#though im probably just shooting myself in the foot | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

waatermelon-sugaar · 4 years ago

Text

Take Care of Me

Pairing = Santiago x reader

Words = 5.5k

Summary = A discussion about sex toys turns into something more … concrete

Warnings = Swearing, talk/description of mild anxiety. SMUT (18+ only), use of handcuffs in a sexy way, oral, piv sex

A/N = Prompt no.8 requested by @itspdameronthings as part of my 300 follower celebration, thanks so much, hope you like it! Prompt was “Despite what you think, I am completely capable of taking care of myself” w/santi and bolded in text. Also 3 things; 1 = Tom doesn’t exist in this AU, 2 = this is basically pure smut im so sorry, and 3 = I did do head hopping in this, which I know you’re not like supposed to do but also fuck the rules y’know?

Posted to AO3

Masterlist

***

It’s always easy to be loose after one of Benny’s fights.

It’s a heady mix of adrenaline, beer and testosterone, swirling together into a mix that makes you forget your normal boundaries. You’re normally quite brazen about your sex life anyway, but there is a line. You respect your partners, and there’s no need for your teammates to know too much.

You’re all packed into a half-moon booth, Benny straddling a chair that he pulled up to the table after he spent too long chatting up the bartender.

It’s a small comment from Benny (because of course it’s Benny), saying that you haven’t got laid in a while, and you’re honestly surprised he noticed. But then, that’s the only predictable thing about Benny, that he is unpredictable.

Your surprise means you take a little too long actually thinking about it, which confirms Benny’s statement. You lean back a little in your seat, desperately ignoring Santi, who’s sat to your left. It also means you bite back a little harder in defence.

“Well maybe if you guys didn’t look like you’re about to murder anyone who even dares ask for my number maybe I’d have better luck.” That’s a lie, but there’s no way you’re going to tell them the truth. No way you’re going to tell Santi-

Your thoughts are interrupted by Will, sat to your right. “So you’re asking for our help?”

You scoff, hitting him up the head. “No, thank you.” Will knows why. Because of course he does. One of your oldest friends, he’d been the one who convinced you to join the team in the first place. “Despite what you think, I am completely capable of taking care of myself.”

You send a wink down to the table to Benny, who’s the first to catch on, hollering, and you try not to react to Santi leaning forward, suddenly interested, as though you’re not already hyper-aware of every body movement of his.

You continue, deciding you’re quite enjoying the effect you’ve had. “What do I need some stranger for when I can give myself a better orgasm than he could ever dream of?” You take a sip of your drink to hide your grin, as both Benny and Will holler, gaining a few glares from the pub’s other patrons.

That sip means you’re unprepared for Santi to lean in closer to you, his lips so close to your ear that you can feel his breath. “Maybe ‘stranger’ is where you’re going wrong.”

You swallow, unprepared for the sudden flare of attraction shooting through you and turning your head, just as he says, “I could take care of you.”

You catch a glimpse of Santi’s fuck me eyes when Benny (the dickhead) interrupts. Crossing his arms on the sticky table in front of him, he asks, “Does that mean you have toys?”

Frankie’s hat somehow tips lower on his head, if that’s possible.

Will twitches towards his brother, like he wants to strangle Benny for being so uncouth, but you put your hand on his upper arm. “Of course.” The best course of action is to just act like this is normal, so add a bit of air to your voice. This was normal. “Who doesn’t?”

There’s a blush rising on Benny’s cheeks and you can’t help but stoke it, grinning at him, and attempting your best bedroom eyes. He’s still not too ashamed to ask though. “What kinds?”

Will decides he’s had enough, glancing at Santi behind you with a frown and hitting Benny over the head in an imitation of the way you’d hit him. You laugh, unexpectedly pleased at the reaction you’ve gotten. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Benny nods, eager, even as Will stands, grabbing a hold of him, and steering him towards the bar. “Yes! Yes I would!” He manages to throw back at you and you laugh again, twisting your body to face Santi and Frankie, bringing your left leg onto the bench.

***

Meanwhile Santiago is in hell. He’s been in multiple hellish situations before, most similar to this one, in that it was always the 5 of you, bullets flying around your heads, rifles in your arms, weighed down by heat and sweat and tac vests.

And yet somehow, he thinks this might be the worst. Your foot next to his thigh, your knee bent, pulling your jeans up your leg and exposing your ankle to him. Watching you flirt with Benny, talking about sex, and toys, and masturbation. When that's all he wants to do with you. He just has to get the courage to tell you.

With you, there was a before in Santi’s life, and an after.

Before he knew you; and after he knew you.

Before he loved you; and after he loved you.

Except Santi’s not quite sure when he fell in love with you.

It started when Will introduced you as the newest member of the team, one of his childhood friends. He didn’t mean for it to happen, he treated you like he treated anyone else, quickly discovering that you weren’t like anyone else.

He welcomed you into his life with open arms, starting off innocently - he wanted to spend time with you. You were Will’s friend, which meant that there must be something good about you. You made him laugh, made him feel safe (even when he wasn’t). He’d wanted to do the same for you and thought he did a pretty good job.

He became your friend, until one day the two of you were watching a film. He can’t remember what it was, just that you were at his house, drinking and laughing and talking, huddled in one of his blankets, and looking like you belonged there, forever.

Falling in love with you was so easy, Santi didn’t even realise he was doing it.

Santi’s still impressed with himself that he didn’t just blurt out the words then and there. I love you.

How long had he been in love with you for? He couldn’t pinpoint down a specific moment. He remembered the night when you’d become friends - the last two around the bonfire, toasting marshmallows, making that awkward small-talk that occurs between acquaintances.

You’d made him laugh, playing chubby-bunny and teasing him until he’d had a go. You’d talked and talked, and Santi can’t even remember what about. Nothing, probably. The basics. Boring stuff, but filled with details that he’d used to keep the conversation going the next day.

He knows when he became your friend. Recognised when you trusted him more than the others, with the exception of maybe Will.

But he didn’t know when he fell in love with you. Just the day that the love became so overwhelming in his chest that he realised it.

The real nail in his metaphorical coffin was the night afterwards. The 5 of you had gone to a bar, and a girl had started talking to him as he was buying drinks. She was pretty, but she wasn’t you. And like a flashbulb, all of Santi’s previous partners flew through his mind and he realised that nothing had ever come out of them because they weren’t you.

They didn’t know how he liked his coffee, or why he had joined the military. They didn’t know the story behind his callsign, or what his favourite song was.

You did. What you weren’t there for, you asked about. You remembered. You made him feel important, like he mattered. In ways that he didn’t even really know existed.

You were the one that started him on decaf without telling him. That had been a conversation and a half. Before morning briefings, you’d started bringing him coffees. He hadn’t noticed much of a taste difference, and shamefully, had come to expect them.

Until, a month later, you weren’t there. A small trip home to visit your family, everyone knew you’d be back in a couple of days. Regardless, Santi had ordered what he’d thought was his usual coffee.

And found his anxiety rearing up again. It was subtle, making him more jumpy, less able to sleep, but it was there. He wasn’t sure what the cause was, definitely hadn’t linked it to the coffee, instead assuming that maybe he just missed you. Maybe because his anxiety hadn’t disappeared all the way, even with decaf. Maybe it was because it was your presence that helped him too.

He hadn’t even really noticed when the caffeine was gone, hadn’t noticed the absence of something wrong, only seeing the contrast when it returned. Maybe because it was gradual, the weaning off the caffeinated coffee, whereas the return, with his request of additional shot, had been too sharp for him.

You hadn’t noticed at first, assuming that Santi’s bear hug when he’d first seen you had just been because he missed you. But after lunch you pulled him to one side.

“Are you alright?” Your eyes are slightly wider with worry, and you’re chewing slightly on your bottom lip.

He hates that he’s the one to do that to you, and he tries to brush it off. “I’m fine.” That was his first mistake. His second was trying to push past you.

“Santiago!” He’s pulled up short, and there’s that tension, pulling at his shoulders, his eyebrows. “Tell me what’s wrong.” Your tone of voice hasn’t changed, but this time it’s a command.

Exhausted, hating himself, Santi drags his hands across his face. “Nothing. It’s nothing. I don’t...I don’t know.” He takes a breath, and it shudders through him. “I don’t know.” He sounds defeated, and he hopes you can’t hear it. “I just...I feel…” How does he feel? “Jittery.” Is what he finally settles on, but the word still feels wrong somehow.

You frown, looking him up and down like you’ve never seen him before. In fact, you’re silent for so long, Santi starts to be worried that you’re going to tell him to stop being so fucking ridiculous.

You don’t, but you ask questions.

Has he been sleeping? “Not really.”

Does he have something big coming up? “Just the usual.”

Has his daily routine changed at all? “No, I don’t think so. I get myself a coffee in the morning and the-”

You interrupt him with a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry.” And now it’s wrong, because now you’re looking at him like it’s your fault, when it definitely isn’t. “Santi I’m sorry. It’s your coffee.”

Santi frowns. His coffee? And you sound so apologetic, and he doesn’t understand why. “I switched you to decaf.” You can’t meet his eyes any more, gaze skittering to his shoulder with nerves. And you’re not shutting up. “I’m sorry, I should have told you, or asked if I could, I just... I knew you were getting nightmares, and decaf helped me so I thought it might help y-”

Santi cuts you off with a hug.

And now, the three of you sat in the booth, he hates himself for agreeing with Benny. He would like to know. He has a sneaking suspicion, odd little comments you’ve made throughout the years that when pieced together, paint a picture. A very vivid picture that he sometimes uses to torture himself, late at night in bed, imagining what you’d look like with your hands between your legs and wrapping a hand around his-

Santi shakes his head. Now is not the time. There’s never really a good time to fantasise about one of your best friends, but in public when they’re sitting next to you, is definitely one of the worst.

And why did he have to offer to take care of you? Did he think he was in some kind of cheesy porno? What if you hated him-

In the end, it’s you who breaks him out of his thoughts. “Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed Pope.” You push out with your foot, lightly kicking his thigh, unable to read his stony face.

Throughout all of this, Frankie has kept quiet, and now the conversation seems like it’ll be returning to safer ground, he rubs a hand over his face, lifting his hat slightly. “No.” Santi protests, although he says it too fast for it to be sincere. “I’m not embarrassed.”

“Good,” you reply, and Santi can see the moment a thought pops into your head that you can’t resist, he can see it in the way your eyes light up with mischief. “Out of all the boys, I figured you’d be the most likely to use toys.”

Frankie quickly slides out from his seat, muttering something about going to the toilet, his cheeks aflame, as Santi chokes a little on his beer. “Or maybe Will,” you muse, and Santi coughs again. “Shit, are you alright?” You ask, rocking forward to lean on your knee so you can rub Santi’s back for a second.

He concentrates on getting himself back under control, on not focusing how warm your hand is against his back. He takes deep breaths in an attempt to calm his heart down, praying that the room is dark enough that you won’t see him blush.

Santi nods, his eyes watering a little, and you laugh, but it’s not unkind, not even when one of your thumbs wipes at his lower lash line, brushing away his tears with the pad. It’s so unexpectedly soft, another sharp contrast to this sticky, seedy bar they’re all in, where the booth seats are cracked and the most complicated drink they make is a rum and coke.

“Good,” you say, voice quiet, scooting back on the bench, your foot closer to his thigh this time, and Santi hates himself for wanting to follow you.

Instead, he pretends everyone else is still here, even as he watches Will whisper something into Benny’s ear as they stand, drinking next to the bar, with no clear intention of returning. Suddenly Benny punches Will’s upper arm, and Santi’s eyebrows twitch slightly in confusion. Benny looks ecstatic, and for what?

“I’ve used handcuffs,” he says casually, half of his mind taken up with Benny and Will acting like lunatics at the bar behind you. He’s wrenched back to you when you raise an eyebrow, and he’s reminded what it feels like to be the centre of your world.

Fuck, you’re sexy though.

***

Your heart beat speeds up, suddenly sounding loud in your chest. Your mind is screaming Danger! at you - but how can it be? This is Santiago. You would trust him with your life. You have.

I could take care of you, flashes through your mind again. Maybe-

“Yeah?” You ask, trying to act calm when there’s a steady thrumming under your skin. “And are you the tied up person, or do you do the tying?”

Santi scoffs, like he thinks the answer is obvious. Maybe it is.

“I do the tying.”

You smirk, dragging an exaggerated eye up and down his body. “Sure about that?”

He looks relaxed, like he can take up more space now Frankie has gone. One of his hands is on your calf, gently trailing up and down, slowly setting you on fire, and you don’t even think he realises he’s doing it. There’s something in his eyes that you don’t recognise, darker, although it seems familiar. That’s been happening more and more lately, especially when it’s just the two of you. You like it.

“You want to test me babygirl?”

You feel breathless. “Maybe I’d like to try.”

