#Maybe I should've left this one in the drafts??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

restinslices · 3 months

Note

I love your stuff so much, could you write something with the reader getting jealous about Smoke? Someone getting a bit too close to him and the reader feels bad about it. And Tomas finds out and comforts her, finding it endearing.

And I love you💕 Idk why this was kicking my ass so bad. I did two drafts and idk if I like this but this is all I got😔

Word count: 1476

Tomas was not entirely stupid.

Sure he had moments where he'd made something that should've been simple, incredibly complicated but he wasn't stupid. He didn't think so at least.

Anyone who's been around him for the past week might disagree though.

Tomas had just returned from a mission along with his brothers, and naturally he was telling you all about it. If you were being honest with yourself, you weren't really listening. Tomas tended to ramble and his missions were usually the same as the last, so it was best to let him go on and on but still add commentary here and there. “Wow”, “Really?”, “No you didn't”, and other side comments would hold him.

Your ears perked up and you started to listen more when he started mentioning women.

It's not that he couldn't speak to other women or he couldn't have female friends, you weren't that crazy. It was just the way he was describing them. Great fighters, moving with the wind, long flowy hair that danced in the sun. It was compliment after compliment, and as much as you hated to admit it, it made your heart squeeze.

“Wanna tell me how they all looked in detail?” You said sarcastically. You expected Tomas to hear your sarcasm, realize what was wrong, apologize and keep telling his story. Instead he just chuckled and said

“Then we'd be here all day”.

Unfortunately for you, the day got worse.

Another woman whose name you hadn't memorized was all over him. Giggling at jokes that weren't nearly as funny as she pretended they are and finding any reason to touch him.

You should've said something. You should've communicated your feelings. That's how relationships are supposed to work.

But you didn't.

On one hand, you thought you had every reason to be jealous and if Tomas actually cared for your feelings, then he would've picked up on this and apologized. On the other hand you thought you were being unreasonable. Tomas couldn't help if some ditzy bitch liked him. Plus, you never told him how you felt, so you couldn't be mad at him for not understanding. In the same breath though, why didn't he tell her to get off of him and why did he feel it was necessary to describe how great these other women he met were?

You were arguing with yourself for a solid week, and each day that devil on your shoulder got louder. After all, if Tomas did care about how you felt, he'd stop entertaining that girl. Everytime she was near, you left. Didn't you absence bother him?

But once again, that damn angel got in the way telling you to just be honest with him. He'd understand. How can you be mad at something you hadn't communicated upsets you?

But communication came with shame. How would you look telling Tomas that you got a little butt hurt about him talking about other girls and a girl that kept flirting with him? He'd either understand, or he'd be upset. That's how relationships fell apart, right?

No. It was the lack of communication.

Maybe?

“I'm gonna throw myself down the stairs” you mumbled.

“Why?” he asked.

You somehow forgot he was there. You and him were in charge of washing dishes for the week, but neither of you had been talking.

“I just hate washing dishes” you said, not completely lying.

It went silent again, the only thing filling the air being the sounds of you washing and him rinsing.

Then that silence was broken.

“Are you ignoring me?” he asked. You didn't know how to answer. You didn't mean to ignore him. You were just in your head a lot.

You didn't answer and he sighed. “Did I do something?”

“No” you answered without thinking. It was a reflex at this point. Tomas over thought things a lot and you'd have to remind him not everything was on him. Telling him he wasn't at fault was natural, but you weren't sure who was at fault now.

“I mean… I don't know. It doesn't matter”

“It does to me”

“Does it?”.

You closed your eyes and breathed slowly. You were being way too harsh and you knew it. Tomas was asking you to share what was going on in your head, and you were saying no?

You opened your eyes again. Your mouth opened a few times, trying to figure out how to put what you were feeling but it never felt right.

“I don't know how to get this out. It doesn't even make sense in my head. It won't make sense out loud”

“Just say it anyway and I'll ask you questions if I'm confused”. You wondered how Tomas was so good and patient and wondered if he learned that from one of his parents. Or maybe his sister. Either way, you mentally thanked whoever he learned from.

“Ok so, I just feel- no. No, I should explain first in chronological order. You came back and then… actually that sounds really accusatory”. You groaned and looked over at him “can you just tell me to shut the fuck up”.

He smiled a little and shook his head. “I wanna hear it. We have all day”.

“It's late at night. That is not true”. He didn't respond and he wouldn't until you confessed whatever you were thinking.

“Chronological order then…”, after some more stumbling and backtracking you managed to get it all out. Why you were jealous, when it started, how conflicted you felt and how ashamed you felt for being jealous in the first place. The whole time he just listened, nodded, and furrowed his brows at some parts. You couldn't tell if it was confusion or anger.

“I didn't mean it that way” he said when you were done. “When I said 'then we’d be here all day’. I just meant there was a lot of them, which I realize now still sounds bad but I didn't mean it in some 'they were just too beautiful’ way. I didn't hear your sarcasm”

“And I just kept conversation with her to be nice. I don't know. I didn't wanna seem rude”

“Being rude can go a long way”

“I guess. And I noticed your absence, I just didn't know why. I figured you needed space for whatever reason, so I didn't bother you”

“I think it's impossible for you to bother me”.

Once again, he smiled and let out a small laugh. You looked back down at the soapy water and that's when you felt like a complete idiot. You were worrying him when you could've been had this conversation.

“I'm an idiot”

“I don’t think so” and you could tell by his voice that he was smirking. “I think you're just really in love with me”

“Ok buddy”. You rolled your eyes, even if he was right.

“It's cute”

“It's embarrassing”

“Loving me or-”

“Being jealous. I haven't been that jealous before with anyone else”

“I'm not like anyone else”

“You're white. You're quite literally like everyone else-” Tomas flicked water your way, some of it getting in your eye.

“I'm gonna kill you”

“You wouldn't. You'd get jealous over the Grim Reaper”. You frowned but he kept smiling that stupid smile that was both loving and antagonistic. Then he laughed. A nice heartfelt laugh that ended up making you crack a smile.

“Are you smiling because I'm laughing?”

“Absolutely not”, you lied.

“You really got a thing for me”

“I've never met you a day in my life”

“That's even more embarrassing then if you're that in love with me”. You went to make another smart comment, but he bumped his shoulder against yours “hey”, he said softly. So soft it threw you off guard. “I think it's cute. You're like a little guard dog”.

“Were you dropped on your head as a baby and now your social cues are scrambled? A guard dog? I'd prefer if you stabbed me. Here-”, you went to grab a knife but he caught your hand. Any other time you would've hated this. Both your hands were soaking and something about the feel of that made you skin crawl, but you guessed you could deal with that.

“I think it's cute that you love me so much. I just wish you'd be more honest about what you feel. I was worried”.

You cringed. You supposed that was your fault. You and your dumb brain making shit complicated, which is something you swore was more of a Tomas thing.

“I'll be better. I promise. I'll start now”

“Now?”

“Now. The texture of you wet hand makes me wanna die. Please unhand me”. He couldn't help but laugh as he let you go, and you couldn't help but laugh as well.

You didn't know what you were laughing at.

You were just happy to be laughing together.

Finally getting back to requests. The crowd goes wild. Tumblr has this big space between lines so I cannot tell if the format is weird and I should add more space or if I’m tweaking. Oh well.

#mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 1 #tomas vrbada smoke #tomas vrbada #tomas vrbada x reader #tomas vrbada fluff #smoke x reader #smoke x you #mk1 smoke

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maple-the-awesome · 10 months

Text

When Another Finds Out About His Crush Part 1/3

Part 2 || Part 3

Pairings: Four, Hyrule, Legend x GN Reader

Overview: What happens when someone else in the Chain finds out about his feelings towards you?

Zelda Masterlist 💙 Fandom Masterlist

How is it that today has been so peaceful? Seriously, when was the last time the group got a chance to breathe for a second, let alone actually take a moment to enjoy themselves like normal Hylians who don't have to constantly deal with the weight of the world upon their shoulders?

Maybe it's because of the last battle which left most of them pretty battered - too battered to dive head first back into another hoard of monsters right away. Perhaps the Old Man finally got tired of their constant whining and bickering which had grown in volume over the course of the last few days, leading him to pacify them with a quick break. It's probably a combination of those two things, but whatever the true reasoning for this blessing, Four plans to enjoy it - at least he's trying his best to.

He won't complain. It's nice getting to sit here in the sun, enjoying its warm beams that pair sweetly with the cool breeze that carries itself up from the spring where the majority of his traveling partners currently splash around, their joyful cheers making all sound right with the world. Of course, this scene of an early summer would be so much better if not broken every few seconds by Four's sneezing.

His nose is probably red and eyes possibly a bit puffy, but he tries not to care. He's too focused - too distracted with the many thoughts running through his head to begin fussing over some mild allergies.

'Loop over that...Now tie here...'

'Maybe we should've chosen different flowers -'

'- No. We can't admit defeat to a stupid flower. We're seeing this through, damn it!'

'I wasn't suggesting that we give up. Only that we reevaluate our clearly flawed plan. This field is filled with flowers. We can take our pick.'

'Ooo, I like the poppies over there! Let's use those!'

'No! Poppies aren't good enough. Must I remind you why we're using daisies in the first place?!'

Four sighs heavily, his hands collapsing to his lap. The tangled flowers resting in his touch are a pathetic excuse for a 'craft'. If anything, they look no different from flowers that have been tugged from the ground then tossed around in a bag for a few shakes. It's rather shameful considering how long the minish took to teach him the careful art of weaving flower stems together. Are some watching him now, shaking their heads in confusion as to how someone can be struggling to this extent? Of course, it would be easier if he switched to practically any flower other than daisies, but he's committed to seeing this through as is, no changes.

Four's harsh thoughts only break away temporarily when noticing the wolf that saunters through the meadow towards him, likely chased away from the cold shadows that have begun casting over his former resting place closer to the spring. Over here in the sun it’s much warmer, so there’s no surprise when the wolf invites himself to sit next to Four, giving a curious look to the flowers on his lap that asks the question without words being needed.

"I'm trying to make a crown," Four answers, lifting the string of stems up with one finger to let the wolf get a closer look which he does by leaning forward and taking a sniff. To him, the craft is impressive, looking far more detailed and put together compared to the flower crowns he's personally made with the children of his village, although it's clear that the Smith is having trouble accepting his own talent by the way he leans his cheek against the palm of his hand with a huff.

"Normally I can make them pretty quickly with fewer mistakes or tears in the stems and petals, but today I just can't get it right. No matter how many times I attempt one, it never looks good enough," Four explains further, his words drawing Wolfie's eyes to the several drafted flower crowns abandoned off to the hero's side. Then suddenly, the wolf's attention is drawn back to Four with a start when he sneezes loudly.

Sniffing, he gives the slightly startled animal a pitiful look, "...Oh, and it doesn't help that I'm allergic to daisies..."

Wolfie tilts his head to the patch of poppies growing no more than two feet away from them.

"No, I can't...Daisies are easiest to make flower crowns with. They, um, have longer stems."

Woflie tilts his head further, showing doubt over Four's claim, yet in this form, it's not like he can truly call him out. All he can do is make himself comfortable, lying down among the tall grass where he can bare witness to the poor smith's torture as he goes back to weaving flowers into a circle, the only interruption to the silence between them being his repetitive sneezes and eventually a pair of footsteps approaching from the spring.

"Hey, we're missing you down at the water! Whatcha doing all the way up here by your lonesome?" It's no surprise that you're wearing a smile - Alright, it might've been a surprise a few hours ago when all you did was scowl or pout about your aching feet, but ever since Time allowed the group a break, you've been nothing but smiles and rainbows, a look Four prefers on you due to how contagious your enjoy never fails to be.

Immediately upon looking up, a smile pulls at his own lips and all of his muddled thoughts wash away into one. Even his voice is light as a feather without giving you any hint to his prior irritation; a complete contrast to how he had been seconds ago when Wolfie first joined him, "I'm not the biggest swimmer and even if I were, that scream Sky gave when jumping in was enough to convince me of my decision to stay up here."

"Yeah, it's ice water, but hey, anything beats sore feet at this point," You place your hands on your hips with a chuckle, sparing a quick glance back at the rest of the boys before your attention returns to Four, "Making flower crowns, I see?"

He nods, fiddling with the one in his hand which he seems to stare at for some time (truly it was only a few seconds for anyone except himself) before he holds the craft up towards you, "...I thought you'd like one."

"Really? For me?" The bashful smile he wears is easily missed as you awe over the flowers, delicately running your fingers over each petal. Like Wolfie, you see none of the flaws Four concerns himself with. Instead, you see a beautiful collection of near perfect daisies (only a few petals missing here and there) all weaved together in a strong pattern that keeps them from falling apart, "Oh, this is incredible…Wow, you truly are a talent to behold, aren’t you Smithy?"

He officially blushes, rubbing the back of his head with a wide smile he tries to maintain, "I can't take all the credit. I learned from the minish."

"You're too modest," You shake your head in mock annoyance, although the delight in your eyes never fades as you look over the flowers some more, "You know, daisies are actually my favorite, too."

"You don't say," Four picks at the petals on his lap, trying to act as casual as possible, "What a coincidence..."

You open your mouth to say something else, however you don't get the chance when a shout is suddenly heard from the spring followed by a loud splash. Four would've been curious to see what the commotion was, but he's currently in too much of a daze to follow where Wolfie and you look. Surely it's not that important judging on your calm sigh anyways.

"Aaand I'm pretty sure that's the sound of Vet drowning the Captain. Seeing as I would like Time to keep giving us breaks in the future, I should probably go handle everything before he comes back," As disappointed as Four is to hear you’ll be leaving him so soon, he forgets all about that feeling when you place your flower crown on top of his head, your hands hovering there as you give him a gentle smile. He could’ve sworn he even felt your breath blow against his face given your close proximity, but maybe that was just the optimistic side of him, "Keep this safe for me, please? I’d hate for your hard work to get ruined."

"Uhhh...Y-Yeah. Yeah, I'll protect it with my life."

"Thanks. Now if you two will excuse me…" After patting Wolfie’s head goodbye and winking to them both, you race back down to the spring, shouting something to the other boys with a fierce tone that is the exact opposite to how sweetly you always speak to Four. He might've had a little nerve to either fear you or admire your anger (which can be kinda hot), although he merely sighs lovingly in distracted thought he only leaves when happening to catch that knowing stare Wolfie is giving him in the corner of his eyes. Now, wolf or not, Four can once again understand exactly what that type of smug look means without words.

Pushing Wolfie away halfheartedly, he huffs, "Don't say anything and we'll be even."

"Do you think you could teach me how to cook this dish?"

Pour Four nearly chokes on his own spit when the question meets his ears. Teach Hyrule to cook? Now he knows all of his fellow heroes come equipped with many talents, but surely there's a line to be drawn!

