow has laid down on the streets, and the moonlight shines through the window off Tom’s apartment. He reaches for the phone, unsure whether or not he wants to answer. 

Until he sees the caller ID. 

Y/BFF/N Y/BBF/L/N

His thumb hovers over the green phone icon. He contemplates not answering, contemplates showing them the same treatment as he has gotten from you over the last few months. 

But he decides against it. What if something has happened to you?

Tom’s thumb presses the button and he puts the phone to his ear. “Tom Hiddleston,” he says. 

“Hi, this is Y/BFF/N. You probably don’t really want to talk to me, but I need you to listen.” Their voice sounds shaky, and Tom’s mind spirals into the worst possible probabilities. 

But as they said, Tom doesn’t really want to talk to them. Listen, he will. 

He can hear their breath on the other side, and when he doesn’t hang up, it sounds like a relieved sigh. “I didn’t know at first why you and Y/N broke up. I thought it was something different than what it was, but she told me today. I thought you broke up with her by how devastated she was.”

Y/BFF/N takes a deep breath. Tom braces himself for what comes next. He’s almost certain the words will be that he missed his shot; she got hit by a bus, or fell off a bridge. Anything that makes his lungs constrict in on him and shatter the few remnants of his heart. 

“She’s got cancer. She’s being treated and things are looking bright, but there’s no saying for sure. She found out a little before your anniversary and didn’t want to tell you just yet because that would make it real. She said no because she thinks you deserve better than someone who might die before the wedding even happens. I don’t think she thought it through, but they say her survival chances are good. I thought you should know.” 

Tom takes a little time to catch his breath. He wants to yell, he wants to cry, but most of all, he wants to hold you. 

“Where can I find her?” he asks, voice hoarser than he expected. 

“She’s at her parent’s. She’s going through it with us, but I know she misses you, and I hope you can be there with her.” 

“I will. Thank you for letting me know.”

“Of course.”

With no hesitation, he hangs up the phone. Tom jumps off the couch, packs a little bag with some clothes and some other necessities, and food for Bobby. In less than ten minutes, he’s out of the apartment with Bobby in tow and rushing to his car. 

It takes half an hour to drive to your parents, but Tom makes it in twenty minutes by going over the speed limit. He can’t wait to see you, to kiss you, to tell you that he loves you, and to chide you for keeping it hidden from him. 

He parks in the driveway and walks out of the car with Bobby. He leaves the bag there, too busy wanting to find you. 

As he rings the doorbell, he can feel his heart beating a mile a minute. His head pounds and his hands feel clammy. Tom doesn’t understand why he’s so nervous. He’s seen you at your most vulnerable―or maybe he hasn’t after all? 

The door opens, and there you stand. 

You look tired. Dark rings under your eyes, red rims around them and only half a smile to spare him. Bobby jumps up at you as he sees you and you crouch down to pet the dog. You kiss the top of his head and let him lick you, his little tail wagging frantically. 

“Let me take him.”

Tom didn’t notice your mother coming up behind you, but she pries Bobby’s leash from his hand and takes the dog with her inside. He follows happily after, now showering your mom with love, though less than what he showed you. 

But with his hands free, Tom pulls you to him. He presses you tightly against him in a hug, and breathes in the smell of you. He’d missed it. How you always smell fresh, always smelled as if you just showered. 

He can feel his shirt getting wet, and pulls you a little away from him. You’re smiling, but the tears keep falling down your face and Tom does his best to wipe them away. The touch has his skin burn, has a tear fall down his own cheek because it makes him realize how much he missed you. 

And then he can’t keep himself from it. He captures your lips in his. You sink together, pressing as tightly as you can. Your hands move instantly to wrap around his neck and his circle around your waist to press you close. It feels like he’s on fire. Like you’re a magnet and he can’t stop the pull he feels towards you, he can only go with it. His heart keeps beating in his chest, pounding in his head, drumming in his veins. 

All the feelings that he’s missed during the months you were apart, comes rushing back at once, lighting him with adrenaline, with passion, with relief. The pleasure of finally kissing you again has his body loosen up, rest from the tense position it’s been stuck in since you left. 

He wants to kiss you forever, never let go. 

But you have to step away to breathe, and when you break apart, he presses a kiss to your forehead and drags you back into his embrace. Your head rests on his chest and his fingers run through the soft strands of your hair. 

Neither of you say anything. Neither of you move from where you stand. Neither of you care when the snow starts falling, settling in your hair and on your exposed skin. 