You’ve never spoken with Santi like this before. You flirt with him more than the other boys, but this is new. This feels...real, somehow. More dangerous. And he’s closer now, shifting, so your foot is over his lap, his hand wrapped around your ankle, on your bare skin and you’ve forgotten how to breathe. You watch his hand move on your leg and you feel like you could evaporate.

“That’s not what good girls do.” Fuck, his voice.

“Good girls don’t do a lot of things I do.”

And you’re not sure what gives you the sudden confidence, but you lean forwards, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth. It’s a horrible angle, your legs in the way, but you don’t care.

And then you’re retreating, opening your eyes again, suddenly unsure of what you’ve just done. Your mouth feels tingly, where you can still feel Santi against you. His grip has tightened on your leg, no longer moving.

And then his hand is tugging at you a little, and there’s a smile threatening to take over his face.

Come here.

You scoot up, so your left leg is fully over him, your right leg tangling with his under the table and you can smell him now, beer and - as weird as it sounds - like a man. It’s familiar. Nice. Breathless, you shoot him a little grin, suddenly unsure.

And then he’s kissing you again and it’s everything you ever dreamed of. His lips are soft, but firm, moving against your mouth, contrasting with the slight stubble growing on his face. His free hand moves to your waist and you let out a small sound.

You break apart after a second, both of you breathless. You’ve slung your arms around his neck, fingers idly playing with his chain, and you’re the first to speak.

“So do you use those handcuffs on anyone?”

Santi kisses you again, short and sweet, before he answers, his lips mumbling against yours. “Hmm, just on girls I really like.”

You kiss again, neither of you really wanting to stop. “Can I use them on you?” Santi asks, moving to kiss along your jaw, nipping at your earlobe. You feel surrounded by him, he’s all you care about, all you can feel.

Your eyes snap open, desire pooling in your belly. Is this really happening? “Yes.”

“Good.” Santi’s voice is still low in your ear, before he moves down your neck, soft lips a stark contrast to his stubble catching on your skin. “How do you feel about a date, too?”

“Yeah?” You lean back slightly so you can see his face. He’s beautiful in this light, face half hidden in the shadows, eyes dark.

His lips are brushing yours again.

“Yeah. I’ll pick you up, take you somewhere nice, do it properly.”

“Good,” you mumble against him, “that sounds really good.” Your fingers are still playing with his chain, lightly brushing against the scar on his neck. “Shall we go?”

Before you know it, the two of you are sitting in a cab, having said a quick goodbye to the others, Will asking if it was safe for them to sit back in the booth. You’d responded with the finger, not bothering with a proper reply.

Santi leans over to you, whispering into your ear. “Can I really tie you up?”

You clench your thighs together, closing your eyes in an effort not to physically respond. The pause is enough for Santi to hesitate, hand shyly holding yours. “It’s ok, if you don’t want to, that’s fine, it was just a-”

You stop him with a kiss, moving your hand so you can squeeze him in reassurance. When you answer, it’s a mumble against his mouth so the driver doesn’t hear. “Break out the handcuffs, and we’ll see if you’re as tough as you act, big boy.”

Santi groans when you lean away from him.

Getting inside Santi’s flat is a feat in itself, and you’re honestly a little proud of the restraint both of you showed by not fucking in the stairwell, stopping every couple of meters to kiss each other senseless, hips clumsily knocking together as you rile each other up.

You’ve been inside his flat before, so when Santi kicks the door closed, walking you backwards into his bedroom, kissing you all the while, you don’t protest. It’s so nice to finally kiss Santi like you’ve wanted to for a while now, so nice to feel his hands on your waist, pushing you backwards while his hips press into yours, steady now, purposeful.

His fingers are playing with the waist of your trousers, and you help him, shimmying your jeans off, pushing them down your thighs and letting them fall to the floor. Then he surprises you, dropping to his knees in front of you, pulling your knickers down your legs.

Looking down, you feel dizzy from the rush of power this brings you. Santi looks like he’s about to worship you, his face close to your pussy. His hands are on your waist and he pushes at you, encouraging you to step back.

When you don’t he tips his head back, exposing his neck to you. “Step back.” His voice is dangerous and you can feel more wetness gathering between your legs. You grin down at him, still not moving.

In response Santi nips at your thigh, grinning when you gasp, hands flying to his hair. He pushes at you again, and this time you let him, stepping back until you hit his bed, sitting down.

Santi presses his hand against your stomach, and you allow yourself to be pushed back, falling back onto your elbows so you can watch him. He presses his nose to your mound and you squirm, impatient, as Santi spreads your knees so he can fit between your legs.

You watch him press his nose to your pussy, burying his nose in you, feeling yourself grow wetter. “You taste so good,” he groans, “Sweetest pussy I’ve tasted.” As he begins to explore you with his tongue, your hips lift off the bed with a groan and it takes you a second to recognise your own voice, broken with need. Santi’s arm reaches out, pressing you down as he explores your folds. Stubble is scratching your thighs, a pleasantly rough feeling compared to the soft wetness, the pliability of Santi’s tongue. Your clit is the first thing he concentrates on, his tongue practically lapping at you, and it all feels so good.

One hand is desperately fisting the sheets to the side of you as you try to hold on to reality, the other knotted in Santi’s short curls, nails scraping ever so slightly along his scalp even as he lifts you higher and higher. Broken pleas of his name fall from your lips when he inserts two fingers into you, gently pumping in and out, with a strangely satisfying squelch under your cries.

Your orgasm creeps up on you, slow and unsuspecting. One second your chest is heaving, breaths short and shallow, the next you’ve tensed up as you fall apart under Santi.

He keeps kissing you, gently pressing his lips over your thighs, hips, stomach as you stare at his ceiling, willing rational thought to return to you. He’s murmuring praises into your skin, telling you how good you are for him, what a good job you’ve done, how pretty you look when you come, how he wants to make you do it again, and all the while you float somewhere above your body, hardly daring to believe this is real. Santi keeps kissing you, any skin he can get his mouth on, desperate to keep tasting you. Gradually he moves up your body, even as you lie there, panting, letting him push your top up, bunching under your arms and around your neck.

Your hands fly to his hair when he bites the soft skin of your breast peeking out from your bra, and you arch your back towards him slightly, letting out a small whine. You can feel his smirk against you, so you wrap your legs around his waist, canting your hips up, grinding against where you can feel him, hard and aching in his jeans.

Now it’s your turn to smirk, slow and lazy when Santi lets out a low growl in response. He tips his head up so he can look at you, his eyes soft as he smiles at you. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

And then his body weight is gone and he’s standing next to the bed, taking his top off and it’s not the first time you’ve seen him shirtless, of course it isn’t, but it’s the first time you’ve seen him and been allowed to look, and Santi’s all shadows and soft muscle, pale scars highlighted on his skin.

You sit up, and it takes you a second to fight your way out of your top, quickly sliding the straps of your bra off, and dropping your clothes to the side of the bed as you watch Santi cross his room, and fish out a pair of handcuffs from a box with a couple of other objects inside, as well as what you’re pretty sure looks like a strap-on. And maybe it’s because his ass is currently in your eye-line, maybe it’s the surprise, but the image of you wearing it, teasing Santi with your dick while he waits on all fours on his bed, begging for you to touch him, suddenly pops into your head, and you have to work to hold back a moan at the mental image. Oh my god.

When Santi turns back to you, he’s opened the cuffs. “Are you familiar with the traffic light system?”

You suddenly feel nervous, your mouth dry, and you don’t know why, this is Santi. He’s made it clear that you don’t have to do this, and anyway you want to. “Green is good, orange is slow down, red is stop,” you recite easily, and Santi nods in satisfaction.

“Good girl,” he says and his words hit deep in your stomach, unfurling something you hadn’t known existed. “You say something and I’ll untie you.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning back on your hands, eyeing up the way Santi’s jeans are still on, now hanging low on his hips, exposing a small trail of hair down from his bellybutton. “What if I don’t want you to untie me?” You ask.

You can see how his eyes darken, but he doesn’t move. “Tell me you understand,” he says, voice stern and you shiver.

“I understand,” you parrot. Santi nods, pleased at you doing as he says, and steps out of his jeans, pulling his boxers off at the same time, releasing his cock. He’s hard, curving up towards his stomach and leaking pre-cum.

Almost on instinct, you lean forwards to lick it off, and Santi lets out a groan of satisfaction at the sensation of your mouth just wrapping around his head, your hands on his thighs. Before you can take him any further, he’s stepping back, shaking his head.

“Lie back,” he instructs, and you obey. Santi kneels next to you, tugging your wrists up, above your head, looping the handcuffs through his headboard and clicking them on around you. You give them an experimental tug, biting back a moan when they hold fast. “Colour?” Santi asks, and you grin up at him.

“Green.” Your voice already sounds broken. “Santi, please.”

Santi just kneels back, looking at you with those hungry eyes. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he breathes out, hands running up and down your body, ignoring how you squirm as best you can under him.

“Oh yeah?” You ask. “Why don’t you come down here then, instead of just watching me?” Santi’s hands reach your breasts, squeezing and gently massaging and you arch your back towards him.

“You’re unhappy with my hands?” Santi returns, and stops touching you. You can’t help it, letting out a whine and straining to move your arms towards him, before remembering you can’t, your attempted movement jangling the chain a little.

“No, Santi,” you’re desperate for him to touch you again, especially now you can’t touch him,“Santi please, touch me again, touch me more.” Begging has never come so easily to you. And then Santi’s moving between your legs, gripping your hips and thrusting up, but not into you, just along your folds. You moan, shifting as best as you can while Santi coats himself with your slick, the head of his cock just pushing your clit, teasing you and riling you up further.

You suddenly really want to touch him, to rake your hands through his hair, to scratch your nails down his back, to be able to suck a purple hickey into his skin. You let your head fall back to the bed, pushing your hips towards him, desperate for more, desperate for him.

It’s only when you open your mouth in a desperate plea, a whine of his name, “Santi, Santi please,” that he begins to push into you.

Your mouth falls open in silent pleasure, just as Santi begins to talk. “Fuck, baby.” The stretch of him is delicious. “I wanted this for so long.” Now fully seated in you, he rests on his forearms, kissing you softly, first on the forehead, then on your lips. “Colour?” he asks softly.

You nearly cry from how sweet it is, how sweet he is, before responding, a mumble against his lips. “Green.” You feel full, like this is how you’re supposed to feel all the time, this is your base state, and you’re going to spend the rest of your life trying to achieve this specific feeling.

“Good girl,” Santi murmurs and you keen at the praise, feeling insatiable, wanting more, clenching around him. He grins, registering your response. “You liked that? You like being told what a good job you’re doing, how good you feel around me..” he breaks off with a gasp, and your eyes close as Santi begins to move in time with his words, long, slow thrusts as he begins to put you together again, building you up, further and further, his thrusts speeding up gradually, the sound of his dick sliding into your wetness, and the slap of skin-on-skin loud in his room, mixing with your moans.

You lift your legs up, wrapping them around his waist, hooking one of your feet around Santi’s butt. They don’t stay there for long, one of Santi’s arms pushing one leg up your body, hand under your knee as he splits you open. The new angle hits something deeper in you, and you gasp, unable to move and at the mercy of Santiago.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, coming out of nowhere, your lower body suddenly clenching around Santi, arms straining against the handcuffs, as you try in vain to touch him. You tumble through it, muscles spasming as you fall under him. He keeps moving into you as you shudder below him, pulling you through with murmured praise and encouragement as another broken cry leaves your throat.

His thrusts start to get sloppier as he goes faster, losing his rhythm slightly and you can tell he’s near his end. As best you can, you start moving your own hips, grinding up to meet him, words of encouragement slipping past your lips. “Santi, you feel so good, are you gonna fill me up?” You coo, pouting a little, tugging your wrists a little for emphasis. “Please Santi, I want to feel you, come in me, please-”

You stop when Santi snaps his hips once more, with a groan of finality and you can feel his cum inside of you as he holds himself there, his cock pulsing within you. He presses a couple more gentle kisses to your neck before sliding out, and you hiss slightly at the pull on your sensitive folds of your pussy.

He leaves for a second, returning with a key and gently releasing your wrists. “Good girl,” he murmurs, massaging your skin. “You did so good for me.”

He helps you sit up, kissing your cheek before leaving again. This time when he returns, he has a wet rag, and a glass of water, which you take a sip from, not having realised how thirsty you were. He gently dabs the rag on the inside of your thighs first, and the two of you watch in slightly morbid fascination as Santi’s cum leaks out of you onto the rag.

“That’s kinda hot,” you comment idly, wondering if Santi fucked all sense of you.

He only laughs, wiping the mess away and cuddling up next to you. “Do you want me to do it again?” he asks as you lean into his arms, his hands wrapping around your wrists to rub circles into your skin.

“Yes,” you answer, probably too quickly but beyond caring.

“Good.”

There’s a pause, and you can tell Santi wants to ask you something, so you twist in his arms, kissing along his shoulder. The act feels small, and innocent somehow, despite your states of undress, as you try to reassure him.