Of course, Wild has a much milder reaction to this 'challenge', in fact, he's actually happy to be granted something to do seeing as he's been grounded to camp after his latest 'stunt', as Twilight referred to it. So, raising his attention up from the supplies he’s been taking inventory of, he glances over the wobbly handwriting on the paper that Hyrule holds out towards him, the Traveler trying not to look either too hopeful or too nervous.

"...I mean, I'm willing to teach you to cook, but are you sure you want this recipe? It’s not intended for beginners...Not to mention we might not have all the ingredients..." Taking the paper into his own hands and whispering to himself in thought distracts him from Hyrule's gulp, "We might be better off trying something else -"

"- No!" Hyrule bites his lip when Four and Wild's gazes jump to him, clearly surprised by his tone. Shifting on his feet, Hyrule tries to clear his throat as a poor attempt at acting 'natural', "I, uh, would really like to try this recipe. It sounded pretty good when the baker explained it, plus we've been traveling for so long and it's not everyday that we get to try something like it - Oh! And I already have all the ingredients. 'bought them in the last town we went to."

Hyrule hopes he isn’t coming off as too pushy or, in the worst case scenario, desperate. This plan is nerve wracking as it is, thus the last thing he needs is anyone asking questions, after all, he already had a close call when you caught him leaving that bakery during your stay in town.

When you saw him leave without buying anything, you assumed he was being rupee-cautious and offered to buy him something sweet if that was what his heart desired. You’re kind like that, always keeping an eye on him and doing your best to hype him up as being just as worthy of the hero’s title as everyone else. That’s why he couldn’t possibly have told you then that you’re what his heart desires most. No, that would’ve been too weird and cliche, even he knows that. You deserve a better confession (whenever he finds the courage for that), but in the meantime, he can at least show you his gratitude through gifts which is why he currently stands here mentally praying for Wild’s help; he’s his only hope at this point!

The Champion looks inside the pouch Hyrule had quite literally tossed at him, the Smith also sneaking a peek from over his shoulder. Comparing the written ingredients to those in the pouch, they confirm that everything is there (surprisingly no weird foods that Hyrule somehow manages to find).

"...Well, the Traveler's right about one thing: we don't usually get a chance to eat sweets on the road, not to mention everyone's been a bit stressed since our last battle. Maybe a treat would be a good way to lift spirits," Four suggests, although the words feel as if they must be pushed through his teeth. Already, his stomach tosses and turns in memory of the last 'dish' Hyrule made which resulted in seven of the ten heroes getting food poisoning and Hyrule receiving a permanent ban from the kitchen ever since.

Wild hums in thought then, to Hyrule's joy, nods and hands him back the recipe, "Alright. Let's get started."

Thinking back to it now, the request seemed so easy to him. Unlike the others who usually see their lives flash before their eyes at the thought of Hyrule's cooking, Wild has actually enjoyed most of his meals including the one that made nearly everyone sick, his only complaint being the need for less salt (a critique that was drowned by out Wind's over the top gagging). With that said, he saw no issue with helping the Traveler complete the desired recipe, however it's always possible for someone to come around to reason, it just took a lot of smoke and heaving, but come around nevertheless.

One minute everything was cooking as it should with a wonderful aroma filling the camp. All Wild did was turn his back. It was only seconds - that's it, seconds - before the cooking pot exploded into a puff of smoke and sparks. Since then, it's been utter havoc which is normally the word everyone else uses whenever Wild and Hyrule get paired, but today, Wild's admitting it himself. Is this usually how stressed Twilight feels?! If so, then he's sorry! He doesn't have time to actually apologize and will most likely forget by the time he sees his mentor again, but dear Hylia, he's sorry!

It's by the grace of the goddesses that no one comes running back to camp to find the scene that would await them if they did: Wild and Hyrule working together to frantically stomp out the flames before they reach any supplies or burn down the entire forest. Even then, evidence of their crimes remains in the form of charred grass and the coat of soot that covers Hyrule's face, stretching his bangs to the sky as his eyes carry a certain daze to them. Maybe now that he's literally had his work blow in his face, he can finally admit that his cooking might not be the best in the group's.

"What did you do?!"

"I didn't do anything!" Hyrule meets Wild's shout, however he soon falters and pokes his fingers together innocently with a mumble, "...I thought you said that monster parts can give dishes effects..."

“Yeah, some…” Wild's face drops, his eyes wide with realization yet he still finds himself asking with a hint of fear to his voice, "What did you add?"

"..."

"Please don't tell me..."

"...Red chuchu jelly..."

"Dear Hylia!"

"I was curious to see what effect it would have!"

“It blows up! That’s the effect it has!”

"Do I even want to know what's going on here?"

Oh Goddesses, please kill him now...Hyrule had hoped if anyone, it would be the Old Man or maybe even the Captain who came running back to scold them, but you? Oh, you’re the last person he wanted to see this!

To be fair, you still aren't as bad as one of the stricter adults who would’ve immediately accessed the situation and started handing out punishments. Instead, you plan to let them plead their case. Actually, you don't even look that angry, mainly confused and tired as you stand at the edge of camp, arms crossed with an expression that's anything except amused (probably because you had the unfortunate fate of being one of the seven who got food poisoning from Hyrule's last ‘cooking’ attempt).

Before either boy can begin explaining themselves, you sniff the air and immediately scrunch your nose as a reaction to the awful smell that burns it. Hyrule swears you even gag, although it's hard to tell because of how fast you shoot a hand up to cover the whole lower part of your face.

"What in Hylia's name were you trying to make? It smells like bokoblin guts!"

Hyrule shrinks even further into his embarrassment, "...It was supposed to be a fruit cake..."

"A fruit cake?"

"Hyrule wanted to learn how to cook and had the recipe for one. It just...didn't go as planned," Wild rubs the back of his neck, sparing a pitiful glance at the smoldering gunk that sticks to the cooking pot. It'll be a pain to clean later, that's for sure.

"Obviously,” You roll your eyes followed by a frown as you look to the cooking pot yourself with more sympathy than pity, "...But it’s a shame. I love fruit cake."

Wild blinks, his eyes shifting from you to Hyrule as the gears inside his head begin to turn. Meanwhile Hyrule tries to clear away the soot from his face with a quick drag of his sleeve, however he only makes matters worse by smearing it, "I'm sorry. I really wanted it to turn out right for you, but…I guess I should’ve just bought a cake at that bakery, huh? …I’m not cut out for cooking myself…”

Your frown remains as does that look of sympathy. Stepping forward, you take your canteen from your hip and dump a little water over the very edge of your cloak. By the time it's properly soaked, you're standing in front of Hyrule and using the cloth to wipe away the scoot from his face. Your attempts are far more successful than his, getting most of the gray off at the cost of your clock taking on the shade itself, not that you show any care.

"I'm sure you'll get the hang of it some day, 'rule. It's something that requires practice and patience. After all, I'm sure Wild wasn't as good of a cook from the start as he is now.”

"Umm -"

"- Shush."

And with that, Wild immediately puts his hand down with a pout.

"Start out with some simple dishes first, then whenever you get the basic skills of cooking down, I'll teach you how to properly make fruit cake. How about that?"

Hyrule's eyes nearly sparkle at the offer. Sure, Wild is his partner in crime when it comes to getting into unnecessary trouble, however he'd much rather have you as his cooking partner (and maybe his partner in everything else, too, if he can one day get that far). That's likely why he nods too quickly, his bangs still being stuck upright which prevents them from bobbing with the movement for once.

You chuckle at his excitement and go to leave camp to return to whatever you had been doing before, although you do stop to ruffle his hair, reminding him to wash it when he gets a chance (words he doesn't hear because he’s too busy obsessing over the feeling of your hand running through his hair).

"You know -" Hyrule jolts out of his trance, cheeks red at the realization that he had forgotten all about Wild who stands with most his wait shifted to the side, arms crossed and a smirk pulling at his lips, "- Usually when you like someone, the best thing to do is to try not poisoning them."

"I-I wasn't - That's not what I -"

"- We still have some ingredients left over. Let's start from the top," Wild merely shakes off Hyrule’s rambling, something the Traveler is thankful for as he begins to trail after his friend back to the cooking pot, however he stops dead in his tracks when Wild suddenly spins around to point a wooden spoon at him, "BUT, no more adding anything that isn't in the recipe when I turn my back or else I'm warning (Y/n) that they'll have to be doing all the cooking in your relationship…Hylia knows I can’t afford getting in trouble again with Twilight...”

Hyrule gulps and nods more timidly than he had with you, "W-Will do."

This was a mistake and the worst part is that Legend knew it before he even committed to the decision. He knew it would be a bad idea to 'invite' nine others into his home, even if it was to be a temporary trip, yet he opened the doors to mayhem anyway.

He blames his own tiredness, if anything. He didn't really feel like presenting a good argument as to why everyone should remain outside, which would've been especially difficult to pull off given the blazing sun above. No one wanted to just ‘wait outside’, not when their curiosity was overflowing at the thought of all the cool things the Vet must be hiding inside his home. So ever so foolishly, he let them in, underestimating the exact extent of annoyance he'd be instantly cursing himself with.

"Don't touch that!"

"Get away from there!"

"Hey, those are delicate! Put them down!"

"No, I am not playing any music! I'm just here to switch out my weapons. Just - STOP SHIFTING THROUGH MY STUFF! HAVEN’T YOU EVER HEARD OF SOMETHING CALLED ‘PRIVACY’?!"

"...You can borrow that if you want."

Surely some of the heroes snapped their necks by how quickly they turned towards Legend, surprised to hear him speak in a tone not laced with vexation nor raised in a shout. Actually, his words are rather soft - soft for him, at least.

Even you're surprised, although it's not for the same reason as the others. Hearing the Vet's voice behind you, you practically leaped out of your skin and prepared yourself for the same harsh scolding as everyone else has received, so it takes you a second to process what he had really said instead.

You blink once then twice (the rest of the group does, too) before glancing down at the ring you have pinched between your fingers. There's a small chest filled with them in front of you, each somehow different from the other whether that's because of the color of the band or the types of gems decorating them. Of course, you only planned on looking over them with your eyes, not wanting to disrespect Legend's privacy (and not wanting to be shouted at either), but that was before one ring in particular caught your eye. Your interest couldn't be tamed at that point, leading you to pick up the piece of jewelry for closer inspection which lands you in your current situation.

Turning to face Legend, who only boredly glances at the ring in your hand before going back to his own business, you open your mouth to say something - perhaps ask if he's serious because you most definitely misheard, right? He's going to let you borrow something of his? After getting so peeved about everyone else simply touching his stuff? You aim to be safe and confirm permission, yet the question doesn't have a chance to leave your lips before someone else beats you to it:

"What?! How come they get to take something? I wanna ring!" It's Wind and his objection makes sense seeing as he had just been looking over the same jewelry box moments ago only for Legend to swat his hands away. He isn't the only one to see the hypocrisy either.

"Can I borrow this?" Wild asks, holding up a boomerang with a hopeful smile that nearly distracts from the glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

"No, you can't!" Legend hisses, quick to rip his tornado rod out of Warrior's hands while he's at it much to the Captain's offense.

"Oh come on! What makes (Y/n) so special, eh?!"

"They're responsible," Legend dismisses stubbornly with a wave of his hand as he turns his back to them again. The others merely roll their eyes in annoyance, Warrior mumbling something under his breath that sounded a lot like 'simp' much to Legend's frustration, but before he can bite back, he mostly forgets all about them when you finally get a chance to speak up for yourself.

"You're sure it's no trouble?"

Legends fears he might have stared at you a bit too long - not that you would've noticed seeing as you keep your eyes focused on the ring you fiddle with. Despite how much you try to act neutral as to not get your hopes up, there's a giddy joy to your eyes at the thought of getting to keep this ring even if just for a little while, after all, it's so beautifully crafted and the red rubies attached to the golden band remind you of Legend in a way you'd prefer not to explain in front of everyone else, let alone with him present.

"...Yeah, it's no problem," He looks away quickly, blowing some air which fixes his bangs out of his view. If anyone were to spend more time studying his behavior (Hylia forbid it), they might notice how awfully red his face has suddenly gotten, "...Just don't lose it."

Truthfully, he doesn't care. If it were just the two of you, he'd actually tell you to keep it since he has plenty of rings anyways, not to mention it would give him some peace of mind for you to always have a protection ring handy, but he can't risk saying that here. The others are already questioning him too much and the last thing he needs is either Wild or Warrior picking up on the hint. Maybe he’ll just wait for when you try to return the ring so that he can play it off better by simply pushing it back towards you and giving some excuse like ‘I didn’t even miss it’ or ‘I actually don’t need any more junk now that I think about it’. You wouldn’t suspect a thing then nor would anyone who overhears.

"Thank you! I promise to take really good care of it!" At last, you take no shame in letting your delight show and waste no more time sliding the ring over your finger.

Legend just nods, burning through all of his willpower to not keep stealing glances your way. Fortunately, it doesn't take him much longer to locate the weapons of his desire, allowing him to finally herd everyone out of his house while continuing to deny their requests to borrow some items for themselves. Hyrule is the last straggler, something Legend originally wouldn't have thought much of since the Traveler isn't one to usually cause him trouble, although there's a first time for everything as it would seem.

"Congrats on the engagement," It's such a smug comment to come from someone who looks nothing but innocent as he saunters by, in fact it takes Legend's brain several seconds of spinning before he understands the implication and with it, his confusion instantly melts into a mix of fury and embarrassment (which one is at the head could be anyone's guess).

"T-They asked and I have plenty of rings, so there was no point in me turning them down! It's not an 'engagement'!"

Hyrule merely chuckles in the face of Legend's anger, "Don't worry. I won't say anything."

Legend huffs, taking it upon himself to push Hyrule towards the exit so that he can sooner leave this mess behind, however before he can begin to feel too comfortable, the Traveler speaks up again while casually picking up a gauntlet off the nearby table Legend leads them by, "This is cool.”

Legend glares; a deadly look Hyrule once again meets with too much innocence - mocked innocence, the Vet is now convinced - nothing but an act!

"You know, it would be a shame if someone like Warrior or Wild realized why you only do nice things for (Y/n). If they connect the dots for themselves -"

"- You can borrow it," Legend cuts Hyrule off in a hurry, pushing the gauntlet into his hands while shoving him out the door, "But I want it back in one week, you hear? That's all the time you've bought yourself with, you rat!"

#linked universe #link x reader #linked universe x reader #lu four x reader #lu hyrule x reader #lu legend x reader #legend of zelda #reader insert #x reader

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 1 month

Text

The Plan [Marcus Pike x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: The Mentalist

Pairing: Marcus Pike x you/cishet f!reader. Reader is fat/overweight but this is never explicitly mentioned. Also, reader is a lawyer. (I know nothing about lawyering.)