Neither of you care about anything but staying in each others embrace. Everything else comes second, first priority is to show each other the affection you’ve both been missing. 

---

Tom waits until you’re inside and alone in your bedroom to say anything. You’ve latched onto his hand, grip tight and knuckles white. He doesn’t mind, only basks in the closeness. 

You sit down on your bed, dragging him to you and clutching his arm tighter to your chest. The smile on your face is a mixture of guilt and relief. 

“I’m sorry.” The words are hoarse, barely above a whisper. 

Tom smiles. He wipes away the tear that travels down your cheek with his thumb. You lean into his touch and he wraps his arms around you, letting your head fall to his shoulder. “It’s okay.” 

He says the words over and over again as he rubs circles on your back. When you pull out of the embrace, he kisses your forehead. “What made you hide it?”

“I… I wasn’t sure how to tell you. And then everything happened all at once. I didn’t want to ruin your career and I didn’t want to say yes when there is a possibility that I might not be here for it.” 

“Never say that.” He presses a kiss to your lips. “You cannot ruin anything as long as you’re in my life. We will get through this together, I promise.”

You smile. “If we do, can I say yes?” 

Tom nods, a smile growing on his face. He captures your lips in another kiss, and when you part, rests his forehead against yours. “I will never take back my question, but I did leave the ring at home so your finger can’t be jeweled just yet.”

“That was not one of my worries,” you say and let out a quiet laugh. The happiness on your face makes your tired features look a little alive again.

---

Healing takes time. 

Healing takes strength.

Healing takes… a lot.

Tom’s exhausted.

Even as he’s with you, helping you work through it and doing his best to be there, he’s also working. His closest know, help, but it pains him not to be there for you everyday. 

It helps that you get better. Little by little you quicken, you smile more, you find hope. And you start to plan a wedding. 

Which is what Tom finds you doing when he comes home after a month away―it pained him. You’re lying on the couch in the living room, magazine in your lap and a pen between your teeth. One hand rests at the magazine’s spine, whilst the other switches the page. 

You don’t notice him at first, only when he coughs to gain your attention do you spare a glance his way. And as you see him, a light shines on your face and you jump from the couch. In his embrace, you hide your head in the crook of his neck and your arms snake around him tighter than ever before. 

“You have been gone way too long,” you whisper. “I’ve missed you.”

Tom places a kiss where your shoulder peeks up from your top. “I’ve missed you too, love. How are you?” 

You pull back from him and press a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m great. The doctor says there is a good chance for a full recovery. I might actually beat this.”

“Darling, that’s fantastic.” Tom cups your cheek. “But I have never doubted it. You are the strongest person I know, and I couldn’t bear it if you weren’t here with me.”

“No, of course not. You can’t doubt it because you wouldn’t be able to live without me, baby.” You scrunch your nose up at him. “You’d be totally lost without me.”

Tom laughs. He captures your lips in another kiss. A hungrier and more demanding one, but he doesn’t push it. He relishes in the smile that forms within the kiss, in the fluttery feeling deep in his gut, and in the way his heart squeezes being close to you. 

“Now, you’ve started wedding planning?” he asks as he breaks the kiss. 

You nod excitedly and turn to get back to your magazine. “Okay, so I’ve been doing some thinking, and I don’t want anything really big. Especially with everything going on, but I thought we’d invest something in it, anyways.”

There are words hanging from your lips, unspoken. The glee in your eyes carefully hide away the fear that lurks inside, but Tom knows you, has known you for so long, that you can’t hide it. 

But he also knows not to comment. So he nods, and he smiles and he listens to everything you have to say, wanting this to be the wedding of your dreams. He doesn’t care if it becomes expensive or cheap, or if it doesn’t live up to a fantasy he once had. He couldn’t care even if he so wanted to, because all that matters to him, is that he gets to marry you. 

---

It’s a month before the wedding when you get the all clear; you’re cancer free. The joy radiates off of you, and Tom couldn’t be happier. It’s the best wedding present he could wish for. 

In that month, time flies by faster than he can comprehend. Everything needs to be done before the wedding, but most of all, you celebrate life. 

And when the wedding comes, he doesn’t really focus on anything but the fact that he's married to you. He got the love of his life, he got to marry you, and you’re cancer free. There’s nothing to worry about. 

Well, there’s the slight thing about having the kids talk (he wants at least one), especially after you’d come home after being at the doctors and gotten the news that you couldn’t have children anymore. You’d broken down in his arms, cried your heart out, and he’d tried to comfort you but he knew how much it meant. And he’d kept from bringing it up again. 