“You were right,” you murmur near his ear, “Stranger was where I was going wrong.”

It takes him a second to piece your reference together, but then he grins, and it’s like he hung the sun in the sky. “Yeah? I took care of you?”

You kiss him again, this time on the lips, biting back your own identical grin. “Yeah.”

***

Thanks for reading! Reblogs and comments mean the world to me 🥰🥰🥰

Tags: @fantasticcopeaglepasta

#Santiago x reader #Santiago Garcia x reader #Santiago pope x reader #Santiago pope Garcia x reader #pope x reader #Santiago Garcia #Santiago pope #Santiago pope Garcia #triple frontier #fanfic

279 notes · View notes

newtonsheffield · 4 years ago

Note

okay so i don’t think words can describe how much i loved ‘Goose’. That chapter is so beautiful and im so happy for these fictional characters ( david can suck it).

I wonder if how matthew and eddie continue the wednesday tradition with an older (toddler and maybe speaking) edmund? cause that’s all my heart wants.

side note ‘Goose and Eddie’ would be an amazing name for a romantic 90s-2000s sitcom or a romcom movie

Okay! I cannot tell you how relieved I am about how much everyone seems to be enjoying Goose! This fic was a largely selfish venture because I made myself fall in love with Matthew Goose Bagwell who just met a girl in the museum who was smart and funny, and she made little puns about dinosaurs to her Nephew who had absolutely no idea what she was talking about, and fell a little desperately in love with the way her nose crinkled when she smiled and had no idea that she was that Edwina. The Edwina Sheffield who by this time had been voted England’s most beautiful woman thrice in a row. And then I think like a grand total of 1 person asked to see more about them and I forced this fic upon you all, in true Molly Fashion!

David can get Wreckkkkkked. He never deserved Edwina and after she was with Matthew, take comfort in the fact that Edwina fully realised how ... unsatisfied she’d been by him. (Get it Girl)

And YES I want to watch “Goose and Eddie”! I want to watch this fic that I wrote as a romantic comedy tbh. Is that vain? Probably.

Now, I fully, subscribe to the fact that Edwina still takes Edmund to the museum every week, and then miles, and then Charlotte and her own Daughter Sarah, and Mary, and eventually her son. And Matthew takes a long lunch and sits with his wife’s family, more than content to watch Kate’s manic children run all over his office little hands grabbing at everything within reach.

“Auntie Eddie! Edmund is pushing!” Miles’ tiny voice called out as she shut the car door. Edwina sighed, turning towards her Nephews, Edmund looking very innocently back at her. “I wasn’t!” He said, the charming smile Anthony used to get away with things fixed on his face, slightly startling on a boy barely three years old. Edwina fixed them with her sternest look despite how adorable they looked, Miles’ electric blue glasses strapped to his face, An astronaut on his shirt. Edmund’s shoes flashing brightly as he tapped his foot excitedly. “Boys we have to behave, otherwise we’re going straight home, and Grandma Mary will probably make broccoli for lunch.” Both boys wrinkled their noses and Edwina had to bite back a laugh as though her mother would ever force Kate’s children to eat anything they didn’t like. Mary Sheffield had been a very kind mother, but stern when needed. Grandma Mary didn’t know the meaning of the word. Kate’s boys seemed to have her wrapped tightly in their little fists, all of them were trapped there really.

“Okay, then, Hold hands.” She said, holding her hands out for the boys to take, making their way down the street to the museum. “When Mummy has the new baby, are you going to bring her with us?” Edmund asked as they made their way. Edwina hummed. “Probably. What makes you so sure it’s a girl Neddy?” Edmund grinning at the nickname only she used. Eddie to Neddy she always said when she told him faux secrets and his little face lit up with joy. “Because I already have Milo. So now I need a sister, like Mummy has you.” He said, shrugging as though that made perfect sense. Edwina chuckled to herself as they came through the door, the boys both grinning excitedly just like always.

“Where’s Uncle Matty?” Miles said, tugging on her arm as he looked around the foyer scanning for him. “Uncle Matt can’t meet us today, sweetheart. He’s a little busy setting up something new to show us next week.” Edwina said, her heart clenching at the way both boys pouted. Edmund sighed, “Is it gonna be cool?” He said sceptically a crease forming between his tiny eyebrows, and Edwina had to bite back a laugh. “I think it will be very cool.” “Well I suppose that’s okay.” He said as though that quite settled the matter tugging his aunt and brother in the direction he had decided they should go.

“It’s bigger than Uncle Ben!” Miles practically shrieked in delight as he looked at the triceratops skeleton his little legs moving with excitement just like it always did. And Edwina felt her heart skip. This was why she loved bringing them here, watching their little faces light up with excitement, watching them discover and learn new things, it was truly beautiful. And a strange sense of longing welled in her chest. Matthew was enough for her, really he was, but recently she couldn’t stop imagining him with their own children rather than Kate’s. He was so patient and kind with them, and god she just wanted. But she’d chickened out every time the thought had pushed at the back of her throat.

“Excuse me, Miss?” A familiar voice said behind her, bringing a smile to her lips “It’s not usually my specialty but maybe I could give you a hand.” Edwina turned to find her husband grinning broadly, his hair flopping into his eyes, that were shining at her in the bright lighting, and her breath caught a little. But even so, “Mmmm, thanks but, no. I’m waiting for my husband.” Matthew laughed. “Ooof he must be a lucky man.” He said as he leaned in and pressed his lips lightly to hers only to be interrupted by Edmund sprinting headlong into Matthew’s legs. “Uncle Goose! Auntie Eddie said you weren’t coming!” His little voice cried out excitedly and Edwina’s heart stuttered as Matthew Crouched down and let out a little honk at his nickname, grinning broadly as Miles barrelled into him as well. “Hmmm Auntie Eddie can be very silly.” He said shooting her a quick wink. “How could I not see my favourite palaeontologists today?!” both boys grinned excitedly, tugging him towards the skeleton

“Triceratops has 800 teeth!” Miles called out and Matthew gasped theatrically “No way, Milo! You’re making that up!” Matthew said and Edwina thought, in that moment that she couldn’t be any more thankful that this man had bumped into her just a few feet away.

And that night, when the thought pushed at the back of her throat as they sat on the sofa, his head resting lightly in her lap, she let it fall out. “Matt, I want to have a baby.” Matthew’s eyes softened as he looked up at her “Yeah?” He said lightly his eyes staring into hers carefully. And she forced herself to nod, as nervous butterflies beat against her stomach. And then her heart skipped as a broad smile spread over his face. “Then let’s have a baby, honey.”

#bridgerton and sons au #edwina x bagwell #edwina x matthew #edwina x matthew + baby bridgertons #edwina sheffield #edwina sharma #matthew goose bagwell #goose is a cutie #molly's asks and answers #tbh I think I just wanna go to a museum

111 notes · View notes

thetriggeredhappy · 4 years ago

Note

okay forgot I sent you that ask cause it was like the middle of the night but the homoeroticism was because I was playing on hightower as scout and this blu sniper was legit the best huntsman sniper I've ever encountered. he'd get me as I was leaving spawn and I'd get him when he wasn't paying attention. funniest fucking thing was I missed my jump into their middle spawn area and landed below the wall there, so I just tucked myself in the corner between and wall and the crates, looked up and waited for him because I knew he saw me. a second passes and then there's an arrow in the wall next to my head. I back up, he's behind me looking at the arrow, he looks at me, I look at him, then the arrow, back to each other, then we're both asking how the hell he missed from point blank. either way I sort of wanna turn that into a fic but idk. not sure why I'm telling you about this but I figured you'd probably find it funny

writes a fic abt a theoretical in-game situation because im a fuckin. goobus

(warnings for canon-typical violence, consider this one pg-13)

Thump. “OW, FUCK!”

Scout clamped a hand over his mouth a moment too late, eyes wide.

Okay, so, shit. Not ideal. That was a twisted ankle—hell, maybe even a fracture—and here he was, alone by the BLU restock room, having just completely and utterly failed what was supposed to be an easy jump. The easiest jump.

And that bastard BLU Sniper for sure just probably heard him.

He pinned his shoulders back against the wall, eyes up towards the ledge above him. Okay, he had to think fast. He still had his gun, even if ammo was looking a little… thin at the moment. He wasn’t defenseless. He just had to play it cool. Keep his head on his shoulders. Which, yeah, was kind of the problem lately, since apparently the BLU Sniper was just a real douchebag with that bow and arrow, but whatever.

But the pain was distracting enough, and his focus narrowed so firmly to the ledge way up above him, that he didn’t process the sound of footsteps before the sound of a hard THUNK just to one side of his head, making him jump half a foot into the air and yelp in a way that was extremely un-manly.

And then he looked to his right at the arrow embedded into the wall a foot from his head, and then he looked at the BLU Sniper standing not even two dozen paces away.

A beat of pause.

“How the fuck did you miss?” Scout asked, utterly baffled.

“Bugger off,” the Sniper barked, looking similarly confused.

“No, seriously, how’d you fuckin’ miss?” he repeated, standing up and turning to look at the arrow again. “What the shit? My guy, I could’ve thrown it overhand and hit closer than that.”

“Well how does a bloody Scout miss a four-foot horizontal jump to flat ground?” he challenged right back.

“Oh, fuck you. I’m not the one who couldn’t hit a still target at eight fuckin’ yards.”

“I’m not the one who fell eight feet and yelped like one of those yappy sorts of dogs!”

“I’m not the one who wears sunglasses in the middle of the fuckin’ night.”

“Oh bugger off,” the Sniper spat, jaw tight, “now you’re just getting personal.”

“Wanna talk about personal?” the Scout challenged, moving forward, feeling particularly bold just then as he processed that closer range meant he was in less danger when it came to a Sniper. “If we’re talkin’ about personal, we can talk about how you’re gettin’ all personal! What’s with the target on my back, huh?”

“Well why are you wasting time bolting up to beat my head in instead of doing your buggering job?” the Sniper challenged right back, eyeing the way the Scout moved in but not backing down.

“Hey, you’re the one shooting at fast targets for no reason!”

“No, you answer the damn question,” the Sniper sneered, taking a step in as well, and it made Scout stutter to a halt, suddenly much closer than he was entirely on board with now that he noticed the knife hanging on the man’s hip. “What’s got you picking fights with blokes a kilometer out from the damn fight? You got a bloody death wish?”

“Maybe it’s just ‘cause I like you so much,” Scout teased in a sing-song voice, and didn’t anticipate the hard shove to the chest that sent him stumbling back, and it caught his leg wrong, made him hiss through his teeth at the sharp spike of pain, and too late he recovered his balance.

“Not so brave now, though, are you?” the Sniper jeered, fronting on him now, and before Scout could shift his weight to defend himself another hard shove sent him stumbling back further, off balance again. “Caught out neck-deep on enemy territory with a bum leg, and there goes that bravado, doesn’t it? Maybe now you’ll learn to mind the attitude.”

“Ain’t ever minded my attitude before, why would I start today? Because some fuckin’ punk gets his kicks playing with his food?” Scout mocked, absolutely committed to not looking like a coward. This Sniper wasn’t gonna get that satisfaction. “Where’s that professionalism now, huh, crocodile man?”

“Are you ever going to shut your damn mouth?!” the Sniper growled, and every nerve in Scout’s body screamed ‘danger’ at his expression, his body language, everything. Back literally to a wall, the tail of that arrow from earlier in his periphery, the Sniper closing in. “Will you just shut up already?!”

“Make me,” Scout sneered, and the Sniper practically snarled, surging forward. He processed the painful click of teeth foremost, but his limbs caught up faster than his brain, and within seconds he had arms up around the Sniper’s shoulders, yanking him down to kiss him harder, longer, and man, he was so fucked.

This was like fighting too, fighting to hold on tighter, to pull back to breathe. He was being crushed a little, ribs aching, but it was good, the fighting.

He pulled back to gasp hard, and coughed a little at how the closeness didn’t let him get the whole gasp’s worth of air, and a second gasp followed at the feeling of the Sniper pushing his head back, setting his mouth in against his neck and getting to work. Scout huffed for air, digging fingertips in to grip at him, lips tingling and aching. He was pretty sure he could taste blood, but he wasn’t sure whose.

Wait, what the fuck was he doing?!

Like ice water, brought to his senses, he caught sight of the arrow out of the corner of his eye. It was easy to reach, but a little harder to yank out of the wall, and then easy to jab down somewhere into the Sniper’s ribcage.

A choked noise, the Sniper rearing back despite Scout’s clinging arms, and he didn’t see him reaching for the blade but he felt it lodged down through his shoulder.

 God fucking damn it, he had good aim. Already his vision was swimming and going dark. He didn’t have long.

“Kill ya later,” he managed to quip, grinning as wide and smug as he could manage, and it was hard to tell, but at least he probably got the Sniper too from the way the man teetered. And he tried for a wink, but waking back up in the Resupply again, he couldn’t be sure he managed it.

