#'and shattered my little fifteen year old heart into pieces' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spatialwave · 1 month

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I can’t stop thinking about Angus with a childhood best friend!reader. (I imagine she would go to a different private school so they could only see each other over the summer and talk through letters and calls)

oh my god this is soooo good! you, my dear anon, have a beautiful mind. 🤍

𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐧𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐧𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐰.

notes: angus tully x fem!reader || 3.1k words || dividers by @cafekitsune

you and angus had been best friends since kindergarten, inseparable through hundreds of playdates from the ages of five to fifteen. you two were attached to the hip and anyone could see the bond that blossomed between the two of you. he was everything to you and you were everything to him.

you remember the first day you met, early november and a chilly day on the playground. you were bundled up with a big coat and mittens while poking and prodding at some flowers that were slowly dying—signalling the freezing weather that would arrive at any moment.

"my mom told me those kinds of flowers are weeds." a voice spoke from beside you, a boy your age with wildly, curly hair and big brown eyes. he wasn't looking at you, but at the wilting flower.

"pretty weeds," you murmured as your gaze turned back to the same flower.

"yup," he replied, the two of you kneeling there in silence as the school bell rang. neither of you moved until one of the teachers found you both and ushered you inside—you sat next to each other for the rest of the year; the history of your friendship.

angus was there when you were twelve years old and experienced your first adolescent heartbreak. a boy one year older who had kissed you and told you he loved you; then kissed one of your other so-called friends the same day with the same words. back then it shattered your entire being and angus was there to help you pick up the pieces and put your poor little heart back together until it was beating again.

and whenever he was feeling sad, which happened a lot after his dad was put in a sanitarium, you were there at his house with some popcorn and ready to watch whatever movie would air that evening. sometimes you two would listen to a record and simply exist together—being near each other made him feel better.

hell, he was even there when you got your first period when you were visiting his family. you remember how both of you started screaming when you told him you were bleeding, crying as you convinced yourself you were dying until his mom came to the rescue. she had to explain biology more thoroughly than your health teacher did, which only embarrassed you and made angus start asking a flurry of questions about it. from then on, once a month, he'd be there with whatever you needed; junk food, chocolate, and a hot water bottle.

your lives were so intertwined that you knew every little detail about each other. well, mostly. there was one moment that you kept from him in the vastness of your relationship, how his first kiss made you boil with jealousy.

you pushed that feeling far away and focused on the positives of your friendship as years passed and life slowly felt more and more complicated.

it was in your freshman year of high school when he first started acting out, even when you offered all the support you could muster up. he was kicked out of your school at fifteen, then another in the same year. the following year he almost made it the entire schooling term before he was finally sent off to a private boarding school—completely uprooted from the friendship you two had together.

that was your first real heartbreak.

his too.

angus beat himself up about it during the sleepless nights at barton, devastated that he couldn't even see you on weekends like he used to. knowing that you were in your senior year and he was lagging behind as a junior because of his expulsions. there was a drift happening in your friendship and it was because of him. all because he couldn't keep his emotions in check.

you couldn't blame him and you wouldn't, you made that apparent with the letters you sent him. making sure he never once felt alone in his struggles.

"𝙷𝚒 𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚜,

𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕. 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚂𝚌𝚘𝚝𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚢 𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚕 𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢. 𝙳𝚒𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚛 𝚢𝚎𝚝? 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚊 𝚌𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚗, 𝚒𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚖𝚎 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊 𝙲+. 𝙸 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝, 𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚂𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝙺𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢?

𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝚈/𝙽."

it was these letters that kept him afloat during those days in the week that made him want to give up and run away, or worse, get expelled and sent to fork union. he kept every single letter from you and hid them underneath his mattress. if kountze were to see them that would be the end of it, so he made sure to read them only when everyone was asleep—he always had the best dreams after.

"𝙷𝚒, 𝚈/𝙽,

𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗'𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚢𝚎𝚝, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚂𝚌𝚘𝚝𝚝, 𝚜𝚘 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙. 𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝙾𝙺, 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗. 𝙸 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚎𝚝 𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚂𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝙺𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚜. 𝙼𝚢 𝚖𝚘𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚠𝚎'𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚘 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚘𝚗, 𝙸'𝚖 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜. 𝙸 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘𝚘.

𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚜."

hearing from him always made your stomach flutter and left your heart aching deeply for him. it was melancholic, wishing more than he could be back by your side while trying to be content with a letter from your love... your love?

those feelings had been building up inside you for months—years.

it left you awake at night, wondering if angus felt the same or if you would remain nothing more than friends for the rest of your life. you couldn't be upset with the latter, angus was your best friend and you would never let yourself lose that.

yet, you yearned for him. for the possibility of something more. you dreamt of what it would be like to kiss him, but those thoughts diminished quickly because you felt guilty. you shouldn't have those feelings for a boy who's only your best friend.

a few weeks had passed and you hadn't written a letter back because school was hectic and the gloominess of winter had left you with little energy. you and angus could sometimes go weeks without hearing from each other, but it was never intentional. it wasn't until your first night home during the christmas holidays that you realized you'd never written him back. you had only started scribbling a letter when the phone rang.

"it's angus!" your mother called from the kitchen on the first floor. that's when you remembered the promise he made in your letters. he'd be visiting soon!

"coming!" you called back as you rushed down the stairs so fast your mother had chastised you for nearly running your little brother over. you pressed the phone against your ear, lips curved into a big smile as you caught your breath, "angus, when are yo—"

"i won't be visiting," his voice said quietly, a bit crackly through the phone and deeper than you remembered it being when you last spoke. your brows furrowed together at his words and you were filled with nothing short of confusion and disappointment, hand clutching tight the phone in your hand as your other absently fidgeted with the cord.

"what do you mean? you promised me you would, angus." you said to him, your voice sharper than you meant for it to sound, "is saint kitts really that much more important?"

silence.

"my mom and stanley are going without me," he replied and it was then you could hear in his voice that he was fighting back tears. his heart was broken and you weren't there to pick up the pieces. you filled with dread and guilt for your snappy words, feeling the aching of his heart in your own.

"what?" you questioned, leaning back against the wall and tilting your head up, eyes fixating on the ceiling where you could see a water spot forming from the old piping in your home.

"yeah, they decided now was the fucking time to take their honeymoon. can you believe that? they ditched me and went to saint kitts without me and left me at barton," he said, his voice growing angrier with each passing second, "the worst part is that i didn't care about saint kitts, i just needed to see you," his voice cracked again.

tears pricked at your eyes and your mom, who had been eavesdropping, had decided to let you have privacy in the kitchen as she escorted your brother to the playroom. you sniffled and wiped away the tears with the sleeve of your sweater, shaking your head in disbelief.

"i miss you so much, angus, it physically hurts," you whimpered into the phone and it was then you couldn't help but start crying. the sounds made his heart ache.

"i know, i'm so sorry."

the two of you were only on the phone for a few more minutes because angus had heard one of the other holdovers coming down the hall. you didn't question it, a school full of boys meant that crying around others was asking for a death wish.

when all you could was hear the dial tone, a quiet 'i love you' escaped your lips.

pathetic.

four days passed and tomorrow was christmas eve; you'd never felt so empty in your entire life. you hadn't heard from angus since your last phone call and it was like all joy and happiness had been sucked out of your soul. your mother, who often liked to call you dramatic, didn't dare say a peep.

you had been laying in bed all morning, doing nothing except falling back asleep or staring out your bedroom window and watching a soft flurry of snow falling. you promised yourself to write angus a letter today, but you weren't entirely sure that you would be able to without breaking down and sobbing. your eyes were already puffy from crying yourself to sleep, you couldn't risk them hurting anymore.

"sweetie?" the voice came with a knock on your door. your mother, her voice as sweet as cinnamon. you didn't answer as the door creaked open.

"i'd like for you to come for a drive with me, if that's alright."

"no."

"i'm not leaving until you come with me."

"fine."

you were bundled up in a big coat as you sat in the passenger seat of your mother's station wagon, your forehead pressed against the window as you watched the snowfall. you hadn't really been paying much attention to where you two were going or how long you'd been driving, figuring that sooner or later your mother would pipe up and ask about you. this was always her way of understanding your emotions, it always worked. you always managed to spill your guts to her while in the passenger seat.

"do you love him?" she asked quietly, her eyes flickering toward you.

"what?" you became defensive, sitting upright and glaring daggers at her, "no. i mean yeah. of course i love him he's my best friend. just... nothing more. nothing like that!"

"so you do." she smiled, admiring you as she focused her attention back ahead, fingers gently tapping against the steering wheel as she hummed softly, "i'm taking you to barton."

"what?!" you screeched, your heart pounding hard in your chest, "you're telling me that now? you should've let me get ready! god, he's going to think i'm a mess!" you grumbled as you pulled down the visor and looked into the mirror, trying desperately to make your hair behave and wipe away the tiredness from your eyes.

"he's not going to care what you look like, darling." your mother said with a sigh.

"okay, well i care what i look like!"

"stop being so dramatic."

—

on the way to barton, your mother told you what she had planned behind your back, she called the school and managed to speak with a lady named miss lamb and explained the situation. according to your mother she sounded very excited that you would be visiting angus—it was likely that he was being just as pouty and sad as you were, if not more.

it made you wonder how lonely he'd been. should you have called more?

your hands were shaking as you pulled up to the school, your entire body nearly vibrating as you stepped out of the car and did one more fix on your hair. you were excited to see him, but why were you nervous? you had never been nervous about seeing him, why was this different?

an older woman who you could only presume was miss lamb greeted you at the main entrance, ushering you in quickly. you sighed softly when the cold air was no longer nipping at your skin, but instead, you were filled with that familiar feeling of nervousness once again.

"i think angus is up in one of the classrooms right now. he's been hiding himself away since he's been here with just me and mr. hunham. the poor boy got left behind here while the other boys were able to go spend the holidays at a ski hill," she said, glancing at you a few times as you followed her, fidgeting with your hands nervously. you hadn't realized until now that your mother had stayed in the foyer. miss lamb spoke up again, disturbing your thoughts, "he mentioned you the other day at dinner. was complaining to us about his situation and how he was supposed to visit his best friend... you know, i expected you to be a boy."

"yeah," you murmur as you ascend a staircase, "people always say that. a girl and a boy could never be just friends."

"mhm, it's hard for people to think that when they know what young love looks like," she hummed, avoiding your piercing gaze as she led you through the halls, "angus!" she called out as you two reached a hallway on the second floor, "where are you?"

"what do you need, mary?" his voice echoed from the last classroom on the right, his voice whiny and pouty.

you hadn’t moved so fast in your life. your legs picked up speed and mary turned the other way, satisfied with what she'd seen so far. she wasn't going to impose on a special moment. this was the happiest she'd felt in a long time, too.

"angus!" you called out as you sprinted ahead, nearly missing the door as you made a full stop under the door frame. you watched him as he turned his gaze, eyes moving from the window he'd been peering out of and over at you. you were blessed with the sight of seeing his big brown eyes soften and how a weight eased on his shoulders. he was gorgeous, the most beautiful man in the world and you weren’t going to leave barton until he knew that.

"what the hell are you doing here?" he asked, blinking a few times, as though he was hallucinating and afraid you weren't real, "christ–get over here."

he met you halfway as you bolted toward him, arms outstretched and wrapping around his waist as you buried your face into his chest. “i missed you so fucking much,” you whimpered, fingers tightening into fists as they gripped the back of his jacket. he smelled nice, like the cheap cologne you bought him last christmas; musk, cedar & notes of vanilla.

his own arms were around your shoulders, his face nuzzling against the top of your head as you two relished in each other’s presence.

it had been months. months that felt like a millennium.

“i missed you too,” he whispered against your hair, arms tightening around you briefly before easing up, “you look so pretty.”

you tilted your head back to look at him, your eyes glossy from the tears that spilled down your cheeks. you had parted your lips to say something back as your cheeks reddened from his compliment, but he didn’t give you the chance—rightly shutting you up with his lips.

it was then you fully understood how much you loved angus tully, less as a friend and more as a partner. a soulmate.

your lips moved together in desperation and need, kissing each other like you were lovers that had been separated for years. one of his hands had moved up to the back of your hair, fingers tangling, while the other gripped at your hip. both of your arms snaked around he neck, pulling him down so you didn’t have to stand on the tips of your toes to meet his lips.

this lasted for awhile, stopping only when you two had ran out of breath and were panting together.

“i love you,” you said first, your forehead pressing against angus’ as you looked deep into his brown eyes, “i’ve loved you for a very long time... too long.”

“me too,” he murmured in returned, the hand that was on your hip now caressing your cheek, his thumb gently grazing over your soft skin, “you’re the only reason it’s lonely here. seriously, i think i’m going mad without you,” he laughed breathily, bumping his nose playfully against yours.

“then i’ll make sure you don’t have to go without me too long,” your voice was soft as you spoke, unable to rid yourself of the big smile that plastered your lips, “maybe we can convince your teacher to let me stay for a night… or maybe you can spend christmas with us.”

“i want to go to boston with you,” he said quick, like he’d been waiting to say it.

you knew exactly what he meant. you knew everything about boston—you knew who was waiting in boston.

“okay,” you murmured, “let’s go to boston.”

you couldn’t promise that it would actually happen, how on earth would a chaperone let their student travel miles away to a city without them? you didn’t care about that right now. all you cared about was making sure that angus knew he had your support. that’s how being best friends worked.

you were there for each other. you were always going to help pick up each other’s pieces.

“kiss me again, angus.”

#angus tully #angus tully x reader #dominic sessa #the holdovers #angus tully fic #the holdovers fic #wordsbyspatial #spatialanswers

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livwritesstuff · 4 months

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More steddie dads content I really want some Eddie centered like teaching the girls guitar or dnd especially since Robbie is like him I think that they’d bind over a shared interest and he’d teach her stuff from when he was younger!

lol yeah the last few have def been more steve-centric (and also kind of a bummer) so let's switch up the vibe a bit

So, yes, Robbie is Eddie's daughter through and through.

She's stubborn and brazen and loud in her opinions and beliefs. She can be a little flippant about other peoples' feelings when she's not careful, and sometimes struggles to acknowledge the validity in other experiences outside of her own - in other words, she's Eddie to a T. She's even got the same big curly hair (though it's way more well-maintained than Eddie's had been thanks to Steve).

As for hobbies, Robbie is the only one out of Eddie and Steve's three daughters to really take an interest in music.

Eddie is thrilled about this, especially in the early days when Robbie is seven or eight and dying to try out any instrument they put in front of her. She has a natural proclivity for nearly all of them, which is fucking wild to Eddie, but the violin is the one she takes a particular shining towards.

Eddie can't say he'd ever had a resounding interest in classical music, but he wants to support Robbie so he dives into it right along with her.

That shit...

is metal as hell.

Seriously rad.

Eddie anxiously waits for her to be old enough to try out his old electric guitar. He waits until she's fifteen years old - the same age he'd been when he'd gotten his first electric - and then he digs it out of storage and bestows it upon her like the exquisite treasure it truly is.

In true teenager fashion, Robbie is...unimpressed.

She humors him for a bit, and to her credit, she does seem at least a bit intrigued by the almost forty-year-old guitar, but when Eddie offers to show her how to play, she only shrugs.

"I don't want to mess with my technique," she tells him, as if she's not shattering his heart into a bazillion tiny pieces.

"What does that even mean?"

"I dunno," she shrugs again.

Later, once the guitar has been safely put away, Eddie recounts the exchange to Steve.

"I just don't get it," he laments, "She'd be so good at it! I don't get why she won't just give it one chance."

"She's you, my love," Steve tells him, "Are you forgetting all the years you spent rejecting everything outside of what you deemed acceptable. You grew out of it. She will too."

So Eddie resigns himself to waiting it out. Robbie ends up deciding she wants make a career out of playing the violin, and she goes to New York to get her bachelors in music.

Just as Steve had predicted, once she hits college and grows up a little bit, she starts seeing the value in the world outside of the small corner of it she occupies. She comes home from her first semester regaling them with all the things she'd learned, and she catches Eddie by surprise when she asks him to bring out his old electric guitar.

Eddie and Robbie jam in the basement for like five hours before Steve insists they go the fuck to bed, and that "Hazel has school in the morning, in case you lunatics forgot."

(As for dnd, looking at it from the perspective of teenage girls, Steve and Eddie's kids absolutely do not want to think about their dad DM-ing. Eddie can't even breathe the wrong way without his daughters calling him out for being cringe or whatever, never mind executing a whole campaign. They'd die of embarrassment - guaranteed.

Robbie does get super into MTG in college, which Eddie absolutely takes as a personal F-You from his daughter. He gets his revenge by refusing her offers to teach him to play, even though it honestly sounds like a fuckin' blast, but that's a hill he's willing to die on)

#the universe said “here's you in smart-ass teenage-girl form best of luck”#steve actually has a way harder time parenting her than eddie does but that's a conversation for another day #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #eddie munson #steve harrington

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alexanderlightweight · 11 months

Note

I know you just wrote it but can we have more of the winter soldier-like au for the wednesday prompt?

i have to go to work in a bit but i HAD to write the next part so i hope you enjoy

<3 lumine

“Isabelle.” Magnus says, low and cool and she turns, eyes wide with hope and hands trembling. Her bright eyes dim and she looks dull when she realizes he’s alone.

Around them, the gloomy halls of the Silent City seem to warp. Jem assured him this was the safest place to meet with any nephilim, especially an Iron Sister.

“You didn’t bring him?”

“Why would I ever let him near any nephilim again?” Magnus asks coldly, looking at Isabelle with disdain where once there was a sliver of fondness. “Even his own sister can’t stop from betraying him once again.”

“I haven’t!” She protests, “Magnus I swear to you. I couldn’t.”

“And yet, the nephilim children you thoughtlessly gave information to weren't so smart. They went straight to Imogen and when she finished regaling them with details, they showed up to demand the weapon I stole from the clave.”

Isabelle pales and she shakes her head, “no, Magnus. You have to understand, I just... she needs help. You’re the only one I could think of that might be able to!”

“You thought you could rewrite history. You see those reckless children and you see yourself, Isabelle. So tell me, my dear.” The endearment is mocking and cruel where once it was sincere and she flinches, closing her eyes, “why must Alexander be sacrificed a second time for a little girl too spoiled to care about others?”

Isabelle takes a deep breath and she laughs, bitter and weary.

“I’m never going to see him again, am I?”

“Perhaps if he’s better by the time you die, I’ll let him visit you on your deathbed.” It’s more than she deserves and they both know it, even if Magnus normally refrains from being so cruel.

“Magnus, I really didn’t mean to.”

“You never do, Isabelle. You went to the Iron Sisters to do better, so why are we here? Back at where we began?”

“I just want him back, Magnus.” Isabelle whispers, voice hoarse and thick with tears, “it’s been decades. I miss my hermano. I just wanted to see him, I thought maybe—” She trails off, unwilling to voice her absurdly selfish wants that have once again put her brother in danger.

There is danger once again and the clave have been reminded that Magnus has something they consider theirs.

Magnus looks at her and he believes her.

That doesn’t change a thing.

“Then perhaps, Isabelle. You shouldn’t have betrayed him.” Magnus turns, walking away because this was the sole purpose of the meeting. If Isabelle continues to help little Clarissa Fray and her blonde shadow, then Magnus will deal with her as he vowed to, when she first cost him his love.

—

Izzy sighs as she watches Magnus leave and she shakes her head at herself. She knows better, she really does and yet in her impatience, with the fear of dying from old age without seeing Alec one last time, she let it get the best of her.

Which means that now, she might not even get to see her brother.

Its a sign of impatience that Izzy thought she trained out of herself.

“Izzy?” Cleophas asks as she returns and Izzy gives a bland, cool smile and nods to her friend. “Are you alright?”

“I made a mistake.” Izzy admits, which she rarely does and it makes Cleophas send her a second, concerned look. “I don’t know if I can salvage anything from the shards.” Because Cleophas thinks she’s talking about a weapon, but Izzy is talking about the last bonds of the strained relationship between her and Magnus that she just managed to shatter.

“You’ve always been able to create masterpieces, even from a ruined piece.” Cleophas reminds her dryly and Izzy gives a polite smile back, but her heart isn’t in it.

“Sometimes, the most valuable things are too delicate to repair.” Is all she says and when she gets to her rooms, Izzy sighs and stares at the picture of a young, fifteen year old Izzy with Alec on her dresser. It’s an old picture and the only other picture Izzy loves as much is hidden.

She retrieves it now and stares.

She’s freshly seventeen in the picture and Alec is in it, Magnus wrapped around him and the three of them are in one of Magnus’ many homes. Whisked away by portal while Alec and Izzy pretended to just be out on their own for her birthday.

It’s one of many times that Alec included her, despite how dangerous it was to have anyone know of his relationship with Magnus.