Tags/Warnings: Sad Marcus, alcohol mention, one night stands, fellatio mention, neighbours with benefits, safe sex, squirting, cunnilingus, reader has a difficult relationship with her family, mad dash through the airport at Christmas, trauma dumping (Marcus coming clean about his disappointment after Lisbon dumped him).

Summary: A drunken one night stand with your cute new neighbour Marcus Pike eventually leads to more. Takes place after his story arc in the show.

Words: 7,895

A/N: My first Marcus Pike fic, and also I finished a goddamn fic! There is so much cause for celebration here, folks. Remember to comment and reblog: sharing is caring.

Shout-out to @missredherring and @pazizz who read drafts and helped me forward with this story <3

Marcus Pike does not have a bitter disposition. He does not sulk, or harbor resentment. It's just not in his nature.

Until now.

There is just something so unforgivable, incomprehensible, wrong about the way Teresa Lisbon left him. She called him to say she was coming to D.C., that she would marry him, and two hours later she called again to inform him that she wasn't. That she was in love with Patrick Jane. That asshole.

Marcus has been divorced, and not even that made him spiral as hard as the breakup from Teresa. It just hit harder, because he had fallen so hard for her, for the way she dipped her gaze and chin when a smile broke out on her lips, before looking back up at him with those pretty eyes of hers. He fell for her sense of humor, her intelligence, the way it was so easy to be with her. And he really thought that she fell for him in the same way. Maybe she did - but Jane was there, in the background, confusing her, wooing her with one last big, desperate gesture. If Marcus had known that all it took to keep Teresa was to get himself arrested, he would've done that instead of bringing her takeout at work, making her morning coffee just as she liked it, loaning her his jacket when she was cold during that date, all the thousands of little things that he did for her, that he loved doing for her because he loved her so much that doing those things weren't a chore, they weren't planned, they were an honest, spontaneous expression of his feelings for her.

And then, one big, desperate gesture that rendered Marcus's all small, everyday gestures moot. And it pisses him off.

Practicality kicked in as a form of survival. He quickly cancelled the purchase of the house he had Teresa had picked out, found a condo instead, moved in with his things, and threw himself into his work. Most of the boxes were left unpacked. His place didn't feel like a home because he couldn't let it. He was supposed to share one with Teresa, and now there was just him, surrounded by moving boxes that he had to deal with but couldn't, wouldn't. What should've been a house for the two of them - maybe more in the future? - with a little garden, walls impregnated with love and excitement for a life together, sunlight through the window during long weekend mornings of slow breakfasts, putting up Christmas decorations together, all those things that he was looking forward to. Now he has a bachelor pad, in a fancy apartment building with a doorman, but a sad bachelor pad all the same. The furniture is more or less where it should be, but he hasn't bothered to plan that much. The kitchen table is too big, but he's not in any condition to sell it off and buy a new one. The bookcases are half full, and his artwork is still unhung. He really tried there, but the first painting he got his hands on was one that he had seen before him in the spacious yet cozy living-room in That House, with the fireplace, and suddenly no wall in his apartment was good enough. So he put the painting away, and the rest were left packed down.

He even started going out after work, when he couldn't stay any longer but didn't want to go home. He found a watering hole to his liking, and became a regular, nursing one whiskey after another until he could go home and fall into bed for a deep, dreamless sleep.

It's after one of those nights that he finds you, his neighbor, trying to open his front door with your key. Your clumsy yet meticulous movements tell him that you're intoxicated, and there is something endearing about the way you're frowning, the tip of your tongue sticking out the side of your mouth as you focus on sticking in the key that doesn't fit.

When Marcus comes closer, you notice him, and look up. Quickly registering that it's the workaholic neighbor that you rarely see, you just nod, and go back to trying to open the door.

"That's my door," he says, and you look up again.

"What's that?"

"That's my door. You're trying to get into my apartment."

You frown, your hand holding the key falling to your side as you process his words. You then squint at the number of the door, taking a few seconds to realize that this is, indeed, not your front door.

"Oops," you mutter, then grimace apologetically at your neighbor. "Well, this isn't embarrassing at all."

"Don't worry about it," he shrugs, fishing his own key from his pocket. You step to the side to give him access to the door, and when he stands right next to you, you can smell his cologne, sophisticated and with a hint of bergamot.

He eyes you, just as drunk as you are.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Late night. You?"

"Same." He looks so tired when he says it, but you can tell that there is a dimple aching to appear in his cheek. His face, bleary though it is, is handsome, and looks like it was made for smiling.

"What is it you do again?" you ask. You've exchanged pleasantries with him when he first moved in, but you never had the time or mental capacity to actually remember who he is.

"FBI, I investigate art theft."

"Ah, right." Yeah, that's it, something so unusual and random that one couldn't make it up. Then again, D.C. is full of people who do stuff you only hear about in movies.

"Marcus," he offers his hand, and you take it, and give him your name.

"And what is it that you do?"

"Law. I work with government contracts and related investigations at a law firm here in D.C."

"Sounds complicated."

You shrug. "I'm smart enough."

"You look good, too."

You scoff. "Are you coming on to me?"

"I'm trying." Now the smile breaks through, lighting up his whole face. Gods, but he's cute.

"Okay." You make the decision quickly, nodding at his door. "Looks like I picked the right door, after all."

Marcus unlocks the door and opens it for you.

His head is pounding, and his mouth is dry when he wakes up. For a moment, he doesn't know what day it is, what he's supposed to do, or what happened last night, but then the flashbacks start to put things together. The flirty neighbor. Her naked skin. Her alcohol-fuming kisses.

He turns his head and sees you, still asleep next to him. Oh, okay.

Sitting up slowly, he gets his bearings before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Clothes are strewn over the floor. Right next to the bed is a used condom, tied up and looking sad and abandoned. Okay, good, at least he remembered to use protection. He picks it up and takes it to the bathroom, where he disposes of it before washing his hands and face.

He hears the rustle of bedsheets, and returns to the bedroom, realizing that he's naked. You might not want to be greeted by a naked stranger first thing. Looking around for his underwear, he's nevertheless too slow in finding them: you're already sitting up and rubbing your forehead.

He clears his throat. "Good morning."

Your smile is a little lopsided. "Morning."

"You want breakfast?" Marcus immediately offers, wanting to do the gentlemanly thing before he sends you off so that he can take about ten aspirins, and go to work. "And I'll put out a clean towel for you so that you can use the shower."

"Appreciate it, but I live right next door," you point out as you get out of bed. You're as naked as he is, and Marcus tries very hard not to ogle your body for what he suspects will be the last time.

"I don't mind."

"Thanks, but I have to get to work." You pick up and put on your panties, bra, skirt, shirt. Marcus spots his boxer briefs, and pulls them on.

"Okay, well... I had a good time."

"I did too."

Now you're standing right in front of him, buttoning up your silk shirt. Even with your makeup smudged out, and terrible morning breath, you look really nice.

"I gotta ask you something, though, because my memory is a little... hazy." Your cheekbones seem to glow, and he realizes that you're blushing.

"Yeah?"

"I sucked your dick, didn't I?"

Marcus feels the heat rise to his ears. "Um... well... yes, you did."

"Well?"

"What?"

"Did I do it well?"

"I think so."

You grin at him. "You don't remember much either, do you?"

"It was all consensual, if that's what you're asking."

"Oh, I have no doubt about that." You surprise him by placing your hand on his naked chest. His heart skips a beat, and he hopes that you won't notice.

"I really have to go, but maybe I'll see you again soon?" you ask softly, and Marcus finds himself relaxing.

"I'd like that."

You even kiss him good-bye, a quick, closed-mouth peck to keep morning breaths from mixing, before you grab your shoes, your purse (muttering under your breath about several emails, and two missed calls), and head over next door.

Marcus, still only wearing his underwear, looks thoughtfully at the closed door for a long while before going into the kitchen with the too big table to make coffee.

Work occupies most of your waking hours, six days a week, often seven. You don't see Marcus again for weeks, don't hear any sounds from his apartment during the hours you're home and awake. Barely having time to think about him, your thoughts nevertheless stray to him when you're standing in the shower or going to bed at night. You haven't been able to fit a boyfriend into your life in a long time, and casual hook-ups have rarely left you satisfied, but even with your hazy memories of the night with Marcus, you left his apartment that morning with a feeling that it was good. So that's where your thoughts go when you touch yourself, the few times you have the energy to do so.

One Friday night, after a long but satisfying week that ended with a contract being accepted as it was, which meant you could have a weekend with only a couple of hours of work from home, you're hurrying home with Chinese takeout in a bag. Looking forward to a quiet night in front of the TV, with an early morning at the gym the following day, you run into Marcus on your way into your apartment building.

"Hi," you smile, immediately noticing how he seems to square his shoulders when he sees you. "Going out?"

"Yeah," he nods, moving his weight from one foot to the other as he takes in your food bag. "And you're staying in?"

"Finally, a Friday night without work," you acknowledge. Marcus's smile lets you know that he knows about that all too well.

"Enjoy."

"You too, you going somewhere nice?"

"No, I mean... I'm just going by myself."

There is something so despondent about the way he averts his eyes when confessing to going out alone. You're not in a position to start saving people, but you see an opening here.

"Join me for dinner instead, Marcus."

"I don't want to bother you."

"It's no bother," you shake your head, now moving towards the elevator while beckoning him to follow you. "Come on, before the food gets cold. There's enough here for two, I always buy extra."

He hesitates for only a split second, you can see it in how his body seems to pull him away, out to some sad bar with too much to drink. Instead, he nods, smiles softly, and follows you. He insists on bringing a bottle of wine from his place, and you accept.

You find out more about him that night, as you share your takeout with him, and he shares his wine. He tells you of heartache, only summarily, clearly not wanting you to feel sorry for him, but you can tell that he's been torn up about the "amicable" break-up. He also mentions that he's been married, and you wonder what's wrong with him. He seems perfectly nice and normal, why hasn't he been able to keep a woman? To his credit, he never complains about nice guys finishing last, only states that maybe he's meant to focus on his career.

"There's a lot to be said about having a good career," you agree. Marcus sips his wine with a small smile.

"Work doesn't break your heart."

"That, too."

"I take it you don't have a partner who'll suddenly come home to find me in his kitchen?" he jokes lightly, but you recognize the question for what it is: he wants to know if you're Seeing Anyone.

"Not one for relationships," you shrug.

"You don't long for anyone to snuggle up with in front of the TV on a Friday night?"

"I don't have time. And they never seem to understand that. Or they're working, too." You pick at the scraps in your takeout box with the chopsticks. "And I seem to attract douchebags. Dunno if it comes with the field in which I work. I always seem to go out with terrible lawyer guys."

Marcus chuckles. "Their loss."

"I miss having sex, though." You look him in the eye, and his tongue slides over his lower lip, catching some runaway sauce.

"Yeah?"

You nod, and feel your cheeks heat up. You're a no-nonsense person, but not always this forward with men. But it's easy with Marcus. He takes it all in stride, doesn't seem to think you're aggressive, or slutty, he just smiles and tells you that he misses sex too.

"But what we had was okay, though?" he adds. "Even if neither one of us seems to remember it that well."

"It was," you agree, raising the glass to your lips and draining the rest of the wine. After putting it back down, you tilt your head and bite your lower lip.

"You wanna do it again? Now that we're sober and all?"

"I'm a little tipsy," he warns you with a chuckle, "But I'm in."

Both of you get up at the same time, chairs scraping the floor simultaneously in the kitchen that mirrors his own but has a table that fits it. All of your apartment just fits in a way his half-assed dwelling doesn't. He realizes that it's because your apartment is a home, decorated and lived-in, warm colors and fabrics, Scandinavian wallpapers in bold but tasteful patterns that he himself would never consider but that feel right here.

You step up to him, snugly fitting yourself to his frame, and place your hands on his narrow hips as you kiss him. The two glasses of wine that you've had have laid a warm, cozy blanket over your busy mind, and now you're fully focused on Marcus, whose soft, plump lips are meeting yours as his arms go around your waist.

You make your way to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes as you kiss and get undressed, get undressed and kiss. The bed in unmade, you just threw the covers to the side when you got up this morning. Wearing only your underwear, you lay down, pull Marcus over you, rake your fingers through his hair, moan when he palms your plump tits through the bra.

"Tell me what you like," he asks you hoarsely. You hum when he scatters kisses along the lace trim of your bra.

"That's a good start."

He hums back as he pops your tits out of your bra and lick around the nipples.

"Go on," he asks, and a shiver runs down your spine at the low barytone of his voice. You reach around to unhook your bra, and Marcus takes it off you and flings it to the side before burying his face between your breasts.

"You eat pussy?" you ask him breathlessly, and he looks up at you.

"Of course."

"Not everybody does," you wink, and he shakes his head.

"Their loss."

He's in a hurry, you note, but it's endearing in an unexpected way. When he pulls down your panties and gets settled, your legs over his shoulders, you remember to give him a warning.

"I, uh, I don't orgasm from oral, just so you know."

"Really?" His breath is hot against your folds, but he's looking up at you with attentive eyes.

"Yeah. It's not a comment on your skills, I just need you to know it," you shrug, accustomed to always having to tread carefully around the matter. Too many men get offended or take it as a challenge.

"Thanks for telling me," Marcus smiles in a way that's way too innocent and adorable for a man who's got his face inches away from your pussy. "But do you really want me to...?"

"Oh God, yes!" you reassure him. "I enjoy it a lot, and it gets me wet. I just can't cum, I need vaginal stimulation for that."

"You got it," he pats your thigh lightly before his tongue connects with your folds, and your eyes fall shut as you hand yourself over to the pleasure, to Marcus's deftly dancing tongue. He's good, he's attentive and eager, yet you don't get the feeling that he's trying to prove you wrong, to make you orgasm. Lord knows men have tries that in the past, and it's just stressful. No, he just seems to enjoy your moans, the way you writhe and grab his hands, the twitches of your pelvis when he does something extraordinary.

"Goddddd, Marcus, that's so fucking good..." you wail when he alternates between sucking your clit and licking it with a quick tongue. He's getting louder, sloppier, and you know you're dripping. Your clit is throbbing, and you know this is the perfect time to speed things up. You push him away, your thighs closing around his head, and Marcus retreats, chin glistening as he licks his lips.

"You okay?" he wants to know. You nod, breathless and with a pounding heart.

"Need to fuck you."

He scrambles up for a deep kiss, wet and lewd, before you push him over to get a condom from your nightstand. He drapes himself over you as you stretch across the bed, and peppers your back with kisses, like he's unable to stay away from you. You roll around, finding yourself caged between his strong arms, and you pull him down for more kissing with lips swollen and dry but still wanting more.

"How do you want me?" he gasps between the kisses as you pull down his underwear and paw at his small butt.

"Can I be on top?"

He rolls over onto his back immediately, watching you with open-mouth excitement when you remove his shorts and put on the rubber. When you finally sink down on his length, his fingers dig into your thighs as his breath hitches.