Oh well. He’d have next time. And if he wasn’t determined before, he was now—there would be a next time.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #sniperscout #speeding bullet #shut up me #everybody talks #my fanfiction #que?

105 notes · View notes

chilling-seavey · 4 years ago

Text

Heartbreak Hotel (d.s.) - Chapter Twenty-Four

A/N Christian and Daniel. Our favourite duo no matter the decade.

“You’re lucky he didn’t break your nose.”

Daniel only offered a half groan in response, holding the ice pack to his nearly swollen eye as his mother carefully laid him down on his bed. Christian stood at the foot of the single bed, watching his badly bruised younger brother with stone cold concern written all over his face.

“I’m serious. He could have killed you.”

“But he didn’t.” their mother said sternly to her elder son, glaring warningly at him.

Christian sighed; both of them looking back to Daniel. He was laying flat on his back with his drapes pulled closed and his room near dark as he had a splitting headache that nearly made him nauseous with agony. He barely moved because every time he did, another wave of shooting pain ripped through his stomach and across his head. His mother tucked him under the blankets, being careful of the dark bruise that was forming larger minute by minute over his bare stomach, and she gently pet his tangled brown hair back from his face.

“Can I get you anything else, love?”

“No, Ma.” Daniel rasped out. “I’m okay.”

“Okay.” she leaned down to press a tender kiss to his forehead before taking the painkiller bottle from his nightstand. “Keep that ice there. The meds should start to kick in soon. I have to go start dinner but Christian’s going to stay with you, alright?”

“Mhm.” Daniel hummed in agreement.

Their mother stood up again from tending to her youngest son and turned to Christian, “Make sure he doesn’t fall asleep. Doctor’s orders.”

“Got it.” Christian nodded. He watched their mother leave the room to head downstairs and Christian sighed, turning back to the bed and stared at his brother for a moment in silence.

“Does it look terrible?” Daniel croaked out.

“Let me see.” Christian walked over to his bedside and carefully lifted the ice pack from his face. Daniel winced and blinked painfully up at his brother. His eye was certainly bruising and swollen, not to mention his nose and split lip that were puffy too, his pale skin stained slightly red from where the blood had flowed even after his mother cleaned him off when they got home from the hospital.

Christian sighed tightly and set the ice pack back on Daniel’s cheek, “Well you don’t look too disgusting.”

Daniel huffed, “Thanks.”

Christian pulled over his desk chair and sat down at his bedside in momentary silence. Daniel just took a moment to process what even happened; still trying to wrap his brain around the first punch yet alone the numerous ones that followed. He had never been hit like that before. He had never been hit at all before.

His brain itself physically ached but yet he could only think of Loretta. He wondered if Corbyn ever hit her like this.

“Probably not.”

Christian’s sudden volume started Daniel a little and he turned his head slightly to look at him in confusion.

“I said no, he probably doesn’t hit her. He doesn’t seem like that much of an asshole.” Christian repeated.

“Oh…” Daniel breathed. “I thought I said that in my head.”

Christian simply stared at his frazzled little brother and scooted his chair closer to the bedside, “Is now a good time to say ‘I told you so’?”

Daniel scoffed lightly.

“Corbyn’s not going to let this go easily; he’s not going to let her go easily. You should start thinking if this is all worth it.”

Daniel turned to glare at his brother quickly, wincing in pain at the speed at which he moved and he raised a hand to his neck. Christian sighed and took the ice pack from him to rest it against his neck for him and Daniel whimpered softly.

Christian continued before Daniel could speak, “I know you’ve been waiting to find your soulmate for your whole entire life but sometimes it doesn’t work out. There are so many people that never find their soulmate and they’re perfectly happy with someone else.”

Daniel sniffled a little, “I don’t want some other random girl. I want her.”

“You’re seriously going to get yourself killed fighting for this bird.”

“I don’t care.”

Christian looked up to his brother’s beaten face, his blue eyes shining with tears through his bruised skin. Christian sighed, shifting the ice pack to his jaw gently, “You love her, don’t you?”

Daniel’s nose scrunched up as he tried to hold in his tears but it only made his face hurt more and he groaned heavily through a small nod.

“No crying.” Christian shushed him softly. “It’s just gonna hurt more.”

Daniel took a small inhale to try and calm himself down, turning his head back to face the ceiling as Christian held the ice pack against his face for him. The brothers fell into silence for a moment, Christian just watching Daniel motionlessly even as his eyes started to flutter closed.

“Hey. No falling asleep.” Christian said strongly to wake him up.

“I’m so tired.” Daniel mumbled.

“I know, buddy. But we gotta keep an eye on you.” Christian explained softly as he shifted the ice pack to the purple bruise that was forming over Daniel’s cheek.

Daniel took a small breath, trying to keep his eyes open, “I wanna see Lori.”

“That’s not a good idea right now.” Christian whispered.

“Corbyn doesn’t gotta know.”

Christian cracked a small smile at his brother’s sleepy rambling, “I’m saying no because your face might scare her.”

Daniel turned slightly to face him and shot him a weak glare, “That’s not nice.”

“Those drugs are kicking in, aren’t they?” Christian chuckled.

Daniel pouted at him and nodded lightly.

“Yeah.” Christian smiled and brushed his hand through his messy hair. “You took it like a champ apparently. Jack and Zach called home after you were taken to the hospital and they said you didn’t even throw a punch back.”

“He didn’t let me.” Daniel pouted.

Christian let out a small laugh and Daniel’s lips perked into a little smile himself and the brothers shared soft chuckles together.

“Hurt so bad.” Daniel giggled. “He had rings on.”

“Shit, that’s not fair.” Christian tisked.

Daniel shook his head slightly in agreement. He licked his chapped lips a little before speaking shakily, “They matched the one that Lori wears around her neck.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Well I’m just glad you’re okay after such a bash.” Christian shifted the ice to another spot on his brother’s face.

“I’d take it again.” Daniel mumbled.

“Don’t say that.”

Daniel’s eyes raised to Christian’s, “I would. I’d do anything for her. I had her…I was so close to having her and suddenly she’s gone, y’know?”

Christian’s lips pulled tight, “Yeah. I know. I know all too well.”

“But yours wanted you. She just had to go home. Mine doesn’t want me.”

“Well…I suppose. But it doesn’t feel any easier.”

“Wanna trade?”

Christian couldn’t help but smile sadly at his brother, “That’s just fine; thank you though.”

“I don’t wanna see Corbyn again.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“I don’t wanna come back to work and have to see him.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll let the manager know what happened and I don’t doubt Corbyn will get sacked for it too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Corbyn punched me in the face.”

“Yeah,” Christian laughed lightly, “I know.”

“A lot.”

“I know. And I won’t let it happen again, okay?”

Daniel nodded lightly, his eyes starting to close again but Christian shook his shoulder lightly to wake him up. Daniel blinked up at him and Christian brushed his hand through his hair again.

“No one hurts my little brother. Not even my friends.”

“Are you gonna punch Corbyn?”

“No. Violence doesn’t solve anything.”

“You could knock ‘im out.” Daniel giggled sleepily. “You’re a big tough guy now.”

Christian swallowed thickly, leaning forward to rest his elbow on the side of the bed as he iced Daniel’s swollen face, “No I’m not.”

“Yeah you are. All scary and leather-y.” Daniel reached out an arm to brush over the jacket that Christian wore.

“I thought I was, but I’m not.” Christian shrugged off the jacket as if looking at it was wrong of both of them and then gently moved back in to pat the bag of ice gently over Daniel’s split lip. “I was angry at the world when my girl left and I tried to find something to distract myself from all that hurt in my heart. And I think I just hurt you and made you feel really alone in the process, huh?”

Daniel hesitated, not wanting to hurt his older brother’s feelings, but then nodded slightly.

“Yeah.” Christian sighed. “And I’m sorry for that. But you know I’m still the brother you always knew me as, right?”

“Right.”

“Good.”

The two brothers fell into silence a moment in the dark room, Daniel fighting to keep his eyes open and both simply listening to their mother making dinner downstairs. Daniel’s breathing was shallow and his bare chest rose and fell under his bedsheets as he stared at the ceiling otherwise motionless. Christian iced his face without and word and wondered what was going through his little brother’s mind; in that mix of love-sick heartbreak, physical pain, and a touch of strong prescription pain killers.

Daniel shifted a little under the sheets, wincing as he moved, and smacked his chapped lips together a few times before running his tongue over them. He mumbled out a weak, “Chris.”

Christian leaned closer over the side of the bed to hear him better, “Yeah, Dani?”

A peaceful smile grazed Daniel’s beaten face, the heavy drugs in his system slurring his words behind his split lip and bruised jaw, but he batted his eyelashes up at his brother with a sweet and calm, “Lori’s eating spaghetti and meatballs for supper.”

#🍓#soulmate au #daniel seavey #christian seavey #why dont we #why dont we fanfic #1950s #soulmate!wdw #jonah marais #jack avery #corbyn besson #zach herron #daniel seavey fanfic #wdw

31 notes · View notes

jincherie · 5 years ago

Text

tentacledipity | five

➛pairing: jimin x reader ➛genre: alien au, space au, soulmate au, wanted au, smut (coming) ➛rating: sfw ➛words: 9k ➛warnings: ➛notes: completely forgot that i hadn’t posted it on here yet !!! sorry !!! Im also sorry for the blue balls!! There will be relief eventually!! I was actually going to have some at the end of this chapter but uhhh plans change,,, although now i can say there is definitely some relief in the next chapter since that’s the scene i cut off the end of this one

This tale starts, as any good fiction does, with a girl crash landing on a foreign planet. And, like any good fiction, it follows a theme of serendipitous happening, and tentacles. Behold, serendipity and tentacles— or dare we call it…. tentacledipity.

— posted; 01.12.2019 // ↞ prev. || five || next ↠

“What are you doing?”

If anyone asked, you would tell them that you were the picture of grace as you got the absolute life scared out of you. The reality was, however, that you let out a sharp, squeaky scream wherein your voice broke and you pretty much tumbled like a mannequin with recently oiled joints out of the tree you’d been climbing before you were so rudely startled.

You weren’t far enough from the ground to break anything with your fall, but you were far enough that you were pretty sure you bruised your ass from the impact. A whimper escaped you at the sharp, deep ache in your gluteus maximus that resulted, and when you looked up to see the cause of your startle you almost shat yourself once more. Of course, you’d heard his voice and subconsciously known who it was the second he spoke, but seeing Jimin looming over you with an expression that was a cross between concerned and incredibly amused really made the belated realisation sink in. Another fright doing harm to your poor, weak heart. Your time on this planet was going to come to an end due to someone scaring you to death, one day.

Wait just a second…

By thinking that, did you just subconsciously presume you weren’t ever going to leave, or…? You reeled for a moment, an odd feeling coming to life inside you. That was extremely out of character for you, and you probably needed to see a doctor or something. Or maybe go annoy Yoongi so you could get some sense knocked back into you.

The soft sound that resulted from Jimin shifting his weight from foot to foot on the grass brought you back to the present moment and you let out a pained, sheepish laugh. Right, he asked you a question. What were you doing? You didn’t really remember, to be honest. Possibly a cause for concern, but who could blame you for a little momentary memory loss when faced with a being as fine as Jimin was? The answer was absolutely no one and you’d defend that to your grave.

“Uhh…” you floundered for an answer that wouldn’t make you look like a complete idiot, and came up empty. Well, humiliating truth it was. “To be honest? I just wanted to climb the tree. I wasn’t stealing the fruits, I promise.”

Jimin’s brow rose, marks flushing soft periwinkle. “These trees are in the more open sectors of the royal gardens, taking one of the fruits wouldn’t be stealing. Although…”

He wrinkled his nose, directing his gaze to the incriminating fruit that hung, bulbous and bright pink, from one of the upper-middle branches, looking thoroughly disgusted. “I wouldn’t recommend it, unless you enjoy being violently sick for several days. They are kind of poisonous, for kelkie and humans alike.”

You made a face at that, giving the fruit the stink eye for the audacity it had to almost trick you with its pretty, appealing outside. How dare it—pink means yummy, not poison! The nerve.

“Noted,” you said, gulping. A beat passed before you turned to the male suddenly, eyes narrowed as you recalled something. “Wait, how did you know I was there? And how did you get over here so fast? If you’re going to flash-step over here and scare the shit out of me, you could at least catch me. I mean, I wouldn’t complain.”

Jimin’s head tilted, full lips tugging. “Noted,” he remarked, clowning you unabashedly. “I’ll be sure to save you the fall and yank you from the tree myself next time.”

At that, you couldn’t help the sudden laugh that tore out of you—the sound of it made his lips twitch further. He waited for you to calm a little before he continued.

“And if you must know, I was going for a brief walk. You’re actually in my gardens right now, petal.”

You balked, a flush of embarrassment rushing to heat your cheeks. Oh. So that’s what that short wall you’d jumped over while exploring had meant. Huh. Perhaps you were a little stupid; then again, that knowledge wasn’t really anything new.