Ultimately, it was Izzy’s own hubris that broke them all and she sighs and pets her fingers over her brother's face.

Her own hair is gray now and there are lines in the corner of her eyes and mouth and while her beauty is still revered, all she can wonder is how Alec looks.

Does he still look young, caught in the age he was when she lost him? Or is Magnus fighting time as well as magic and Izzy stiffles a sob, because Magnus looks as young as he did when they first met.

It brings up too many painful memories that Izzy has to force herself to choke her emotions down.

Magnus refused to reach out during the Uprising or even in the two decades since it failed and Izzy knows she could have requested a meeting with him, but she was terrified to be denied.

It was an accident, mentioning Magnus to Clary. A mistake that Izzy is going to pay for and it’s a price she doesn’t think she’s willing to accept.

Which means that Izzy needs to find a way to once again endear herself to Magnus.

The best way to the High Warlock’s heart — for the last forty plus years at least — has always been through Alec.

So, Izzy grits her teeth and squares her shoulders and reminds herself to be strong.

She’s the Lightwood heir, despite joining the Iron Sisters.

If committing treason and sending adamas and books to Magnus to help him save Alec from a countdown that Izzy started, she’ll do it.

please remember that izzy was super young and it was complicated. magnus blames her and she blames herself and it is her fault but there were also extenuating circumstances and ofc the clave took it too far

izzy also hasn't seen alec in decades and suddenly this kid who reminds her of herself with a blonde shadow. she doesn't meet jace because male, so she just sort of assigns him alec's personality and basically accidentally emotionally manipulates herself

also izzy is super endeared by clary and only met her the once.

this doesn't have a name yet

also remember that magnus is super biased and clary showing up sputing bs hit every switch imaginable

#lumine writes #writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #magnus bane #alec lighwood #shadowhunters #shadowhunters au #my fics #my fanfics #my ficlets

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little-firestar · 3 months

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Major Crimes Fanfic- One More Day

It had been a bad day, a bad case; Sharon, having finished writing the latest reports, had returned home to what had become their love nest for two years now. Andy, on the other hand, had not been in the mood: wasted young lives always had that effect on him, threatening to plunge him back into the abyss of drinking. He had gone to an AA meeting; normally, he never shared details of his work, merely talking about how drinking had ruined his family, but this time it had been different. No names, ranks, descriptions. a simple sentence.

Hi, I'm Andy and I've been sober for almost 30 years. It's been a good half of my life now that I don't drink, but as I once told a good friend of mine, you can't change who and what you are, only the way you approach life. Sometimes I drank not because I was a jerk, but because I wanted to delude myself that I could forget what sucks in the world. I'm a cop, and-and I had a very bad case. A guy killed a teenager, a girl his age, and threw her in the trash, just like that, because she was nothing to him and she didn't deserve anything different. Fifteen years old. Those two kids were only fifteen years old....

When the meeting was over, he had stayed a while to talk; he had sought out his sponsor, and vented a little to him-with Randy, they had known each other all their lives, he could even go into a little more detail-and then, finally, he had gone home.

The apartment was completely shrouded in darkness and silence; Andy tried to flick the light switch, but nothing happened, and he was filled with a feeling of dread. It felt to him as if he were inside some movie, or crime TV series, where the protagonist came home and once he managed to turn on the light found the dead body of his own wife. He moved slowly, bringing his hand to the holster he carried at his side; circumspect, he flattened himself against the wall, crawling along the walls until he reached the kitchen. He heard a noise, something falling to the ground, shattering into dozens, perhaps hundreds of pieces, and pointed his weapon in the direction of the noise. The light suddenly returned, and Andy heard a female voice scream - squeak - as soon as he moved, pointing his weapon at what he was sure was an intruder, ready to shoot. Andy blinked, in disbelief; in front of him, amid the shards of a cup, wearing a Japanese silk kimono like a robe, was Sharon, without glasses and with her hair completely disheveled.

"What the hell -- Sharon, I almost shot you!" He rebuked her, slipping the gun into its holster.He dropped down on one of the dining room chairs, and brought a hand to his heart, which was beating wildly. "What were you going to do, give me another heart attack?"

She smiled at him, sweet, motherly, and Andy remembered all the times she had taken care of him-including the time he had been beaten up on the street and ended up in the hospital, and she had gotten into the ambulance with him after the attack, never leaving him alone, not even for a moment.

The woman gave him a glass of water, and put her fingers on his carotid artery, trying to see if his heart rate was returning to normal; Andy closed his eyes, sighed, and began to purr, as if he had been a big gray cat. Sharon burst out laughing, her eyes watering with joy, and she clutched Andy's head to her chest, studding that flowing silver hair with kisses.Andy moved the kimono's neckline slightly and kissed the long pink scar that started from her sternum and ran almost all the way across her rib cage in its entirety, and rested his ear against it, eyes closed.

Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom....

A regular, perfect rhythm, his favorite sound, the one he set to listen to every night before falling asleep, the one he heard every morning as soon as he woke up-that of Sharon's heart. He didn't know who donated that organ, but not a day went by that he didn't thank God for that gift, because after Julio had managed to revive her, the doctors had been able to stabilize her long enough until a donor came along-and that, in the end, she had agreed to undergo the transplant: even one more day with her, to him, was a miracle.

"Mom, Eddie fixed the fuse that blew and..." Rusty and his boyfriend, a dashing Texas-born firefighter, Eduardo, entered the house by slamming the front door; Andy and Sharon didn't even bother to separate, they just stayed cuddled in their little bubble. "What are you two doing?"

"Come on, aren't they sweet?" Eddie elbowed him in the arm, and Rusty rolled his eyes as his boyfriend grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him away. "Come on, come on, let's leave them alone, they're so cute! Goodbye, Mr. and Mrs. Flynn!"

The young men walked out of the apartment, and from inside the house, Andy and Sharon heard the elevator going up to their floor. They burst out laughing, and exchanged a long, tender kiss, still cuddling for a long time.

Every day was a gift to them.

you can also check the story @ One more day - Little_Firestar84 - Major Crimes (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

#major crimes fanfic #major crimes #andy flynn #sharon raydor #fix it fic #sharon raydor is alive #fuck you sharon raydor is alive

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starboybutler · 6 months

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Poor Boy ( CH. 1 )

summary: Jess Wade finds an injured boy on his property one day.

word count: 3060

warnings: violence, kidnapping, anxiety

notes: decided to start posting my multichapter clint/jess fic to tumblr and not just on a03! i hardly post over here so this should be a treat for my three followers here (also bc i wanna use these cute cowboy dividers i found). i'm already three chapters deep into this story, and currently working on the fourth- so i'll upload the rest of the chapters sometime this week to space em out a lil. in the meantime, please enjoy chapter one!

chapter 1 (you are here)

chapter 2

chapter 3 (coming soon)

jess wade was fifteen years old when he first saw his name on a wanted poster.

his mom was devastated beyond belief. she nocouldn't even begin to think that her little boy was running around with a group of troublemakers, looting and vandalizing and stealing- but that wanted poster stuck out in their small town like a sore thumb.

the people were outraged that a delinquent was in their town, ruining their reputation and committing petty crimes like it was a fun after school hobby. they never liked jess much, even before they knew he was stealing, honestly. he always heard the town gossiping to his momma about how she should take him to a doctor because 'something wasn't right’ with him.

jess never paid them any mind, all he needed was his momma.

but when that wanted poster showed up, he lost her too. she yelled at him, which she had never done before- and jess felt his heart shatter into pieces.

that's the last time he remembers crying.

the town shooed him out, with nothing but the clothes on his back and a horse to get around. at least they were nice enough for that.

but he wasn't completely alone, even then. he still had vince, who he'd committed the petty crimes with. vince didn't have his mom or dad either. he ran away a long while ago, and began his side gig of stealing from small towns wherever he could find them. when he found jess’s town, he saw jess sitting on the porch and scrubbing away at his only good pair of shoes, trying to get the dirt out of them.

vince approached him and said he needed help getting something back. said a kid in this town stole his money and he wouldn't give it up, so he had to go take it by force.

he chose jess because he was mean looking- tough. he was an outsider, even in his small hometown, and that was just fine with him.

jess knew he was stealing, but he went along with it anyway. to this day, he doesn't know what possessed him to join that lanky ginger kid.

eventually he cut vince off, but that damn vince hackett still knows how to get under jess’s skin like a goddamn bug.

after the messiness of getting out of the bond he had with vince, jess decided that he was better off alone. he didn't need anyone. all he needed was his horse- and even then he could replace that. he just needed to stay on the outskirts of any town, far away from anyone and anything.

jess hummed to himself quietly as he poured grain into his horse’s feeder, gently petting his nose as he leaned down to eat. his horse truly was the only thing he cared about anymore.

jess set down the grain and wiped at his forehead, exhaling as he turned on his heel towards the exit of the barn. just as he stepped into the sun, the familiar sound of a gunshot echoed loudly in his ears.

he'd heard gunshots more times than he could count. he would hear them at any time of day, but for them to be this close to his cabin was unusual. had vince found him again?

jess reached for the gun on his hip, placing his hand on it as he stalked out of the stables and into the hot sun, observing his surroundings carefully. nothing looked out of place. no suspicious figures on the horizon, no horses, no nothing. just the land, like it always is.

jess moved his hand away from his gun and hummed lowly, rolling his shoulders back. wherever it came from, it wasn't his problem. nothing ever was anymore.

he began to walk towards his cabin, but something in his gut told him to turn around. he glanced behind his shoulder, and saw an unusual lump on the ground a little ways in the distance.

a person.

jess spun around and quickly made his way over to the body, standing over it and staring at it, dumbfounded.

it was a boy.

he looked to be a teen, maybe eighteen or nineteen maybe. his hair was blonde, but dirty and matted with dried blood and dirt, and his skin was pale. save for the fading flush on his cheeks from the blistering heat. his clothes were ripped and stained, and jess could faintly see scratch marks and ripping on his clothes from a struggle. jess knelt down and gently pressed his fingers on the boy’s neck, feeling for a pulse.

it was there, but it was awfully faint. jess furrowed his brow in thought, looking over the boy once more.

he was in bad shape. there was a chance that even if jess took him to get help, he’d die before he could even begin to recover. on the other hand, it never hurt to try, just a little. it never hurt to have a little hope.

without a second thought, jess gently took the blonde boy into his arms bridal style, trying not to jostle his head too much as he headed towards his secluded cabin. he had some supplies laying around in his room for emergencies, maybe he could patch him up well enough for a few days or so.

jess kicked his door open and sat the unconscious boy on his shoddily made couch, jogging to get his supplies from under his bed. he set everything down on his coffee table and exhaled through his

nose, grabbing some gauze and pressing it to the wound on his head gently, sopping up any blood that was still dribbling out.

the boy twitched weakly, and jess cursed to himself as he swabbed up any blood. this wasn't going to be perfect, but jess wasn't a doctor- it didn't need to be perfect. this boy just needed to survive.

jess grabbed the bandages and wrapped the wound tightly, cutting it short with his teeth and tucking it under the others so it stayed in place. he began dabbing the other wounds and wrapping them in the same fashion, holding his breath as he prayed that this boy didn't die on his couch.

as jess wrapped up the last wound on his arm, he looked over the boy once more.

he was barely breathing, but he looked a little less pale. he was sweating bullets, shaking and twitching from the shock of whatever happened to him. his eyes were screwed shut, tears running down his cheek every once in a while.

jess sighed softly, reaching to the side of him and pulling a blanket over the boy as he twitched and trembled in his sleep. jess decided that trying to wake him up now wouldn't be the smartest thing to do. he’d probably scare the boy out of his mind and send him into shock again. the kid just needed to rest, they could talk when he woke up.

as for jess, he needed to freshen up after handling this boy’s beaten up body. his clothes were stained and dirtied now.

jess lifted his chin, gently dragging the razor across his neck carefully. he let his facial hair get a little out of hand lately.

the seasons were changing, so he didn't have to go into town as often as he used to. the heat was dying down ever so slightly- so his crops weren't dying as often. he could survive for a few months without having to go visit the sheriff for some goods. the sweets his wife made were good for storing up when he needed it, but the ride was draining.

he set the razor down and washed the remaining shaving cream off of his face, dabbing his face dry with an old towel as he sighed deeply. the boy had yet to move on the couch, but his breathing had evened out, and he had stopped shaking. he seemed to just be in a deep sleep now.

hopefully he woke up soon. jess had a lot of questions about his whole ordeal.

jess turned and placed his hat back on his head, freezing in his steps as he saw the boy sitting up on the couch. he looked dazed, his eyes fixed on his dirty hands and tattered clothes. the poor thing seemed like he was still in shock.

jess carefully took a step forward, and the blonde’s head snapped up towards him. his eyes were big and blue, glassy with unshed tears. jess held up a hand in front of him, setting his jaw.

“i know you're confused,” he starts slowly, his voice firm. “but i ain't the one that hurt ya.”

the blonde blinked, looking away from him and staring at his filthy hands once more. he seemed so out of it- almost like he wasn't even sure he was real or not. it was creepy.

“i shot him,” the boy spoke hoarsely, before breaking into a harsh coughing fit. the poor thing probably hasn't had a drink for god knows how long. jess rushed to the sink and filled a glass with water, pressing the cool glass into the blonde's trembling hands.

“drink something,” jess muttered, guiding the drink to his lips.

the boy obeyed almost mindlessly. when he got that first taste of water, he was gulping it down quickly like it was the last time he’d ever get to drink anything.

the boy exhaled loudly as he finished the water, reaching to messily wipe at his mouth, smearing dirt on his face. jess would have reached and wiped it off, but he didn't want to startle him even more. the boy’s hands were bandaged. were those bandages there when he found him?

“better?” jess asked, setting the glass to the side and raising an eyebrow.

the boy nodded ever so slightly. he sat and stared at the ground, before large tears welled up in his eyes and spilled down his dirty cheeks, wetting his shirt. his body shook as he pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes, palming at them desperately to stop the tears.

jess had never been good at dealing with emotions. his own, or others. he found them to be too complicated, and he rid himself of any feelings long ago, when he was young. the people in his town called him heartless when he shed no tears at funerals, or when he didn't smile at the get-togethers. that's just who he was. life was easier that way- and no one understood but him.

“i dunno what i did wrong,” the boy started, his body trembling as he sat up, trying to compose himself. “i-i was jus’ doin’ chores for ma, in the fields, and then,”

his eyes darken, and he clutches at his head like he's in agony.

“th-they snatched me up- t-took me away an’...they tried to….and i shot ‘em.” the blonde hiccuped frantically, tugging at the matted hair on his head.

jess quickly grabbed his wrist, pulling it away from his head as gently as he could manage. the boy’s hands twitched in his grasp, and he weakly tried to pull away before he gave in, his body much too weak to put up any fight.

“don't be yankin’ and pullin’ at your head like that,” jess scolds softly, letting his wrist go. “you're gonna hurt yourself more. it's a miracle you're even alive.” he said bluntly.

the boy looked away, his eyes still dark as his hand balled into his pants, tears threatening to spill from his eyes again.

“why'd you save me?”

jess set his jaw. hell, he didn't even know why he saved this boy. a near-dead body was a common sight where he lived, in the middle of nowhere. it was common for people to dump and leave bodies for dead around here, and jess would ride and walk past them like they were nothing but another rock in the sand.

but when he saw this blonde boy on the verge of death, something gripped at his heart and he couldn't walk away from him. he didn't know what that feeling was when he saw him. maybe jess did it because he genuinely felt bad.

“i don't know.” jess admitted, adjusting his hat. “but i just knew i couldn't leave you to die out here. especially not on my property,”

the boy swallowed and just nodded, just looking absolutely defeated. it wasn't fair, someone so young having to go through something like this. jess knew that feeling.

he crouched next to the boy, finding his eyes under the bangs of his messy locks. “let's get you some clean clothes.”

“okay,”

jess wandered to his room and opened his drawer. he didn't have many clothes, as it was just him, and he didn't really go anywhere. he did still have some old clothes that didn't really fit him anymore, back when he was in his early twenties…but the boy obviously didn't want to get dressed in a whole get up right now.

he eventually settled on an oversized sleep dress he had laying around. it was a little faded, but other than that it didn't have any tears or holes in it.

he walked back into the living area and tossed the sleep dress onto the couch. the boy picked it up and observed it, before muttering out a small ‘thanks’.

“need help getting dressed?”

“no,” the boy said quickly, clutching the fabric to his chest. “get out.”

“alrighty,” jess hummed, confused by the sudden hostility. maybe he was just self conscious. jess could sympathize somewhat, he didn't like people seeing him shirtless much either. he was almost always wearing about three layers of clothes.

he shut his bedroom door behind him to let the boy get dressed, but not even a second later he heard a loud cry from the living area.

he opened the door and saw the boy clutching his side, his face screwed up in pain as he laid on his side, the sleep dress sprawled on the floor. jess slowly approached him, his hand held out.

“you sure you don't-”

“i’m fine, damn it.” the boy hissed, obviously embarrassed, sitting up slowly. “i just…ugh-”

“i’m not gonna do nothin’ to hurt you.” jess states firmly, looking the boy in the eyes. “i’ll help you get dressed, and then i’ll leave you alone if you want.”

the blonde stared at him, as if searching for an ounce of proof that he was lying, before muttering in agreement. “fine,”

jess gently grabbed the boy and sat him up with ease, slowly beginning to unbutton his tattered shirt. he slid it off of his arms and put it to the side, moving to undo the button of his pants.

the boy squirmed, and jess looked up at him. his face was pink, and he was looking off to the side as jess slid his pants off slowly, as to not hurt him. he suddenly reached down, swatting jess’s hands away and fumbling with his pants.

“i can do this part,” he mutters, kicking his pants off.

jess shrugs and grabs the sleep dress, rolling it up as he stands. “arms up, if you can.”

the blonde lifts his arms as much as he can, groaning as he feels the wound on his side shift. jess presses a hand to his shoulder to stop him, moving to slip the garment over his head and arms the best he can.

it was a bit of a struggle, but he eventually maneuvered it to get over his head.

while the boy wiggles into the sleep gown, jess’s eyes rake over his body curiously. he's covered in bruises, which wouldn't be concerning, considering the state he found him in, if they weren't old bruises. some of them were small, purple blotches, others were deep purple or even greenish-, mostly along his legs. his chest was untouched, pale and smooth. they were obviously caused by someone hitting him- but the question was who-. maybe they were caused by the struggle earlier, with whoever he supposedly shot. the gown dropped suddenly and jess looked up at the boy, who was droopy eyed.

“i…thanks.” he mutters, curling himself into a ball, pulling his knees to his chest, looking away. “i, uh…’m real sorry for everything. i’m just not right in the head right now,”

“i know,” jess says. “you've been through some stuff.” he mutters. “i won't make you talk about it until you're ready.”

“i appreciate that,” he mutters, his cheeks flushing slightly.

the kid was well mannered when he wasn't freaking out. jess appreciated that.

jess’s lip curled up slightly, and he tilted his head. “what's your name, kid?”

the boy set his jaw, fidgeting nervously as he answered quietly. “clinton. clinton reno.” he answers softly, his eyes darting up to jess. “you can call me clint,”

“clint,” jess says, standing and gestures to the kitchen. “hungry? i can whip something up.”

the boy- clint- shakes his head, grabbing the blanket tightly and laying back on his side with heavy eyes. “no, i’m…i'm really tired.”

“alright,” jess hums, adjusting his hat. “you get some rest. i’ll be here in the morning.”

clint nods and shuts his eyes, falling asleep almost immediately afterward. jess blows out the candle and heads towards his room, shutting the door quietly.

he sat on his bed, sighing heavily. this might be a lot more than he bargained for. if this reno boy had really shot someone, there wasn't no way the constable wasn't gonna come looking for him. he suspected he'd get a visit from sheriff ramsey soon, but he could lie to him easily enough. he hated to do it, but if he had to, he would.

he laid back and ran a hand through his hair, his eyes falling shut as his mind began to run. what was he going to to with this boy once he was healed up? that wouldn't be for a while. it was already come fall time, and he would probably be a wanted man in a few days, so it's not like he could send him off on his lonesome- but jess only had living space for one person.

jess fell asleep with an image of clint crying fresh on his mind.

#austin!elvis x y/n #elvis x y/n #elvis x reader #clint reno #jess wade #charro!#love me tender #elvis cinematic universe

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kandisheek · 2 months

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FIC REC WEEK 8 - OT6

SERIES: When Something Goes Wrong, it's Usually Clint Barton's Fault by Ambrosia

Pairing: Steve/Tony/Clint/Natasha/Bruce/Thor Rating: T Words: 8,867 Tags: Humor, Everybody Lives, Fluff

Reasons why I love it: This whole series is so light-hearted and fun! I love the glimpses into what life in this version of the Avengers is like, and how they all come together to joke around and be so darned cute. If you like fluff and general team feels, then definitely check this one out, you'll love it!