"Oh, that feels good..."

"Uh-huh," you sigh, staying still for a moment to adjust to his cock inside of you. You smile inwardly as you find yourself thinking about just how perfectly sized it is: thick but not too long.

"What?"

Your eyes open to find Marcus grinning at you.

"What what?" you grin back. He caresses your hips slowly.

"You looked like you had something to say."

"I was just thinking about what a perfect, gorgeous dick you have."

His cheeks turn pink. "Thank you. It came with the body."

You chuckle and start a slow grind, hips moving lazily back and forth as you seek out the right spots, the right rhythm. Finding it, you plant your hands on Marcus's chest and let out a low moan as you go slightly faster.

"That right for you?" he huffs, sitting up to catch a nipple in his mouth.

"Mmmfuckyes..."

You drop your hand to where your bodies meet, fingers seeking out your clit. Pleasure zaps through your body when you rub it, and you clench tightly around Marcus, causing him to dig his fingers into the soft flesh of your hips, both of you groaning.

"So good," he gripes, soothing the sting of his fingertips by rubbing his palms over the affected areas before he moves his fingers to your front. "Need a hand?"

"'m good," you gasp, your free arm slinging around his neck. You clench around him again, and Marcus's hips jut upwards, slamming into you with a force that makes you choke.

"Fuck! God, Marcus, that was..."

"Can we try something?" he pants, pulling you in for a kiss. "Please?"

"Okay?" you frown, a little frustrated at being interrupted, but Marcus gestures for you to rise, so you do as he asks, and let him pull you down with him.

"Get on top of me again, but lie down," he instructs you. You must look doubtful because he immediately adds:

"Just try it, if you don't like it, we can go back to what you were doing."

"I'll try anything once," you shrug, and get on top of him again, this time with your back turned to him. Marcus pulls you down, positioning you on top of him, legs spread, his own legs on the outside of yours. You hesitate for a second, the reality of your weight sometimes haunting your mind, but Marcus insists.

"Just come here, baby," he tells you softly, so you let him take your weight. One of his arms sneaks up the side of your ribcage to cup a breast. With the other, he guides himself into you, pushing himself in with an upward thrust of his hips. You choke on your breath and let your head hang back on his shoulder, one arm seeking a position to support you, the other coming around Marcus's neck when he presses a toothy kiss to your neck. He thrusts into you again, fingers playing with your nipple, and then his other hand comes to rub your clit.

You keen at the sudden intensity, back arching on top of him, and he plants his feet more firmly on the mattress.

"Fuck," you gasp, "that's good, Marcus, this is good..."

He sucks a kiss to your neck, his teeth stinging just a little, and your legs kick in search of a hold so that you can stay just above him. He slips out, and you whimper.

"Relax," he soothes you, thumb abandoning your clit to instead guide himself back into you. "Put your weight on me, I can take it."

You follow his instructions, back sinking down onto his chest and stomach, pelvis angling slightly to help him stay inside you. His fingers return to tease your clit, and your head falls back onto his shoulder as he settles into a rhythm that makes your toes curl.

"That's it," he praises you, his breath hot against your ear. "Just like that, take it, just enjoy it, let me take care of you."

The slow drag of his cock against your slick walls is maddening in how it pushes at your spot but leaves you wanting more. You buck your hips down eagerly.

"Faster, please, Marcus."

He obeys immediately, moaning at how you immediately clench around him. Your fingers thread through his hair, the other hand fists into the sheets. The pressure on that one spot inside you is growing in intensity, insanely, perfectly, knocking your breath out with each jab of Marcus's cock against it. Your moans become whimpers, a moan too complex a sound for you at this point, when you are so close, so utterly close to the climax that you now need as much as you need air -

The release floods your body and your cunt, and for a split second you're horrified at the wet feeling on your thighs, the rippling sound, until you realize that you squirted. A half moan, half giggle escapes you as you press your thighs together as if to lock in the orgasm that pulsates through your cunt and lower belly. Marcus gasps an excited Fuck, yes before bucking up a couple of errant times, and then relaxing down. He kisses your temple, drags his soaked fingers up over your soft belly, making you squirm.

"Sorry," he murmurs throatily. You murmur something back and slide down next to him. Everything between your legs seems wet and now cold, but you're still prickling all over with excitement.

Marcus heaves a deep sigh before turning his face to you. "That was so hot."

"I didn't know I could do that with a man."

"You haven't before?"

You shake your head. Marcus smiles softly.

"I'm honored. Was it good?"

"Yeah. How about you?"

"So fucking good."

You smile back at him before turning your face back towards the ceiling, and taking a deep breath that you sigh out audibly. Your body relaxes quickly, a muscle in your lower back mutters about the position you just were in, but you feel extremely good, and wrung out in a fantastic way. In the corner of your eye, you catch Marcus taking the condom off, before getting up to take it to the trash. When he returns, he looks around, looking for his clothes. You roll over onto your side.

"You don't have to leave, you know," you tell him quietly. Marcus stops, boxers in hand.

"Yeah?"

"I mean... don't get me wrong, I'm not looking for a relationship," you hurry to assure him. "But I wouldn't mind you staying over. Unless you have plans?"

"I don't."

He drops the boxers, and slides back into bed, next to you. You smile a little wryly.

"The sheets are wet. I'll change them, feel free to grab a shower.

"Soon," Marcus tells you, low voice heavy with a calm confidence. "I suggest we wet them a little more first."

Your deal with Marcus is simple and beautiful: sex, with or without staying the night. The occasional take-out dinner. Quickies when you run into each other in the corridor outside your front doors, with ten minutes to spare. It's undemanding, friendly, mutually satisfying. Uncomplicated, with no romantic feelings involved, so nobody can get hurt.

Marcus is an active lover who smoothly takes charge. Not bossy, but firm and empathic, and not afraid of using aids of different kinds to raise your orgasms to the next level. He's not opposed to fucking you fully clothed in the morning and leaving you wanting as you go to work with his cold cum in your panties, shot there after he removed the rubber after fucking you.

It is, in short, the perfect set-up.

Fall passes by, and you see yourself forced to fly out to see your family over Thanksgiving. You spend as much time as you can working in your childhood room, however. Your parents do not understand your choice of profession, your mother does not see how a woman of your age has chosen to be childless. Your older brother knocked his girlfriend up at sixteen, your younger sister was married at eighteen and divorced at twenty-eight. You love them, but you don't have a lot in common with them, and even if your siblings at least pretend to understand your life choices, their contempt steeped in jealousy of your life shines through at times. Your parents choose to simply ignore the life you have built for yourself in D.C., talking instead about Mrs. McCall next door, Annie down the street, Cybil in town, Kearney at the gas station, as if you knew any of them or cared about what they said about Kayleigh's twins.

You endure for two nights, and text Marcus from the airport, before boarding: I'll be home after nine tonight. You free?

He replies almost immediately: I'll pick you up at the airport.

You text him the flight number before turning off your phone, settling for a three-hour nap in lieu of working.

When you finally land, puffy-faced but breathing freely now that you're back in the city you call home, Marcus is waiting for you in arrivals. The way his smile lights up his eyes when he sees you makes your heart miss a beat. There is something there that's beyond what the two of you have, something much more sincere.

You shake it off and smile back as you walk up to him. He leans forward, like he's about to kiss you, but ends up giving you an awkward half-hug.

"Welcome home."

"Thanks. And thank you for picking me up."

"My pleasure."

The two of you turn and start walking towards the exit. Marcus offers to take your carry-on wheelie bag, but you decline, accustomed as you are to carrying your own luggage yourself.

In the car, he asks you how your Thanksgiving was.

"As holidays at my parents' usually are. One night would've been enough."

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah. It's just..." You rub your forehead. "Whenever I visit, I feel trapped. Everything back home is... small. People are kind, yes, but they're small-minded. The town is small. The spaces in which to move, physically and mentally, are small. And I feel like some kind of big city snob who comes to visit twice a year, scoffs at their very ordinary and, as far as I know, happy lives, and then flies back to my vegan frappuccinos and twenty-four-hour sushi restaurants."

Marcus chuckles low. "I think I know what you mean. But it's hard for me to imagine that you'd be a snob about anything."

"I probably am. But I... I don't know, I outgrew that town when I was fifteen. Couldn't get out fast enough. And I don't like going back."

"Does your family support your choices?"

You shrug. "Yes and no. Mom and dad are proud, I guess, but at the same time they don't have any idea what it is that I do. 'If you wanted to be a lawyer, couldn't you be one here? Where it's not as stressful and you could start a family, and work normal hours?' As if I could practice the law I'm interested in over there."

"What's the most common type of lawyer in your hometown?"

"General practitioners who do a little bit of everything, wills mostly. And there are three, I think."

"Wow."

"Exactly."

The conversation turns to other subjects as Marcus drives the two of you to your apartment building. As he parks in his spot in the underground garage, you place your hand onto his thigh. He turns off the engine and looks at you.

"Thanks for picking me up," you tell him quietly. His hand comes to rest on top of yours.

"No problem."

"You have any plans for tonight?"

He shakes his head, then leans forward over the middle console as you reach across the same for a kiss. His fingers thread into your hair before closing around the back of your head to bring you in, and you sigh softly against his lips as you feel the rest of the pressure from your Thanksgiving visit melt away. If the town you grew up in felt unfamiliar and uncomfortable, D.C. and Marcus feel like home. And there's nothing you want to do more now than be with Marcus in this city.

You break the kiss and lower your gaze to his fly, where your fingers are already working on unzipping him. Marcus exhales in an audible sigh.

"You missed me that much?"

"Don't get any ideas," you warn him before bowing down over his lap.

Later, when you are freshly showered, and lying awake in Marcus's bed with him deeply asleep next to you, you wonder when his presence at night became such a comfort for you.

Marcus visits his parents over Christmas. You manage to convince yours that you're way too busy and the holidays too short for you to fly out. Settling in for a couple of days off work, you plan to go to the gym, meet friends, and maybe finally get through that book you started three months ago. You plan for simple yet delicious meals and come home with bags full of groceries and bottles of wine that you balance in your arms as you're digging for the keys in your pocket.

"Lemme get that."

Marcus appears by your side, taking a grocery bag from you.

"Thanks."

You manage to let yourself in, and Marcus follows you to the kitchen, where he leaves the bag on the table.

"Hi," he smiles. There is something so endearing about this man, his smile lights up the whole room, you can't possibly keep from smiling back at him.

"Hi. I thought you already left for the airport?"

"Just on my way now. Glad I caught you."

"Oh?" You unbutton your coat, unwrap the scarf from around your neck. "What's up?"

"Just... I wanted to see you before I left. Wish you happy holidays."

"Right." You take off your coat and leave it over the back of a kitchen chair. "Well... happy holidays, Marcus. I hope you have a nice weekend with your parents."

"Thanks." He clears his throat, looks down and scratches the back of his head. "Do you have any plans for New Year’s Eve?"

"Not that I know of."

"Do you maybe... want to do something?"

"Sure," you nod, a warmth spreading in your belly. "Like, dinner?"

"I was thinking Hirschhorn? You said you were curious about their special exhibit. Then dinner, and maybe a movie, if you're not opposed to spending so much time with me at once?"

You feel your cheeks heat up a little. "I don't mind at all. That sounds lovely."

His smile widens, his warm eyes glitter. "Great. I'll get back to you as soon as I return."

He kisses your cheek before leaving, his hand resting momentarily on your arm. When he closes the door behind him, the apartment feels empty.

That emptiness stays with you over the holidays. You're enjoying the time off, yes, and downright cherish not having to spend time with your family. You were looking forward to Christmas eve drinks with a couple of friends but are disappointed when they only talk about holiday preparations, gift shopping, and visiting in-laws. The detachment makes you annoyed. It's not that you want that kind of life, you don't want kids and a house and Thanksgiving dinners and all of that. But there doesn't seem to be any alternatives. You get the feeling that they feel sorry for you, that they think you should look up from your laptop once in a while, go dating, settle down, maybe work less.

Always work less. You love your job so much, maybe you won’t forever, but right now you do, and it doesn’t feel taxing when it gives you the gratification it does.

You grab a cab home, earlier than you thought and morose for not getting the carefree night you had planned for. Maybe it's your own fault for thinking that people with families wouldn't have changed.

You weigh your phone in your hand for a couple of blocks before texting Marcus.

Hope you're having a better time than I am. Just getting home after drinks, and realized I have nothing in common with my friends anymore :/

You regret the text as soon as you've sent it. It sounds whiny, and you know that you're being unfair to your friends. But Marcus replies almost immediately:

Sorry to hear that. Wish I was there to make you feel better.

You smile, and your heart skips a beat. He always knows what to say.

It is what it is. Early night for me.

He replies with a Santa emoji that makes you chuckle.

Too old for Santa, you type back. Or too naughty. Either way, he's not coming.

Only man who should come in your apartment is me ;)

You stare at the message, cheeks heating as you lick your lips. Your brain scrambles for an answer to match his tone.

I'll be the judge of that, mister. If you're away for too long, I might get lonely.

The reply comes almost immediately.

I'll be back before you know it.

Your heart is fluttering like a butterfly inside your ribcage, and you react with a thumb up to the last message. For the rest of the cab ride, you're chewing on your lower lip while looking out the window, decorated windows racing past you as the cab driver navigates towards your apartment building.

You fall asleep in front of the TV and are awakened by a text.

You up?

You rub your eyes, realize that you're still wearing makeup, and curse low.

It's two am.

Marcus's name immediately lights up on the phone, and you answer the call.

"What's up?"

"Sorry to wake you."

"That's fine, I was on the couch. Gotta schlep my ass to bed," you yawn as you turn off the TV, and stand up, scratching your head.

"I'm outside."

"What?"

"I'm outside your door."

You frown, trying to understand what he's saying. "What are you doing there?"

"Just open?"

Call still active and phone held to your ear, you walk over to the front door, and unlock it. And there Marcus is, holding his phone but lowering his hand and ending the call while smiling wryly at you.

"Hi."

"What... why aren't you at your parents'?" you stutter, still holding the phone like you're talking to him through it.

"Because I can't do this at my parents'." He steps up to you, cups your cheek, and brings his lips to yours. His face is cold, so you understand that he has just arrived from the airport. Your sleep-riddled brain still doesn't understand, and Marcus breaks the kiss, breathing softly against your lips before drawing back.

"Did I... fuck this up now?"

You lick your lips and realize that you're feeling calm and steady in a way you no longer do when he's not around. You grab him by the jacket lapel and pull him in through the door.

"No," you reply, a shiver running through you when he puts his arms around you. "No, you did just the right thing."