Until a month after the wedding, and your honeymoon was over. He tries to step carefully around the subject, unsure how you’ll react to his words. 

“Darling,” he asks. 

You look up at him, a small smile placed on your lips. “What’s up?”

“I have been thinking lately.” He takes a deep breath. “About kids.”

The smile on your face grows bigger. “Thank God,” you say, “because I have, too. I’ve been looking into some adoption agencies, but I didn’t want to rush things and I wanted a clear view on some before I proposed the idea to you.”

Tom smile grows wide and he moves closer to you, and captures your lips in a kiss. “So, it’s settled. We’re going to try and adopt?” 

And you nod and smile so big Tom’s heart skips a beat. 

God, he’s the luckiest man in the world. 

permanent tags:  @devilbat​ @adefectivedetective​ @gamillian​ @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic​ @heartislubbingdubbing​ @wiczer​ @chillcan​ @geeksareunique​ @fandom-imagines1​

tom tags:  @inlovewith3​ @bookgirlunicorn​ @mindlesschicca​ @justawriterinprogress​ @wolfsmom1 @loser-alert​ @satanskatze​ @timetravelingsociopathicwalker​

[fullmetalscullyy]

Hello, I saw your post about being open for prompts and I had an idea about havocs gf in Central being Rebecca after all before they get relocated, could be angsty as hell, so if this might vibe with you... Just a thought

aaaah thank you sm!! this was a fun one bc i’ve not written havolina in a long time! thank u for getting me back into it with this wonderful idea hehe 💖 i hope you enjoy this lil sprinkle of angst  

Jean closed his front door with a dejected sigh. Movement came from inside his apartment, so he knew she was already here. His eyes closed briefly, an attempt to collect his thoughts and steel himself for the upcoming conversation. It would be hard as hell.

“Hey,” Rebecca greeted him, popping her head into the hallway to offer him a beautiful smile.

Turning, he hid his forlorn look and paused, taking in her bright expression upon seeing him and the way her dark hair tumbled over her shoulder. An apron clung to her body and was dotted with red splashes of sauce. She was in the middle of cooking them dinner.

Jean’s chest tightened but he forced a smile through it, returning her greeting.

“I’ll be back in a few,” he stated. One of his hands lifted to grasp her waist lightly as he pecked her cheek. “I’m going to get changed.”

Rebecca said nothing but he could feel her eyes on him as he left her in the doorway to his kitchen.

“Okay…” She knew something was off, but then again he’d never been perfect at hiding his emotions. By God, did he try, but when it hurt this much it was hard.

Changing out of his uniform took far longer than it should have, mainly because once he’d changed, Jean sat down on his bed and didn’t move for ten minutes or so. He just stared at his bedroom wall, trying and failing miserably to come up with the words he needed to tell Rebecca he was being transferred away.

They were in the Academy together with Riza. The two of them had hit it off right from the start and he’d been smitten with her for years. They’d fooled around more than once… Multiple times. It was all fun and games though. Nothing serious. Not friends with benefits but not a relationship. It was casual, which suited them both, but recently Jean had realised that he didn’t want to be casual anymore. Neither did she.

For a few months they’d had something resembling a relationship. It was budding but it had been beautiful. That was also when Jean Havoc realised he’d fallen for Rebecca Catalina years ago but had never admitted it to himself. Even after fooling around and she’d dozed off, Jean had been content just to watch Rebecca sleep for a while and marvel at her features. He’d stroke her face and press a kiss to her forehead, a ritual of his after every night together in each other’s bed, then fall asleep.

And now, after finally coming together, they were being ripped apart.

“Jean?”

He blinked and returned to the present, finding Rebecca’s face right in front of his. She looked wary and worried at why he wasn’t moving, just staring into space in his bedroom. Shit!

“What’s wrong?” she asked. Her voice was even and controlled as she tried to discover the root of his suffering.

The words froze in his throat. If he voiced them aloud then it would become a reality. And he really didn’t want to leave her to go to Central.

“Come on,” she urged gently. Rebecca’s hands grasped his biceps and nudged him to stand from the bed. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Rebecca,” he whispered as emotion clouded his voice. Damn it! Don’t lose it now!

“Dinner is almost ready,” she repeated. One corner of her mouth quirked up. “I’m known as a shit cook and I don’t want to add any more fuel to that fire by burning our food.”

“I – I have to tell you something –” Jean was standing now, turning to face her as she gently but firmly made him walk out of the room.

“Later,” she promised. “Dinner first.”