This series consists of:

That One time Clint Barton got addicted to Flappy Bird

Pairing: Steve/Tony/Clint/Natasha/Bruce/Thor Rating: T Words: 2,288 Tags: Humor, Fluff, Team Bonding

Summary: But it's probably for the best, because eventually Clint is making their nightly hot chocolate at three pm in the afternoon in a balmy April because he fucking can when Thor's personal Starkphone zips past his ear and hits the fridge, shattering in a beautiful firework of twenty-thousand dollar custom phone parts. "I have become enraged with this game of flying birds," Thor grumbles, clenching his hands and releasing them. Clint uses a spatula to guard his face. "You know Tony is gonna shit himself, right, that was a custom model."

Reasons why I love it: As someone who was very much involved in the Flappy Bird hype back in the day, this feels like home to me. It's so funny, and their voices read very true to character, every single one. If the Avengers ever got hooked on Flappy Bird, this is exactly what would happen. I love this fic so much!

That one time Clint Barton showed up Fifteen Minutes Late with Lemon Cakes

Pairing: Steve/Tony/Clint/Natasha/Bruce/Thor Rating: T Words: 1,067 Tags: CA:TWS, Humor, Fluff

Summary: “Really,” Barton says. “Cause, Cap, you know I’m always up for double-crossing a massive secret agency, but what I don’t like is hopping off my evac and getting seventy four, I repeat, seventy four new messages from everybody from Fury to goddamn Tony Stark. Nat, I expected better from you. After all the shit in Gibraltar, and you do this to me? I'm a saint. I'm a good person. I don't deserve this.” Natasha shrugs, picking at the crumbling pieces of Lymonnyk he’d tossed her earlier.

Reasons why I love it: UGH they're so cute, I wish this was canon! No, it IS canon now, I've decided. Clint is one of my absolute favorite characters, and damn it if this series isn't driving that point home. Seriously, you HAVE to read it, it's amazing!

That One Time Clint Barton maybe turned Tony Stark into a Five-Year-Old

Pairing: Steve/Tony/Clint/Natasha/Bruce/Thor Rating: T Words: 2,338 Tags: Humor, Fluff, De-Aging

Summary: “Get Cap,” Natasha said, face unusually blank. Which, on a scale of ‘it’s cool she’s about to murder you with just her thighs’ to ‘wow I think we might actually be in trouble’, it was about ‘oh holy god everything’s on fire somebody do something’. Clint was already leaning low and sprinting down the hallway before she had even finished speaking.

Reasons why I love it: Yeees, give me all the magic shenanigans! This series just keeps getting funnier with every fic. Also, I love how Sam fits into the team, like he's always been there. Also also, the Stony stuff is the cutest. I love this one!

That One Time Clint Barton Totally Didn't See It Coming

Pairing: Steve/Tony/Clint/Natasha/Bruce/Thor Rating: T Words: 930 Tags: Pietro Lives, Age of Ultron, Canon Divergence

Summary: “Healing, as ever,” Steve says. “I was thinking about going out on patrol, actually.” “Oh, ow,” Clint says automatically. “You know I think my forearm is still pretty banged up.” “Good thing you were only in the circus, man,” Sam says as he passes the doorway. Clint flings a pencil at the back of his head.

Reasons why I love it: The Age of Ultron fluff piece fix-it we all needed. Funny and sweet all at once, with a healthy dose of Clint being equal parts caring and a little shit. We love to see it!

That One Time Clint Barton Got Busted Out of a High-Security Prison (Again)

Pairing: Steve/Tony/Clint/Natasha/Bruce/Thor Rating: T Words: 2,244 Tags: Civil War, Banter, Humor

Summary: The point is, he knows from the moment they’re wheeled in handcuffed to metal slabs that he’s gonna do better than everybody else. He lasts exactly twenty seven minutes and thirty-four seconds. “Is that,” Clint says, reaching through the metal bars as far as he can to try and leverage himself outward so he could see. The room they are in is octagonal, so it kinda works. “Are you— are you singing Uptown Funk?”

Reasons why I love it: I never knew I needed a whole fic of Sam, Clint and Scott snarking at each other, but oh boy, am I glad I found this one. It's so goddamn funny, and I am now forever convinced that this is exactly what happened while they were locked up in the raft. Check it out, it's amazing!

#marvel #ot6 #fanfic #fic rec #fanfic rec #ficrec #a year in fanfic recs

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infinite-orangepeel · 1 year

Note

For the fic writer questions, 👻✨🎁

helloooo ! thank you for sending these in, friend. i’m excited to answer 💌

and here’s the link to the fanfiction writer asks for anyone else who may be interested !

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

sure !! this is for the next chapter of its rotten work :)

Steve shouldn’t be surprised—really. He’s the one who raised them to be this way. To find strength in numbers. To suit up as the iron-clad martyr whenever a member of your pack is threatened. One for the many. All or nothing. Sacrificial lambs who bare the growling teeth of wolves. Mythic legend. His kin.

And, there’s no way–in this universe or the next–that he’s jeopardizing their six little golden hearts. No fucking way. Not even if they hate him for it; cuss him out, spit in his coffee, refuse his hugs. That last one would hurt, but he’d get through it. He’d survive the pain–just so they could grow proper roots, stretch twelve arms toward the highest ceilings, bump knobby knees on tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow–shattering bulletproof glass in their wake.

“What? No fair! How is that even close to being fair?” Mike mimics Steve’s stance—hands triangulating on his narrow hips; all snaggletoothed angles and superstition, “We’ve been fighting monsters for way longer than you, Steve! And we’ve survived every single time. If anyone’s equipped to take on some dipshit town mob, it’s us! We’d tear those fuckers to pieces!”

“Language!” Steve and Eddie chastise at the same time, which weirdly—and like, he probably shouldn’t react this way, but oh well—turns Steve on.

Again, it’s all he can do not to drag Eddie by the loose collar of his shirt and shove him into the adjacent coat closet.

Instead, he kisses his cheek and gets a teasing squeeze on the thigh in return. Hand grazing daringly high enough to prompt Steve to cover his lap with a nearby throw pillow.

They’ve settled back into Hopper’s recliner like two stupid love-birds in an upended nest. Kissing and touching every chance they get. Like two fifteen-year-olds on their first date at the movies. Buttered popcorn slipping across their tongues as they try to figure out how to admit their feelings. Chasing it down with the poppy burn of Coca-Cola and sour worms.

“Ew! Okay, ew, ew, ew!” Lucas groans his own disgust, “Of course, Eddie parenting us would make Steve pop a boner,” apparently, Steve hadn’t been quite fast enough in his cover-up attempt, “Gross, this is even worse than that one time I walked in on my parents and my mom was doing that nasty thing with her stockings—” he bemoans, covering his and Max’s eyes for dual protection.

👻 What is your wildest headcanon?

probably that eddie picks panties out for steve each morning !!

✨️ Out of the comments you’ve received on your fics, what are two or three of your favorites?

okay, so, truly every single comment makes my day, gives me such great motivation to keep writing, and occasionally makes me cry happy/touched tears. i’m endlessly grateful and so very lucky to have found such kind people who want to support my work, but i’ve picked a few favorites bc these people consistently go above and beyond and deserve the absolute world 💌 (hopefully they don’t mind being publicly recognized for their sweetness hahah). @asbealthgn @madigoround thank you, thank you, thank you !!

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kylermalloy · 10 months

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Something something plantcest Flowers in the Attic AU

For the uninitiated, Flowers in the Attic is a gothic horror novel published in 1979 by VC Andrews. Four siblings are locked in an attic for years on end. Incest ensues.

So imagine—Vash and Nai locked up at a young age due to [unspecified tragedy] befalling Rem, which twists their subsequent development around each other

Oh my GOSH this is perfect for them

Here’s how I think it would go. Bulleted list to follow

Warnings: transphobia, manipulation, dubcon, periods, pregnancy, miscarriage

The twins are about ten when Rem dies and are passed into the hands of some relative or guardian (I am too lazy rn to elaborate further on this character)

Cruel guardian disgusted by their existence for [unspecified puritanical reason]

Does not believe Vash when he asserts he’s a boy; only provides him with dresses and skirts which he hates to wear

Nai shares his clothes with Vash so he feels comfortable

Vash adores wearing his brother’s clothes; they’re a little too big but they’re always warm and they smell like Nai. It’s a win-win.

Guardian is incredibly paranoid about the twins lusting after one another; insists they bathe, dress, sleep separately

They Do Not. They do everything together.

Vash longs for the outside. Presses his nose to the glass, dreams of climbing trees and growing flowers and going to school—

Nai helps him draw flowers all over the walls of the attic

Whenever their guardian catches Vash wearing Nai’s clothes, they’re liable to not get any food for a few days, at least

Puberty hits them both like a truck; Nai’s voice drops, Vash gets menstrual cramps and cries over his chest pains night after night

They climb out the window, sometimes, at night. Sit on the roof and watch the stars. They know them all by name; it’s in one of the books they’ve been allowed to have.

In that peace, that sliver of freedom, Vash longs for more. Maybe he cries about it. Maybe Nai just wanted to kiss him. Anyway, they discover kissing as they do all things—together.

Within a year they’re exploring each others’ bodies. They were made for this, Nai tells him. They belong together. It’s so natural, the way Nai rises under Vash’s touch, how Vash becomes slick enough for Nai to slide right into him—

Vash is pregnant by age thirteen.

They’re almost relieved when it bleeds out of him after just a few months.

Still, some part of Vash shatters when he realizes what’s happened.

He draws more flowers on the wall, over the old ones. It looks to Nai like a memorial.

Nai can’t promise him another baby. How he could he, when they’re so young, when they live like this, when they’re brothers—

It happens again, anyway.

They’re fifteen when the baby is born. It’s a girl, and miraculously, she’s healthy.

And loud. She’s very loud.

They’ve done all they can to conceal Vash’s condition from their guardian—wrapping him in coats and blankets, him feigning sickness for the last few months, when his belly is far too swollen to hide

But how can they hush a newborn baby?

Guardian finds out, cuts off their food entirely

Vash is near hysterics; how can he feed the baby if he can’t feed himself?

They’re on the brink of starvation when their guardian returns with food; announces the plan to send the baby to an orphanage

Nai snaps. He’s gotten a knife from somewhere, and—well.

They escape, two penniless boys and a newborn baby.

Making a new life for themselves is hard; they must reinvent who they are so as to appear ~acceptable~ to society

Their mother is newly deceased; the baby is their sister. They certainly haven’t been locked in an attic for five years, nope, nuh-uh.

It’s all so overwhelming. The boys deal with freedom in different ways. Nai is aloof, cut off from connecting with others—except Vash. Vash, on the other hand, gives a piece of his heart to everyone he meets.

Nai’s not jealous, of course. He knows Vash belongs to him, utterly and completely.

Right?

He begins to restrict where Vash can go, who he can see. Stay inside, brother, the baby needs you. Trust me, I know what’s best.

Vash naturally acquiesces, but he longs for the outside, for the freedom he dreamed of for so long. The flowers, the trees.

Someone probably guesses their secret about the baby, or at least part of it. Vash’s chest is a little too prominent, and people are cruel and judgmental.

Nai takes drastic measures to defend his little brother. They may or may not have to hide a body.

Sometimes, Vash whispers, he thinks it would be easier if they split up. At least for a little while.

Nai stiffens. Absolutely not.

They haven’t had full-on sex since the baby, but Nai pushes until Vash agrees to it. He warns Nai to be careful, though—they can’t explain another baby!

We’ll go away, then, Nai says. Somewhere they don’t know us.

He won’t let Vash get away from him, no matter what.

…and that’s where my imagination runs out for now. Suffice to say whatever happens after will be painful.

#plantcest #kv #hiii kv fandom! pls come talk to me about brothers <3 #i’ve been marinating in all the beautiful fanart and while i cannot contribute in that way rn i will most certainly be writing #this au is too perfect for them #feel free to add on #trigun stampede #uhh incest cw i guess #kylerrambles

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stars-are-just-ghosts · 2 years

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Everyone says they have the best dog. Everyone is right. But this dog in particular...

This dog saved my daughter. In fact, he saved all of us. I always thought we'd rescued him first. But the truth turned out to be much deeper than that.

When my daughter was six years old, she had severe night terrors for two and a half months straight. It was night after night of uncontrollable fear, screaming, and even lashing out. No one knew what to do. None of us were sleeping. We tried everything we could think of to help her. I felt like an absolute failure of a mom that I couldn't make things better for her. I was heartbroken and angry and lost. Then a little poodle named Smokie came into our lives.

We weren't looking for a dog. We already had one. But he needed our help, and it turns out we needed him even more. The moment he walked in the house, he caught sight of my daughter and it was as though he knew she needed him. He never left her side. He became her shadow and her shield and her best friend overnight. And within a week, the night terrors were gone. My daughter was healing. And I remember sitting on the edge of her bed while crying, Smokie and I looking at each other, just listening to my daughter's quiet sleeping. And I swear, he could feel how grateful I was.

For the rest of his life, this quiet, humble, gentle soul shared his love with us unconditionally. He helped us through loss and anger, through broken hearts and broken bones. He shared in our joy and our closeness and our chicken nuggets. He became the shadow we expected to see everywhere my daughter happened to be, while still managing to get some serious cuddles in with the rest of us.

He watched my daughter grow up, find her strength through severe anxiety, learn her passions, and witness her evolution into a beautiful young woman with an even more beautiful heart. She's now 18 years old, working full time in a job she loves, one where she helps people. And he got to see her find that joy.

But time and life will often remind us of painful truths, especially when we're not ready...

Smokie had a heart murmur, and at fifteen years old, he was diagnosed with cancer. He knew it was time for him to go. He'd done all he could for us... For her. And he had lived with such grace, gentleness, and dignity that it was no surprise he would leave this world the same way. He was ready, and he wanted us to know.

There was not a moment he whimpered, not a second he barked or whined. All he wanted was to be close to the girl he loved, the girl who loved him more than anything else in her world.

And under the shade of an apple tree, wrapped in his favorite blanket, in the arms of his girl, he took his final breaths.

And for the first time in thirteen years, I heard my daughter wail in terror and grief and fear in a way she had not sounded since she was six years old. She held him close and cried beyond crying. I heard the pieces of her heart tear out of her chest, as though she had to make sure he took some piece of herself with him.

Sometimes people wonder what a dog can teach anyone about love.

The picture above this line is now my answer.

I'd like you to look at that picture. Really look.

Losing Smokie was a blow I'm still wrapping my head around. He wasn't just a dog to us. And certainly not to my daughter. He was her best friend, her constant companion, her hero and her comfort and... well, he was her everything. Witnessing her having to say goodbye to a literal piece of herself, a part she'll never get back, shattered my own heart.

I know heartbreak. I've experienced it, I've seen it... That soul-crushing implosion of hurt and pain and piercing anger that takes a person's heart and breaks it down into minuscule pieces that never get put back together quite right. But seeing it in my child?

I don't think I could ever describe how close these two were. It's not a picture that words can paint. The bond they had was otherworldly. The love they had was unshakable. And to lose that? To have to say goodbye to someone who had saved her over and over, who had only ever wanted a full belly and cuddles and warmth in return? To lose her best friend, her constant companion, her safety on four legs?

I would have given anything to take that pain from her. I know I can't protect the kids from these losses. And I've tried to teach them that no matter how hard it is to lose what we love so much, the pain is worth it in the end. Because we get to keep those memories, those little joys, the love that we were gifted. And Smokie gifted his love unconditionally, especially to my girl.

And this picture... this is the other part of his gift.

This was right after we'd gotten back from his last moments. And Abbie was in a state of quiet, numb grief. And those three brothers of hers without thought or question took her in their arms and held on. In silence, in love, with no expectations or demands, no hurry for the pain to end. They held on to her knowing that it couldn't possibly make things better, but they were there in every way. She could yell, she could scream, she could rage and cry and wail. And they would have held on through every moment, to let her feel it, to show her she wasn't alone in it, to give her the sort of love that Smokie had taught to all of them.

From our animals, we have learned compassion and kindness. We have learned to care for those without voices, and to find joy in the smallest of moments. We have learned that pain is more bearable with something or someone to hold on to. We have learned that pain is a part of life, as is loss, as is grief. We have learned that, as impossible as it seems, we have to carry it with us. To live with it inside our bones. And that, eventually, it will be more like a friend than an ache. And we've learned that we get there by feeling every awful moment... with others.

We let those we're closest to love us through the worst of it, we let ourselves be vulnerable and weak while they hold us up. We let them help pick up all those minuscule pieces that our hearts are made up of, and we sit together with it all, putting the parts back a little at a time.

Someday, my daughter will look back at this picture and smile. She'll remember the pain, of course. She'll remember the gravity of that loss pulling her under. But she'll also remember the pull of the people who love her keeping her upright. She'll remember the gift that this moment was. She'll remember that Smokie helped teach all of them how to love like this.

She'll teach that love to others. She'll share it freely, just like they all do.

That's really the greatest part of Smokie's gift. That it never ends.

If you've ever wondered what a dog can teach a person about love, it's in that picture above.

Love changes shape, but it never ends.

And no matter the loss, it is always a gift...

One I couldn't be more grateful for.

(Thank you, Smokie, for saving my little girl. You will always be our hero.)

#loss #goodbye #dog #poodle #hero #grief #family #pets #animals #death #love

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princess-mei · 2 years

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Can I Handle the Seasons of My Life? 💖 [The Charmed Ones]

In which Ting-Ting and Su accompany Mei to the train station...[takes place: July 9, 2022]

@princess-ting-ting, @princess-su

[tw -- saying goodbyes :)]

MEI: “Has anyone seen my phone?!” Mei asked, calling down from the second floor landing.

In her hand was one of her bags. The house was a flurry of activity. Her flight was in London tonight at midnight, but she needed to catch the train out of Swynlake in about fifteen minutes.

The sun was just beginning to set on her last day in Swynlake. She had procrastinated packing, of course, and had spent most of the day doing so as a revolving door of friends came and left to wish her goodbye and good luck. Ting-Ting and MuHou had been on her about packing, but she kept getting distracted! She had walked the floors of this house a thousand times at this point, it felt like. Drifting in and out of rooms, looking around it and trying to gather all the pieces of her life that were scattered about. Her favorite mug from the cupboard, her favorite blanket from the back of the couch…

All of her bedroom.

Well, not all of it. Her bed was staying. Some of the posters on the wall. Her vanity. The fuzzy pink rug which was extremely comfy to lay on. This would still be her room. Just as she was sure she still had a room in San Francisco at her parents’ house. These pieces of her left like time capsules of the people she had been. She wondered who she would be in Ingary…

“Seriously, I can’t find it anywhere! Someone call it!”

TING-TING: Mei was packing.

Mei was packing, because she was leaving.

Mei was leaving, because she was 20 years old now, and she’d fully Emerged as a sorceress, and she was starting her own life.

And Ting was happy for her. Of course she was. She was so happy her heart swelled so much that it squeezed against her ribcage and then shattered into dozens of little pieces. She’d collect them, later. After Mei left and she went upstairs to clean up her room and closed the door for the last time.

Not the last time. That was silly. Mei would be back. Mei would visit — probably frequently and without much warning. And then the three of them would have movie nights and Key would rest her head in Mei’s lap and it would be like nothing changed.

Except, it wouldn’t be. Because everything would change.

Ting-Ting was trying not to think about that, though, because there was packing to be done and a phone to find.

“I’m calling it!” she shouted up the stairs, pulling up Mei’s number on her phone. She heard the faint sound of buzzing and stuck her head out of her bedroom, and waved to Su, who was in the living room.

“Su — I think it’s on the couch? In the couch?”

SU: Even though Su wasn’t the one leaving she still felt the Travel Anxiety™ kicking in as she watched Mei’s stuff disappear around the house. And maybe she was a little more worried than she usually would have been for this sort of thing since the last time one of them had left for a trip another had been kidnapped! And said kidnapped sister was going off on her own to a whole new place with no one there to help her.

That wasn’t going to happen this time, though. This time Mei was going to leave and she was going to find a new place to settle and all would be well. All except for how much Su was going to miss her sister.

She was in the kitchen, prepping Mei a snack for the train ride because she felt rather useless otherwise, when Mei yelled down about her phone. Su pulled out hers, ready to call it, but Ting had beat her to the punch. In preparation, she moved to the living room to try and listen for it.

She leaned over the couch at Ting’s instruction, plunging her hand into the depths of the sofa and felt around.