Prior to this, you’d been a little preoccupied with your throbbing ass, but now, as you sat and gazed up at the magnetic form that was Jimin, you were suddenly reminded of the conversation from the other day with Joy and other raunchy parties. Your gaze flicked to his sides on instinct before you caught yourself and tore it away, averting it to the foliage to be safe. If you stare at his back he’s going to know you know, dumbass!

“O-oh, am I? Whoops, my bad,” you tried to distract yourself with a too-soon attempt at climbing back to your feet. You wobbled, voice shooting up in alarm, “To be fair though there’s no way to know these are your gardens, like, where’s the sign? You should reall—YAH OH MY!”

When you wobbled again a second time, barely a split second away from toppling off your wobbly legs and back onto your throbbing behind, Jimin’s hand shot to grasp your wrist and in one fell swoop he yanked you from your tentative crouch to standing. In the process he, overestimating your level of resistance, ended up hauling you straight into his chest. He barely stumbled as you knocked into him, your arms shooting out to wrap around him on instinct. An embarrassing instinct in actuality, but certainly not one you were about to complain about.

A beat of silence passed while you caught up to the sudden turn of events before you pulled your head back from where it had been resting over his shoulder. Utilising the fact your arms had ended up looped around his waist, you tightened your hold around him and pressed your hands firmly against his spine. You felt the hitch of his breath against your chest. When you grew brave enough to allow your eyes to stray to his face, they caught his own—deep, dark pools of molten cocoa, pupils almost swallowing his iris’ whole, hypnotised you for a moment. Even meeting his gaze like this made your lungs constrict and your heart jump in unison with your stomach. Giddy, excited—a sudden sense of shyness tickled the back of your neck but it was far overpowered by the deep, instinctive urge to push him a little. You wanted to play.

When he said nothing, you allowed your lips to twitch into a big, dumb grin— a courteous moment’s warning for what you were about to do—and then you moved your hands to his shoulder blades before pressing your fingertips in and dragging them down either side of his spine. He went rigid, yet the muscles of his back still yielded to the teasing pressure of your fingertips. Further down his back, about mid way, you felt your fingertips catch on something even through the shirt and Jimin jerked, a low rumble sounding in the back of his throat as a shudder ran through the entirety of his body.

You didn’t get all the way down his back before you pulled away, heart racing a little too fast from the sudden intensity of his gaze as it burned into you, as a result of your teasing. You hadn’t noticed his grip earlier but now you were painfully aware of the firm hold he had on your waist, fingers gripping with just enough pressure that your stomach flipped like you were a mere schoolgirl back on Earth.

As steamy as the moment was turning out to be, it was broken by a very sudden, very sharp and very loud noise—

One that sounded suspiciously like a dog.

Jerking away from Jimin at the sound of a rough bark, in either fear or surprise you didn’t really know, you spun to face the source. You were instantly rooted to the spot in shock.

Holy shit, that was a massive dog.

Well, calling it a dog might have been a bit of an insult. Whatever it was, with whatever canine resemblance it had, it was absolutely beautiful and nothing short of majestic. Instantly, you were in absolute awe and standing in a state of reverence.

The beast was over five feet tall and gave Jimin a run for his money, his entire coat the deepest space blue you’d ever seen that bled into a plethora of deep rose and cerulean that seemed to change as the strands shifted in the wind. It was incredibly canine in its features, resembling something between a wolf or a fox from earth but much, much bigger—the angled face, the mischievous eyes that hid an underlying danger. Around its eyes and down its muzzle, the same peculiar rose-aquamarine blend painted beautiful, mesmerising markings.

Something shifted out of the corner of your eyes, and when your gaze followed it, it took you a moment to realise you were looking at not one, but two big fluffy tails. Contrary to the dog-like appearance of the beast, the tails swayed playfully and in a much more feline manner. It was as though it was trying to hypnotise you with the movement, and you were only saved from falling into the trap by the sound of another soft yap.

You squeaked, jumping in what you were sure was a mixture of fright and excitement this time—although, to be fair, the line between the two emotions was awfully thin these days.

“Oh my god,” you choked, sounding very much like you were going to cry and honestly? You might have been about to. “Puppy!”

At the sound of the pure joy in your voice, it was as though a switch had been flipped in the creature that, until then, had just been standing there, looking incredibly majestic and incredibly intimidating. As though it could sense that you weren’t afraid, it immediately dropped into a crouch, behind wiggling and tongue hanging out of its mouth, before it pounced forward and you met the ground once more.

This time, with Jimin in tow.

The beast was so massive that instead of only tackling you, it had managed to catch both you and Jimin in one go. The aforementioned male was now pressed to the ground next to you as the two of you received a barrage of sloppy licks from the creature in between excited yapping and melodic trill noises. You couldn’t help the delighted squeal that escaped your lips, your hands coming up to scratch and rub behind the creature’s large, triangular ears. They flicked and vibrated instantly at your motions, and the beast moved its attention solely to you. Meaning, you got a face full of alien dog tongue and spit.

“Meanie!” Jimin gasped, attempting to sit up and somehow managing despite the incredible weight of the beast. “Off, now, Meanie! #$%#$!”

Jimin rattled something else off in kelkoe and to your complete and utter surprise, the canine creature pulled back immediately and sat down on its haunches, tongue still lolling out of its elongated maw as its head flicked between the two of you and its tails lashed excitedly behind it. Somewhat dazed and a little upset at the lack of happy dog-creature within arms reach, you struggled into a sitting position yourself, unable to tear your eyes from the animal before you.

“What is that? He’s so beautiful…” you found yourself asking before you even realised, eyes wide. You heard Jimin make a surprised noise, and turned to see him looking at you strangely.

“You are not afraid?” he queried, head tilting like he couldn’t make sense of your reaction. You watched as his marks swirled through several different colours before settling on light, playful blue.

“No?” you replied, equally as confused at his reaction. “Why would I be? I love dogs!”

“Dogs…” Jimin mumbled to himself for a moment, eyes unfocused, before he let out a soft noise and turned to you. “Are dogs creatures on Earth? Do you have Ina there too?”

“Ina?” you repeated, turning your gaze back to the animal who was, by the way, still waiting patiently in place like the best boy you had ever seen. “Is that what this creature is?”

Jimin nodded, and after surveying you a moment longer he rose to his feet, dusting off his (very shapely) behind as he did so. A smile tugged his lips as he looked over at the animal in question. “This is Meanie, my Ina.”

He then parted from your side to move over to the creature, wrapping an arm over his massive shoulders and reaching up to scratch behind his ear. Meanie’s hind leg began thumping against the ground in glee at the movement, head rolling to press affectionately against the side of Jimin’s own. You watched on in awe, fingers absolutely itching to join Jimin in giving this good boy the pets he deserved.

“Your Ina? He’s your pet?” you asked, watching the interaction and the softness of Jimin’s countenance with increasing fondness. Even so, a part of you felt oddly betrayed. You’d been here how long and hadn’t known there were giant dogs roaming about willy nilly? An absolute travesty!

Meanie’s head whipped from where it was laying against Jimin’s, and to your complete and utter surprise he then proceeded to give you the stink eye. Jimin let out a loud, tinkling laugh.

“No, Meanie is not a pet. He is my companion.” Jimin’s smile didn’t leave as he turned his gaze from the creature, to you, then back again. “The people of my clan have very strong bonds with the Ina. From birth, we are paired with an Ina pup, and form a connection with them as we grow up.”

You rose to your feet as you listened to him, advancing slowly—although, it was more for just in case than anything, since Meanie seemed to have forgotten about your offense and had since resumed laying his head on Jimin. The creature seemed to be an absolute softie, and it tickled you that his name was Meanie when he seemed to be such a gentle soul.

“That’s so cool!” you said, mindful of not being too loud. “You two have a connection? Can you hear each other’s thoughts?”

Jimin shot you a look of surprise, smiling with something akin to pride. “Yes, actually. Although, I think that he is better attuned to my thoughts than I am to his—I mostly hear him when he is hungry, or lonely. Isn’t that right, pupa?”

The dog—you’d already resigned to recognising him as that in your head for convenience’s sake— had the nerve to roll his eyes, turning his oversized head to give you a look that had too much exasperation within it for you to take seriously. You snorted, and Jimin grinned. His eyes caught the way your fingers twitched, and he gestured to Meanie.

“You can pet him, he won’t mind. He is a sucker for it, actually. Don’t tell him that I told you.”

The dog huffed, but you caught his eye on you expectantly. Laughing once more, you sidled closer and allowed your fingers to sink into the long fur at the back of his neck. It was thick, downy, yet silken and smooth as you ran your fingers through it. It took more effort than expected to delve them deep enough to be able to deliver a good scratch, but when you finally made it the reaction Meanie gave was worth it. He wobbled, swaying towards Jimin before wobbling again at another scratch of your nails against his skin and swaying back towards you.

A surprised squeak escaped you as he sagged against you completely, your arms coming up to embrace him around his thick neck, hands still scratching where they could. “Meanie! You cutie! You’re so cute and handsome, wah, what are we gonna do with you?! I’ve never seen a puppy so handsome in my life…”

You pressed your face into his fur, feeling his resulting amused rumble and happy trill against your skin. “I’m—I don’t think I’m ever gonna let go. I can’t. You’ve beaten me, Meanie. I’m defeated. You have my heart.”

You didn’t know if these Ina creatures could laugh, but it sure felt like they could. Jimin, too, let out a soft chuckle. It was silent a moment before his smooth tone sounded in the air once more.

“Are you still hungry, petal?”

The pet name made heat blossom across your face, and you were thankful that the thick fur of the animal you currently had it buried in shielded it from view. Yes, you came onto Jimin on the daily, but that didn’t mean you weren’t allowed to have a little shame every now and then. Gotta keep yourself grounded, after all.

“I’m always hungry,” you said, trying not to voice how unreasonably embarrassed you were. Meanie made what sounded like a noise of agreement, and Jimin snorted in response.

“Then follow me,” he said, “You are already in my gardens, you may as well come further in for some lunch. I have some fruits that are actually edible.”

You pulled your face from Meanie’s fluffy neck, at first preparing to fire something sassy back but instead settling for a bright smile when you realised just how empty your stomach was feeling. Well, it was empty enough earlier that you’d attempted to climb a tree for some fruit, so you weren’t doing that great to begin with, arguably.

“Fine, since you insist,” you shot back playfully, hands still idly scratching the oversized pup before you. He was appreciative, if his happy rumbling was anything to go by. It was like there was a motor that thrummed to life deep in his chest, vibrating against your body where it was pressed to his. God, you loved animals. So easy to read and get along with.

Jimin’s lips pursed before being tugged into an amused smile, the male turning on his heel and beginning to walk away. “Well, if you’d be so kind as to follow—my rooms are right this way. Come, Meanie. If she tries to slip away, drag her back.”

Jimin was joking (you hoped), and Meanie seemed to realise so (you hoped), so you weren’t as alarmed as you might have been if anyone else directed a creature like Meanie to essentially prevent you from running away.

Which you weren’t going to do, by the way. You didn’t know if Jimin really thought you would, but you’d be surprised if it was the case since you were so open and vocal about your interest in him.

Meanie nudged his head into your shoulder, and it was only then that you realised you'd been staring absently at Jimin's retreating form a little too long. Taking the hint, you reached to rub behind one of the creatures tall, pointy ears and he gave an approving huff as he began to prompt you after his companion.

To be honest, you were expecting a longer trip than what you got; it was barely a minute later that you were emerging from the vibrant greens, blues and iridescent hues of the gardens and encroaching upon a path, and then the familiar material of the palace walls came into view. Jimin made a beeline for a gap in the wall, which you realised was actually a large doorway housing two large double-doors, each embedded with two large, glassy windows. It surprised you to see the material, since you'd noticed a lot of the windows in the palace had nothing at all guarding them, but you supposed that being on the ground floor and so close to gardens and forestry, you wouldn't want anything unsavoury crawling in.

Even though you followed the kelkie inside the room without question, it didn't click until you were several paces into it that it was his room. It was large, very spacious and somewhat minimally decorated. His bed was to the left wall adjacent to the doorway you'd just come through, mattress bigger than some of the ones you'd seen in the guest wing and blocked off by thin gossamer-looking material that spilt from the ceiling, partly obscuring the gleam of silken sheets and blankets. Jimin was the type to make his bed every day, it seemed, and it shouldn't have made you, a being that left a trail of mess and chaos behind you by accident everywhere you went, more attracted to him but it did. Somehow, it did. You thought that at this point you were honestly so far gone he could probably confess to sucking his thumb as he slept and you'd take it in stride without even so much as batting a lash.

"Woah," you muttered without realising, eyes sweeping over his room and taking in each and every detail you could. You were in his room, damn it, and it might not have been under the circumstances you really wished-- not to say they wouldn't hopefully come true one day-- but damn it if you were going to squander the opportunity for some more insight into who he really is. "Nice crib."