You don't use your tub as often as you would like to, yet it was one of the main reasons why you bought your apartment. It's spacious, has gorgeous vintage style brass faucets, and is placed by the window, from which you can see the park, now wearing a white winter coat of snow, on the other side of the street. The shower booth is at the back wall of the bathroom and your busy lifestyle has you favoring quick showers instead of long, luxurious baths.

Now, however, you're stretched out languidly in Marcus's arms, the back of your head on his shoulder, his hairy thighs pressing up against you on either side. The water is hot and scented with oils, and if the orgasms you had before getting out of bed hadn't relaxed you, this would definitely take away the last vestiges of stress knotting your muscles.

"This is a really nice tub," Marcus mumbles into your ear, his hand running up the inside of your arm, resting on the edge of the tub. "Wish I had one."

"You're welcome to use mine," you smile, just as his hand disappears into the water, finding your breast and cupping it, thumb lazily stroking the nipple.

"I like your apartment better anyway," he admits. "Mine doesn't feel like a home."

"That's just because you haven't unpacked."

He raises his shoulders in a shrug. "Been busy."

"Doesn't help much that you're fucking me every time you're off work."

“One could even say it’s your fault I haven’t unpacked,” he muses, lips touching your temple. You shake your head, hand finding his and leading it away from your breast.

“Nuh-uh, you don’t get to pin this on me.” There is no vehemence in your voice, and even if Marcus can’t see your face, he can plainly hear the smile threatening to break out.

“I had to try.”

You bring your hand back to your chest, and sigh when his fingers brush over your nipple. It would be so easy to just let things slide, enjoy his hands, his mouth, his cock that’s resting softly against your lower back… But your interest is piqued.

“Why haven’t you unpacked, Marcus?” you ask quietly. “I’ve seen that you have painting just waiting to be hung on the walls and given how much you like to criticize my dentist’s office artwork from Ikea, I can’t imagine why you haven’t done more to decorate your apartment.”

His hand stills, and you feel him swallow. He clears his throat, sighs, clearly stalling, but you don’t show mercy. You want to know.

“I guess… I thought I’d be making a home with someone. And when that didn’t happen, I didn’t like the idea anymore.”

You braid your fingers with his, the water gently rippling with your movement.

“Your ex?”

“Yeah. Teresa.”

“What happened?” He’s mentioned some tragic breakup but never specified, and you’ve never asked. Now, however, you’re asking. You want this puzzle piece to fit right, want to know everything there is to know about Marcus Pike.

“I don’t want to burden you with that…”

“I want to know, Marcus.”

He hesitates, but eventually tells you how his ex, a smart, beautiful woman that he fell head over heels for and eventually proposed to, accepted his proposal over the phone but called again thirty minutes later to tell him that she was leaving him for a coworker. Marcus had been transferred to D.C., had asked Teresa to come with, had a plan for a life together, and she turned out to be in love with a coworker: a charming, unreliable man who worked out an elaborate scheme to make her choose him instead of Marcus.

You’re shocked to silence when he stops talking, an array of emotions simmering inside you. When Marcus speaks your name, the first one to burst is anger.

“What a cunt!”

Marcus sputters your name, but you don’t feel bad.

“You know I’m right!”

“No need for language like that,” he protests, but you can sense a change in him. It’s like something’s loosened in him. Even if you can’t see his face in this position, you can feel it in how his body feels against yours.

“I’m sorry, but that behavior is despicable. And from what you’ve told me about that asshole that she went with because of you, I’d say they deserve each other.”

He shrugs. “Or maybe I was too pushy. We didn’t date for long before I asked her to marry me. I should’ve given her more time.”

You turn around in his arms so that you can meet his flickering gaze. Raising your hand to his cheek, you caress the slightly scratchy surface that sorely needs a razor.

“If it feels right, it feels right,” you tell him softly. “There’s no shame in being open and honest about your feelings, Marcus.”

He blinks, and for a second you think his eyes look shiny. His lower jaw moves as he swallows.

“Thank you,” he eventually mumbles. “I don’t want to sound like I’m making excuses but… I did feel I was being straight with her. And she… really fucking hurt me.”

“Yeah, she did.”

His stare is suddenly relentless.

“Will you? Hurt me, I mean?”

You feel nothing but calm. “Marcus, I like you a lot. This is more than just sex now. But I won’t marry you in six months, and I don’t need you to have a plan for us. I like my job, I have a good career that I won’t give up. I don’t want kids, but I like being with you, and I want to keep being with you, not just have sex but do other stuff with you.”

He smiles at that and casts his eyes down. You lean forward to press a small kiss to his lips.

“And I will help you to unpack your shit, and I will come with you to get a new kitchen table tomorrow when the stores open. Because that huge monster you have jamming up your kitchen has got to go.”

“Not tomorrow,” he immediately tells you, and you quirk an eyebrow. “Because tomorrow I’m taking you to the museum, out for a meal, and then we’re watching Casablanca.”

You chuckle. “It’s a deal.”

He pulls you in for a deeper kiss, water splashing when his arms go around you.

“For the record,” he murmurs against your lips, “I like you too.”

“That’s a relief,” you smile, before a gasp escapes your lips; Marcus’s hand has slid down your soft stomach to the apex of your thighs, and one finger is slowly circling your clit.

“Open your legs,” he whispers, breath almost scorching your cheek that is already warm from the water and your rising desire. You move around, legs and hips repositioning themselves so that he can cup his big hand over your sex.

“Marcus,” you breathe in a low moan, “I already came twice this morning…”

“And you’ll come a third time,” he promises as he slides a finger inside your warm heat, rolling a nipple between two fingers of his other hand. You curl your arm back and around his neck, seek his lips for more kisses, push down against his hardening cock to make him gasp into your mouth. Thumb on your clit, he adds a second finger to your pussy, fucking you slowly as you exchange moans along with your kisses. Your hips jut upwards when he hits the right spot, and then he stays on it, water splashing over the edges of the tub when he goes increases speed. Your hand dives underneath the surface to find his cock, and a strangled moan travels from Marcus’s mouth to yours when your fingers close around the stiff length. When he slows down, so do you, when he fucks you faster, your hand works him faster.

The climax reaches both of you at the same time, your bodies tightening up, Marcus’s hips jerking up as your thighs clamp shut, cries bouncing off the tiles as you press your bodies together. As silence falls, the water stills and your hearts return to their normal rhythms, and Marcus’s lips are on your temple.

“Fuck, you’re amazing.”

“So are you,” you hum, a ripple of lingering pleasure making your legs twitch. He kisses you again, a light smattering of kisses over your temple, brow, cheekbone, before reaching your mouth. That last kiss is deep and slow, loving, and intimate in a way you haven’t had with him before. It’s unnerving, almost scary, but there is something so comforting about Marcus’s broad-shouldered body underneath you, something that makes you embrace the unknown.

“Happy Christmas, baby.”

The underwhelming meeting with your friends, the flirty texting with Marcus, that feels like weeks ago. But it was only last night, and your world has been thoroughly rocked since then.

“Happy Christmas, Marcus.”

#marcus pike #marcus pike fanfic #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #my fic

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chpsticklesbian · 10 months

Text

Champagne Problems

larissa weems x fem!reader

cw: angst, lots of song lyrics usage

a/n: as promised

words: 1,497+

the soft melody of the music flowed and danced along with the pairs that were hand in hand, hip to hip dancing along the wooden floor. your right hand hugged her waist as her right hand held your left while her head rested on your chest. at that moment the two of you weren’t any different from any of the couples surrounding you. you were oozing an almost sickly amount of love. but none of you cared.

you recognized the song the orchestra was playing. ‘the swan’. it was a classic, one of your favorites. you noticed larissa had started to hum along to the tune as you both swayed to the music. you couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face at the sound of her humming. you loved whenever she hummed, or sung. you’d always thought her voice was pure serenity. no matter how off key or shrill she could sound, to you it sounded like bliss.

you enjoyed every song she ever sang. but ultimately your favorite was always when she’d sing ‘the tennessee waltz’. the song accompanied you almost every night before you went to sleep. she’d brush her fingers through your hair and sing or hum the song. she’d told you once how she found it odd it was your favorite, the song held a rather melancholic message. you always shrugged and told her the song simply sounded nice when she sang it. she’d smile and thank you. but truth be told you never studied the lyrics enough to realize the meaning behind the song. in fact you never wanted to study the lyrics.

you never wanted to study the lyrics because you wanted her to sing it to you every time.

and now here you were, hand in hand dancing with her, wishing it was her voice accompanying the both of you and not the orchestra.

as minutes passed by you grew nervous, her humming turned quieter. the ring in your pocket almost felt heavier each second. were you making the right choice? maybe your own pep talk wasn't enough. but it's been three years. it's been three years and you still can't get through a day without her. It must be the right choice. right? but what if she-

“i love you.” your thoughts were cut off when larissa spoke, head still resting on your chest. her voice was so smooth, always smoother when she told you she loves you. your worry almost immediately went away, you smiled as your cheeks warmed and you practically melted. it’s the right choice.

you sighed as subtly as you could to prepare the next words you were gonna say.

"marry me." she picked her head off from your shoulder and looked at you.

"what?" she said with a smile and a laughing tone. her eyes searched yours for a trace of uncertainty, maybe even humor. you found it a bit odd, but at the time you'd just thought her reaction was caused by shock or excitement. maybe both. but my god were you wrong.

"marry me." you repeat yourself. larissa's smile faded. the lightness and ease she once held was pulled away from her. still holding her hand, you took your right hand off her waist and reached it in your pocket. you were grateful the circular accessory wasn't difficult to find. pulling it out, you placed it in front of her. the silver simplistic piece of jewelry that once laid on the hands of your mother. of course, larissa didn't know the history of it. maybe if she did she'd take pity on your devotion and say yes that day.

she looked down at the ring and back at you. up and down two times. you should've gotten the hint to stop when she looked at the ring and panic was immediately evident on her face. but you didn't. you'd curse your excitement to this day. with shaky hands and a warm smile, you opened your mouth to speak. the contents of the speech you had drafted for days on end were already prepared on the tip of your tongue. but she stopped you before you could even say ‘i love you’.

"i can't." her words came out breathless and shaky. you immediately closed your mouth. to say you were speechless was an understatement. the pale hand that was once holding yours, had let go. your hand went limp on your side.

the second those two words came out of her you couldn’t help but notice her eyes darted behind you and lingered there for a while. and stupidly enough you turned your head. just to take a look at whatever it was that caught her attention during a time like this.

oh how you wish you didnt turn your head that night. because the second your eyes looked back, they were met with the sight of morticia addams nursing a glass of wine as she grinned while conversing with a friend. it was almost laughable how fast you turned your head away from the sight. almost.

your eyes found larissa’s again. she almost looked sorry, or was it pity? neither, it was fear.

"i'm sorry." she breathed out, brows furrowed. almost as if she was consfused. you'd cherish those words more if you realized it would be the last thing she’d say to you.

she looked at you one last time before walking past you, a light brush of the shoulders as she walked as quickly as she could without making it obvious she was trying to get away from you.

at this point you weren't able to do anything except stand in the middle of the ballroom, ring in between your fingers as the sea of pairs sway around you. you took a shuddering breath in and out before palming the ring and blinking away your shock.

a thousand thoughts gathered in your head. had you read her wrong this whole time? were the three years not enough? but you two were having a great time dancing. it was too much.

your breathing became labored and your eyes began to water. maybe a minute passed by until you felt a tear rush down your cheek. the moistness snapping you out of your stance. thank god people were too focused on dancing to care.

you wiped the tear off your cheek and quickly walked off, clutching the ring in your palm. you didn't know where you were going. everything was spinning and your palms had begun to bleed as the ring dug into your skin. you only stopped when you found yourself standing on the stairs that lead to the party. no one was outside. who in their right mind would be? the party had practically just begun.

you let out a heavy sigh before stepping down and taking a seat on the marble stairs. placing your hand on your knees you opened your palm. the silver, shiny token of love was revealed along with the circular wound. you could only laugh at yourself while placing it back into your pocket.

looking down to stare at your lap, you noticed the heart shaped necklace that was dangling around your neck.

the locket.

your hand reached for the gold charm, and you held it between your fingers, fiddling with it before taking a breath and opening it.

a candid picture of you and larissa that one of your friends took. your arms were wrapped around her neck and hers were tightly wrapped around you. it was taken at an angle which made larissa's face completely visible but all that was obvious from you was your hair and your back. but god how you loved that picture. the smile on her face and the sheer force in which she hugged you was something you wouldn't trade for the world.

a small smile graced your face as you reminisced the moment. the memory now nothing but memory.

you closed the locket and shoved it under your collar.

“fuck.” you huffed out, dropping your head to your knees.

you didn't sleep that night. or the night after. or the next week to follow.

how could you? the only thing occupying your mind were the heaping pile of reasons why larissa would decline your proposal. the reasons you came up with always grew worse and worse.

but as the days flew by and more and more reasons of why she would have rejected you plagued your mind, but only one stuck. you weren't perfect. but the idea only made you start to think that maybe larissa made the right choice. in your eyes, perfection was her. no matter how many flaws she had in her, to you she was perfect. and she deserved perfect. maybe morticia was just that. besides, perfect people deserved perfect love. you thought maybe she knew that and realized you weren’t fit for it.

but through all your sadness and grief, in actuality you were her definition of perfect. but, you were her definition of perfect that she realized too late. you were her definition of perfect when she looked back while walking away from you that night to find morticia, and found her hand in hand, waltzing as she was a few moments ago with you, with gomez.

you were her definition of perfect after she realized morticia would drop her hand while dancing, morticia would leave her in the bustling crowds, and morticia would leave her speechless. but you wouldn't. and yet as the love of her life stood in the middle of the ballroom with a unacquainted ring, and the girl who she thought she loved smiled after the charming man kissed her on the cheek, she couldn't help but wish she was standing in front of you with a ring on her finger. but it was too late. she was too late. or maybe you were too early. but it wouldn’t matter anymore now. would it?

#larissa weems x reader #gwendoline christie #fanfic #wedesday fanfic #wednesday netflix #larissa x reader #larissa weems fanfic #larissa weems #gwendoline christie x reader #larissa weems angst

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sashaisready · 5 months

Text

Chapter Fourteen - A new development

Bucky Barnes Mob AU x Femme Reader

You're hard at work in Pepper's Bakery when notorious mob boss James 'Bucky' Barnes darkens your doorway one typical afternoon, and life is never the same again

Warning: Near car/pedestrian collision, angst! Bucky still being terrible, but don't worry - a taste of his own medicine is teased in this chapter..

18+ - see Masterlist for full list of warnings

Chapter 15

Series Masterlist

It had been nearly a week and you hadn't heard anything from Bucky since That Morning. You had replayed the events over and over in your head but you still didn't know what you'd done wrong, how you'd gone from falling asleep in Bucky's arms with his tender whispers in your ear...to being unceremoniously barged out of his house with the offer of fifty dollars for your trouble. Your best bet was that he wanted to sleep with you after all your back and forth over the last few months, and now he'd achieved that, the mask had slipped and he had no reason to play nice. Another notch in his bedpost. Another item off his to do list.