“Got it!” Su grinned, hoisting it above her head from its hiding spot. She went to stand under the stairs to show it to Mei from down below.

MEI: “Oh, good!” Mei said, letting out a breath.

The door to her room clicked shut, the little paper sign covered in pink hearts and swirling cursive “Mei’s Room” that she had made when she was sixteen fluttered like it had every other time she’d ever closed her door. Slamming it when she was upset with Ting-Ting. Slowly turning the latch when she had a boy in her room. Creaking it gently when she was sneaking out. Every time, the paper fluttered. It fluttered now too. Mei looked at it for a moment--felt her heart clench--and then she turned away.

Picking up her suitcase, she lugged it down the stairs, plucking her phone from Su’s hand as she passed her. Ting-Ting came around the bannister and then it was just the three girls--three sisters--three witches--standing in the living room in a circle, looking at one another.

Mei didn’t have anything else to pack. Her sisters would be sending Princess along for her after she got settled somewhere. She only needed the one suitcase. It was charmed to carry everything she needed, which wasn’t much. Her grimoire, her makeup, her clothes, some creature comforts (her stuffed animals), her signed cauldron. She wanted to travel light. So that nothing held her back. So there was an excuse to leave things in this little house that she’d lived in for four years. As if she could leave her imprint here and never be too far away.

After a pause, Mei put her phone in her pocket and grabbed her purse from where it was hanging off the banister.

“Well--that is everything,” Mei said. She didn’t know what else to say. Her heart was beating fast, but she felt strangely calm.

TING-TING: “You know we could come with you to the airport,” said Ting, offering again. “We could make a little day trip out of it — not too late, you know?”

She knew what the answer would be. She knew that stepping on that train alone was a step that Mei needed to take on her own. She knew that if she and Su tagged along, it would defeat the purpose of this journey. They’d go with her to the train station, certainly, and then watch her get on the train and wave to her as it chugged away from the station.

And then, Ting would put her arm around Su’s shoulders and Su would lean into her, and they would pretend they could still see Mei waving from the distance.

This was all stuff that hadn’t happened yet, but Ting-Ting could not stop thinking about it. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it all night, wondering how she would be able to stay strong and steady as she watched her little sister drift away.

She reached for Mei’s hand now, and then Su’s too, holding them tight. One last moment with the three of them living under the same roof.

She would not hold on for too much longer.

Ting-Ting gave each of their hands a squeeze and then dropped their fingers.

“Well, I guess we can head on over to the train station now,” she said, as cheerfully as she could. “We’re early enough so we can grab something from Hatter’s maybe.”

SU: As Mei came down the stairs Su felt a little stupid for not dragging out the whole lost phone thing. Why couldn’t she have let it stay in the sofa for another few minutes? Or have found it and put it somewhere else? Give them more time? Maybe too much time! Maybe make Mei late for her flight, so late that she wouldn’t go for another day. Another week. Another month.

But that was stupid. She couldn’t have hid the phone forever, and she didn’t want to make her sister any more anxious than she needed to be for her flight. Because she was getting on that flight. There were a million ways Su could have made her stay, but it wouldn’t be right.

Ting-Ting took their hands and like some sort of reflex Su reached for Mei’s other one, completing the triangle between them for that brief moment before Mei was announcing that she had everything. That she was ready to go. Su opened her mouth, wanting to say it wasn’t everything! She had a snack prepped for her in the kitchen!

Only then Ting-Ting suggested they could get something on their way and Su closed her mouth because if they went to Hatter’s that would mean more time together. It was a longer trip to go there then it was for Su to go to the kitchen. So she didn’t say anything, just in case, only smiled and turned to Mei, seeing what she wanted to do.

MEI: “Yeah, sure, Hatter’s sounds good.”

Their hands dropped and she shifted her bag on her shoulder, feeling awkward all of the sudden.

“You’ll be fine,” assured MuHou, who had come up next to them and grabbed Mei’s hand, giving it a little squeeze. Mei dropped down onto her knee to squeeze the familiar in a hug.

“Thanks, MuHou.”

“Be a good girl,” MuHou said when Mei pulled away and stood.

“I always am!” Mei chirped, winking at her and giving her a finger gun.

MuHou just hummed a bit.

Right, time to go now. Mei had the urge to look back at the stairs. She felt a shiver run up her spine, like a breeze had appeared. She looked over her shoulder and in her mind’s eye, she could see Lock, standing there at the bottom of them, his head tilted back, looking to the second floor, a younger—different—version of herself appeared, ran down into his arms. As soon as the apparitions collided, they disappeared.

Mei hoped they stayed here. Stayed happy.

They were also the reason Mei had to leave. She took a deep breath and didn’t look back again as she led the way out of the house.

The sisters talked as they walked, Mei’s suitcase rumbling on the sidewalk behind her. She looked towards Swynlake Secondary, hidden behind the primary, but just visible in the distance. She looked at the bookstore, Town Hall, the garden. They stopped at Hatter’s and Mei remembered pushing all the tables together and laughing with her friends. She remembered dances and late nights with cups of cocoa. They sat at her favorite table with the high backed couch, all three of them squished onto it, Mei in the middle. They talked and they laughed and then it was time to go.

The train platform was quiet. There was no fanfare. This was just a normal, sleepy Saturday in Swynlake. They stood there, waiting for the train to appear in the distance. Mei’s heart was beating fast and she kept rising onto her toes, as if she was going to start sprinting down the platform.

She checked her phone. “Huey says he’s gonna leave soon to pick me up in London,” Mei announced. She was staying with him overnight in Cambridge, until her flight the next day. “So, uh, that’s all set.”

TING-TING: And just like that, it was over.

Their little stop for tea, yes, but also Mei’s time in Swynlake, this chapter of their life that had lasted for almost four years. Their time as three sisters, three Qin girls living under the same roof.

Oh, sure, maybe it should’ve ended earlier, back when Ting-Ting went to college, and even after she moved back. She could’ve moved out, got her own place just around the corner or something. But she didn’t. She didn’t, because Mei and Su still needed her. And they still needed her when they moved to Swynlake.

And now they didn’t. Not in the same way. Ting-Ting was so proud of them.

“Good, good,” said Ting-Ting, because talking about concrete plans was easier than saying goodbye. “Make sure you text us when you get there, okay? And if you need me to Venmo you two for dinner, just let me know. You should get something nice since you’re gonna be traveling so much.”

She looked at Mei now, tilting her head a little. Mei stood up straight, so sure of herself, even though Ting could see reagents fluttering anxiously around her. But Ting knew she would be fine. Mei had once been stubborn and impulsive — heck, she was still stubborn and impulsive, but she’d also grown to be confident, capable, and compassionate.

Ting reached to touch her little sister’s cheek, brushing a piece of her hair behind her ear.

“You’re going to do so great, Mei-mei,” she said. And then she looked at Su, her heart so full she thought she might start crying right now. “I’m so proud of you. Of both of you. Remember to call us, okay?” Her throat closed up a little. She swallowed and started to blink very quickly, in order to stave off any encroaching tears. “You better tell us about all the cute boys you meet.”

SU: For the first time in a very long time, Su tried not to think of what would come next. As they stood in line to order she had looked at her sisters and thought that she could enjoy this time they had together for what it was or she could spend it dreading when it ended, glancing at her phone to catch the time every 5 or so minutes, until she looked up and missed it.

When they sat down, she had her phone tucked up in her pocket and did not look at it once. Only at her sisters and, occasionally, at the door when someone would walk in. She didn’t let herself realize the time until they were stood at the train station, with nothing left to do but wait.

Su didn’t want to make this a big deal! She didn’t want to start crying or getting sappy because, like she kept telling herself, just because Mei was gone didn’t mean it was for forever, that they would never see one another again. It would be hard, sure, but it wasn’t the end. Just an end. So there was no need for a grand sweeping speech or pull a big stunt because while Mei taking these steps for herself was an achievement, her leaving them was not something that Su wanted to emphasize. She wasn’t leaving them fully, how could she? They were sisters. They would be together, in some shape and form, forever. No matter how far or how angry or how much time had passed, they always would be.

Then Ting-Ting had to go and make her very precariously set up wall crumble in a pile at her feet. She tried looking away, getting frustrated with her emotions for being so loud without her permission, but it was useless. What was done was done and Su was watery eyed.

And, well, since she’d already screwed that part up she figured it was too late to play it cool anyway. Su surged forward to wrap Mei in a hug, squeezing for a moment until she relaxed again, just holding her sister close until they saw one another again.

“Good luck!” she said, then pulled away smiling to stand beside Ting-Ting. “Not that you’ll need it.”

MEI: Mei nodded at all Ting-Ting’s advice and she was remembering Rome. Packing for Rome. Leaving for Rome. Ting-Ting had dropped her off at the school and said all these very similar things and Mei had rolled her eyes and glanced impatiently over her shoulder, looking for her friends, feeling embarrassed. She’d barely hugged her sister goodbye before flouncing off into the crowd of teenagers.

Now, she listened patiently, because she knew this was how Ting-Ting cared. She cared meticulously and wholly. And she wanted Mei to be safe. Mei took her words and held them close to her heart, knowing this would be the last lecture like this that she would get for a long time.

She felt the tears in her throat. She had told herself she wouldn’t cry. Or, at least, she’d wait until she was on the train.

The hug from Su didn’t surprise her either. She was grateful for it. Mei squeezed her little sister back, pressing a kiss to her hair and trying not to cry. She had never been a nagging older sister like Ting-Ting (love you Ting!), but she suddenly felt the urge.

“Thanks,” she said when Su pulled away, since she didn’t know what else to say. She was not good at nagging. “You can always change your mind about things. Don’t let anyone else tell you how to live your life,” she told Su, squeezing her hand and then looked at Ting-Ting.

“I’ll tell you about all the cut boys, but you gotta make some moves on your cute boy.” She put her hands on her hips and then sighed and drew Ting-Ting into a hug. “Thanks for everything, Jie-jie.” She murmured this soft enough for only her to hear.

Mei leaned back just enough to grab Su by the arm and pull her into the hug too, squeezing them both tightly.

The train horn sounded in the distance, announcing its arrival. Mei squeezed her sisters just a little tighter.

“Well—this is it!“

TING-TING: This was it indeed.

Ting was crying now, because it was silly to pretend that she wasn’t. She wrapped her arms around her little sisters and held them both close. One last time. One last time before everything changed.

She couldn’t stop it. She couldn’t hold them too tight. All she could do was hope that she’d taught them well enough that they would be fine without her. All she could do was hope that she’d love them well enough that they would come back.

The train rumbled into the station and Ting squeezed her eyes shut, knowing that this moment would pass all too quickly, but hoping nonetheless that it would last forever.

It didn’t.

She let go of Mei, brushing her cheek once more, and then nodded towards the train.

“You better get on so you can get a good seat by the window,” she said. And then she looped an arm around Su’s shoulder. “We’ll wave at you till we can’t anymore.”

Ting leaned a bit on Su, pulling her closer. Part of it was because she knew Su was crying and she wanted Su to have someone to lean on. But part of it was also — well, Ting needed someone too.

SU: Su gave a little nod at Mei’s advice because she knew it was true, Mei had proved that much. She had forged her own path and Su would only be so lucky as to be as brave as both her older sisters to do the same for herself.

She allowed herself to be pulled back into another hug, content in her sisters’ arms despite what she knew was to come next. Letting Mei go from that last felt like the hardest thing Su’d ever had to do, and yet the act of it was so easy.

“Love you,” she blubbered, knowing she was being very unhelpful but unable to stop herself either. She was upset! She was devastated! She was beyond happy! And, really, what could she expect? Only her sisters had been able to make her feel so many emotions all at one time and in such an intense way.

Her arm came around Ting-Ting’s middle, stepping closer until their sides were pressed up against one another because it was true, Su needed something to keep her there. She glanced up at their oldest sister for a moment before resting her head against her shoulder to watch Mei board, free hand waving, as promised.

“She’ll be fine,” she said, for both their sakes. Su sighed, getting out the wobbly emotions. “Let’s just hope she didn’t forget anything.”

MEI: This was it.

Mei just had to take a step back, then another, turn--and board the train. Her feet felt stuck to the platform. The train breezed passed, rustling the strands of her hair wildly around her face. She needed to move.

Hey, what are you waiting for? That was Lock’s voice in her head. It was so clear, she almost jumped. Her eyes closed briefly and she took a deep breath. The made-up Lock voice in her head was right: what was she waiting for? Everything she wanted was on that train--was out over the horizon. She wasn’t going to get what she needed from Swynlake anymore.

Mei didn't need anyone but herself and maybe that sounded selfish, or bad, but Mei didn't see it that way. She had been given that freedom and she had embraced it. Ting-Ting had helped her realize that she could do this by herself. That she didn't need anyone, but that didn't mean she didn't care and that she wouldn't miss them or want to be with them. The part that wanted to stay was the sister. The rest of her was telling her to go.

This had always been the plan: to get out of Swynlake. Ever since she’d first step foot in this town, she had been waiting to leave it again.

There was no reason to hesitate. Not even her sisters’ tears.

“Okay! Love you!” She smiled brightly, to reassure them. To push her own tears back. “I’ll see you both soon, I promise!” Mei forced herself to turn and make her way to the door, stepping on. She hurried into a window seat, throwing her stuff and skinning her knee as she pressed herself against the window, waving to Ting-Ting and Su as the bell chimed, signaling the closing of the doors. She waved as the train lurched and started to move down the tracks. Until she couldn’t see Ting-Ting or Su anymore.

And then, Mei turned and sat down properly in her seat. She glanced around at the strangers on the train with her. None of them paid her any mind, except for one elderly woman who smiled at her. Mei smiled back and took a breath. It suddenly felt as if a weight had been lifted off of her chest and, much to her surprise, she didn’t cry.

She sat in her seat, watching the English countryside pass her by and felt her heart accelerating, as if it was a bird taking off in flight…

#swyntingting #swynsu #ming #mei su soup #the charmed ones

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sinner-as-saint · 3 years

Text

we can’t stop, we’re enemies.

Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader AU

Run-through: After the events of the last battle against Thanos, you teamed up with Sam and Bucky to carry on your superhero duties. You got along with Sam just fine, he was a really good friend to you. Bucky however, was not. From constant banters, to unnecessary hand-to-hand combat, to purposely getting each other in trouble during risky missions, to being the main cause of Sam’s migraines; it was safe to say that you and Bucky considered yourselves to be each other’s nemesis. Although that soon changes when, courtesy of your silly banters, a certain mission goes slightly wrong - one which involves strong chemicals which, unbeknownst to you, were designed to mess with the brain and hormones, thus encouraging the need to breed and procreate amongst all those who inhale it...

Themes: enemies-to-lovers, smut, sex pollen trope, dirty talk, swear words, fluff

“How is it going up there Sam, talk to me.”

You spoke, waiting to hear from Sam through the ear piece.

The three of you were on a mission on unfamiliar lands. Rumor had it that some shady organization was conducting illegal experiments. The whole location was spooky, and you needed to be thorough and quick. So Sam decided to get an aerial view along with Red Wing, and see if there are any threats coming your way while you and Bucky decided to check out the underground laboratories.

The whole place was shadowy and old, it almost seemed like no one had been here in a long time. But still, these people were criminals so you had to gather every evidence you could which would lead you their way.

And so far, after exploring the place for the past half an hour, you found nothing major. Just weird laboratory glassware filled with liquids and what not.

“Sam?” you called out again into the ear piece, keeping your gun at the ready. “Say something damn it.”

His reply came. “There’s something sketchy about the building at the back, I’m gonna go check it out. But you have to promise me you won’t kill each other by the time I get back.”

You and Bucky sent death glares at each other in disgust. He was on the other side of the lab, flipping through files and papers, while you were searching the cabinets and drawers. The two of you were separated by a steel workstation. Dark leather jacket, metal arm exposed; you’d find him handsome if he wasn’t so annoying.

“Sure, whatever.” Bucky mumbled, being his grumpy self.

You frowned at him, “Dude, drop your fucking attitude.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at you, “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Sam roared through the ear piece, “Enough! Focus, you two are in the labs and we don’t know what’s in there. Just, maybe look out for each other. Okay? I’m going in.”

“Be careful, Sam.” You spoke, sending another dirty look at Bucky.

“Yeah y-,”

Sam got cut off. All you could hear was some static noises and then complete silence.

“Sam? Can you hear us?” Bucky tried reaching out but neither of you could hear him. “This isn’t good.”

“Damn it!” You cursed. “Maybe he flew out of range. Or maybe we’re too deep under.”

For once in his life he nodded, agreeing with you. “Let’s just hurry up and see what we can find. We need to get out of here as fast as we can and get to the Jet.” He said, flipping through more and more files and papers, his metal arm glistening in the poorly lit room.

You sassed in the same tone he used before, “Don’t tell me what to do.” And you earned yourself another glare from him.

Fifteen minutes later and you two still had nothing to work with.

“This is useless. There’s nothing here, this is just bullshit.” Bucky complained, slamming down a file on the workstation so hard that it made you jump.

You were annoyed. You slammed a cabinet shut and turned to face him. “Oh I’m sorry princess, is work getting too tiring? Do you need a break? Hmm?”

“Shut up, you’re the one who keeps whining all the time.” He wasn’t wrong.

You stepped forward, grabbing the edge of the cold workstation. “Well maybe if you’d quit complaining and actually do your part of the job, then I wouldn’t have to whine about always doing everything on my own and you taking credit for it in front of Sam.”

He leaned forward, his metal arm already denting his side of the edge of the workstation. “Maybe if you’d stop bitching about everything and everyone all the time then maybe we’d get along and actually get shit done.”

You leaned in too. “Or maybe if just me and Sam teamed up, we’d work better. I still don’t know why he keeps you around. Take your metal arm away, what are you? Exactly, just a hundred year old, confused man.”

He smirked. “And what are you? Just a spoilt, whiny brat who knows how to use a gun?” He knew just what to say to get the reaction he wanted out of you.

In less than a few seconds you had your loaded gun out in front of you, aiming it at his forehead. “And guess what, she never misses a target.” You spat at him.

You had done this before; aiming guns at each other until Sam comes to break the tension. But Sam wasn’t here this time.

Bucky knew you would never pull the trigger on him so he gave you a handsome, arrogant smirk which only pissed you off even more. “Come on, shoot.” He provoked you.

“Stop pissing me off.” You warned.

“Or what? You’re gonna shoot me for calling you a whiny, spoilt brat? See, that’s exactly what brats do.”

“James, stop.” Oh he was getting on your nerves. You were agitated.

He just smirked and went on. “I actually believe that that might be your superpower, destroying people by annoying them to death with how much of a brat you can actually be.”

You glared at him, unmoving, furious. You placed your forefinger on the trigger. “Say brat one more time and I will blow your fucking head off and when Sam asks, I’ll make it seem like an accident.”

He leaned closer, aligning his forehead to the barrel of your gun. He stared at you with his stormy, ocean blue eyes; inciting you to just pull the damn trigger. He watched you with mischief in his eyes. “Brat.” He mouthed, smirking right after and waiting for your reaction.

You clenched your jaw and shifted your aim just a little so that the bullet misses him but still shoots right by his ear. You pulled the trigger without hesitation, shooting at the shelf filled with dark red and brown liquids behind Bucky.

Bucky maintained his calm and composure despite the loud sound of the shattering glass falling on the tiles right behind him. “Brat.” He said again, out loud this time.

“I hate you.” You lowered your gun but then noticed something behind Bucky. Smoke, or some sort of vapor oozing out of the broken flasks and test tubes. You froze for a second. “Bucky, look.” You walked around the workstation and joined him on the other side.

The vapor quickly filled the room like thick fog, reducing visibility and making your throat burn a little. You coughed; once, twice. You looked beside you and Bucky was standing there with a look of horror on his face.

The moment his supersoldier sense got a whiff of the vapor, something in him ignited. No…

“We have to get out of here. Now.” You heard his voice, then felt his cold fingers wrap around your wrists as he tugged you along, making his way out of the lab. He tried to hold his breath but he couldn’t hold it very long. He tried to find the door to exit the room but that was hard too because neither of you could see properly.

“This stuff,” you spoke in between coughs, “will probably kill us, won’t it?” You held on tightly to his arm. “You need to get us out of here now.” The vapor was reducing your visibility more and more.

He felt the side of the wall, looking for the metal handle of the door through which you entered the lab. “It won’t kill us.” He growled as he looked beside him. You were standing close to him, so close, holding on to his arm tightly, a thin layer of sweat covered your face.

It was almost funny how you had your gun aimed at him just a minute ago and now you were relying on him for protection.

“How can you be so sure? Do you know what this stuff is?” You asked.