The alien shot you an odd, curious look at that, head tilting for a moment before he returned to whatever he was doing before you spoke-- which, it seemed, was taking a bowl of curiously coloured fruits and a jug from a table against the wall to the right of the room. He shook his head, evidently deciding he didn't need to know what the word 'crib' meant (you'd seen the question in his eyes), and turned from the table to begin making his way over. You hadn't realised before, but next to the doorway you'd come through was a small table of medium width, the obsidian-like stone polished and gleaming in the light from the doorway. Two plush cushions sat on the floor, and on top of the table was a small cube pot made of the same material as the table in a lighter shade, an endearingly flowering plant sprouting from the soil within.

Jimin moved and placed the bowl there, along with the jug, and gestured for you to take a seat while he went back to the other table to retrieve something else-- you realised after he pulled whatever he was looking for from a cupboard there that it was actually cups. Following his direction without even thinking, you plopped down on the cushion and narrowly avoided banging your knee on the edge of the table, thankful that Jimin's back was currently to you since you hadn't pulled the most attractive of expressions at your near-miss. There was a huff from behind you, reminding you of Meanie's presence, and you turned just in time to see the gigantic creature flopping down on the other side of the room; there was something there on the floor, like a thin mattress, that was covered in soft throws and blankets. The canine creature settled down and nestled into the fabrics, curling up endearingly and letting out a huff as he relaxed. He looked ready to sleep, but his lidded eyes remained open and flicked occasionally from you to the alien now approaching where you were seated.

"These are the fruits you can eat," he said, apparently still very tickled by what he'd caught you doing earlier. Fine, if it made him that happy then you supposed you'd just have to accept the blow to your pride. You were glad your limited brain cell count amused him.

“Excellent,” you said, wriggling in your seat somewhat excitedly. “I’m starving. They’ve banned me from the kitchens, you know. It’s only for a week and it’s only been a day but it’s rough, man.”

Jimin looked like he was trying very hard not to burst into laughter, a somewhat incredulous yet unsurprised expression morphing his features. “You got banned from the kitchens? What on Kilkea did you do? You practically live there.”

“I know,” you sighed, scratching the back of your neck as you averted your gaze. “They got sick of me walking in all the time. Apparently it interrupts their groove.”

Jimin’s head tilted, but he looked like he wasn’t going to question it. Admittedly, you felt a bit insulted. You couldn’t tell him that the real reason you’d been banned was because you kept singing and nearly set the entire kitchen ablaze when you attempted to make earth cookies yesterday, though. So there you sat, accepting it as his opinion of you no doubt grew more comfortable where it sat at rock bottom.

Jimin placed the cups onto the table, taking his seat more gracefully than you anticipated after nearly falling and impaling your knee on the corner yourself. Well, some people were just born graceful, you supposed. You don’t know whether he saw the nervous way you eyed the fruits or whether he was just so used to you by now that he knew you were kind of useless, but he took a fruit—purple-tinged and very juicy looking—and went about peeling it much like you would a mandarin, before plopping it before you on the table and picking up one for himself.

Delighted and perhaps a little too eager to taste the fruit considering its insides were blue, you picked it up and broke it into the sections it naturally grew in. It wasn’t long before the first piece was in your mouth, teeth piercing it and causing tart, but overall sweet flavour to sink into your tongue. A surprised noise left you before you could stop it, quickly followed by a hum of approval in explanation. Jimin hid his smile by shoving a piece of the fruit in his mouth too.

“If that’s the case, I am surprised it took you this long to get banned,” he mused, poking fun at you once more. You sent him a half-hearted glare, popping another slice in your mouth to resist firing back too quickly. The flavour of this fruit was quite addictive, actually. The perfect balance of sweet and sour, with no unsavoury aftertaste.

“Excuse me?” you blurted as soon as you swallowed your mouthful. “They love me in there, they’ve practically adopted me at this point. Jeonghan says I’m like a daughter to him.”

Jimin rolled his eyes but couldn’t help his smile. It seemed both of you were well-aware of the pastry-chef’s—who you’d actually originally thought was younger than you— overdramatic tendencies. “If Jeonghan adopted everyone he said he would, then this whole castle would be under his care.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, even hearing Meanie huff in amusement in the corner. “You’re not wrong.”

You were expecting Jimin to stay silent a little longer, having seen him pick up another piece of fruit, but he surprised you and spoke in the next moment, the piece still uneaten in his grasp.

“On that note, there is something I have to discuss with you.” Jimin’s eyes met yours as he slipped the fruit into his mouth. When you sent him a questioning look, he continued. “Jongin and Jongdae are no longer watching you.”

Oh, that was something you knew already. Your first instinct was to believe you were about to get into trouble—which didn’t seem unlikely, since the two guards weren’t shy about blaming you and your many escape attempts for the relief of their duties in watching you.

“Oh. Yep,” you bit your lip, a bit of nervous laughter trickling out. You wondered whether it would be a safer bet to play dumb about it. “I haven’t seen them in a while? Are they alright? I almost miss them.”

Jimin’s lips quirked like he was trying not to smile. “They are no longer watching you because I relieved them of that duty.”

You paused, trying to follow where he was going with this. Ah, so it was his doing? Okay. But were you in trouble or not…? He had better tell you soon, because you were about to break into a nervous sweat.

“Uh, do you want an apology?” you asked, risking a shot in the dark. Jimin blinked at you for a moment before a sudden laugh came tumbling out of him.

“No, there’s no need for an apology,” he managed through his chuckles. “At least, not to me. I am only mentioning it because you are still going to be under someone’s care, it just will not be theirs.”

“Okay, well, in that case I feel I should tell you that I might have needed ‘monitoring’ when I first got here, yeah, maybe, but now I’m perfectly fine wandering on my own! If you want I’ll even promise to bother Namjoon or Yoongi if I need help or something, but I don’t think I need—” you paused mid-defensive-rant, another thought occurring to you that seemed to override the first—a shred of fear wormed its way into your tone as you sought to verify your sudden concerns. “Wait, whose care?”

Jimin plucked another piece of fruit from the rest, plopping it into his mouth and answering you somewhat nonchalantly and without so much as a blink. “Mine.”

“Well I don’t want Seokjin’s—wait, what?” You were thankful you didn’t have anything in your mouth just then because you definitely would have choked on it in your shock. “C-come again?”

“You heard me,” Jimin said, a sly look to his eyes. His marks were flushed an all-too-cheeky plum. “You’re too slippery for me to delegate the task to anyone else, so I will be the one watching you. We only have one kitchen, after all, we can’t afford to have it in flames.”

Your cheeks flushed suddenly with heat, the sensation of more of the humiliating type than the flustered. Oh, so he already knew of yesterday’s escapades. Oops. Still, that aside, you were already struggling to come to terms with what he’d told you. He was going to be watching you from now on? Like, in person? Or in a more ‘eyes in the walls’ kind of way? You didn’t know which was worse, to be honest. Was this the end of your freedom? Wait, but on the flip side…. More time spent with Jimin. Holy crap, you probably shouldn’t have been as excited as you were beginning to feel. Down, you swatted the butterflies in your stomach, down girls!

“O-oh,” you managed, still attempting to regulate the mess that had suddenly exploded in your brain. You didn’t have enough mental RAM for this. “I see. Well…”

In a desperate bid to claim back your cool and swagger, you plopped another piece of fruit in your mouth and raised your brows. Poor timing, but it seemed your dignity defence system had been activated.

“Good luck to you, then! I won’t be tied down! I will remain as slippery as ever and I’ll wish you luck in your efforts to catch me—fruitless, as they will be!”

And then you smacked your fingers on the table, grabbing the cup and taking a hearty sip. For all the bravado you’d just shown, you felt any semblance of normalcy you’d just mustered go flying out the window when you caught Jimin’s gaze and saw the challenge simmering in their depths, his marks tinted jade.

Well, maybe you should have waited until after tea time to challenge the Kelkie who was much, much faster and stronger than you.

x x x x x

“So that’s what he said, right, and yet… here I am! I’m too good, I didn’t even leave a trail for him to follow! He should have known better than to think he could catch me… pfft.”

At the silence that followed your words, you paused in your current activity and turned to the male beside you, who in turn simply stood and blinked at you for a moment. Expectantly, you allowed him a moment to muster a response.

“So… you didn’t want to be stuck under my care and yet here you are, chatting away with me the second you slip free of Jimin’s watch?” Seokjin asked, expression telling you he was attempting to understand your reasoning and coming up blank. For a moment, you yourself were stumped for a response—you hadn’t thought of it that way! Your idiot was showing— you made a quick recovery though.

“That was the only thing you got from all I told you?” you queried, before shaking your head and clicking your tongue. “Why do I even bother? I should have gone to annoy Yoongi instead.”

Seokjin seemed to be ignoring you—or at least, what you were saying. He continued like you hadn’t just said anything at all.

“Also, as someone who, and this is a direct quote, ‘wants to climb Jimin like a tree’ at every possible opportunity, isn’t running from him somewhat counterintuitive? I mean, you currently have the perfect excuse to be near him and you are bragging about running away…?” Seokjin’s head tilted, eyes squinting at you as his fingers played with the decorations currently in his hold. He’d made far more progress with his side of the wall than you had, considering you’d spent more time talking than hanging. It was something your teachers had always commented on in school, so you weren’t that surprised in honesty.

You sputtered, several holes having been poked ruthlessly and mercilessly in your logic and your pride. Seokjin, the poker, seemed somewhat pleased at your current stuttering state. As the pokee in this situation, you were anything but pleased.

“What? No! It’s not counterintuitive!” you warbled, grabbing one of the decorative pieces and slapping it onto some adhesive on the wall. You felt your cheeks heat, shoulders pinching up in embarrassment. “Shut up!”

Even while facing in another direction, you could feel Seokjin as he rolled his eyes.

“Always asking for the flame when she cannot even handle the heat, tsk tsk tsk,” Seokjin uttered, taking the opportunity to click his tongue at you. You bristled but couldn’t form a response, considering he was right. Humiliatingly, despite all your efforts to get closer to Jimin, now that you finally had the perfect excuse to be around him all the time, it was like too much all at once. You were just one woman! And a horny one at that. The people around here should know better than to take the randy things that come out of your mouth at face value.

“I CAN HANDLE IT!” Your outburst was somewhat indignant and left you feeling somewhat like a child, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it. “Just… after an adjustment period. I suddenly went from nothing of something to a lot of something! Give me a break, man, I’ve only got a few cells left up here and they’re on their last legs.”

Seokjin hummed, narrowing his eyes at your head. “I did think that I heard less rattling up there than usual.”

Resisting the urge to hiss at him, you soothed your hackles and decided to change the topic to something that didn’t threaten to give you a heart attack or death-by-shame. “Also, when am I going to be allowed to know about this all-secret event that’s taking place? It’s been so long! And I’m helping you set up, so it must be soon. Surely not all of these people are here helping set up without even knowing…?”

Seokjin didn’t even blink as he responded. “Oh, they know. Actually, you’ve been allowed to know for a while… I think at this point you’re the only one that doesn’t know.”

You blinked, squinting as his words sunk in. “Hey—what? That’s not fair! Why can’t I know? Seokjin! Tell me!”

Mirth played in the kelkie’s eyes as he shot you a look from the side, marks flushed playful lilac. “No way. It’s much more amusing letting you sit and wonder.”

You stared at him, mouth open in shock. This jerk was really just going to let you sit and rot, huh?! Something akin to betrayal began to fill you, a petulant glare slipping onto your face.

“Seokjin!” It was meant to be reprimanding but it came out more like a whine. “Come on, please tell me? I deserve to know! Especially considering it’s just—it’s only—how far away is it, again?”

“It’s in a little less than a week’s time,” Seokjin answered easily, adhering another of the decorations to the wall. They were pretty little things, thin and about the size of your palm but they felt like slices of crystal and glimmered as you would expect such an item to. “You’re actually expected to attend. I believe Joy has even procured a dress for you and has plans for your hair.”

“Oh, I’m invited?” Momentarily touched, you couldn’t help the turn your thoughts took, a smile slipping onto your face before you remembered your stance and wiped it off. “That’s so nice of y—wait! If I’m going then I need to know what the event actually is, Seokjin! Please tell me!”

As you might have predicted, the kelkie was having far too much fun teasing you to be anywhere close to telling you what you want to know. He snorted as he went about sticking another decoration up, pausing afterwards to scan the room and check up on the other decorating jobs being completed by palace workers. When his eyes got to you and looked over how behind you were, he frowned.

“Isn’t the element of the unknown such a thrilling thing, though?” he asked, clearly making fun of you still. “Besides, you don’t need to know to have fun—”

“Seokjinnnnn,” you were outright whining now, the remainder of your dignity having fled you where you stood on top of a stool in one of the great halls in the palace. You wanted to know so badly—for weeks you’d been wondering what was going on! By this point you were growing a little desperate. “Please? Please tell me? Oh please please please—”

Seokjin rolled his eyes and cut you off before your dramatic arm motions could make you fall off the stool. “What do I get out of telling you, though? Currently I’m getting a lot of entertainment out of not telling you, so why should I give that up?”