You knew at the time you should've asked him outright what exactly had changed, but you were hurt and embarrassed, and you lashed out in anger like you always did. And you didn't want him to think you were weak and pining over him.

Wanda had been shocked by the evening's sharp left turn after she'd gone home. You had caught her up in the bakery and she was disgusted by Bucky's actions. She had stood there angrily frosting a birthday cake while you recounted what happened, uttering a series of curses under her breath in response. Some were in Sokovian – you didn't know what she said but could tell they were bad.

You were hurt. You knew sleeping with someone didn't mean you were exclusive or they owed you anything, but you expected a bit more kindness and respect – especially from someone you had got to know quite well over the last few months.

But maybe that was your own naivete, you knew what Bucky did for a living – it wasn't a stretch to imagine that he would be just as cold in his personal life too.

It was a relatively quiet morning in the bakery when the bell went. You looked up smiling ready to greet the customer when you felt a wave of nausea hit you as you saw who it was.

Bucky walked in...with a beautiful blonde woman on his arm. She was stunning. Of course she was. She smiled at you sweetly and you managed a small one back at her before your eyes flicked over to Bucky.

He was stoic, unreadable. You glared at him, doing your best to convey your anger to him without completely losing it. He gave you a smirk in return.

Asshole.

Bucky knew this was a risky game. He hadn't spoken to you since you stormed out of his home and he missed you. He didn't know what to say, how to make it right. He knew he should stay away, he'd tried, he knew that you were too good for him – but he couldn't resist. You were like a magnet he couldn't avoid. He knew you were angry and he wanted to apologise but his pride was getting in the way.

He had drafted countless texts but sent none of them, he frequently brought your name up in his contacts and tried to summon the courage to press the call button. He wanted to go back to how it was before, teasing each other, bantering and besting one another. He thought if he could bait you into an argument then he could draw you out again, rile you up and see that electricity in your eyes he loved so much.

And what better bait was there than another woman?

You cleared your throat and greeted them sweetly. "Hi, welcome to Pepper's Bakery. How can I help you today?"

Thankfully your voice betrayed none of your true feelings. That was years of customer service experience paying off.

"Oohh..." said the blonde. "I mean it all looks so good but I'm on a diet right now and shouldn't be eating sweets...I'm sorry, I'm probably the last person you want in your store!" she giggled.

You had no interest in being cold to the woman, no interest in punishing her because of Bucky's childish little games. She hadn't done anything wrong, and she seemed nice enough. No, there was only one person to be angry at here.

"Well if you're ever in the neighbourhood and having a cheat day you're always welcome here" you told her warmly.

She smiled back at you and nodded encouragingly as she looked over at the display cases. Over her shoulder you looked at Bucky. You kept your face frozen, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of getting worked up, but your eyes made it clear you were unimpressed.

"I'll take a couple of danishes, and a cannoli" he told you gruffly.

Prick. And what ever happened to 'please'?

Your hands began to build the pink box on autopilot and you wordlessly packed his order.

Bucky frowned. He was hoping for fireworks, to push you that little bit further and ignite that anger within you, resulting in his favourite back and forth. He wanted to see the fire from you which always sent a quiet thrill through his belly.

But no. Nothing.

Your face was neutral, there was no fight in you. No appetite to go toe to toe with him.

He realised suddenly that he had gone too far. You weren't angry. You were hurt.

His eyes searched yours as you pushed the box over the counter at him and he pulled out his wallet. He was almost trying to communicate with you telepathically, telling you his true feelings and that you were all he thought about. You only stared back at him defiantly, eyes narrowing as you handed him the card reader. Your mouth was a thin line of disappointment.

He tried to smirk to see if that would light the fuse for the reaction he so desperately sought but you merely dropped his gaze.

He pulled a hundred dollar bill out and slid it across to you but you grabbed it from him, crumpled it into a ball with your fist and flung it back at him. He flinched as it struck his chest, then swept it back into his wallet.

"That won't be necessary" you said coldly, eyes burning into him again.

He tried to say something but you cut him off.

"Thanks for your custom Mr Barnes" you deadpanned, making it clear that this interaction was over.

"And lovely to meet you" you said to his companion in a kinder tone.

She earnestly grinned back at you. "I'm Allegra by the way".

Allegra then gushed about how lovely the shop was, peacefully oblivious to the tension in the room.

Wanda watched nervously from her side of the store as the scene unfolded, examining your face. She knew you were hanging on by a thread.

Bucky opened his mouth to speak but closed it again quickly. He wanted to apologise, to take it all back. He thought about how you felt in his arms. How your moans had sounded in his ear. How thrilled he'd been to finally get to that point with you...and now he'd ruined it. Ruined everything. Destroyed the foundations of everything he'd built with you. Guilt and shame overwhelmed him but he still wore his stoic mask.

You just continued to glare at him as Allegra spoke, your brow furrowed. You felt nausea rising up inside you once more. His eyes looked different now to the smugness they'd reflected when he walked in. Was there...regret in there? Surely not. He was probably relishing your humiliation.

Allegra hooked her arm with Bucky's and guided him to the exit as she shot you a cheerful goodbye. Bucky followed meekly, watching you intently over his shoulder as he left the store. His eyes were on you for as long as possible until he disappeared out of view.

You waited a moment before your knees finally buckled and you crashed onto the counter as the tears finally broke the dam and began to fall. Wanda was on you in an instant, her arms wrapped around your torso as she nuzzled her head into your back, quietly soothing you.

You were feeling a little more together when you closed up, locking the doors and stepping out onto the street. You had cried a bit in front of Wanda, embarrassed for her to witness your vulnerability but grateful for her comfort. She had asked if she could do a spell to punish Bucky which cheered you up, but you declined, insisting she shouldn't waste her precious energy on such unimportant subjects. You had managed to power through the rest of the day, throwing yourself into work and distracting yourself with customers as the clock finally rolled around to closing time.

Your tears had dried but you still felt awful. Embarrassed. Hurt. You didn't expect to marry Bucky after your night together and you knew that neither of you had made any commitments to one another. Still, cancelling your date and rubbing another woman in your face at your workplace was uniquely cruel. You felt stupid for allowing yourself to get caught up, to have feelings for him, for entertaining the idea that he might like you too. It was clear now that you were nothing but a plaything to him. A toy to wind up and watch it go. Something to amuse him, a way to blow off steam between whatever hideous mob business he was getting up to in his 9-5.

You understood now.

And that Allegra woman he was with - she was the type of girl he wanted on his arm. Tall, willowy, beautiful. The type of woman who looked like she'd stepped off a fashion magazine. A walking Instagram filter. Not you, who was pleasant enough to look at and fun for a quick fuck, but not someone you want to show off - not beautiful. How stupid you were.

You were lost in your thoughts as you wandered towards home. But not so oblivious as to miss the black SUV parked across the street, as subtle as a pink sock in a drawer of white ones. You waved mockingly at it and it slowly rolled around the corner out of view, but you could still glimpse the back of it if you squinted. You knew he wasn't in it as he would've made an appearance by now. Just his goons inside, most likely. Was it not enough that he'd humiliated you, he had his little lemmings following you again??

Your hurt began to mutate into anger as all of your emotions twisted and fizzed within you. All of the fury and outrage you felt towards Bucky was now channelled like a laser beam onto this stupid car. You let your rage lead the way as you stormed towards it, determined to give the occupants a piece of your mind regardless of how big or terrifying they might be.

Any common sense evaporated as you marched into the street in pursuit of the SUV. In fact, you were so single minded that you didn't even notice the yellow taxi speeding towards you until you heard the screech of brakes and tyres squealing on asphalt. You turned at the last second and caught a glimpse of the driver's panicked eyes before you realised it was about to hit you, and it was too late for you to move...

You squeezed your eyes shut and braced for impact as a forceful pressure wrapped itself around your torso and yanked you onto the sidewalk. Suddenly you were on the ground, trembling as you realised you were looking at the sky - wondering where the car had hit you. You thought it would hurt more than this, was it a bad sign that it didn't hurt? Oh god, were you paralysed and that's why it didn't hurt?! Wait...something else had hit you...

A handsome man with sandy brown hair popped into your view, his forest green eyes filled with concern as he watched you carefully. You glanced at him, realising you were laying on your back in the street.

"You all good? That was a close one huh??" he said. His voice was friendly, warm.

He turned to the cab driver who had parked up and was watching you just as nervously.

"She just came outta nowhere...I tried to stop but...I mean if you hadn't been there..."

"It's alright" said the green eyed man calmly, cutting him off. "She's fine, she just had a shock. Don't worry, I'll make sure she's okay".

The cab driver muttered angrily as he stepped back into his car and pulled away.

"Do you think you can sit up?" asked the green eyed man.

A few passers-by were watching with morbid curiosity. The man extended his hand to you and you took it gingerly, pushing yourself up as he pulled you upright so you were sitting up on your knees. You blinked, looking down at yourself to check you were still in one piece. You certainly seemed to be. Just slightly winded by how you hit the sidewalk.

"I'm okay" you said nervously as you wiggled your fingers and toes to check for any pain.

"Oh good, phew".

He sounded genuinely relieved. And kind.

"Did you...save me?" you asked with trepidation.

He smiled. "Saving is a bit of a strong word but right place right time I guess" he grinned. "I'm just sorry you had to eat sidewalk in the process".

You felt yourself soften at his caring smile, all of your anger and upset about Bucky suddenly gone. He seemed...nice. Really nice.

"Thank you. Really, thank you" you smiled bashfully as you stood up, brushing yourself down. "If you hadn't been there..."

You trailed off as you looked him up and down. He was dressed casually in a red leather jacket and dark jeans. A far cry from Bucky's expensive tailored suits. You could tell he was in good shape though, sturdy and strong. Handsome...

"I'm Peter" he said happily as he extended a hand to shake. "Peter Quill".

You took his hand and shook it shyly, giving him your own name in return.

"Of course you have a beautiful name too, why I am not surprised?" he said.

You blushed at the compliment, visibly taken aback by his forwardness. You weren't used to men picking you up so openly. It was a refreshing contrast to Bucky's little games – not having to wade through words and implications and figure out what exactly was meant.

He screwed his face up in embarrassment. "Oh God. I'm sorry. That was cheesy..." he said, his voice pained.

You chuckled, feeling yourself smile widely for the first time all day. "Actually it was very sweet" you countered.

He grinned at you, his eyes drifting over your dungarees. You felt a bit underdressed in your work attire, covered in flour and icing stains, suddenly wishing you were a bit more presentable.

"I like your overalls" he said.

"Thanks" you replied, fingers pawing nervously at the buckles.

"I work at Pepper's Bakery down the street. Although I did realise earlier I'm wearing a yellow t-shirt with them today so I look a bit like a Minion..." you joked.

Peter's eyes widened with amusement. "Oh my god...you kinda do..." he spluttered.

You laugh uproariously. "You're not supposed to agree??" you snap incredulously.

"I'm sorry but it's true. But the minions are super cute right? So you fit right in..."

He shot you a wink and you felt a surge of warmth in your stomach. This was exactly the balm you needed after a horrible day.

"Pepper's huh? Love that place" he grinned.

You light up at that. "You do?? Oh that's great to hear. Yeah it's a nice place to work".

He nodded earnestly. "Best danishes in the city, in my humble view".

"I'll have to save you a few when you next come by. Y'know, least I can do for saving my life and all". The words seductively roll off your tongue before you even realise it.

You stop dead, wondering if you've been too forward with him. Bucky had really thrown you for a loop when it came to interacting with men. But Peter's grin just grew wider and he leaned in closer, his face near yours.

"And tell me...do you get much downtime? Time away from the bakery? Or is it all work and no play?"

His voice had dropped an octave as he moved in and his eyes locked onto yours. You find yourself instinctively leaning towards him too as your heart beats heavily in your chest. You're so close you could almost...kiss him.

"I do work shifts so my days off can be different. But I always have at least two off a week" you smile.

"Oh that's good, so a lotta free time to spend with your boyfriend then?" he asks coyly.

You giggle and your face flushes at yet another direct question. "No boyfriend, currently..."

Absolutely no-one, actually.

He nods again. "So, hypothetically...if I were to ask you out...you'd be able to meet me for dinner one evening?"

"Absolutely, hypothetically. But maybe we should stay away from cabs" you quip.

He laughed. "Sure. But I may need some pointers on where to go as I have no idea what minions eat..."

You exchange smiles as he passes his phone to you to add your number, which you give him gladly. You chat for a bit longer and suddenly Bucky feels like a distant memory. You've even completely forgotten the reason for your impulsive stroll into traffic.

As you say goodbye to Peter and practically skip home with glee, the SUV emerges from its poor hiding spot and follows you from a safe distance. In the passenger seat Clint pulls out his cell, hitting the first number on his speed dial.

"Boss...uh, a new development for you..."

#mob bucky barnes #mob bucky x reader #bucky barnes #mob bucky au #mob bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #sweet and sour fic

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archivallyfound09 · 10 months

Text

Stars & Stripes pt.2

Summary: Jake meets a new girl on base and pursues her, not realizing that she may be exactly what he needed all along.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader (no y/n, afab) Warnings: Everything is mature folks, swearing, drinking, adult-y stuff- the usual rules for my stuff :)

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

"I'm sorry....you...went for a JOG?"

Horrified, her hands flew up to take her phone off of speaker.

"Yes, sometimes I do actually enjoy going out and getting some fresh air and being near the-"

"Oh cut the shit, who is he?" The stuttering that happened on the other end of the line confirmed the suspicions. "See- I knew it. You pick up a weird random hobby when there's a guy around."

"Actually, if you must know," her tone was still a bit shaky, but the confidence was returning, "I went out for a run hoping to avoid the guy I literally ran into last night."

The loud male chuckle on the other end made her blood steam. "You went for a jog on the one road that leads to the military base and it's hangers to avoid the one guy who was clearly going to go to work on the military base and it's hangers...."

"Shut up, Edward," she tried to growl, a smile pulling at her lips, "maybe you should've left me a map!"

"I'm back in two weeks. You think you can handle yourself until then, Magellan?" She rolled her eyes and gave an affirmative. "Alright, good. Stay out of trouble, okay? Can't beat anyone up for hitting on my lil' sis!" She groaned at the nickname- though they weren't related Eddie had been in her life far longer than any of her other siblings. He had certainly been around enough to know all of her annoyances.

"Goodbye Edward."

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

Jake tapped his eraser on the tip of his front tooth, clearly not interested in the recounting of Rooster's latest conquest. This time, Coyote wasn't the only one to notice Hangman's clear disinterest. Normally, it would become a one-upping contest, with someone making an outrageous lie, being called on it, and then the liar being forced to get the first round of drinks that night.