He sighed. He knew. “I have a hunch, but let’s hope I’m wrong.” He felt warm. Deep inside something stirred in him. Animalistic, primal, feral. It was there, pressing and burning. Guess he wasn’t wrong.

He finally found the door and he pushed it open, letting the two of you out and you took off running at once. You tried to reach Sam. A couple tries later, he finally responded. “I got some names, I think we got what we’re looking for. Where are you guys?”

“We found…. uh, nothing. We’re on our way to the jet, meet us there.” Bucky responded, running beside you.

You were confused out of your mind, not to mention you felt feverish. Hot, and you were sweating more than usual in places you’d rather not think about. Something in you was yearning to break free. You felt chained, you needed release. You felt like something had awakened inside of you; a deep hunger. Aroused, you felt aroused. Or was it just the adrenaline rush?

By the time you tried to figure out what was actually going on with you, you both had made it to the Jet.

“I feel sick.” you mumbled, stumbling on your way inside the jet. “I think… I think that smoke poisoned me.” You placed your palm against the side of the plane to hold on so you don’t fall. You felt like gravity wasn’t pulling you down anymore. You were a little out of breath.

Then you felt a cold hand on your shoulder. You grimaced as it only ignited the fire which you just found out had been burning inside you since you left the lab.

“You’re not poisoned. You’re not sick, you’re gonna be okay. We just have to… we have to get home.” Bucky was worse than you were. His enhanced senses allowed him to feel everything you felt, times ten perhaps.

His heart raced as he got a whiff of your fading perfume, mixed with the adrenaline pumping through your veins and your natural, raw scent. He could feel your arousal from here, and it pulled him in so easily. All he wanted to do was to tear your suit off, pin you up against the side of the Jet and fuck the living hell out of you, stretch you out and just rail you until you could no longer take it.

Fuck.

You looked up at him; heart racing, palms sweating and even your mouth was salivating more than usual. “You know what that thing was, don’t you?” You asked, ignoring the way his cold hand upon your shoulder made you want to lean into his touch even more. “What was it?”

You saw the look in his hooded eyes. Bucky sighed, pulling his hand away from you and the loss of contact made you whimper ever so quietly. You felt warmer and more and more breathless with each second that passed by.

“They used to make those substances, long ago back when I was with HYDRA. I didn’t expect to find those here. They were used to… to try and see if they could get super soldiers to procreate naturally.” Bucky explained and waited for your reaction.

“Sex pollen. Correct?”

He nodded, “Yes.”

You were a little shaken, but relieved knowing that at least it wasn’t poison and you wouldn’t be dying a painful death. “That’s… I mean, it could have been poison.” You didn’t know how to react after you pieced it all together. “How long before it wears off?”

“Twenty-four hours unless...”

“Unless what?”

“Unless you fuck it out of your system well enough.”

That had you surprised. “Oh. Well that’s just great, isn’t it? Fucking perfect. I’m screwed.”

Bucky tried his hardest to refrain himself from leaning in and biting that sassy mouth of yours, shoving his tongue past your lips to shut you up, to hear you moan and gasp and cry out his name as he takes you however he wants to…

“We.” He corrected you. “It’ll get worse every hour.” He replied.

You sighed and moved away from him, unzipping your combat suit partly and removing the jacket because you couldn’t handle the heat. Bucky cursed as you stripped into just a tank top and tight pants, right in front of him. He felt his cock get harder.

“Can you not?” He sounded pissed off again; frustrated. “This is all your doing. The least you can do is make this a little bit easier for both of us.”

His words made you turn around and glare at him. “How is this my doing? I didn’t even know what was in that lab.”

He stepped forward, instinctively. The sight of your exposed neck and your soft skin was making him think of unspeakable things that he wanted to do to you. As he advanced, you tried not to look down at his cock, straining against his zipper. Your heart raced as you took in the size of his bulge. Enhanced super soldier indeed.

“Had you not been a spoiled brat who can’t take a joke, you wouldn’t have tried to shoot at me nor would you have shot those flasks!” He argued, feeling more and more warm as he got closer to you.

You took a step forward as well, fueled by annoyance, lust and anger. “Who was it who provoked me into doing that because they couldn’t keep their fucking mouth shut, huh? That’s right, your annoying ass!”

Bucky pushed you against the side of the Jet without a second thought. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with his hand while pressing his body into you, his metal arm circling around your waist and pressing you further into him.

He hadn’t thought this through. He hadn’t thought about how your warm breath would feel against his skin, or how warm your body would be under his touch. You felt feverish, having him this close. His tall, large frame and his tight grip made your whimper under him. Your body reacted to him naturally.

All you felt was warm, his body heat, his scent. The feeling of his cold leather jacket against your flushed skin. You wanted him. Or rather, your body did.

“Don’t you provoke me now, you fucking whiny brat.” He whispered, menacingly into your ear.

You tried to ignore the shivers his voice sent down your entire body. But he saw it. And you could feel his erection press against your crotch. Just to mess with him, you discreetly moved your hips against his, making him hiss loudly.

“What are you gonna do about it, dipshit?” You sassed, knowing that given his intensified senses he must be feeling much worse than you.

He groaned as you kept grinding against him, your pulsating core rubbing against the bulge in his pants. And that only made it worse for both of you.

“Fuck…” Bucky swore, before quickly pulling away from you, but not releasing you yet. “You’re such a bitch.” His body was screaming for you, each nerve ending of his was on fire. A fire only you could douse.

You were just the same, on the edge and wanting to reach out for him; knowing he would satiate your hunger better than anyone could. Your body was throbbing as you stared into his eyes, your gaze lowering down to his dog tags. How you wanted those dangling right above your face…

You heard someone clear their throat. It wasn’t Bucky.

“Something you two need to tell me? Or is this just your new way of trying to kill each other?” A deep voice asked from behind Bucky.

“Sam! Are you okay?” You escaped Bucky’s grip and rushed to Sam.

He seemed alright to you. He nodded. “Yeah, we just need to get home. I need to notify the team and see what we should do next. What was in those labs?”

You glared at Bucky. His smug face alone was pissing you off, but God right now you wanted to ride that man until the sun came tomorrow morning.

“Just a bunch of useless experiments. Nothing major.” He glared at you as he said the last bit to Sam.

The ride back home was one of the most painful, annoying and frustrating situations you had ever undergone. Each time you felt like someone was watching you, you’d turn your head to the side and find Bucky staring; and his stares would make your body tremble in need.

Meanwhile he was having a hard time too, in more ways than one. He could feel his blood rush south even at the brief sound of your voice whenever you sighed in annoyance or talked to Sam. Luckily the latter could not pick up on the thick, sexual tension.

Once at the compound, you each hurried to your own rooms and that’s where you stayed until the evening. Sam found it weird that you both skipped dinner but he didn’t need another headache today so he went to bed, telling himself that he’d deal with you two tomorrow morning.

Bucky was a mess. Even after an hour under the cold shower his body was still calling out for you. He tried taking care of his business on his own, but that wasn’t working. He was still so hard it was painful. Nothing could make this better, nothing could soothe the pain - nothing but you. He needed you so badly it was driving him insane, like he was an animal in heat being asked to suppress his feral desires towards his mate. Being away from you was painful. He couldn’t help but hate you for no reason at all usually, but he’d do what it takes to be inside you and make you scream his name right now.

You were equally as troubled at the super soldier. You tried taking a warm bath and tried to think of other things you could focus on, but nothing worked. Your toys didn’t seem appealing tonight, you needed him, all of him. You shivered at the thought of his taut, virile body under yours, or above. His masculine scent, the sound of his moans, would he bite?… fuck. You could feel your arousal leak out of you every now and then, it was insane how aroused you were. You couldn’t look at him for long without getting unnecessarily annoyed, but you would do anything just to have him rearrange your guts right now.

What made it worse was that neither of you could stand each other at all. Enemies, you called yourselves. But right now you couldn’t help but crave each other in the most salacious way possible.

Fuck this. You couldn’t take this anymore. You decided to swallow your pride and make your way to his room and ask him if you two could come to an agreement on how to fight this thing because it would be impossible to go another twenty hours feeling like this. You were burning from the inside. This was unbearable.

Just as you opened your bedroom door, you were slightly surprised to find Bucky standing right outside your door. His metal hand up midair, as though he was to knock on your door and you happened to open the door just in time. You almost drooled at the sight of him; sweatpants and a tight, white t-shirt. You swallowed and cleared your throat.

“Hey.” You greeted him, not knowing how to deal with this situation. You felt so drawn to him in that moment, so damn restless and needy that it was hard to breathe right while looking at him.

“I was, uh, about to knock…” He didn’t know how he got here, he didn’t remember. Maybe it was the chemicals messing with his brain and turning him into a hungry beast. He didn’t care that he was knocking on your door in the middle of the night, he wanted you. He was craving you and that’s all he knew. Also the oversized t-shirt, the only you were wearing at the time, was not helping at all.

“Yeah, um…” you rambled then stopped talking the moment you found him staring into your eyes with a wild look in his eyes.

That was it.

You grabbed him by the waistband of his sweats and pulled him inside, shutting the door behind him. Before Bucky could process anything, you had him pushed against your closed door and your mouth was on his, kissing him hungrily. Your hands slowly slipped under his tight t-shirt and you lazily trailed your hands up and down his toned abs.

His hands gripped your hips on either side as he kissed you back with just as much ardor as you did. His body ignited the moment he felt your lips and hands on him, yet the heat was weirdly satisfying; it stimulated him but calmed him down at the same time. It felt perfect. This was just what he needed, you.

Your movements were rapid and passionate, fiery. Hands roaming each other's body, touching and feeling and exploring; making each other moan like you were both touch-starved.

You let out a soft moan when you felt his tongue slip past your lips, stroking the top of your mouth while his metal hand slipped under your shirt. Your body was tingling wherever he touched you. His touch made you feel way better than you had felt in the past few hours and you were grateful. Your moans sent his mind straight to the gutter and he couldn’t wait to be inside you.

“I need you…” you whispered against his lips as you pulled away to catch your breath. “I need you to fuck me… right here, right now.” Your demands made him smirk as he looked down at you with lust in his eyes.

“Oh?” he managed to still find the energy to be an ass to you. “Why don’t you go on and beg for it, then?”

You scoffed, leaning in to lick his lips while you hand dipped into his pants. You grabbed his erected cock and gave it a little, gentle squeeze. He moaned like he hadn’t been touched in forever. Like he was desperate for one thing and one thing only; you. You whispered, “You need me too, Bucky. I’m not gonna beg you, I’m doing you a favor here.” You slid your closed fist up and down his length and made him moan some more before you let go and watched him groan and clench his jaw in annoyance.

He looked down at you, panting in need just as you were. His hand slid into your hair and he gripped it, tugging on it just enough to make you gasp in pleasure and pain. “Still a fucking brat with that annoying attitude I see?” He leaned in to bite your exposed neck, making your cry out in pain before he licked the spot, soothing it. “Don’t worry doll, I’ll fuck all that attitude out of you.”

He let go of your hair but tightened his grip around your waist as he placed his mouth back on yours. Kissing you like there’s no tomorrow; biting your lip and bruising your already swollen mouth. He was wild, and you needed it and more.

He pushed you down on your bed, and stood back to watch you for a moment. How did he never realize that you were so naturally beautiful? He looked down at you like a predator looking at his meal; fiercely, ready to ruin you and make you scream and beg and satiate his hunger. As well as yours.

“Well, if you’re done staring…” you knelt on your bed and reached out for him, grabbing him by the neck and pulling him closer. “I want you in me. Now.” Your demanding tone riled him up.

Bucky grabbed you by the hair and tilted your head back again. “If you wanna get fucked, you’re gonna ask nicely. Understood?”

You glared at him, shooting death glares right at him while your hand palmed him through his sweatpants. “I fucking hate you.” You spat at him, whimpering as he pushed you back down on the bed, quickly climbing on top of you this time.

“I hate you too.” He knelt on your bed, straddling your waist as he tore your oversized shirt in half and off your body, throwing the pieces of fabric somewhere on your bedroom floor. You laid beneath him in just your underwear and he growled.

“That was my favorite shirt, you fucking idiot.” You whispered, breathless, shivers dancing down your spine as he traced your mouth with his two fingers, slipping them past your lips once, then twice then trailing his now wet fingers down your neck, till your belly button.

“You think I care?” he leaned down and took one of your breasts into his mouth, kneading the other with his metal hand. The contrast of his warm mouth around one and his cold hand around the other was driving you crazy. He bit, and tugged and licked; making your back arch off the bed as you purred in pleasure.

Your hips moved on their own, grinding against his erection again to try and alleviate the pain. You were desperate. Bucky pinched and rolled one of your nipples while he lightly grazed the other with his teeth, and you let out a loud moan.

“Please… please, I need you. Please…” You muttered under your breath, knowing he could hear you. Bucky smirked as he pulled away from your chest, ignoring the way his cock throbbed. “What’s so fucking funny?” You grabbed him by the throat, pulling his face closer to yours.

His metal arm reached down in between your legs and he ripped your underwear off. The fabric hurt just a little when it tore against your skin. “Just that it's the first time I heard you asking for something so politely. It’s not so hard after all, is it?”

Now he was pissing you off. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and flipped the two of you around. You got on top of him and straddled his waist, trapping him under you like he had you before. You had better control like this.

You grabbed him by the jaw and leaned in to kiss his lips, fiercely. “Stop fucking playing, Barnes.” You whispered against his lips, grinding against his hard cock again. He closed his eyes and hissed in pleasure as you kissed down to his neck, nibbling on his skin along his throat.

He moaned, hands gripping your hips and guiding you as you rubbed your bare core against his clothed erection. “No? I thought brats liked games?” He mumbled.

You pulled away from his neck and looked down at his smug face. “You are so fucking annoying.” You reached down in between your bodies and lowered his sweatpants all the way down until he kicked them off. You grabbed his cock and stroked him gently, agonizingly slow. He moaned shamelessly, and eventually caught on that you were just teasing him even more.

“Don’t tease me…” he sounded just as breathless as you were.

“Why? Not so fond of games anymore?” you sassed, rubbing your throbbing core against his thigh while you stroked him so gently that he felt like he was losing his mind.

He growled as he grabbed you by the waist and flipped the two of you around, him being on top again. “Enough,” he growled in your ear, “Spread those legs for me.” He ordered, settling in between them as you spread your legs to accommodate him. He grabbed your thighs and parted your legs even more as he aligned the tip of his cock to your opening. “Now stay still, don’t move.”

You braced yourself for him, but nothing could have prepared you for that. His length stretched you open until he was seated deep inside you, filling you up entirely to a point where you couldn’t even think of anything else other than him being balls deep inside you.

You moaned as he removed himself entirely and pushed himself back into you, and watched in awe how you struggled to adjust to his size. He lowered his face again, and leaned into your ear, “Fuck….” you heard him moan; panting and swearing under his breath as he rocked into you.

You were a moaning mess under him in no time. He kissed your open mouth while he rammed into you over and over again, making your eyes tear up. The burning need subsided a little bit as his cock brushed against all the right spots inside you. “Buck… faster, please,” You whimpered.

He chuckled into your ear, “Needy little brat…” he mumbled as he sped up into you, making you lose your ability to focus on anything else other than him and his body. He pulled away from your face to look down at you, his metal hand coming up to wrap itself around your throat. “This is what you wanted since we left that lab, huh? For me to fuck your greedy little cunt? Hmm?” He taunted as he stretched you out completely. You lifted your legs up and wrapped them around his waist; allowing him to thrust deeper into you.

You felt tears escaping your eyes as he pulled you closer and pressed his forehead to yours fucking deeper into you. He was relentless; each moan which left your lips only encouraged him to get more and more rough.

You felt a pressure form in between your hips, your body begging for release. “Bucky… please.” You moaned, begging. For something, anything. You’d take anything at this point. But right when your walls started clenching around him and when you were just about to come undone; he pulled out.

“Please what?” He surprised himself with how he was able to tease you in this situation when all he wanted was to make both of you cum over and over again.

“I need to cum, Bucky please,” you cried, with tears in your eyes.

Bucky leaned in to kiss your swollen lips, not minding the tears. “Do you deserve it?” He asked, and you nodded immediately, your body shaking with how bad you needed to cum. “Oh you do, do you?”

You nodded again. “Please…please...”

“Well since you asked nicely…” Bucky flipped you onto your stomach and pulled you onto your knees by your hips and pushed himself inside you again. You felt his muscular body press against the curve of your ass as he filled you up again.

He rocked into you from behind. His hand found its way to your front and he pressed the palm against your lower abdomen. He liked how he could feel himself deep inside you with each thrust. And he liked how that drove you insane, he could by the way your walls gripped his cock.

“Feel that, little brat? That’s all you’re good for… to take my cock like a good little slut.” He whispered.

You groaned at the sound of his raspy voice, his words making you milk him even harder. “You wish, you dipshit.” You moaned as he sped up when you least expected it. You whimpered, and he chuckled now that he had you at his mercy.

His hand travelled all the way to your throat and he choked you gently as he bent down to whisper in your ear, “I can assure you that no one is ever gonna fuck you this good,” he boasted as he very gently squeezed the side of your throat. But hard enough to make you lose your mind.

You could only moan and whimper in response while he kept pounding into you incessantly. “Fuck… please....” you cried.

You felt the pressure in between your hips grow until you couldn’t hold back anymore. You felt him quicken his pace as he chased his own orgasm. “Cum for me. Now.”

You didn’t have to be told twice. You came undone, hard and fast; moaning his name as you did. Bucky came right after you.

You collapsed onto your bed, sprawled unevenly and not even caring. Your eyes were shut in fatigue, your heart racing and you could feel Bucky’s body heat right next to you. He was catching his breath too, mumbling something under his breath which you couldn’t catch.

For the first time in hours, you felt at ease. Your body wasn’t yearning anymore, but the hunger was still there. So when Bucky got up to leave, you grabbed him by the hand and pulled him back into bed with you.

He smirked as he fell helplessly onto your bed again, right next to you. “You want more, you greedy little brat?”

You punched his arm before getting up and getting on top of him again, sliding your body down his cock. He hissed as you did.

“Just another round.” You whispered, loving the sight of him under you. His tan skin against your white sheets, him moaning as you slowly lifted up and sank back down on his cock. Oh fuck…

You placed your hands on his muscular chest to hold yourself up as you sped up, riding him like you’ve been dreaming of this whole time. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you up and down his cock until you both found a pleasurable pace.

You weren’t going to last too long, but you just needed to have him buried deep inside you again. His thick, girthy cock stretched you open as you took him as best you could, moaning and whimpering desperately as he groaned and gasped under you.

Your walls gripping him and milking him like they had earlier, not even a few minutes ago. You felt the pressure forming nicely in between your hips again. You let out a loud moan as you felt his cock reach places it hadn’t before, turning you into a mess.

His grip on your hips tightened as he brought you down on his cock with force each time and thrusting upwards to fuck you deeper. “Cum for me.” He threw his head back, growling. “Cum for me again…”

Your hand grabbed him by the jaw and you leaned in to press your lips against his, claiming his open mouth and muffling his animalistic growls as you came undone around him again. Your orgasm then triggered his.

You fell limp on top of him right after and he instinctively cradled your head. “You okay?”

You nodded, your sweaty bodies pressed against each other but neither of you minding it. “Yeah.”

Bucky gently rolled to his side, letting you down on your side of the bed. You tried your best to calm your racing heart. Not to mention you felt much, much better than earlier.

Bucky got up to leave again, and you grabbed his hand before he got completely out of your bed. He turned to face you with a smirk then groaned dramatically, “Woman please, I’m not a machine. The pain will subside now, I believe we’ve done pretty good at fucking it out of our systems. I can’t go all night, seriously.”

You were in a haze so his words made you giggle. “You’re really leaving?”

He looked down at you, sprawled on your bed. Your face was glowing, you looked ethereal. “You want me to stay?” He asked, wondering where the sassy brat in you went.

You nodded.

He smirked, getting back into bed next to you, “What, now you're obsessed with me?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Shut up. I’m just saying since I might need you again in the morning, you might as well just sleep here.”

He pretended to be hurt. “Wow.” He didn’t mind that at all. He got under the covers with you, “So… is it just the chemicals or are we…?”

You snuggled closer to his side, he wrapped his arm around you, tucking your head under his chin. “Shh, I still hate you.” Your tired, soft voice reminded him of a sleepy kitten.