You gaped at him, bastard!

“You jerk!” you exclaimed, before quickly thinking better of it and backtracking. “Okay, fine. If you tell me I’ll… uh… I’ll stop visiting the kitchens and making a mess all the time.”

Seokjin gave you an amused look. “I know you’ve already been banned from there.”

With a groan of frustration, you threw your hands into the air, just barely catching your balance before you toppled. “Fine! I’ll—I’ll stop wasting your time and calling for you whenever I get bored! I’ll call, I don’t know… I’ll call Yoongi instead.”

Seokjin’s head tilted as he pondered the offer, mulling it over carefully. A moment later he flashed you a smile. “Not the best but it is a start! I will tell you something in exchange for that promise—I want you to promise me, by the way. Out loud. I know that you are slippery.”

You let out a huff, holding down the whines that wanted to escape. Something was better than nothing! If you had something to go off, you could just go and pressure someone else for the answer to the rest of it. With that in mind, you squashed down the minor offence that rose at the fact your reputation as ‘slippery’ had preceded you to such an extent, and forced out the words that would get you what you wanted.

“Do… I have to?” You let out a breath from the effort, wincing. It went against your nature to verbally trap yourself! You had a phobia of contracts!

“Yes.” Seokjin said, deadpan. “Repeat after me, ‘Seokjin, I promise that I will never again call you when—‘”

“Never?!” you interjected, appalled. “Isn’t that a bit hasty—”

“Do you want to know?” the male cut you off, brows raised. He rested a hand on his hip and the sudden movement of his body made the inky locks atop his head shift, flopping across his forehead. “If so, say it.”

Pushing down the remainders of your pride was more difficult than usual, but somehow you managed it. Grumbling, you smacked another decoration onto the wall, watching it fall to the floor in disdain because there wasn’t enough adhesive.

“Fine. Seokjin, I promise that I will never again call you when I am bored. I will… call someone else… instead…”

It might have been like he was trying to bleed water from a rock, but Seokjin couldn’t have looked more smug or pleased with himself—even despite how admittedly lacklustre your promise was.

“Excellent!” he cheered, smearing more adhesive on the wall and pasting a decoration where you had attempted to just moments ago. “Now, do know that if you go back on your word it is a punishable offence. I’m thinking…” He tapped his chin, eyes averted in thought as his marks shimmered blue. “No pudding for at least three months.”

Despite the fact it was only a threat and you weren’t actually being punished with that, you felt panic well up within you. Damn, he’s good. You gulped. “I-I won’t… Don’t you even know me, Seokjin? My honour… my integrity…. Renowned across the galaxy.”

Seokjin rolled his eyes so heavily you worried for a split second they were going to drop from his skull. “Of course. As we all know.”

You huffed, taking it in stride considering he was about to finally tell you what you’d been wanting to know for weeks now. Making a rare wise choice, you decided to clamp your mouth shut and wait for Seokjin to enlighten you. It seemed to work in your favour, as Seokjin too is a man that enjoys talking and the second you provided a conversational gap for him he was inclined to fill it.

“It’s for the King and Queen,” Seokjin said, placing some adhesive on the wall in front of you in an unspoken prompt to get back to work. “They’re back from their leave soon, but that’s not the only reason we are celebrating.”

Seokjin turned, meeting your gaze with a fond look in his eye coupled with a hint of excitement, both of which you presumed were directed at the royal couple. “They’re expecting, you see, and since the Queen is human, it has broken an unfortunate cycle that has plagued the royal line for centuries. After what happened to the King’s late parents… the people are overjoyed they won’t have to see that again.”

Curiousity instantly bubbled and burned within you, but at the same time…. You almost felt like it wasn’t your place to ask about whatever happened. It didn’t affect you, so you reasoned you should probably leave it for now. Besides, you felt like you’d find out eventually. Instead, you focused your thoughts onto the other parts of what he’d told you. Piece by piece, it sunk in.

“I almost forgot the Queen is human,” you muttered, filling space while your brain processed—it finished barely a moment later and you looked to Seokjin with wide eyes as realisation smacked you in the face several times. “Wait, she’s pregnant?! But they’re—so humans and kelkies can—?!”

Amused, and looking like he apparently expected a reaction like this from you, Seokjin snorted. “Well, we weren’t sure. But apparently so.”

“Huh. That’s really lovely, everyone must be super excited for them,” you said, a billion thoughts whirring through your mind at once. One made itself a little more known than the others, and an odd feeling filled your chest.

Seokjin seemed to tell you were attempting to try and word something, and gave you a moment to put it together. You couldn’t look him in the eye as you spoke, for once feeling oddly and uncharacteristically vulnerable.

“She chose to stay, then… Was it an easy choice?” You didn’t even know why you’d asked it, but it made it’s way out of your mouth nonetheless.

The kelkie gave you a curious look, but otherwise didn’t question you. “Well, for her… She wasn’t going to, at first. There were a few other crucial factors that influenced her decision, for a while. But ultimately, once they cleared… she chose what was going to make her happiest. I recall she once told me she felt surprisingly at home, here. Not long after arriving, she found herself wanting to stay.”

At his words, you weren’t sure how you were supposed to feel. Your entire life there has been something in a constant state of unrest within you. You’ve hopped from job to job, world to world, life to life. None have fit, and none have soothed that flighty feeling inside any better than the last. You almost grow tired of it; sometimes you’ve found yourself wondering if this is how you’re going to live the remainder of your years, never settling, never finding somewhere you feel truly at home. Earth was where you were born, but it wasn’t a home to you. None of the groups you’d ever found your way to had ever felt like the perfect fit. You’ve never once felt inclined to stay at the places you have been, or entertained the notion past that of a stray thought.

But his words gave you pause, because for the first time in your life the feeling inside you had changed, and you were beginning to realise its new form.

It was in such stark contrast to who you knew yourself to be, that it actually frightened you, a little. This feeling had a few names and you were afraid to utter any of them.

“You’ve been a lot of places across the galaxy, lived many different ways,” Seokjin’s head tilted, eyes soft, inquisitive. “Was there nowhere that you found yourself wishing to stay?”

Of course, it would be perfectly in character for you to fire back something witty and funny, but you felt oddly vacant, for the barest moment. You met his gaze without thinking, and wondered if he could see the vulnerability as it revealed itself bit by bit within you.

“No, there wasn’t anywhere I wanted to stay.” You paused, swallowing. “But, I mean, being capricious is kind of my thing, you know? I gotta stay on brand.”

Seokjin smiled, before shaking his head.

“It is okay to want to stay, you know. You don’t even have to have a reason.” The male’s eyes were kind as they met your own, and you felt your chest clench. “There is a place for you here, if you decide you want it.”

His words touched you, but in the process stirred up an entire storm of untouched thoughts and emotions within you, the type that blended in together and blurred the lines that bound them. You were nowhere near ready to delve into them right now. Ignoring the surprising prick in your eyes, you shot him a smile. “Thank you for that, Seokjin. I… I think I will just need to think on it.”

He nodded, soft look remaining before it took a different turn and his marks flushed playful blue. His gaze was on you, before it caught something over your shoulder and his eyes widened incrementally. He schooled his expression so quickly after that you weren’t sure if it had actually happened. “Don’t think too hard on it, though. You’ll overwork the few cells that you have left.”

At the return of the bickering air you were so familiar with, you slipped right back into it with ease—anything to distract from the thoughts he’d unearthed with his kind words. “Excuse me? There mightn’t be many of them but they pull their weight! My brain cells might be overworked and underpaid but damn it if they don’t get the job done—”

You were ready to keep going, you really were, you had about thirty seconds more content to burn through, but in the worst plot twist of the century you didn’t get to continue. So quickly you almost didn’t see it, Seokjin shifted in his stance on the floor, bracing one hand on the wall. You didn’t even have time to finish wondering why before you found out—the hard way.

Too quick to counter, Seokjin’s foot flew out, making harsh contact with the stool you were precariously perched on. Immediately, inevitably, you were sent tumbling and the bucket of adhesive and decorations on your arm was sent flying off to god knew where. Truly, your hubris in wanting to stand in a cool pose on the stool was to blame for how unsteady and ready to fall you were.

A few things happened rapidly; first, you fell through the air, narrowly saved from a humiliating death-by-head-bump by Seokjin’s lightning fast reflexes. He ended up catching you in a pose that reminded you of when you were dancing with someone and they dipped you—your hair was probably brushing the floor, and Seokjin’s face was much, much closer than you ever expected to see it. Second, there was the loud sound of your stool clattering onto the ground. Third, there was a round of gasps that you figured sounded because you fell.

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time you were wrong in assuming everything was about you.

You blinked, the realisation that Seokjin knocked you off the stool sinking in and instantly riling you up—you were about to open your mouth and chew him out when a third, and final, sound echoed through the room. A sharp CLANG, and then the distinct sound of hollow metal rolling across the floor. It gave you pause, the sound occurring much later than it should have—it should have dropped straight to the ground, right?

A sense of dread beginning to curl within you, you dared to turn your head and peer to the side, where your back had been facing earlier. At once, you realised you were dead.

The alien love of your life stood in the doorway to the room, a mere few metres away, which should make you either giddy or overjoyed, but it was the sight of gooey adhesive dripping thickly down his face from where it had pooled in his hair that prevented such a reaction. Your bucket rolled around by his feet, some decorations joining it on the ground and others stuck in the glue that was quickly becoming acquainted with Jimin’s entire front.

His eyes had been closed, presumably on reflex, but they opened after a hand rose to wipe the thick goo from them—thankfully, it hadn’t reached his actual eyes. The dark pools flitted about the room before landing on you; his marks stained dark, dark red, and after scanning your form and witnessing the debacle around you, turned deep, murky green.

You might have been stupid, but even you knew when death was about to grab you in its clutches. You scrambled, trying to get out of Seokjin’s grip but failing miserably—oh, so he’s your executioner, huh? Bastard. And right after you bonded, too.

“y/n.” You jolted like you’d been electrocuted, eyes whipping back to Jimin; something burned in his gaze that made your stomach drop and legs wobble, even while he was covered in goo. He took two slow, long steps until he was close enough that just the three of you could hear him speak—his voice when he did, low and raspy as it was, made you shiver. “My room. Midmoon, tonight. If you are not ready then the punishment for making such a mess of preparations for such an important event will worsen. Don’t force my hand on that, petal.”

His gaze bore into you for a long, potent moment after he spoke, before it flicked to where Seokjin had his hold on you, jaw clenching so hard you saw his temple shift. Eyes harder and burning more intensely than before, he delivered you one last look—a very decidedly pissed one—before he turned on his heel and stalked from the room, beginning to wipe away adhesive as he went.

For a few seconds after he disappeared, you simply hung in place, in a state of shock. The sound of Seokjin’s amused snort brought you back, however, and instantly you recalled exactly who was to blame for your newly scheduled death.

“You rat,” you hissed, glaring at him. “How could you?! Now I’m going to die! Oh you know what, if I hadn’t just promised yo—OW! SEOKJIN!”

Mercilessly, the male released his hold, you dropped, and an instant pain shot through your behind. Why was it that you were always falling on your ass in this palace?! God! It hurts so damn much!

“The day is coming to an end, y/n,” Seokjin said, straightening and looking very much unapologetic and entirely too humoured. “You better go get ready.”

Realising just how late into the afternoon it had gotten, you scrambled to your feet, panicked and affronted. Deciding you couldn’t afford to stay and bicker if you were going to flee the solar system in time, you settled for a glare and flipped Seokjin the bird, uncaring whether he understood it.

“I hate you!” you exclaimed as you turned and started to flee. “I’m ending this friendship, Seokjin! After this don’t even look at me, traitor!”

Seokjin’s rare, squeaky laughter breached the air as you left, the sound chasing you down the hall mockingly.

If you didn’t die tonight, you were going to kill him for trying to kill you.

�� prev. || five || next ↠

::[ please lmk what you think! & pls consider buying me a kofi if you’d like to support me in some way! <3 ]::

1K notes · View notes

barney-james · 5 years ago

Text

Mission Incomplete || Bucky Barnes x Reader Imagine

AN: i saw a post about tfatws that said that they wouldn’t let villains have their evil monologue so i kinda used this idea. also hi im back!

The loud bang of your partner, and best friend, breaking down the metal door makes you jump, and is likely to alert the attention of many people inside.

“Dude!” you whisper yell at him, slapping his arm. He shrugs his shoulder as he looks over and down at you with a sly smirk. He nods his head towards the door, wordlessly telling you to follow him in. He aims his machine gun in front of him as he makes his way slowly down the hall, ready to fire at any threat to the mission.