The day had passed relatively uneventfully. Hangman had been correct- Maverick had swapped him for Rooster to fly with Phoenix and Bob. Their unsuccessful kill made him feel much better about the decision.

He had gone up with Harvard and Yale and, though unsuccessful, they had come much closer to hitting their target. Hangman internally clung to his two confirmed air kills and puffed out his chest and shrugged when Maverick asked what went wrong. He partook in his push-ups silently (shockingly according to Phoenix) and then had wound up here, sitting on top of his desk ignoring Rooster's antics.

Fanboy had had enough. "Alright, Hard Deck, let's go!" Everyone let out a halfhearted cheer and looked at the clock, thrilled to see they had meet their training requirements. Normally, Monday was a bit early for drinks, but with the impending mission looming in the distance and the inability of anyone to complete the simulation successfully, it was the one thing Fanboy knew they needed.

He also got no resistance and ignored the voice in his head that said "You're all crazy and alcoholics."

-------

For a Monday night, the Hard Deck was just about empty. A few booths were taken up by a couple or two, a rescheduled first date, and a small group of women who were clearly just trying to get away from their kids for a few hours.

Penny looked up from the bar amusedly. Her arched eyebrow asked "that bad, huh?" and Fanboy and Coyote's fervent nods confirmed her fears. She was still figuring out her stuff with Pete, but whatever this mission was, he was putting these kids through hell.

"Alright, first round on me. After that, your problem, ok?" There was a tired, but relieved cheer that went around as Penny pulled the draft pull and started filling pints. Hangman took one of the first poured and raised it up to their fabulous bartender, winning a smile from Penny.

Soon the group had settled after a beer or two (or 4 in Bob's case...) over near the pool table and the darts. Hangman had played Coyote twice and smoked him, so he had moved on to Fanboy and pool. Rooster had tried to go to the piano twice but had been persuaded away by Phoenix and Halo, begging him to wait until Friday night (and not wanting to disturb literally everyone else in the bar).

"Hey Penny- tried to find the screw setter bits for the drywall in the back, but hardware store was fresh out. They say they'll have them in Thursday- want me to hed back then?"

Fanboy had spotted her first. Then Coyote, then Phoenix, then-

"Hey, Hangmaaaaan. Look who's here!!" Rooster's voice cut through every conversation like a knife. Hangman rolled his eyes, half expecting to see Jesus Christ himself at the bar after Bradshaw's introduction.

What Jake had not intended for was that the woman he had met last night (and again this morning on her run) was standing in the same, semi-empty bar that he was in. She had heard Rooster's idiocy and peered over Penny's shoulder to lock eyes with him. She gave him a small smile, doe-eyes twinkling, and then it turned into a stifled laugh, her lips curling into each other as he looked down.

It was then that he felt it: Jake had managed to spill was was left of his beer on his lap. As the cold liquid settled on his thigh, he jumped up, pushing it further down his leg, into his sock and onto the floor. The entire squad around him had seen the fiasco and were losing it. Over the cackled and jeers, Coyote had made his way up and placed a sympathetic hand on Jake's shoulder.

"Smooth move, Seresin! You gotta leave some ladies for the rest of us!"

Hangman rolled his eyes and headed away from the group and up to the bar. In the moment since he had held her gaze, she had vanished. Penny handed him a dry bartowel and gave him a bit of a smirk.

"You hurt my girl, Lieutenant, I'll make sure you never see the sky again."

Jake smiled and finished wiping down his pants, handing the rag back.

"Yes ma'am," he shot her his thousand dollar smile and headed out the front doors, leaving the crew to their laughing fits.

-----------

"Hey Stripes!"

She froze, her hand on the key in the ignition. She had left the window down due to the cool ocean breeze (and the broken A/C), but she was thrilled that she had. Here came sex on a plate, running out to her car, calling her name (kinda), and wanting to talk to her. THe butterflies had migrated up into her ribcage and she felt like she was vibrating.

In the bar it had taken everything in her to waltz in as cool as she did. She had spotted Jake's car from this morning in the parking lot (along with the rest of the team- she didn't exactly get new neighbors in military housing) and she had spent 15 minutes outside trying to get her cheeks to stop flushing and her heart to stop pounding out of her chest.

"This is ridiculous," she told herself over and over again, pacing a line into the gravel parking lot, "You met a guy, IN THE DARK, and are now acting like this? Come on, you're not that shallow...but maybe he's nice and sweet and-" She could hear Eddie's voice now "HE'S A GUY. And a military one at that! You know what he wants..."

She finally had calmed her conniption down enough to go in (after rehearsing the line to Penny over and over again in her head), but when she saw him in the back, the orange glow of the lighting and the wood against his tan skin, his blond hair a bit more tidy than when she had met him last night, the top of his uniform undone, she froze. It felt like a magnet had locked her in place and all she could see in the room was him.

Once the beer had started to tip, the magnetic field broke. She stifled a laugh and Penny rolled her eyes, nodding towards the door with a knowing glance. She had heard Penny give "the talk" to Eddie lots of times when she was visiting, but this was the first time it was going to be threatened on her behalf.

She walked slow, countered step to the Jeep and sat in the cool air and silence for a few moments. Everything seemed like an eternity, so just as she was about to turn on the ignition and play (literally) hard to get, she heard his voice.

His forearms crossed and were over the precipice of her open window in seconds. She could see the slightest shine of sweat near his hairline and the few freckles that coated his nose. He was so close that-

Her eyes finally met his. She was completely lost in the pale green eyes that stared back at hers, the smile lines crinkling in the corners, the slight glint of the setting sun. She felt time slow down and could feel every pinprick of sweat start to form on her skin.

What she didn't know is that the man standing in front of her was even more enraptured by the woman in his view. He tried desperately to capture every detail of her face, every fleck of color in her eyes, every dotted freckle, the way her lashes curled at the ends, the slight pink that dusted her cheekbones- Jake was terrified he was going to forget something.

It was her smile that finally broke him out of his panic. She had taken in a deep breath, her lips slightly parting as she adjusted herself in the driver's seat. She handed him a small piece of paper.

"We can't keep bumping into each other like this, " she said, confident but also completely unsure of herself. Jake quickly opened the paper and smiled. He saw a name and a phone number.

"Nice to officially meet you, Stripes," he smiled, giving her a small Texas bow. She giggled.

"Nice to officially meet you too, Hangman."

------

#top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #hangman top gun #jake seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun hangman

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annab-nana · 8 months

Text

a/n: this was actually the first thing i have ever written for eddie and it has been sitting in my drafts for almost a year now and i totally forgot about it so here it is!

warnings: not proofread, reader's on her period, bleeds through a little bit, being picked on/made fun of, use of pet names (sweetheart)

❀ masterlist ❀

you should've known it was coming. all the signs were there: acne around your chin and along your jaw, a little more tired than usual, slightly more emotional or sensitive, the damn cramps that were tormenting your lower abdomen currently as you waited for mrs. click to finish her spiel on the causes of world war one so you could leave for your locker for some medicine.

as soon as the bell rang, you were up. you were the first one out actually, but you didn't pay the laughter coming from behind you any mind. you had a mission and you were focused. get to your locker. get some medicine. go to the bathroom. maybe skip the rest of the day depending on if the medicine helped any or not.

your locker was in sight. you could see it and you had never been so happy to see that metal cabinet. you were almost there, nearly seven steps from it, when someone's hands landed on your waist, pulled you towards the wall, and spun you around.

to say you were surprised to see that it was eddie munson would've been an understatement. he usually stayed in his own lane for the most part, other than his occasional rants in the cafeteria. he was normally all over the place too, but right now as you studied his expression to figure out why he had pulled you aside, he appeared rather focused, determined even.

since he didn't seem to be speaking, only looking at you with an almost uncomfortable and unsure face, you asked him, "can i help you?"

"um." his eyes left yours before looking at almost everything else, trying to think you assumed. you watched an idea pop into his head and he start to shrug off his jacket. "here."

now, it was you who was unsure and confused.

"what?" you didn't take it. you weren't cold. the offer was nice, but you didn't understand the meaning behind it.

he sighed, seeming a little fed up, and stepped closer to you. he leaned down a touch and started to wrap his jacket around your waist. you didn't stop him but did again question him.

"eddie, what are you doing?" you inquired as he tied the sleeves securely. he looked up at you before standing to his full height and leaning towards your ear.

"you've got a little crimson situation going on," he whispered in explanation and pulled back to see if you understood what he was hinting at. at first, your brows furrowed together, but he watched your face morph into realization and then embarrassment. they were laughing at you as you walked out of class earlier and as you looked around the hall, you could see a good amount of eyes on you with amused smiles just below them.

"hey," eddie's voice called to you, bringing your focus back to him, "don't worry about them." he saw your eyes falter back to them and turned to see who exactly you were looking at. "stephen still says 'pacific' instead of 'specific'. jennifer threw up all over steve harrington in front of everyone at a party a couple weeks ago. cynthia had the same thing happen to her last year and it was way worse than what you've got. it looked like a murder scene and yours is like the size of a quarter maybe. they have absolutely no room to be laughing at you at all. they're just upset that this is as high as they're going to get. after high school, nothing will be better than this to them which is sad, but it's their funeral."

you appreciated his words and they definitely made you feel a little better about things. you had never really paid attention to eddie. sure, you had noticed his confidence and pride, but you never saw how kind he was nor how thoughtful he could be either.

"thank you, eddie. i'll get your jacket back to you tomorrow, i promise."

he returned the smile you sent him but noticed you lean to walk the way opposite of your locker towards the exit. "you leaving?"

"yeah?" you responded in a questioning tone, wondering what else he wanted to discuss.

eddie knew where you lived—it was a few houses down from gareth's—and he knew that it was a good walk away on a normal day. he didn't feel right letting you walk there as you were now. "let me drive you home."

"eddie, you don't have to. you've already done plenty for me."

"i want to," he mentioned, waiting to get your okay which came in the form of a nod. "you need anything else from here?"

"other than the bathroom, nope." you could get medicine at home.

"alright then," he started with a grin growing on his lips that brought an unfamiliar warmth to your chest, "i'll wait out here for you and then we'll go."

you nodded to him once more. "thanks eddie."

"no problem, sweetheart."

remember to support writers & reblog :)

turn on notifications for @annab-library to be notified when i post something new or join the tag list here!

tag list: @fiction-is-life @jellyfishbeansontoast

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson blurbs #blurbs #stranger things

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happilychaengs · 11 months

Text

how twice would break your heart

a/n: i'm kind of going through it rn and this was just sitting in my drafts. this might be my last post for a while. i know it's quite short and there should be more but i don't think i'm in the right headspace to finish this nor do i have the heart to so i'll just publish it instead. and if some seem similar to one other, i'm sorry. i'll add pictures maybe later

angst

headcanon

nayeon

- "we should break up."

- cuts it off clean

- whatever she's feeling: trapped, unhappy, unsatisfied, scared, whatever it is -- she will not hesitate to tell you

- but it's the way the words fly out of her mouth that it's almost as if she didn't care about you

- your relationship at that very moment felt like it was a facade.

- but it's only because it's the way she wants to portray herself that way in front of you

- if only she'd let you really knew how much it hurt her to break things off with you

- it's the way the world would shift without you in it

- it's the way the stars wouldn't mean the same without you by her side

- if you knew how she truly felt, you'd fight harder for her to stay and she knows she would too

jeongyeon

- "i'm sorry."

- it's honest. it's cold. and it hurts.

- there's no other way she can really tell you. it's who she was. she couldn't ease the pain with sugar coated words or actions. she wouldn't.

- but it's the way tears stream down her face that shatters your heart, even more so than her words do.

- you don't know why she does it. you don't know why she's breaking your heart. she doesn't tell you.

- all that's left is in it's wake is nothing but a stream of repeated apologies from her, begging, regret, and doors slammed in front of each other's faces.

momo

- "i don't... know how to tell you this."

- it's always been difficult for momo to express her feelings but this time, it's really never been harder.

- she almost choked on her own words as she sees your face and your eyes, full of uncertainty.

- the moment the words escape from her lips, she already knew how much it would hurt.

- there you stood in front of her: fists clenched, cheeks flushed in red, your eyes pooling with tears

- her hand instinctively goes to wipe them away, but she catches herself. she can't anymore. she shouldn't.

- you see the way conflict internalizes in herself, your heart already knowing it's not hers anymore.

- she refuses to have your heart anymore and that's what hurts the both of you the most.

sana

- "it's not you, it's me."

- sana's words are cold and calculated. almost planned in a way.

- there's no rhyme or reason as to why she did it. it makes you doubt whether what you two has was real but she remains stone-faced, quietly asking you to leave.

- it's the way she tells you it. the cold heartedness.

- there's words that are said that can never be taken back. doors that shut tight.

- but it's the cries that she can hear outside her house now, that does it in for her.

- emotions begin to clog up her throat as she truly breaks down, nothing but regret filling her body.

jihyo

- "i think... we were the right people but not at the right time."

- hopeful yet laced with dread

- jihyo was a passion driven women and it was the height of her career.

- you should've expected it, really. the way she sat you down, hands kept to herself.

- it's the absence of her touch that really that does it for you. normally it's quite the opposite, the two of you never really getting enough of each other.

- you want what's best for her. really, you do. but that doesn't mean you could just let her go.

- jihyo questions her decision nonstop in the face of your tears, but the words were already said. the tears have already been shed.

- when she's finally and truly alone, the apartment you two once shared is void of noise.

- and she's just not sure anymore if this would be worth it without you.

mina

- "you deserve better."

- it's quiet and tired

- the thought of talking with you has obviously been relenting at mina for a long time.

- you're so surprised she actually believes you two should break up because you know that she's the one for you.

- but she doesn't.

- even through all your tears, you can see how it haunts her.

- being with you because she's always believing that there may be someone new, someone better for you.

- and that's what hurts you the most as she walks out the door, leaving you alone for the last time.

dahyun

- "we need to talk."

- it's pulled back, all the emotions barely there

- she has never felt happier but she knows she's never been the best for you

- she can barely express how she loves you let alone say it

- and she knows you'll find someone who can

- it'll just take time

- time better off spent without her

- even if she knows it might be the wrong way to do it, proven by your tears as she walked out on you, it's the only way she knows how to do it

- and that's why she can't let you stay in her heart any longer

chaeyoung

- "we both deserve to be happy."

- it's plain and simple. but it's what she truly believes.

- she's the happiest when she's with you. she's at her best.

- but she knows you aren't. it's dismal without her for such long periods of time and she knows it's hard on you.

- she loves you too much to be the one holding you down and she refuses to have it any other way.

- with a heavy heart, she walks out on you with tears in her eyes even through all your cries. even through all your pleads for her to stay.

- she's so so sorry but she truly believes you'll find someone better.

- she's just not sure if she could do the same.

tzuyu

"i think we're better off alone."