He held you closer. “Of course.” He looked down at you and saw that you had already fallen asleep on his chest. He cracked a soft smile, whispering under his breath, “Brat.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #sex pollen #tfatws #marvel

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

Better Man.

~~~~We might still be in love, if you were a better man. ~~~~

Taehyung x OC

Rating 18 +

Angst.

Implied Infidelity in the past.

Chapter 1 ~ Walk out the first time.

"Are you okay?" My mother's soft voice came from behind me and i panicked, hurriedly swiping at the tears that were streaking down my face. Heart pounding, I grabbed a bunch of tissues from the dresser, patting my face down hurriedly , making sure to keep my back to her.

"I'm fine, Mom." I said , voice surprisingly steady as I turned around to smile weakly at her. She stood near the doorway, a petite woman of fifty with greying hair and too many wrinkles.

I thought she looked older than she was and i knew I had a part to play in that. Sighing, I tried not to cry more, moving to gently take my son out of her arms.

He was four years old, fast asleep and smiling sweetly in his slumber. He had downy black hair, feather soft and warm brown eyes. He looked incredibly like his father, the resemblance stunning even though he was so young. I stared at him some more, laying him down on the bed and brushing the hair off his face.

"Are you sure there is no mistake? Taehyung ssi wouldn't hurt us like this..." My mother said, sounding broken and I felt a pang of sympathy. But also annoyance.

Us.

Us....like she had an equal share in the hurt I was feeling.

I was the one getting a divorce but my mother made it sound like it was personal to her as well. Like somehow, the fact that she now had to meet her friends and tell them that her daughter was divorced could compare to the pain I was feeling. To the sheer anguish that was filling me.

To be fair though, my mother had loved Taehyung very much. Her favorite son-in-law . My sister's husband had been a mean drunkard who had brought a lot of misery to our family. Taehyung by contrast had been a loving, filial son in law. He had cared deeply for my parents, paid for my father's funeral ( even though the man itself was nothing more than a drunk , cheating fool who had abandoned us ) and he had been the most kind man .

I swallowed.

Maybe , you should have forgiven him. Maybe , you shouldn't have divorced him . So, he slept with another woman. Fine. It was one night... just one night. you should have gotten over it! Was it worth it to spend all these countless nights alone? To break your mother's heart a thousand times over?

The funny thing was, i had forgiven him. Maybe right after I had found out. He had stood there, looking shell-shocked and horrified and his eyes had begged me for forgiveness and my heart had cracked , the way it always did whenever I saw him in distress. And when he had looked me in the eye and said, " I’m sorry, Jang mi..." I had forgiven him right then and there.

But it was the forgetting that was hard. The fear that it would happen again. The fear that somehow, I was the reason he strayed. And that kind of fear can be debilitating. For the first three weeks, I'd tried to pretend it hadn't happened. I had tried hard to see him the way I had always seen him but it had been impossible. everytime I saw him, my heart had broken anew. It had been hard but I had to accept that things would never be the same. That I would forever look at him and remember what he’d done. That I would forever wonder if he would do it again.

So we had done the wise thing.

At first a break.

A few days apart to get our head on straight. Then I’d found a job and I had to move closer to the office to make the commute easy. And then suddenly, I wasn’t seeing him even during the weekends , to spend time as family for our son’s sake. And just like that , a whole year had passed and we were separated. Only meeting to hand Hoshi over to each other.

"I'm sorry mother." I said softly. I knew that she blamed me, a whole lot for the separation.

People with children didn't leave each other over infidelity in my country. You hit your husband, denied him from your bed maybe but you didn't break up a family over one night of bad decisions. You just didn't .

But for me, it was beyond the act. It was the broken trust, the shock of knowing that some other woman had given him something I couldn't, the fact that he had even wanted it from another woman had been enough for me to crumble on the inside.

But, none of it mattered now.

He wanted a divorce. Officially. Wanted to end it for real.

It was jarring, how badly it shook me. I felt unaccountably lost and confused and disoriented. I couldn't imagine not being Taehyung’s wife , i realized with a stunning sense of self realization.

Call me irrational, but apparently, I couldn't stop thinking of him as my husband , even after two years. Soon he wouldn't be my husband.

He would be my ex -husband.

i hated that word.

It had such a plethora of negative connotations to it. When you hear it , you just brace yourself for unpleasantness.

Because it is unpleasant. A marriage ending, a family breaking, feelings hurt , hearts shattered, angry words tossed...its all a very unpleasant experience for everyone involved.

An ex husband was seldom a harbinger of happiness, more often a reminder of choices gone wrong, regrets and wasted time. and I didn’t want to associate Taehyung with a word like that.

Taehyung who was still the kindest, warmest human being I knew. The best father in the world.

I felt like someone had sucked all the strength out of me.

I didn’t really want to think about the call I’d gotten from Taehyung last night. An appointment with a divorce lawyer. It had been followed by an apology because apparently, someone in the law firm had let the info leak. And now it was all over the sleazy tabloids that fed on people’s misery.

It was impossible to escape it too, Taehyung was famous. An idol. And actor. The country's sweetheart. And he was the epitome of perfection. The beautiful, talented actor with an impeccable record of well behavior.

I knew that literally everyone on the planet thought he was a literal angel.

I remembered how much , by contrast, I had been hated when I'd married him.

I could just imagine how much more it would all be this time around. And i wondered if it bothered Taehyung too. Did he perhaps wish he’d never met me

It had been sheer luck that we had met....

In fact, if Jimin's car hadn't broken down right outside our home on that cold December night, I wouldn't have even met Taehyung. A great cosmic shift, somewhere some butterfly flapped its wing a certain way and suddenly, Jimin’s car ran over a thumbtack and his phone was dead so while he tried to fix the damage , Taehyung just had to knock on our home and I had been the one to open it.

Boom. That was it. Love at first sight.

I had been a high school kid and he had been barely nineteen. Fresh faced and cheerful , the struggling idol from a small company. He hadn't been surrounded by fans or chased by saesangs. He hadn't had security tailing him. No daesangs, BBMAs, or acting awards. No blockbuster movies to his credit , no chart-bursting songs either .

And I had fallen in love with that version of him.

The hardworking, talented young man who worked twice as hard as anyone around him.

That's right. You've loved him for fifteen years. So it's understandable that you're upset. Now, maybe you can move on too. Go on a few of those blind dates that Jiyoung is always setting you up on. Go live your life instead of being a zombie. Get a hair cut. Dye your hair red. Do something to get your life in order.

"I still find it hard to believe that he would want a divorce. Jangmi yah... did you tell him you forgave him? Tell him you wanted to try again..." My mother said again and the distress in her voice was equal parts heartbreaking and exasperating.

"Mother, I don't want to try again . We aren't married anymore. It's over, whatever it was between us. "

Whatever it was.

How cruel, to have all that love, all that affection reduced to a phrase like that.

What a pity.

"But what about Hoshi? He needs his father..." My mother cried out and I willed myself not to snap. She means well, I thought miserably.

"He has a father. Taehyung is an excellent father and you know that. Don’t start that again.”

My mother sighed.

"I still feel that this wouldn’t happen if you tried a little bit. He’s a good boy. Such a good boy and you could never do anyone better. Why are you so full of pride, Jangmi... so prideful...you should be a little humble. Think of the kind of man he is...where would you find a man like that ? And moreover .... Taehyung loves you. i know he does." My mother said stubbornly.

I sighed, feeling my fingers shake from the effort not to scream. I wasn’t strong enough to have this conversation with her. Not now. Possibly never. Taehyung did love me. Had never made any effort to hide it. But sometimes, love wasn’t enough. It just wasn’t.

And I wanted to yell at my mother she was at least partially to blame for me walking out on Taehyung.

My father had left us for another woman , when I was twelve. I had seen the toll it had taken on my mother and I just knew that I would never let a man do that to me. My mother had later confided in me that it wasn’t the first time. He had done it before. A lot of times. And my mother had always forgiven him. Let him back into our lives.

And one night, drunk on soju she had confided between hiccups, ‘ I wish I’d walked out the first time.”

And that had stuck with me.

Walk out the first time.

If he cheats on you , walk out the first time. Don’t stick around waiting for him to do it to you again. Walk out the first time.

And so I had.

“ Should I talk to him? Tell him you’ve changed your mind? “ My mother began and I felt my patience snap.

“No!! Could you just, for the love of God, stay out of this, ma? It’s over. Our marriage is over and it has been over for a long time. A piece of paper doesn’t really change that, does it? Its not my fault you can’t get over it but that’s a you problem. And you need to fix it yourself. “ I shouted.

My mother immediately recoiled, eyes shuttering down.

“Of course. You know the best. Who cares how anyone else feels, right, Jang Mi? You always know best.” She said softly, and I exhaled, shaken. There it was. The guilt trip. It was never ending.

Please... I just need to go now.” I moved to grab my bag, :” I need to go get ready for the meeting with the lawyers tomorrow. You can keep Hoshi with you tonight. I’ll come pick him up after I’m done and then I’ll drop him off at his father’s place.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With Taehyung and I, our break up hadn’t been terrible.

It hadn’t been terrible because our own penchant for being terrible had always been very minimal. We didn’t do swearing or fights or threats and it always annoyed our friends that we got along so well. That it was so easy for us to forgive and move on with each other . That we were the one couple who didn’t hold grudges or bring up past mistakes.

Which is why, when we did break up, none of our friends had tried to change our minds over it. They had accepted it rather calmly, shocked at first because it was so out of the blue but not opposed to the idea itself . They just trusted us to know the right thing to do because we were easily the most mature , the most level headed couple in the entire group. We were usually the sounding boards , the voice of reason in whatever petty conflict our friends were involved in .

So when it was us, needling a little advice, a little guidance, our friends had been woefully ill equipped to help. They had merely hummed and nodded and empathized. Maybe that was another reason I’d left. I hadn’t considered the alternative. No one had asked me to consider the alternative.

Our friends had watched us drift apart watched us break up, but they hadn’t really asked us why.

Because if something had caused Kim Taehyung and Jang Mi to break up, man, that must’ve been a really huge issue.

So the break up had been amicable. Gradual and slow but mostly amicable, eased by our mutual love for our son. We wanted him happy and he was happy when we were happy. So we put on a front, laughed and joked in front of him and let him have some semblance of normalcy in his life.

It wasn’t easy.

From him, it had been nothing but a mess of heated glances, touches laced with intent and eyes begging forgiveness . every gaze of his was a silent scream for a second chance that I was not at all ready to give.

Because for me, the raw hurt and anger and frustration that bubbled up every time I saw him , it had nowhere to go. It stayed churning in my gut, made everything bitter and unpalatable and I wanted to hurt him for hurting me. How could I think of a second chance when the hurt from the first, was still so fresh, an open wound festering.

Self esteem in tatters, I had hated him fiercely.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The meeting was at his company, and I arrived at nine in the morning, with a few more minutes to spare. I knew the place like the back of my hand, was here at least once a week either to pick or drop Hoshi off and I knew that the conference room in the third floor was sound proof and cut off from the rest of the building for extra privacy.

Which was a little too late because I’d found two tabloid newspapers waiting outside my apartment this morning.

I opened the door carefully, surprised to see Taehyung sitting in one of the chairs, bent over a sheaf of paper on the table and next to him a leggy girl in a small skirt hovered, fingers resting lightly on his shoulder, bent at the optimum angle to show him her curves.

I sighed, looking away.

It was way too early for this.

“Mia!” Taehyung’s voice made me look up, and I watched as he stood up, pushing the chair away and moving to me . He was easily the most good looking man in the country. And he looked so good at thirty five that it was impossible to look away from him.

He was dressed in a pale blue shirt and black slacks and it never amazed me, how good clothes fit him.

I took in the broad shoulders, thick arms and the lean waist, the carefully styled hair and the breathtakingly beautiful face and sighed when he kept coming closer, hands held out. .

Of course, the customary hug.

i let him wrap his arms around me, my face buried in the comforting warmth of his body, the scent of his cologne filling my brain . He always smelled so good it made my heart hurt. I tried not to let myself get carried away. Tried to remind myself that this wasn’t anything more than a.....

A facade ? Or was it? Was his affection genuine?

Was I just too cynical?

I shook my head, pulling away and smiling a little at the genuine venom in the leggy girl’s face.

“Are you okay? Where’s Hoshi?” Taehyung brushed the hair off my face, eyes warm and I wondered if he’d forgotten we were here to get a divorce.

Whenever we met, Taehyung acted like we were still together.

No, that wasn’t it.

He just didn’t act like we had broken up. He was affectionate and open and cooperative. It always left me in a sort of limbo, unable to navigate our relationship with clear boundaries. There were no line to stop myself from crossing, because he just didn’t draw them.

“ Ms. Lee says we just have to go over the details like the alimony and the custody and the division of assets and then we can just proceed. Get it all finalized. “ He said casually, when I moved away and sat on the chair opposite him.

“Okay .” I said casually.

He smiled and turned back to the girl next to him.

“I’ll join you after the meeting Lisa.” he gave her a nice wide smile and the girl practically bloomed under the attention before bowing curtly in my direction. I watched her walk away, slightly amused.

“Bit younger than your usual type.” I commented , glancing at him. He gave me a look.

“I’m not dating her.” He shrugged.

“Does she know that?” I retorted.

It was dumb. Uncalled for. I was being a bitch, really but the urge to evoke some kind of reaction from Taehyung was something I’d never really out grown. I liked getting under his skin.

Taehyung sighed and gave me a little smirk.

“Are you jealous, Mia mine?” He teased.

It felt a little like someone had dug a nine inch dagger straight into my heart.

That stupid nickname.

God I couldn’t bear it.

Swallowing i looked away.

“Sorry. “ he said quietly, a few seconds later.

I nodded curtly.

“Don’t do it again.” I said hoarsely.

“Why not?” He whispered gently.

I groaned.

“Taehyung... “

“it’s just a name...why does it bother you so much?” He whispered.

“The same reason you’re asking me for a divorce.” I said softly.

He blinked.

“Mia...”

“Because we both know its time to stop.” I said quietly. “ Stop dancing around each other , stop doing...whatever it is we’ve been doing these past two years and give our relationship a name. “

“I’m not very fond of labels.” He shrugged. I glared at him.

“Well tough luck. Labels are good. Labels are great. They let you draw boundaries. “ I retorted.

“You sound like you’ve had enough of me.”

“Well, haven’t you had enough of me?” I snapped.

“Not even close.” He leaned forward gently, eyes pinning me to the table with a gaze so strong he may as well have used his body. And it didn’t help that two years wasn’t enough time to forget how it would feel if he had used his body. How it would feel to be stretched out on that table, him on top of me, hands working my clothes open, lips kissing their way down my jaw.

I could almost taste him, taste the minty freshness of his breath, feel his tongue in my mouth, the hardness of him inside me. My thighs clenched because I hadn’t gotten laid in two fucking years and even if i did, no one would ever compare to the man in front of me.

“Mr. Kim? Mrs. Kim? “

The lawyer’s voice broke the spell and i straightened, swallowing. Ms. Lee had walked in , and I watched her close the conference door behind her before locking it gently.

She was young, dressed in a business suit , a no nonsense bun and had small round framed glasses. She gave me a nice smile, shook hands with us both and placed her briefcase on the table before glancing between us.

“Shall we begin?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : its gonna be a bumpy ride.

#taehyung angst #taehyung smut #taehyung fics #bts fics #taehyung fanfic #bts smut #bts fic #bts fanfic

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 3 years

Note

"I'm truly sorry, but I don't think we've ever met." memory loss angst? 👉👈🥺

anon... fam, this turned into an emotional rollercoaster and totally stole my braincell.

3.8k words. angst with a happy ending.

tw: memory loss, minor anxiety, repressed memories, idiots to lovers, whump, angst with a happy ending, angst with a fluffy ending

---

It’s been three hours, five minutes, and forty-two seconds since the frigid breeze whipped Geralt’s angry words at him, shattering his fragile, stupid heart to pieces. Every syllable rings through Jaskier’s head over and over, slamming into him from all directions and crippling him with a bone-deep pain far worse than anything he’s ever felt before. The ache ebbs and flows, lancing through him with every step. Not even Geralt’s first frustrated blow to his abdomen had been this terrible.

Geralt… That’s the problem, isn’t it? He hadn’t been smart enough to get out of the gorgeous Witcher’s long, silvery hair soon enough. He’d overstayed his welcome, fallen in love in the meantime, and is now very out of sorts (and also alone in unfamiliar territory). The bard laughs but it’s a hollow sound. Jaskier has reached the edge of hysteria, his intelligent blue eyes now vacant and unseeing. Even as he stumbles through the underbrush, all he can picture is the snarl on Geralt’s face as the Witcher yells at Destiny to take Jaskier off his hands.

Jaskier’s own hands are covered in sap and splinters from pushing tree branches away from his face as he traverses the darkening forest. His hair is full of debris and his clothes are torn and dirty; Geralt has all of his emergency supplies, still. Jaskier is pretty sure that his lute is still strapped over his shoulder but he realizes, with no small amount of surprise, that he doesn’t actually care.

He doesn’t have the capacity anymore.

He can’t care… caring hurts too much.

If only Destiny had taken him off Geralt’s hands. Maybe then it would be okay. Maybe then, if Geralt was well and truly free of him and his irritating presence, the Witcher could be happy. He and Yennefer will surely come back around, they always seem to, and Ciri will be joining them soon enough it seems.

There’s no need - no room - for a humble bard anymore.

Only five hours, thirty minutes, and twelve seconds after Geralt’s outburst at the top of the mountain, Jaskier’s delicate human body succumbs to the stress of the day.

He drops to the forest floor without a sound, grateful for the darkness.

---

Yennefer finds the bard in a heap a few miles away from the previous night’s elevated campsite. When she presses the back of her hand to his forehead she yanks it away almost immediately; he’s burning up, and his skin is clammy and sticky with sweat. The feathery bangs he flicks about and preens so much are stuck to his forehead and temples. He’s on the verge of shaking apart and Yennefer tosses her head imperiously, swearing.

“Damnit, Geralt. You and your incredibly foolish need to be alone all the time so you can brood and self-flagellate. Me, an ageless sorceress from one of the greatest magic schools on the Continent? I can handle a thorough tongue lashing. Fuck, I’m older than you and I’ve seen far worse but this… oh, you great lummox. You absolute bastard…” Yennefer mutters to herself as she assesses the bard’s deteriorating state of health, ranting to an invisible Geralt all the while. “You’re absolutely going to be hearing from me about this, Wolf.”

--- Three days, one hour, and fifteen minutes after Geralt dismissed him forever, Jaskier wakes up with a loud gasp and a violent shudder. He blinks slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the bright light streaming in through a window. Whatever he’s lying on is comfortable and the sheets smell fresh and bright, like lilac and freesia. A hint of gooseberry lies beneath it all, delicate and sweet. He glances around the space and finds it to be relatively bare; a guest room, perhaps. Maybe he’s a servant at some noble house?

Jaskier only really knows that his name is Jaskier and that he plays music. He’s also rather talented with floral arrangements.

Shortly after he’s finished purveying his (borrowed?) chamber, the very image of grace, beauty, and terror enters the room. The woman, whose coppery skin and enchanting violet eyes practically glow in the midafternoon sun, smiles down at him in a way that toes the line between Motherly and Shark-like.

“How are you feeling, Jaskier?”

“I’m alright. And you?”

“Just fine. Geralt really did a number on us, huh?” she asks, a playful grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. He has the feeling that something isn’t right; she shouldn’t be looking at him so kindly.

Her expression changes from friendly to horrified to confused in an instant, as soon as Jaskier manages to ask: “Who’s Geralt? And, pardon me, but I feel as if something is rather amiss. Who are you, my Lady?”

Whoever the gorgeous and terrifying woman is, she grimaces briefly. Then, as if by magic, the comforting smile returns. “I’m Yennefer, of course. I saved your life a few years ago, remember?”

Jaskier wracks his brain but cannot call the occasion to mind. “Unfortunately no, I don’t remember your no doubt heroic deed. Although I suppose that means I’m in your debt, doesn’t it? Do I work for you? Is that why I’m here?”

The woman blinks a few times, slowly, and then nods. “You’re my gardener and personal musician.”

Jaskier brightens, happy to have found himself in a safe environment.

“But you’ve had a nasty illness and your mind is clearly fatigued. Rest another day or two and then we can see about getting you back into the fresh air.”