“I can’t –” he started to argue. He couldn’t sit there in an uncomfortable silence because the weight of what had happened to him that day was hanging over him.

“You’re not the only one who works at Eastern Headquarters,” she reminded him softly.

A pained look crossed her face and Jean froze. She already knew.

“When a you, up and coming officer like Mustang gets promoted to Central, news travels fast,” she explained.

Rebecca walked around Jean to re-enter his kitchen. She busied herself over the stove as she turned dials and began to dish up.

“So, you already know?”

Rebecca nodded. Jean could tell by the set of her shoulders that she wasn’t happy about the news and that made things even worse. This was hurting her.

“We’re going to sit down to dinner. Have you washed up?”

Jean stared at her, watching her move. Why wasn’t she more upset about this? Or angry?

“Rebecca –”

“Have you washed up?” she asked, her tone more forceful than before.

Jean nodded. “Yes.”

“Then come and help me dish up the food.”

It smelled delicious and his stomach rumbled loudly, but it also twisted painfully, affecting his appetite.

“We are going to sit down to dinner,” Rebecca stated as she lifted her own plate and gestured for him to sit at his table. “Because I put far too much time and effort into it for us not to. Then,” she added, taking a deep breath. “We can talk about it. Although I don’t really know what there is to talk about. It’s going to happen and that’s a fact. Regardless, you clearly want to.” Her eyes lifted to meet his once she was seated. “So, we can,” she smiled.

“I don’t want to leave you,” Jean whispered. His food was forgotten before him, which truly was a crime because like Rebecca said, she’d spent time on this for him. No, for them. She’d made them dinner and had it ready for him coming home from work. He’d never had a girlfriend who’d put such an effort in before. They mostly just wanted to order in or expected him to cook instead. Rebecca had gone out of her way to make them something from scratch, and he found it to be a lovely gesture.

“I know,” she admitted quietly as she took a bite of her food.

“I tried…” he trailed off. “I tried to ask if you could come too but…”

“That would never happen,” Rebecca finished.

“No,” Jean conceded glumly.

“Well, we’ll just have to make the most of the time we have left,” she reasoned, her voice determined. Glancing up at him, she gestured towards him with her fork. “Eat,” she prompted. “Please.”

Jean picked up his fork and took a bite just to appease her, but found it was very tasty. He took another.

“Is that what you want?” Jean asked as he swallowed thickly.

“Want?” Rebecca frowned.

“Well, I mean, you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to –”

“I’m not going to let you finish that thought,” she interrupted.

“Why?”

“Because of course I want to stick around!” Rebecca exclaimed. “How could you think I wouldn’t?”

“Because…” Jean floundered. “I don’t know,” he admitted. He dropped his eyes to his plate. “I just wanted to give you an out,” he mumbled. “In case you wanted it.” His shoulders rounded in on themselves as he tried to hide from the painful feelings creeping in his chest. He had to give her that chance just in case she wanted it. He’d never ask her to wait around and wouldn’t expect it either. She was smart, quick-witted, and absolutely gorgeous. Rebecca was way out of his league, so he had to give her a chance to leave. He was nothing special to pine over.

Rebecca stood from her chair. She knelt beside him and took his face gently in between her hands. His head was turned to face her. “Of course I want to stay. I love you, Jean. And I’m willing to see this through if that’s what you want.”

“See this through?” he echoed, feeling something like hope creep up his chest, dousing the fire of some of the pain already residing there.

Rebecca nodded. “Absolutely. We have phones. We have letters. God, that would be so romantic,” she winked. “And we have annual leave. Central isn’t a million miles away from here,” she reminded him gently. “There’s trains. I will absolutely come visit.”

Jean wrapped his arms around her tightly. “I love you,” he whispered.

Rebecca gripped onto the back of his t-shirt tightly. “I love you too. I’m not going to give you up this easily, Jean Havoc!”

He pulled away, cupping her cheek lightly. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“Did you expect me to leave?”

He nodded, somewhat nervous. “It’s a lot of effort, long distance.”

“You’re worth it,” Rebecca promised.

Jean pulled her in tight again, but his face was a grimace. Despite having her on board and willing to try a long-distance relationship, it would still be hard. He didn’t know when they’d be leaving yet, so Rebecca was right. He had to make sure every moment counted. He would ensure he cherished every little moment they had left together, because after the move he had no idea when he’d see her in person again.

i know he goes on to “date” lust but ehhhh let’s call it undercover dating bc this is cute uwu (makes things even angstier tho bc he’d probably tell rebecca abt it to get the ok from her… oh boy, more relationship angst!)