You follow closely behind him, trying to peak around his tall, muscular figure in the narrow hall. All you can see is the seemingly continuous walls. When he reaches a T intersection, he stops abruptly, and you run into his back, but it doesn’t faze hime.

“Hey!” you hear a shout from further down the hall. Had Bucky not been walking while aiming a squad automatic, the people in the offices around the two of you may have let you both pass as unfamiliar faces. But Bucky is not one to walk into possible -- yet probable in this case -- danger unarmed. That being said, he’s definitely armed -- his machine gun, two pistols, and a knife.

From behind Bucky, you still can’t see, but you can hear gunshots from down the hall, and hear Bucky fire back, seeing his body jump slightly with the back fire. He moves forward, towards the building guards, still shooting and taking many down at once. As he passes the sign on the wall that points down the adjacent hall, he taps it to turn your attention to it. The sign says ‘Servers’ with an arrow pointed down the hall.

“Got it,” you tell your partner and pull your pistol out of your hip holster, aiming it in front of you. The commotion behind you had alerted many people in the building, and now a dozen or so people were running towards you, then stopped when they say you and went to draw their own guns. You beat them though, shooting them all down on your way past them. You continued down the hall for a time, passing other halls and many offices. Lucky for you, the offices only had doors into the halls, no windows as some do, so no one inside them would see you striding down the hall with your gun pointed in front of you. More people came out of offices with guns pointed at the increased commotion. You effortlessly took them all down with single shots, continuing your journey to the server room.

When you reached the door that’s sign read ‘Servers’, you waited a moment, checking to make sure there was no one in the hall to see you enter. You thought the door would be locked, but surprisingly, it opened with a light push. You had your gun held in front of you as you cleared the room. No one was in the room, but you noticed an unlabeled door. You contemplated for a moment if you should clear that room before going on with your part of the mission, but you pushed it aside, telling yourself that you’d be quick enough if anyone walked out of it. You closed the door to the hall behind you and jogged over to the big computers. You pulled the necklace out from under your suit and detached the pendant. At first glance, the bulky pendant is credulous enough to pass as just that, but only you, and other agents within SHIELD, know that it’s a flash drive. You quickly insert it into the first USB port you find and begin hacking the computer. It takes several minutes to break through the fire walls, and the whole time you’re anticipating someone to enter the room. You’re on edge, ready to jump on whoever interrupts your mission, but no one comes. You’re uncertain if anything was going on that you didn’t know about, and doubtful that Bucky would not call on you for help if he were in trouble. Though, he’d likely never get into trouble, as he can take care of himself better than anyone on the team.

Once the computer was hacked in, and you located the files, you hit the download button and smirk to yourself in satisfaction.

“Buck,” you say into com system. “Download has started, should be ten-”

You’re cut off by a gunshot and the breath being knocked out of you. You squeak at the sudden penetrating impact, gasping as you collapse to the floor. You look up at the man in front of you as your vision blurs and your body aches. You bring your hand up to your side, just bellow your rib cage. You feel a deep hole, and it’s wet from the blood rapidly pouring from it.

Meanwhile, down the hall, while your just fighting to stay awake as you stare at the man who shot you, Bucky stops dead, his fist in mid swing. He had a guy on the ground as he beat his face in. He was the last of the men who had come into the hall. He stands up quickly, placing his boot on the man’s chest to hold him down as he turns and looks back down the hall. He could see more people charging his way.

“Y/n?” he asks into the com, his voice breaking, scared you won’t respond.

“Buck-” you barely whisper on the other end, choking up as you try to save your energy.

Bucky draws his pistol out of his pocket as he’s blinded by a red hot rage, his machine gun being discarded somewhere in the hall from being knocked out of his hands. He turns back to the man under his foot and quickly ends him with a single bullet to the head, then swiftly runs down the hall. He easily shoots everyone in his way, taking them all down with single bullets. He jumps over bodies as he rushes down the hall. Barely paying attention, he has to skid to a stop and back up when he realizes he just walked past the door labeled ‘Servers’. He kicks the door in, not waiting to see if it’s clear. He holds his gun up as he walks into the room, noticing the four men standing in the corner, seemingly theorizing.

You see him burst in from your spot on the floor, leaning against the desk. “Bucky,” you call weekly.

Somehow, the commotion of the door being kicked in didn’t get the men’s attention, but you calling for your partner’s name almost inaudibly does.

They turn quickly. Bucky can easily tell the head of the group from the rest, as he’s wearing a long black coat over a suit with a fedora and gloves, also carrying a fancy ass walking stick that reminds you of Lucius Malfoy. The other men wearing button downs and dress pants, just like everyone else he’s shot down. The recruits reach for their guns, but they’re too slow, and Bucky shoots them all down before one could even aim at him. He shifts his aim to the head man, his finger on the trigger ready to shoot. The man adjusts his watch as if checking the time before looking up to Bucky. His gun is in plain view in his belt holster, but he doesn’t reach for it. Bucky steps over you to stand between you and the man as a shield.

Almost hyper-focused, Bucky can hear your shallow breath, and he continues to listen to make sure it doesn’t stop.

The man before you both rests his hands to his hips after checking his watch. “Sergeant Barnes,” he begins with a thick English accent. He begins to walk towards Bucky, who doesn’t speak, and the man removes the fedora from his head, placing it on the table as he leans his walking stick against it. He evidently does not need the extra support and is just trying to look sophisticated, as he continues to walk across the room towards you and your partner with a normal gate. “It took you 86 seconds to get here. I expected better from a super soldier... Then again,” he continues, “You’re not the super soldier I was expecting... Nonetheless, I have the Avenger’s attention.” The man leans against a nearby desk, looking nonchalantly at his watch once again. “You see, James, the world needs cleansing, and I suppose we should start with the super heroes. You think yourself high enough to ignore the accords, signed by nearly all the world’s nations, and that in itself is corrupt. So I brought it upon myself to study your lot of heroes and derived a plan to lure you here, giving myself the advantage of my own turf. You and your super friends will pay for the global destruction you all have caused. Starting with you two.” The man pears behind Bucky to look at you, pale and weak, and he smiles to himself. “She's already on deaths door,” he points out. “But maybe we could use Mr. Barnes to lure the -”

Bucky drops his aim, loosely holding the gun in one hand now. “Shut up,” he rolls his eyes and shoots the man in the chest at a consistent rhythm five times. He watches the man fall to the ground, trying to cover his wounds but having too many.

Bucky drops his gun and rushes over to you, feeling your weak pulse. “C’mon, Doll,” he murmurs, stress and fear evident in his voice like you’ve never heard before, but you’re still fading, and can’t register the information. All you hear is ringing, your vision continues to blur and darken.

The man coughs behind Bucky, and Bucky turns to look at him, seeing him coughing through the blood pooling in his mouth.

“Corruption...must...end,” the man struggles to say.

Bucky garbs your pistol from the floor next to you. “I told you to shut up,” he says through gritted teeth and puts a last bullet in the man’s head. He drops the gun again and bends down to you again, effortlessly picking you up out of your pool of blood. Bucky’s mind is fogged with the fear of losing you, thinking over every little thing he could’ve done differently, not only on the mission, but in your friendship.

“Bucky,” you cough his name one last time before becoming dead weight in his arms, having felt safe enough to black out now that he was holding you.

“No, no, no,” Bucky cries. “No, Y/n, baby, stay with me.” He runs, his mind still clouded with fear and sorrow, not even noticing as he reached the SHIELD vans. The only people sent on the mission were the two of you. He straps you into the passenger seat and leans your seat back. He runs to the drivers door and floors it for the hospital.

~*~

Your eyes flutter open, struggling to adjust to the bright lights and loud beeping that fills the unfamiliar room. You take a few deep breaths as you gradually open your eyes. The crispness of the clean air burns your nose, making your eyes water. You look around the room, coming to a quick conclusion that you’re in the hospital and the beeping is coming from your monitors as you remember what happened last time you were conscious. You look over in the corner and see a long haired brunette staring out the window, spinning red power through her nervous fingers.

“Wanda,” you croak out.

She gasps in surprise and turns around with her hand clutched over her heart. She sighs with great relief to see you awake. “Oh, thank God,” she exclaims. “Finally!” She runs over to you, looking into your eyes as she tucks your messy hair out of your face.

“How long?” you ask, pain finally filling your abdomen and making you wince.

“A week,” she begins, then hesitates.

You give her your ‘spill it’ look, and she sighs.

“Two,” she half smiles. “I’ll be right back.” She gets up from the chair next to your bed, lightly squeezing your hand before walking away.

You hear her foot steps retreat down the hall, a pause, and then several loud crashes as heavy feet run down the hall before your best friend bursts into the room, sliding to a stop once inside the door, barely catching himself on it so he doesn’t fall over. Bucky lets out a soft sob as his hand covers his mouth and he buckles over in relief.

“Oh, God,” he cries and walks slowly to the chair, as if approaching you would break you again. When he reaches the chair, he collapses into it, crying into his hands.

You try to move for the first time since waking up, your sore muscles making it difficult, but you reach your hand over to him anyway. With his face buried in his hands, he doesn’t notice the motion. “Buck,” you mutter.

He instantly looks up at you, his eyes filled with all the worry in the world as tears creep down his cheeks. You’ve never seen him so upset, and still hazy from your two week sleep, you can’t quite understand why he’s like this. He takes your hand and scoots the chair closer to the bed.

You reach your hand up to hold his cheek, and he takes deep breaths, telling himself this isn’t a dream, that you’re awake. He turns his face into your palm and gives it a kiss, before letting it drop and holding it in both of his.

“I love you,” he says, his voice breaking through the tears as he looks down at you hand held in his. He takes more deep breaths. You don’t respond, being too shocked and tired to really understand. He looks up at you, the fear having almost completely left his eyes, now filled with hope, and love. “I love you, Y/n,” he continues. “So damn much. And I have, for years, but I never said anything. I-I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, or-or make work awkward. But I just - I can’t not tell you anymore. I thought I lost you, I was sure of it. And the fact that I never told you was weighing me down, and then I started thinking about how I could’ve been there with you, and this wouldn’t have happened,” he starts to ramble whine attentively playing with your fingers with his own, and a smile bursts across your cheeks from seeing him all nervous to say this, and finally hearing the words you’ve always wanted to hear him say, wanted to say to him but didn’t for the same reason, and sure of rejection. A happy tear slips from your eye, unnoticed by you both. “And-and I know you don’t feel the same, and that’s okay. I’ll get over it. I just couldn’t hold it any longer. Not after almost never getting the opportunity again.” He goes silent as he finishes his spiel, and you don’t say anything, still processing everything.

His hands loosen from yours, regret and rejection filling him, but you squeeze his hand tighter, with all your strength. As he stands up to leave, you don’t let go, and you attempt to pull him back to you, but your fatigue wins the battle.

“Buck,” you call to him. He finally looks at you again, but now you can’t read his expression; there’s too much going on in his head. “Is this real?” you chuckle, and wince, inhaling sharply at the pain, and your free hand grabs your side.

Out of instinct, Bucky steps back closer to you and puts his hand on your leg to make sure your okay. “Wait- what?” he asks confused, having finally registered what you just said.

You smile, sighing happily. “This has to be heaven, right?” you begin. “I’ve been waiting years for this, so I must be dead. This isn’t real.”

Bucky’s mouth drops agape as he stumbles towards you, and you use more strength than you have to pull him over to you. You reach you free hand up and grab his upper arm, but he still doesn’t deem to get the message.

“Kiss me, dummy,” you laugh, this time ignoring the pain.

He scoffs in disbelief and steps closer again, sitting on the edge of your bed. He gently cradles your face in your hands, and you relish in the familiar contrast of his warm flesh hand and his metal one. Your finger thread into the hair at the nape of his neck as he leans closer to you and captures your lips in a passionate kiss, one long awaited. His happy tears mix with your own in the salty kiss, but you both ignore it as your lips move together perfectly.

He pulls away, one hand still on your cheek as he looks at you. You lean into his hand involuntarily and smile. “I love you, more,” you say.

“Not possible,” he laughs and leans in to kiss you again.

“Wait!” you say as his lips graze yours. He pulls back quickly, afraid he did something wrong, or that this is in fact a dream. “Did you eject the flash drive?” you ask.

He sighs heavily and pulls away completely, removing his hands from you and rubbing his thighs up and down nervously as he faces the window. He opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off by another voice in the room.

“Don’t worry, Y/n,” you hear a familiar voice, and look to the door to see Steve standing in the door way. “Save your breath; I’m giving him enough shit for that as it is.”

“Oh my gosh, Buck!” you laugh. “You’re telling me I got shot for nothing?”

His mouth falls open in a sarcastic surprised smile. “So what I just admitted is nothing?” he fakes being hurt.

You grab his hand again and squeeze it. “No,” you giggle, looking up at him. “It’s everything.”

An: I totally didn’t cry writing this, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Also 200 followers away from a thousand!! Thank you all so much!!!

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #avengers #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #avenger!reader

144 notes · View notes