“Thank you, my Lady,” Jaskier nods.

“Yen is fine.”

“Thank you, Yen. I don’t know where I’d be without you,” he grins.

---

Yennefer turns away to hide her pained expression. You’d probably still be with your beloved Witcher.

She makes her way to the kitchen to fix Jaskier something to eat. He must be hungry after spending three days in a deep, healing sleep. She hadn’t been expecting the amnesia, though; it was an unexpected but not unsurprising turn of events. Heartbreak had done stranger things than a little bit of fever-induced memory loss. When she’d delved briefly into his mind she hadn’t seen any sign of Geralt. His face was absent from the bard’s consciousness; she would have needed to dig to unearth those memories. Whatever the Witcher had done was grievous, especially if Jaskier’s mind compensated with something as dramatic as burying Geralt completely to save itself from further harm.

No matter, she decides, the bard can stay here as long as he likes. It’s the least I can do for all the upset Geralt and I have caused him. Where is that idiot Witcher, anyway?

The sorceress quickly clears her agenda and her mind before returning to her guest room with a large tray of food, a bottle of Toussainti red under her arm. “Jaskier, darling, let’s get your convalescence started in style!”

---

2 months later

---

Jaskier watches a strange man ride up the long path to Yennefer’s manor, the hilts of his twin swords glinting in the sun where they’re slung over his shoulder. He has long white hair and the most devastating jawline the bard/gardener (or ‘bardener’ as he says to irritate his darling employer) has ever laid eyes on. He’s clad all in black, from his plain linen shirt to his tight leather trousers; Jaskier thinks he’d also look rather lovely in dark blue or perhaps forest green.

In front of him, wrapped securely against his chest by one strong arm, sits a little girl with ashen hair and frightened eyes. Haunted eyes. Jaskier’s mind fills with ballads, some familiar and some oddly dreamlike, their lyrics half-obscured and hazy. Ciri, he thinks for no reason. Her name is Ciri. And she is a Princess.

The brunette scurries from the garden alongside the house to the kitchen, searching for the familiar cloud of Yennefer’s strong perfume. “My Lady?”

“Darling?” the sorceress replies, coming around the corner. She raises her perfectly maintained eyebrows and her lips quirk up into a smirk. “Did you sprint all the way from the west lawn?”

“There’s a- strange man- on the- drive!” he huffs. “White hair- horse!”

“Oh,” her eyes go wide with surprise. Then, in a split second, they narrow to slits. “Oh.”

“Do you, uhm, know him?” Jaskier asks, twiddling his fingers. “He’s rather handsome, Yen. Is he a former lover?”

“Unfortunately,” she growls. “I can’t believe it’s taken him two fucking months to get here. He’d better have a damned good excuse.”

By now Jaskier can breathe normally again and he straightens up, shaking his long, shaggy hair from his eyes. “He had a child with him. She looked scared, Yen.”

“Cirilla!”

Yennefer dashes for the front door and Jaskier follows instinctually. They’re always together and he can’t bear to let her confront this man alone. He’s spent every waking moment with Yen since he awoke that first day and she has grown to be his dearest friend; he’ll protect her even unto death. “Yenna, what’s wrong? Who is he!?”

“Geralt of Rivia,” she snarls. The name seems familiar; maybe from a ballad or story? Perhaps Yen has mentioned him before?

“What about Geralt of Rivia?” a low, rumbling bass asks from the front hallway. Jaskier and Yennefer arrive in the doorway together and the man, Geralt apparently, takes a shaky step back. He recoils a bit, as if he’s been slapped, and Yennefer’s smile grows cruel. His voice, still incredibly low but now with a slight tremor to it, stutters out; “Wha- Yen, what is he- Jaskier? I only came to ask for help with Ciri, I didn’t know- I didn’t-”

Geralt’s stammered speech tapers off into silence and Yennefer’s brow furrows a second time. When the sorceress sets eyes on the child, who cannot be more than twelve years old, her expression softens again. Jaskier watches the most imposing woman in the world kneel, taking one small, pale hand in both of her own. “My name is Yennever of Vengerberg, former Sorceress of Aretuza. I am honored to meet you, Princess Cirilla. Geralt has come seeking protection, no doubt, and it is easily granted. I will do everything I can to help you.”

“Thank you, Lady Yennefer. And, uhm… Ciri’s fine,” the girl replies. Her voice is high and reedy, shot through with anxiety. She’s so young, Jaskier frowns. And yet she seems to have weathered an incredible storm.

“Ciri,” the bard bows from the doorway, low and dramatic. He sweeps his arm out to the side and bends his knees as awkwardly as possible, “I am Jaskier, private troubadour and gardener extraordinaire, under the employ of the magnanimous and dangerous Lady Yennefer, here. It is my greatest honor to make your very mighty and very royal acquaintance.”

“You’re silly, Master Jaskier,” the child giggles, hiding her mouth behind her hands. Geralt’s eyes grow wide and dart between Jaskier and the girl. Yennefer makes meaningful eye contact before nodding toward the door. Jaskier looks down at Ciri again when she asks: “Do you grow lots of flowers in Lady Yennefer’s garden, or just herbs and things for magic?”

“I grow lots of things all over the property,” the brunette man steps forward and offers Ciri his hand, gesturing towards the front door with the other. “Would you like to come and take a look? I know all the scientific names, you can even quiz me if you like.”

“I know some,” she smiles shyly, accepting the offered hand. “May I go take a look at the gardens, Geralt?”

“Go ahead,” the Witcher nods dumbly. “Jaskier will take good care of you.”

“That I will. Now, let’s take a look at the flowers and let these silly adults have a chat,” Jaskier grins. He winks at Yennefer and disappears out the door, exiled Princess in tow.

The two lively companions have toured through all the medicinal herbs and are halfway through Yennefer’s large collection of rose variations when the two other members of the party approach. Geralt looks sheepish, his eyes downcast. Yennefer looks triumphant; she is radiant in her victory as always.

Geralt steps forward, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Jaskier, I’ve come to apologize for what happened when we parted.”

“Excuse me?” the bard chuckles, raising an eyebrow. "I don’t know what you’re apologizing for, exactly.”

“When I yelled at you after the dragon hunt. It was only two months ago, Jaskier, surely you remember?”

Jaskier blushes, glancing anxiously between Geralt and his friend, whose violet eyes are stormy with emotion, “I'm truly sorry, but I don't think we've ever met."

Geralt gasps sharply and takes a step back, as he did in the entryway. Jaskier winces, seemingly on instinct, and shies away from the larger man. “You don’t remember me?”

“No…” Jaskier sighs. “I really don't. Should I?”

“You don’t… You don’t even remember Toss a Coin?”

“Oh, that ditty from town?” Jaskier perks up. “I know that song! It always gets stuck in my head.”

“You… You wrote that song,” Geralt’s face crumples. “About our first adventure together outside of Posada. With the elves and the sylvan...”

“I’ve never been to Posada,” Jaskier laughs, waving his hand dismissively. “They hate bards. They prefer troupes of traveling play-actors. Posada is far too serious for my tastes.”

Geralt seems to be in agony. His chest rises and falls unevenly, as if he’s on the verge of tears but unable to shed them. Can Witchers cry?

How does he know that Geralt is a Witcher? Is it the two swords, the scars, or the strange eyes? How does he know that those are common Witcher traits?

His stomach lurches and he turns away from the group in case he needs to be sick. The ground spins and shivers in little ripples around him, unstable and impermanent beneath his feet. Yennefer is calling his name from somewhere far away and a pair of warm, strong arms are looped around his waist. Still, he can’t seem to breathe. Or focus.

There’s something missing.

He starts to hum, trying to remember the words of that damned song.

The rest of the world fades in and out around him, finally disappearing altogether.

---

He’s gorgeous.

Jaskier shoves another roll into his pocket. His eyes are focused on the man in the corner. He has long, snow-white hair and his shoulders are hunched forward protectively, as if he can hold the world out by sitting by himself. He’s glaring the table into submission, one fist clenched around his tankard.

I want to write him a thousand ballads. I want to know what his hair looks like when he wakes up in the morning, before he brushes it out again. I want to know if he snores. I want… he stops himself.

He makes his way across the room with eyes only for the stranger. “I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood.”

The man looks away and Jaskier notices that his irises are gold. “I’m here to drink alone.”

Gods, his fucking voice… Velvet and gravel all at once. Melitele, does Jaskier want. “Good, yeah. Good. No one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance… except for you.”

The man, the Witcher, Jaskier realizes, rolls his eyes.

“Come on,” he wheedles, sitting down across from the gorgeous stranger. “You don’t want to keep a man with bread in his pants waiting. You must have some review for me, three words or less.”

The man’s face stays stoic, expressionless. “They don’t exist.”

He realizes shortly thereafter that this man is not just any Witcher but the infamous Butcher of Blaviken, Geralt of Rivia. He could try to disengage himself from such a daunting character; he could easily make some kind of excuse and disappear back to the troubadour’s path, heading towards civilization, but it’s already too late. He doesn’t want to leave Geralt’s side ever again; he wants to write all those ballads he was thinking about earlier, when he glanced across the room.

Jaskier has fallen head over heels in love. ---

Geralt cradles Jaskier against his chest and presses his nose deep into those chestnut brown waves. “Wake up, Jaskier. Come back to me, bard, it’s been too long.”

“Don’t you usually go all winter without seeing him?” Yennefer asks from the doorway.

“It’s hell,” he replies easily. There’s no point in hiding his feelings from her. “I miss him every minute of every day.”

“Verbose this evening,” she remarks, taking a seat by the fire. “He’s dreaming, you know. He’s remembering you.”

“He’d forgotten?”

“He’d repressed it all,” she shrugs. “When I found him that day, feverish and nearly dead on the side of that godsforsaken mountain, he was barely coherent enough to open his eyes. He just kept asking for you, Geralt. Over and over he called for you, reaching his arms up, weak as they were. Gods, it was pitiful to watch.”

Geralt swallows.

“I thought you were going to come back sooner. I was surprised when his memories didn’t resurface after two or three weeks. Short-term memory loss after a fever isn’t uncommon but repressing twenty years worth of feelings and experiences-” she whistles lowly “-it was impressive and tragic, all at once.”

“He forgot me?”

“Entirely.”

Geralt glances down, shame-faced. He adjusts Jaskier in his arms, holding him close and pillowing the bard’s head against his shoulder. “I deserve it, Yen.”

“He’s remembering now, though. He’ll probably be a little less than pleased to see you when he wakes up, but he knows who you are.”

“When will he wake?”

“Can’t say,” she shrugs again. “After I brought him back from the mountain it took three days for him to wake up. The first day was magically induced but after that it was just him… exhausted and heartbroken to the point of self-induced amnesia.”

“Fuck, Yen,” Geralt groaned, pressing his forehead into the soft warmth of Jaskier’s cheek. “How can I make it up to him?”

“Stay.”

“Hmm?”

“When he wakes up and he’s angry and upset, stay. Don’t stomp off or blow up or freak out,” she instructs. “If he asks you to leave, go, but otherwise… prove yourself, Geralt of Rivia. You wanted to be a knight once, didn’t you? Now’s your chance to play Prince Charming. Get down on your lovely knees and beg and apologize.”

“Hmm. How’s Ciri?”

“Fed, bathed, and put to bed. I’ll take care of her for as long as it takes you two morons to make nice again. Good luck, Geralt, I’m sure he’ll forgive you too easily for my tastes.”

She stands from her seat and leaves just as efficiently as she entered, carefully closing the door behind her. Geralt lays Jaskier back on the bed and takes a seat beside him on the mattress, kneeling just within touching distance, should Jaskier reach out for reassurance in his sleep. Geralt closes his eyes and slips easily into meditation.

The Witcher is pulled from his trance a few hours later when Jaskier makes a startled sound and tries to sit up. Geralt opens his eyes and splays one warm, broad hand against Jaskier’s chest, forcing him back against the goose down pillows. “Stay still, Jaskier. You’re feverish and weak.”

“I’m still dreaming,” the bard grumbles, reaching to rub at his eyes with the heels of his hands. It’s adorable and Geralt grins widely, warmth spilling into his chest from some newly discovered fount of happiness. “You’re being too nice to me, Witcher.”

“I’m so sorry, Jaskier, for everything.”

“What’s everything, Geralt?”

“I’m sorry for pushing you away when I was angry and confused instead of communicating with you. I’m sorry for hurting you with my brash words and foolish actions; you have always deserved so much better and I’m so afraid that I can never give that to you. I take the wrong step at every turn, it seems, and yet you stay by my side. I didn’t want to risk hurting you the way I’ve already hurt Yen and Ciri, by tying us together against your will.”

“Darling Geralt,” the bard sighs. The Witcher scoots slightly closer and Jaskier lays a gentle hand atop his thigh. “It has always been my greatest pleasure to travel the Path with you and write of our adventures. I appreciate your concern for my agency and wellbeing, dear heart, but I am quite happy spending my entire human life in your presence.”

“Hmm,” the Witcher frowns. “You’re going to die someday.”

“And? So are you. So shall Yennefer, maybe.”

“Not likely,” Geralt jokes. Jaskier grins and the sight of it is so heartwarming that the Witcher wishes he could break down into tears. At least then Jaskier could see just how deeply his feelings ran. “I’m sorry, Jaskier, for blaming you for things that I brought upon myself. I love you dearly, and I hope that someday you can choose to travel with me again.”

“Excuse me?”

“I hope that you’ll-”

“No, the other bit.”

“I love you?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“Oh. Yes, I-” Geralt clears his throat and looks Jaskier in the eyes, gold and blue locked together, “I love you very much, Jaskier.”

“Fuck.”

“May I kiss you, Jaskier?”

“Yes,” the bard breathes.

And then Geralt is lifting him up into his lap, one hand cradling Jaskier’s skull so so fucking carefully. Geralt’s other arm supports his waist, holding him steady. Their lips come together softly, carefully, and Jaskier’s soul spirals up to the ceiling with joy, his body abandoned. He is merely a vessel for the happiness that comes with kissing his Witcher. When they pull apart, both men are grinning like fools. “Oh, dear heart.”

“Yes, my love?”

“Never stop calling me that.”

“I swear I won’t, my love.”

From downstairs, Geralt hears Yennefer mutter, “Fucking finally.”

It takes twenty-two years, seven months, and one day, but Geralt and Jaskier manage to figure things out.

#bounceacoinoffyouranons #geraskier #amnesia #amensiac jaskier #memory loss #rare species fix it #the witcher netflix #the witcher ficlet #geraskier fluff #angst with a happy ending #fluff and angst #whump with a happy ending #jaskier whump #yennefer #yen and jaskier are bitchy theatre bffs #and you can't stop me #anon you really got me fucked up

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discocactusblogs · 3 years

Text

Heather- Jason Todd x Chubby Reader Pt.1

{Author's Note: _____ is a blank to put your name}

"Girl, just tell him!" Barbara whispered and nudged me towards my best friend, Jason Todd aka Robin, the boy wonder.

I had found out about him being Batman's sidekick when we were 13, shortly after he became Robin.

"Easy for you to say! Look at you! You're gorgeous! You're fit and thin and redheaded! Just look at me… I'm...not so fit... I'm chubby. I'm a plain bagel. I'm not ugly but I'm not exactly pretty either." I sighed and gestured to my chubby body.

" ______, I know what I'm telling you. Just tell him." She sighed. "Besides, you're gorgeous too! And very intelligent and mature for a fifteen-year-old!" Barbara smiled, holding up a banana like a wand.

"As if. What guy my age sees a girl and goes, 'What a lovely personality?' Get real Babs, no one wants a plain bagel." I shrugged.

"Welp, I gotta get going or I'll be late for work. But trust me, he won't turn you away." She turned away, obviously knowing something I didn't.

"Hey _____!" Jason spoke as he walked up to me from the curb of the grocery store, I had gone to buy some fruit my mom had told me to get.

"Hey Jay." I sighed with a slight blush on my cheeks.

"Are you okay? It's kinda cold today… Where's your jacket?" He asked, tilting his head to the side slightly.

"My jacket!" I gasped. "I forgot it at school!"

"School's closed now. They just locked the gate." He replied with a shrug.

"My mom's going to kill me. That's the only jacket I have!" My eyes watered, knowing my mother was going to be furious with me when I got home.

"Take mine then. I have others at home." He unzipped his hoodie.

"N-no. It's fine. I can get it Monday from school." I spoke softly while staring at the ground.

He draped his jacket over my shoulders. "I said, take it. Besides, it looks better on you than me. It goes well with your hair color. Here, let me hold your stuff so you can get it on." He smirked, knowing I wouldn't refuse if he spoke sternly with me. He took the bag from my hands and I looked at him. "Zip. It. Up." He frowned.

"Yes sir." I put my arms in the jacket and zipped it up. He was bigger and bulkier than I was, so the jacket fit me rather loosely and was down to my mid thighs but it was comfortable and warm. Much warmer than the jackets and sweaters I had before.

"Hm… keep it. I know your dad hasn't been working a lot lately. It gets pretty cold so you can keep that one. Bruce got me some others at home. Just don't tell anyone, got it? I only share with you because I've known you since we were kids. You took care of me so I'm taking care of you." He looked at me, handing back the bag of fruit. "Now, don't think I'm getting soft or being a gentleman. You're still carrying your stuff." He smirked.

I smiled and chuckled. "Thanks." I took the bag and walked down the street with him.

"Hi Jason!" An annoying voice called out from the ice cream shop.

"Hm? Oh, hey Heather." Jason turned around and seemed slightly irritated.

"Are you going to the pep rally tonight?" Heather asked with fluttering eyelashes. She was Jason's girlfriend.

Dark hair, slim figure, bright eyes, how could I compete with that?

"Uh, no." He replied flatly.

"Why not, I'm going to be performing!" She countered.

"I'm just not feeling it. I don't like pep rallies." He shrugged. "Not my thing."

"Okay then. Wanna get some ice cream?" She asked.

"Go ahead and go home ______, I'll catch up later." He looked apologetically at me and walked across the street.

I nodded and kept walking.

I watched as Heather smiled and hugged him.

It hurt.

He was dating her and she was so sweet. Everyone loved her so, I can see why he did too. She always had a smile on her face.

I kept walking, tears stinging my eyes. There's no way I could ever be like her. He liked her more and would run to her at the drop of a hat.

Arriving at home, I stepped inside. "Hey mom! I'm back!" I set the bag on the counter.

"Oh good! Make sure you do your homework!"

"Yes ma'am!" I sigh and go up to my room, closing the door.

Out of instinct, I called my friend, Valerie.

"A simple solution to your problem is to play spin the bottle or something." She teased.

"Why would he ever kiss me? I'm nowhere near as pretty as Heather!" I clutch the sleeves of the hoodie before taking it off and throwing it onto my bed.

"He gave her his sweater." My eyes watered as I told her what had happened at school that day.

"The black one or the fake polyester one?" Valerie asked.

"The black one."

"Oh dear. I'll be right over." She hung up.

"Is it wrong to wish she were dead?" I chuckled softly when Valerie came through my bedroom door.

"Yes. It's your jealousy and I'm gonna chop off your legs if you continue on this path, Anakin." Valerie smirked.

"Dude, I was kidding." I turn in my swivel chair.

"Yeah, it was a failed attempt at a joke. I'm sorry about Jason. If it makes you feel better, Bradley dumped me." She looked at the ground.

"Here's the plan, I drive the car and Jason shoves him into the road and we make it look like an accident." I spoke whilst drawing out the plan.

"Don't worry about it."

"Worry about what?" Jason walked in.

"Oh, you came!" Valerie smiled.

I looked at her, what a traitor.

"So, I heard you gave Heather your sweater!"

"This one?" He held up said object. "Eh, we broke up. She liked someone else and so did I." He sat on a beanbag chair.

"Wait what? But you really liked her and she's so nice!" I exclaim in shock.

"Relax ______, it was mutual." He chuckled. "There's actually something I came to talk to you about." He seemed nervous, his cheeks tinting red and so were the tips of his ears.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I'll go get water." Valerie got up, stretched and went downstairs.

"I don't know how to say this. This is difficult for me but… I'm sorry. I don't want to be your friend anymore." He sighed.

My eyes widened. "W-what?"

"Yeah. I'm...tired of it." He stood up.

"But Jason, you're my best friend!"

"I know. Hey, do you know what material this shirt is?" He checked his shirt.

"Jason, now's not the time-"

"Answer!"

"I don't know! Cotton, maybe?!" I was growing panicked and my eyes were stinging with tears.

"Wrong, it's boyfriend material. And so is that hoodie." He smirked.

I stood in silence.

"What?" He asked.

"Jason Peter Todd, are you...asking me to be your girlfriend????" I stood, mouth agape in shock.

He smirked and nodded. "Sure thing buttercup! I... love you." His face turned beet red.

"Why? I'm not pretty. I'm not slim or fit or anything-"

"Because you're smart, and cute, you're kind and brave. You're so cool too and geek out with me. We both nerd out over science stuff and books. What's not to love???" The look on his face was one of pure confusion, as if the answer was as clear as day.

"Jason, I love you too." I spoke in a hushed whispers as a few years fell from my eyes.

"Don't cry! Why are you crying???"

"I'm just happy! I've liked you for so long!"

"So have I but I'm not crying!"

"I didn't think you'd like me because I'm chubby!"

"What?! You think I'm that shallow? I'm offended!"

"Jay and ______ sitting in a tree~" Valerie teased from the doorway.

"Val!" We exclaimed in unison, Jay pulling me into a side hug.

"Fine! I'mma head out!" She grabbed her backpack and left.

A few days later, Jason was going to leave for a mission that I didn't want him to go on. I knew how dangerous it was for him to go alone.

"I'm leaving...for Bosnia. Bats needs my help." He looked at me sadly.

"Jay, please. Don't go. What if something happens?" I pleaded, clutching onto him tightly.

It was only a few days ago that he confessed to me and we were trying to figure out where to go with our relationship, which led to this argument.

"I'll come back. I promise." He kissed the top of my head. "Love ya." He smirked. His forest green eyes shone in the sunlight like an emerald.

He seemed so confident that he would be okay.

"Jason, no! I have a bad feeling you're not coming back!" I pleaded harshly, grabbing his wrist and asking him to stay.

"I'm just going to meet my birth mom, I'll be fine!" He assured me. "Here, hold onto my jacket for me." He took off his leather jacket and handed it to me.

I nodded with tears escaping the corners of my eyes. "I love you Jason…" I said as I watched him hop into the car and leave. Little did I know that would be the last time I ever saw him.

I kept that jacket with me at all times after that.

A few weeks went by without a word from Jason and the pit on my stomach only grew, the only thing keeping me sane was the scent of his cologne on his jacket that lingered still.

Finally, I mustered up the courage to go to Wayne Manor and ask if anyone's heard from Jason. It was then my heart shattered into pieces.

"Miss ______, I am so terribly sorry. I thought someone had already told you… Master Jason died last week." Alfred sat me down at the kitchen counter for tea.

My eyes widened and the porcelain teacup fell from my hand, shattering onto the tile floor. Tears flowed from my eyes like a cerulean waterfall. "No one told me!" I shouted, falling to my knees to clean up the mess with blurry eyes.

"Miss ______, I can get it." Alfred stopped me, only to realize I was bleeding from a deep cut from a glass shard on the top of my hand, a cut that would leave a scar for years to come.

"He can't be dead… he promised he would come back." I whispered, not even flinching from the cut.

"Here, allow me to tend to that." Alfred took out the first aid kit and cleaned the wound, giving it a few stitches.

"How…?" I asked, flinching from pain.

"... The Joker. Master Bruce didn't make it in time." He replied, the sorrow evident in his tone.

I nodded and thanked him for the help and the tea.

"Send a car to take her home." I heard Bruce from the doorway.

"Right away, Master Bruce." Alfred excused himself.

"His funeral is this Saturday if you'd like to come." Bruce turned away from me.

"I'll be there. Time?"

"Noon."

"See you then."

When the funeral finally took place, the reality of Jason's death set in. He wasn't coming back like he promised. I left a rose on his casket and bawled as I watched them lower the casket with my best friend and love of my life, into the dark, cold ground and with it, my heart.

"You promised." I whispered to myself, looking away from the scene. It was then I decided I wanted to be a nurse to help heal people.

Five years later, my dream of being a nurse was nearly achieved. I was two years away from graduating and I went to visit Jason every day on the way home from work. I still lived with my parents since I was a student at the local university, thanks to Bruce.

When I approached the door, that's when I saw it. A single rose on the bench outside the door along with a cryptic letter. 'Hang in there.' it said with a happy face at the end.

I was stumped but the notes and roses kept happening at least once a week and they soon came every day. At least, until the night that would change my life forever.

(Part Two)

(Masterlist)

#jason todd #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader #batfam #red hood #red hood x y/n #red hood x reader #batfam fanfic

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seoulwhat · 3 years

Text

Wedding OR Not (#12)

Summary: Loving your best friend is a stupid and hard thing to do. Would you be able to allow yourself to let your best friend marry the one he loves so he can be happy?

Pairing: Rowoon x female reader

Genre: slight angst, fluff

Warnings: heartbreak

Word Count: 3.9k

He’s your best friend in the whole world. You love him with all your heart and your whole soul.

Yet…

He has never really seen how much you loved him. You tried to show him through your actions, but all he did was see you as a “friend”. It’s not like you didn’t want to be his friend. Of course, you did. You had known him since you were six years old and were neighbors. You remembered when he would ring your doorbell in the middle of the afternoon, and he would be crying because his dad yelled at him, or his older brother didn’t let him play with his toy car. You remembered in elementary school, he hated the school lunch, so you would always make an extra peanut butter and jelly sandwich and bring it for him. You remembered in middle school when he was bullied for not cutting his hair and everyone called him names, but you were there to hug him during his sad moments, and you were there to make him happy again. You remembered you told him in high school that you loved him and all he said was “I love you too. I hope we’re friends forever”.

So yeah, it did break your heart when he told you that he had been dating this girl and he thought that “she was the one”. But you two are best friends, so it’s a must to smile and be happy for him, right?

But you weren’t.

“I’m so happy for you. How long have you two been dating now?” You asked during a lunch that he kept rain checking. He took a sip of his water and began to speak.

“Actually, I’ve been dating her for a year and a half now.”

You almost spit your own food out and your eyes turned into the size of golf balls. “A year and a half!? Why haven’t you told me?”

All he did was shrug his shoulders and continued to eat his salad as he stared at you while you talked.

“What do you mean, you don’t know? We’ve been friends for how long now. Like forever? Rowoon, we’re best friends.”

Rowoon continued stabbing at his food with his fork and all you did was stare at him, waiting for an answer.

“She’s a jealous person.” He said quickly.

“Jealous? She doesn’t have to be jealous of me.”

“I told her you were my best friend and showed her a picture of you. She got upset and told me that she didn’t want me to see you again. I told her I couldn’t do that. So, we made a negotiation and I promised her that if I ever went out to see you, I would turn on the GPS on my phone.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Why would he want to be with someone like that? You became aware that your best friend was in a controlling relationship. But why was he still being with her?

“Do you love her?” The question popped out quicker than you could even think.

Rowoon was quiet and he hesitated to answer. “I do,” he nodded. “I think I want to marry her.”

You had imagined that if hearts were made of glass, yours would have shattered to a million pieces. Unfixable.

“Are-are you sure? Shouldn’t you think this through?” You asked, trying to delay his thoughts. You didn’t want him to get married. Well, you did, but you wanted him to marry you.

He shook his head. “I already did. I want to ask her tonight actually. What do you think?”

What I think is that you should get out of this relationship before it turns worse. You should leave her before she becomes more controlling and starts to decide what kind of underwear you can wear and cannot wear. You should leave her because she’s not me. You should leave her because I love you. You should leave her because I would make you so happy and I would never let you go.

“I think that’s a good idea,” was all that you were able to say. You regretted bringing this up in your conversation. It was making you uncomfortable and you were already on a verge of tears. Your throat was burning from holding back all your tears.

Your lunch came to an end, and you were thankful that the conversation did as well. You weren’t sure how much longer you could take listening to him brag about how much he loved this girl. You hugged him goodbye, and he promised to call you to let you know what she said. You weren’t looking forward to the call because honestly, you were already devastated as is.

Once you were home, you made sure to put your phone on sound so you wouldn’t miss Rowoon’s call.

A year had passed and the only thing that kept your mind thinking about things, other than Rowoon, was jogging twice a day and taking daily walks throughout the park. You stopped waiting for his phone call a month after he promised he would call you. You tried calling him, but he changed his phone number, and you had no other way to reach him. You used to know where he lived, until the day you went to his door and an Asian couple opened the door.

At first, you didn’t want him to call you to tell you that she agreed to marry him. Then after the second and third day and so on, you impatiently waited for him to call and say something.

Maybe she said no? Or maybe he just never asked her and broke up with her.

You thought so many things, but a call never came your way to satisfy your curiosity. Like always, you woke up in the morning and put on some comfortable jogging clothes and went for your morning run. On your way back home, you checked your mail and noticed a nice red and white envelope underneath all the junk mail that piled up over the course of two weeks.

To: Y/F/N Y/L/N From: Soon to be Mr. And Mrs. Kim

You knew what it was as soon as you seen the sender. You couldn’t believe it. A year later and you’re barely hearing about this. You ripped open the envelope and took out a folded paper that let loose a couple of I Doconfetti that was inside. The paper was written in beautiful cursive writing, and you wondered who wrote it for them.

We would like to officially invite you to the wedding of Lee Mina and Kim Rowoon.

Please call the number below to RSVP your seat.

This was it. This was it. Tears began falling from your eyes. You felt like you were being dramatic, crying at your mailbox, but you couldn’t hold it in. He went through with it, and she said yes. He’s going to go through with it and marry this girl. You realized that he didn’t love you and you don’t think he ever did and ever will.

You grabbed the rest of your mail and ran inside your home. You slid against your door, your crying continuing. You tried to stop crying, but years of held back tears came spilling out of your eyes. You felt like you were never going to be able to stop.

But you did. A few hours later. You missed your walk in the park and your second jog for the day. But you didn’t care.

You read the invite repeatedly. You didn’t know if you did it to torture yourself or to make sure that the invite itself was even real. Either way, you decided to RSVP. You grabbed your cell phone and dialed the number. Two rings later, a female answers the phone.

“Hi, I wanted to RSVP a seat for the,” you looked at the invite to make sure you got her name right. “Mina and Rowoon wedding.”

“Okay, and can I ask who is calling and how many extra guests will you be bringing.” The female voice was so happy and squeaky, she was beginning to give you a headache.

“It’s for Y/F/N Y/L/N, and I’m not bringing anyone. Just bringing myself,” you said simply.

“Y/N?” The female repeated your name.

“Yes?” You weren’t sure if she was simply repeating your name or if she was going to ask you something.

“As in Rowoon’s best friend?” She said even more squeakier than before.

All you did was laugh. “Uh, I’m not so sure about that. I haven’t spoken to him in about a year. So more like an acquaintance.”

The phone went silent for a few seconds, and you can hear a muffled voice yelling in the background.

“I thought I told you not to invite her!”

“Of course, I’m inviting her! She is my best friend!”

A few yells later and the female began to speak on the phone again. This time, you knew you were talking to Mina.

“Okay, well your seat is officially RSVPed,” Mina said and then hung up. You didn’t even get a chance to say thank you, but you didn’t care if you didn’t anyway.

Two months later, spring had the flowers blooming and the cold air was now a warm breeze that you enjoyed. Today was the wedding and you were so happy you went dress shopping a month in advance.

You found a beautiful red dress, since the wedding is red and white themed, and found a nice pair of white pumps to go with it. You drove yourself to where the wedding was taking place and you didn’t know the wedding was going to take place at someone’s rich home until you got there.

So many people whom you didn’t obviously know were there and you felt so out of place. All you did was stand there awkwardly, hoping you would see someone you knew.

“Hey little red,” a familiar deep voice said from behind you. You turned around and was faced with a man dressed nicely in a tuxedo.

“Jaewook?! Oh my goodness, you got tall from the last time I seen you! Which was what? When you were fifteen?” You walked up to him and hugged him. He was now taller than you and smelled a lot better.

“Yeah. Look at you,” he said looking you up and down. “You lost weight and you look so good. Like, you look hot.”

He winked at you, and you swatted his shoulder. Same ol’ Jae.

“So, are you Rowoon’s best man?” You asked him.

He shook his head and gave me an angry look. “No. He chose Mina’s brother instead of me. Who does that?”

That surprised you. Rowoon used to be all about his family and he just ditched Jaewook out of his wedding like that, but all you did was shrug your shoulders.

“I honestly thought Rowoon was going to end up marrying you. You guys were like those two popsicles that come joined together. It was always hard to split you two apart.”

You smiled at the memories that came into your mind, but then frowned. “Yeah, but I haven’t spoken to Rowoon in over a year. He hasn’t called me and when I tried calling him, he changed his number. Then when I tried going to his house, he no longer lived there.”

Jaewook shook his head in disbelief. “This man is so hung up on getting married that he ignored his best friend, moved in with his fiancée, and has her brother as his best man just so he can marry her.”

“Not to mention that he loves her. He’s not just doing this to marry her,” you mentioned. Jaewook wrinkled his forehead and shook his head again.

“I don’t know why he does. Have you met the woman? She is fifty shades of crazy.” Both you and Jaewook laughed and continued making jokes about Rowoon ‘s soon to be wife.

“So that’s what you two do when I’m not around?” Rowoon ‘s voice sounded behind you and your heart began to crash against your ribcage.

“Aw come on Rowoon. We’re just having some fun,” Jaewook said. You still hadn’t turned around yet, scared of your actions and words when you do.

“I don’t consider making fun of my fiancée fun,” Rowoon said angrily. You turned around and made eye contact with him. His face seemed more chiseled, and his hair grew so much longer.

“Hello to you too. Long time no talk, don’t you think?” You said annoyed.

Rowoon ‘s tense shoulders relaxed at your words and his eyes changed from angry to worried. “I’m sorry I never called you.”

You put your hand up as if to cut him off. “I don’t want to hear it. I’m just here to see you marry the one you love, and then I’m out of here.”

“Y/N, hear me out please. I actually really need to tell you something in private,” Rowoon said lowly.

You looked at Jaewook and he raised his eyebrows and walked away.

“What do you want Rowoon?”

“Let’s take this somewhere more private.”

He grabbed your hand and dragged you to the inside of the home. He pulled you up the three-story spiraled staircase and pulled you into a room that looked as if he was getting dressed in it.

You crossed your arms and waited for him to speak as he locked the door. He turned around and ran up to you and hugged you. His body crashed into yours and he knocked the wind out of you. All you did was hug back until he let go.

“What was that for?”

“I haven’t seen you in such a long time. I missed you so much, Y/N. You have no idea.”

“Why didn’t you ever come see me then? Or call me?” You said stepping away from him.

“I couldn’t. She didn’t let me. She threatened to leave me if I didn’t change my number and move in with her. Not to mention, she threatened to leave me if I spoke to you. She even told me not to invite you, but I just had to. It’s not like she would cancel the wedding after the invites went out anyway.”

All you did was place your fingers on your forehead and shake your head in disbelief.

“What? Speak to me please. Tell me what’s wrong,” he begged. He walked up to you and grabbed your hand, but the feeling was too intimate for you, so you pulled away. “What did I do?”

You let him have it.

“What did you do? It’s more like what you didn’t do. Two years ago, you began drifting away from me and always making up excuses as to why we couldn’t hang out. Why? Because of Mina. You promised me you would call me about your good news, and I waited for a month before I realized you weren’t going to call. Why? Because of Mina. I tried calling you numerous times only to find out that you changed your number. Why? Once again because of Mina. You moved and didn’t tell me because of her. I cried myself to sleep, most nights, because of how much I love you. I began bawling my eyes out like a hormonal teenager in front of my mailbox when I received your wedding invite and didn’t stop crying until that evening. All because of Mina. Mina, the woman who made you change your number, made you move, made you have her brother as your best man, made you lose contact with your best friend because why exactly? Because she’s controlling. I don’t understand how you cannot see that if a person loved you, they wouldn’t put you through those things.”

Hot tears were burning down your face and you knew your makeup was ruined. But you didn’t care. You had to let it out. Rowoon just stood there gaping at you. You tried to clean the runny makeup on your cheeks, making your hands black from your eyeliner and mascara. The silence in the room didn’t bother you because you knew it would take Rowoon some time to process.

“You love me?” He asked. You weren’t sure if he was confused or if he was worried that you love him.

“All of that and the only thing you managed to process was that I loved you,” you laughed at him and grabbed a tissue from the dresser that was in the room. You turned your back to him and faced towards the mirror that was connected to the dresser and began wiping your face.

“Yes. I do. I have since high school. I even told you, but you took it the wrong way. I’m not expecting some pity party here. So please, spare me.”

You continued wiping your makeup, doing a pretty good job at making it look like you weren’t crying. When you were done and you turned around, Rowoon was gone, but you weren’t surprised.

The wedding began and you were seated at the worse table ever. You couldn’t see the bride walk down the aisle and you could barely see anything going on. You were, however, able to see Rowoon, which was enough for you.

“Dearly beloveds and honored guests, we are gathered here today to witness the giving and receiving of the marriage vows. Marriage is an institution ordained of God and is not to be entered into lightly or in jest and only after much consideration.”

The man began to speak, and you were already bored. You always thought that the best part about weddings was the end. The man continued talking, even reading some scriptures from the bible, and you almost fell asleep. The man continued to speak, but you knew it wasn’t straight from the bible because he was speaking in the English that you understood.

“Do you, Lee Mina, take this man, Kim Rowoon, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and health, to love, honor and obey, in good times and woe, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself solely unto him for as long as you both shall live? If so, answer ‘I DO.’”

She squealed and laughed as she said her I Do. You cringed as she continued to laugh and rolled your eyes when she mentioned out loud how excited she was.

The man began to speak to Rowoon. Not that you could physically see, but by the vows he was saying, you assumed he was. “Do you, Kim Rowoon, take this woman, Lee Mina, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in heath, in good times and woe, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself solely unto her for as long as you both shall live? If so, answer 'I DO.’”

Rowoon quickly said I Do, but you didn’t see a smile on his face.

The man began to state, “If there be anyone present who may show just and lawful cause why this couple may not be legally wed, let him speak now or forever hold his peace.”

It was quiet for a few seconds before a voice boomed unexpectedly. It was none other than Jaewook’s.

“Rowoon, you know you can’t marry her,” Jaewook began. Jaewook was wobbling down the aisle and you knew he went straight to the bar when he left earlier. You quickly got up and ran to him, making a huge scene as you tried to pull him away, but he was too strong. “You’re marrying the wrong girl!” Jaewook continued to yell.

“Jae, be quiet. Let’s go,” you said hushing him and trying to pull him away from the wedding arbor. He pulled himself away from you and tried to steady himself.

“No! He has to marry you!”

The whole crowed gasped and turned towards you, and you didn’t move at all. You couldn’t believe Jaewook just said that in front of everyone.

“She loves you, Rowoon. How can you not see that she loves you and Mina doesn’t?” Jaewook slurred his words and began losing his balance and you ran to him and caught him on time before he fell unconscious to the ground.

“Get them out of here,” Mina demanded to Rowoon. You looked to Rowoon, and he had a sad expression on his face.

“I’m so sorry, Rowoon. I had no idea he was going to do this,” you told him. You were on the floor trying to pick Jaewook up, but he was just too heavy.

Mina walked up to you and pointed her scrawny skinny finger at you. “You! You’re the reason why I even started having problems in my relationship! Then you had to come here and ruin my wedding as well!?”

Almost instantly, she quickly drew her hand back and brought her hand against your cheek, burning your face as you quickly grabbed your cheek with your hand.

“Homewrecker!” She screamed and walked back to Rowoon and held his hands again. Rowoon continued to look at you and Jaewook with a doleful look and Mina dismissed you and Jaewook. “Ignore them. Please continue.”

But the man didn’t continue the vows. Rowoon dropped his hands from Mina and walked up to you and Jaewook. He brought his hand to your stinging cheek and softly caressed your face. You closed your eyes as his soft hand began to cease the pain and you felt like you were going to spontaneously combust when his lips crashed onto yours. You pulled back because you were surprised but Rowoon just pushed his kiss in deeper. That really made the crowd gasp and whisper.

His hand was still on your cheek as he slowly pulled away from your lips. “I love you, Y/N.”

“What?!” Mina yelled. “You love me! You cannot do this to me! This is my day!”

Rowoon looked back at her and laughed. “Not anymore it isn’t. I don’t love you anymore and I would never marry a rotten person like you.”

Rowoon turned his back on her and helped you and Jaewook off the floor. The three of you walked out, you and Rowoon both feeling relieved. You could still hear Mina screaming and crying, and when you looked back, she dramatically dropped herself to the floor, her face in her hands.

“And so, a week later you and dad got married?” Your daughter, June, asked. You nodded and continued to hug her as you both scrolled through the photo album of your wedding day. There was a picture of Rowoon smiling and laughing, which made you smile as well. You remembered how happy the both of you were and how happy Jaewook was to finally be Rowoon ‘s best man.

“What are my two favorite girls doing?” Rowoon asked as he walked in and plopped himself on the couch right next to you.

“Mom was telling me about the drama you two had when Mina was your girlfriend,” June said.

Rowoon just laughed. “Yeah, those were two crazy years. But I’m happy that your Uncle Jaewook objected during the wedding, otherwise I probably wouldn’t have noticed what a terrible person Mina was.”

“I heard my name,” Jaewook said walking into the living room with a beer. “I told your dad numerous times that she was one crazy chick.”

Rowoon rolled his eyes and smiled. He placed a kiss on your head and entwined his fingers with yours.

“I love you so much,” he said as you placed your head on his shoulder.

“I love you, Rowoon.”

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