- struggles to truly get it across.

- it's so overwhelmingly difficult for her to tell you because she loves you.

- so much more than you'll ever know.

- she doesn't want to leave you but she feels like she needs to.

- it's the fear of uncertainty that gets to her.

- it's the constant worry of you wanting to leave her that she makes the stupid decision of doing it first.

- it's the way tears dribble down your face as you watch her leave that makes everything come crashing down

#twice imagines #twice headcanons #twice x reader #twice angst

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animatedrapture · 2 years

Text

— La la lost you.

— suna rintarou x reader. & just angst.

— i found a draft, im heartbroken and mentally unwell ^___^ im here to offer pain and then forget about it after because Real Life.

love is selfish, love is mean.

love is unkind, love is inconsiderate.

love is painful, love is lost in the depth of it all.

Suna stood there, at the threshold of your shared bedroom, watching you stuff your clothes into the dull gray duffel bag.

It's the one with the leather handle slightly chipping off, it's old and well—it's the same one you had brought when you were first moving in to his place. It's worn out, more from being unused than the opposite.

You take it as it is; he doesn't care. Because he's watching you leave and he does nothing but stand there, with his steady breathing and empty expression.

Body language should tell you something when it comes to Suna—or at the very least, the way his eyes look: if they're glistening, or as if almost clouded, or shifting—but he offers you nothing. There's no agitation but he's not particularly paralyzed either. He stood there, as calm and collected as ever, as if he hadn't been relentless with his razor sharp tongue just earlier.

The same words that held you down, paralyzing you. Sure, you had been the one to tell him that maybe you should just break up because—

As if he hadn't, in a moment of emotional turmoil, just said: "We should've broken up long ago."

This isn't going anywhere anymore, all we do is fight when you're not ignoring me.

But we all say things when we're hurt—because while you regret what you said, Suna doesn't seem to regret it.

You hadn't answered him. You said nothing that would've sealed the deal but neither did he. Only with trembling hands did you reach out to the back of your closet to grab the bag, though perhaps, as you stuffed what you could in the bag, that might've been enough of an answer and for Suna, perhaps it was too.

Unfortunately, there's no fighting back the quivering of your lips or the tightness in your throat. Sure, your eyes sting with the tears you won't let yourself just fall over but holy shit, it hurts.

Everything hurts.

"We should've broken up long ago" gives you an insight that he's thought of this. Breaking up with you. You're not sure what hurts more.

That he's letting go of you so easily? That he doesn't seem like he could care less, right there as you pack your bags at eleven in the evening? That he seems to have wanted to break it off long before this fight?

So, again, you take it as it is—you don't even notice him walking out from the bedroom door. All you're left with is a chipping leather bag full of what clothes you can throw in and thoughts plagued with a Suna Rin who wants nothing more than to get rid of you.

When you zip the bag close, moving becomes more difficult—like you're treading water.

This is it. The goodbye, the pain you've gone years trying to save yourself from until Suna happened. You wonder where you'll pick yourself up from this, everything begins and ends at him because even as you step out with the intention to leave, you're still all his.

Every step makes the weight of the world feel heavier and heavier, still, you make it to the front door.

Except he's actually there: his head leaning to the frame of the door, eyes glistening and red, his teeth pulling at the bottom of his lips. There's the Rintarou you know, the one who loves you and finds a way to show you somehow—crying at the sight of you about to leave.

You stand in front of him, your grip on the bag tightening with your already wavering resolve until he speaks, "Don't want you to go."

Love is ruthless—at the exact moment all your defenses should be up, they're all stripped down and you're skin and bones bare for your lover.

"What do you want then?"

"I thought—I've been thinking—I want you out of my life, y'know? 'm sure you know, 'course you do—I just," his voice cracks, you watch his body tremble ever so slightly, "In a way I still do and that's fucked up, YN."

It stings. Your nails digging in your palm so sharply, there just has to be some sort of pain more hurtful than this, the casual cruelty in the weight of the world and your love not wanting you—but there isn't, and you tremble, suck in a breath, choke in a sob, wait for the walls to cave in on you.

"...T-then?"

"But I love you—love you so much I'd rather take a bullet than watch you leave."

"You don't have to watch."

"I don't—but I'll wake up tomorrow and not have you there, and the day after that. That makes me feel sick, YN. I don't—I can't—"

"We should break up, Rin," you say. It's only true, yet to have to say it again hurts more than the last. Especially when you're watching him block the door, his head shaking in denial.

"Rin, please."

"You don't have to go—"

"But I do."

Nothing hurts more than letting go of something you don't really want to let go of; not when it's all yours. So, in turn, you sigh, and you let the bag fall to the floor.

You take one step closer to him and ask, "Do you hate me, Rin?"

You must be masochistic, to ask something like that to your lover who has already told you he wanted you out of his life, but maybe hearing it would keep you steady and ignore the fact that he's blocking the door, practically begging for you not to leave.

Except he doesn't answer you—it doesn't make it hurt any less; that he couldn't say no as much as he couldn’t say yes. With barely a fight, he's winning against your will.

You exhale. Tired, torn, falling apart at the seams.

"Okay," you concede. "I'll stay at the guest room. I'll give you a week, Rin. Pretend I'm not with you at all, then, after a week, please let me go if you still want me out of your life."

He looks like a lost, kicked puppy. Eyes following your movement as you turn on your heel and head for the guest room. You no longer wait for his answer. This is the best compromise you could afford to give him, and after that, nothing more.

#suna rintarou #suna x reader #haikyuu x reader #suna #suna angst #haikyuu angst

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george-weasleys-girl · 11 months

Text

Opposites Attract - Pt. 4

Snape's POV

Snape had never really considered himself the fatherly type. Even in the days when he still entertained the possibility of marriage, the idea of raising a child never appealed to him. Snape knew he was too selfish and easily vexed to be a suitable parent. He was, as much as he hated to admit it, too much like his worthless bastard of a father in that regard.

And yet, as he watched Y/N grow closer to the Weasley boy, a sort of protective paternal instinct rose up within him. He just couldn't see how this situation could end well, and he wasn't about to sit idly by and watch Y/N throw away a promising future for the likes of Fred Weasley.

~•~

Y/N's POV

Y/N wrapped her cloak tighter around her as she descended the stairs to the dungeon. She should've layered up more before coming down here, she thought with a huff. One would think that with the combined magic of the headmaster and all the teachers, something could be done about these damned drafts in the hallways. But, no such luck. Maybe it was some sort of character building nonsense or some other similar bullshit. With a long sigh, she rounded the last set of stairs, trying to exhale all her frustration before her meeting with Professor Snape.

Of all days, Fred picked this one to be an absolute shit. He'd been waiting for her just outside the door of her Ancient Runes class. "Hey, love," he leaned down for a kiss. "I thought maybe we could take a walk before dinner. It's starting to snow."

Y/N smiled. "I'd love to," she replied. "But I've got my meeting with Snape in about fifteen minutes."

"Oh," Fred muttered, looking a away.

"I'll try to cut it short," she reached out, placing her hand on his arm. "I really would love to take a walk with you."

"I don't know why you're going at all," he spat.

The vehemence in his voice caused Y/N to step back. "We've talked about this before. I want to be a Potions Master and, like it or not, Snape is my mentor. Besides, even if I canceled, I still have to return his book."

"Oh yeah, his precious little book from his precious little collection," he mocked.

Y/N stared at him in shock. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe it's that my girlfriend is choosing to go play teacher's pet instead of spending the afternoon with me."

Her gaze hardened as any sympathy she had flew out the window. "Never mind," Y/N spat back. "Forget me trying to get out early. If you're going to insult me for actually taking school seriously and pursuing my passion then you can fuck right off!" And with that, she turned on her heel and stomped away.

~•~

Fred's POV

Regret slammed into him as soon as she disappeared around the corner. This was not how things were supposed to go.

All he wanted was to spend some time with Y/N and forget about his shitty afternoon.

His day had started out great. But then, he and George got into an argument over the best way to tackle the problem they were having with their newest invention. They didn't argue often, and today's disagreement wasn't really that bad. They'd actually already worked things out. But it didn’t matter. Their arguments always left Fred feeling a little out of sorts and sad. It wasn't something he'd ever admitted to anyone, least of all himself.

Usually, to clear his head, he'd go for a walk. But now, with Y/N in his life, he sought her out instead, craving her gentle, calming presence. The world never felt more right than when she was by his side.

Except he'd fucked up. He'd forgotten she had her monthly meeting with Snape today, and it was the final blow. So, of course, he had to act like a selfish prick.

Godric, I'm such an fucking idiot.

Fred kicked at a loose stone on the floor, debating what to do next. His gut told him not to run after her, that'd only make things worse. She needed to cool down first. But afterward, that should be better. Shouldn't it? Of course, it would be better, he reasoned. Following the path Y/N had just taken, Fred decided he'd wait for her at the top of the stairs leading down to the dungeon, and when she got out, he'd apologize and make things right again.

~•~

Snape's POV

Snape raised an eyebrow as he watched Y/N stomp into his office, slamming the door shut behind her and dropping her backpack on the floor with a loud thud.

"Something troubling you?" He asked with a bemused air.

"What?" Y/N looked surprised, as if she'd just realized he was sitting there. "No, no - I'm fine."

Snape eyed her a few seconds before speaking again. "Very well," he said and leaned forward to replace the book she'd borrowed with a new one. He was pretty certain she wasn't, as she put it, fine, and wondered if her foul mood had something to do with the Weasley boy. He decided to broach that very subject after their book discussion.

"Shall we begin?" He asked.

Y/N nodded and pulled out her list of questions.

Throughout their conversation, he watched Y/N carefully. Assessing her behavior. He noted that she'd kept her mind on track despite being obviously upset.

Excellent discipline, Snape thought. That should make the next discussion more productive.

"Before you go, Miss Y/L N, I would like to speak to you about your future as it pertains to your career path," he began.

Y/N stopped packing up her backpack and looked up at him. "Of course, professor." She sat back down, folding her hands neatly in her lap.

"You still wish to become a Potions Master, yes?" He asked.

"Yes, of course."

"Good," he stood and paced the room. "As you are well aware, Potions requires steadfast study and a disciplined mind. It is important to stay focused. Trivial social distractions can lower the quality of your work."

Y/N gave him a puzzled look. "Trivial social distractions? Forgive me, sir, if I've misunderstood. But it sounds like you're saying I should have no life outside of my potion studies."

"Far from it, Miss Y/L/N," Snape returned to his seat. "But you should be select with who you devote your free time to. Surround yourself with people of like mind who understand and support your endeavors rather than those who seek to pull you away from your objective."

Y/N remained silent for a few long moments. Snape could almost hear the gears turning in her head. "I - I understand, professor," she said finally.

"Very good," Snape replied. "Now, go and enjoy the rest of your day."

Y/N simply nodded and hurried out of his office.

Snape leaned back with a self-satisfied grin, convinced that his message had hit home.

~•~

Y/N's POV

Y/N hurried out of Snape's office, holding back the tears that threatened to spill over. How could she have been so stupid? Letting herself get pulled in by a pretty face. The professor was right. She needed to surround herself with people who supported her. She thought Fred did, but she was wrong. He'd shown his true colors today.

Confused and still angry, Y/N failed to notice the figure leaning against the wall at the top of the stairs.

"Y/N!" A voice called after her.

"Fred?" She turned around, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to apologize," he began, but then saw her wet, red-rimmed eyes. "You're crying, love. What happened? Did Snape say something to upset you?"

Y/N rolled her eyes. Was Fred really that dense? Or was he too junvenile to take responsibility for his own behavior?

"No, Fred. It wasn't Snape that upset me," she sneered. "But he did open my eyes."

"Opened your eyes," Fred's eyebrows scrunched together. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means I've been a fool, thinking you actually cared about me or anything that's important to me."

"What? How could you think that? I do care," Fred entreated. "That's why I'm here. Because I care so much."

"For now," Y/N scoffed. "But what happens the next time you want me to take a walk and I need to focus on my studies?"

She started to walk away, but he stepped in front of her. "Y/N, baby, please. Just listen," he begged. "I was upset and stupid, and it won't happen again."

"I know it won't." Y/N's gaze went as cold as ice. "Because we're done, Fred Weasley. This relationship is over."

If your url is crossed out, I'm unable to tag you.

~•~

@milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @zvummyummy @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley @nighttimemoonlover @jsjcue @wzrd-wheezes @fredweasleyyyyy @hufflepuffie @alexistonks @princess-paramour @anvaaryn @lastwandastan @samshifts @asuperconfusedgirl @superduckmilkshake @mysticsheepsoul @gemofthenight @1lellykins @junerprsh @sierraluvz @wolfkill16 @smallsweetvanillabean @costheticbabe @gobringmemyfood @kiwi5335

#fred weasley #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley angst #severus snape x platonic #snape #severus snape

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useless19 · 5 months

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I was kinda hoping for a junior birthday edition of days, i loved junior in this series? I thought you were hinting twards it to. Did you have ideas or was it just a way to reasure bowser that luigi would be back?

So was I! I made a space for it in my drafts doc and everything, but I couldn't figure out enough of a plot to hang it together. It might've been because by that point I was starting to wind down my writing in Days with an aim to finish the series off, or it could have been because it would've required a fairly heavy narrative switch and I was already struggling with Bowser's pov for Day 16.

Or it could've been that I didn't want to have to figure out what a spoilt 8-year-old Koopa prince's birthday presents were going to be!

It's Junior's birthday, so it's going to be the most coolest awesomest day of the entire year! -the planned summary

Like King Boo, I left myself the option of writing Junior's birthday just in case. I've honestly found this to be pretty useful for constructing the series as a whole. Things happen that the narrative doesn't show (Luigi thinks about taking Junior Lava Bubble fishing one time, but we never see that), and allowing myself the freedom of not having to write it meant that I managed to finish more other parts than I ever thought I would when starting.

Still, I know roughly where the characters are at on Day 51 (aka Junior's birthday), so let's have a look at them, shall we?

Luigi extends his visit so he leaves the day after Junior's birthday. It's much easier for him to agree to stay longer than it is for him to commit to a longer stay before he arrives. He gets comfortable where he is. He spent the previous day making sure Junior knew he was going to leave after his birthday so that he wouldn't have to keep reminding Junior on his birthday and bring the mood down. Luigi likes a good party and he doesn't have to be the centre of attention, so he has a great time.

Bowser likes a party even more than Luigi and his son is growing up so well. He's way more tolerant of destructive antics than most parents too (he's got minions to deal with mess and rebuilding). He also starts to realise some of Luigi's problems when it comes to visiting; ie that he's very suggestible. It's not an entirely conscious observation, but he's less worried when Luigi leaves and spends more than a week away, despite saying that he was only going for a week. There's always going to be some lag. Email updates help (even if the first one is from a long-suffering Mario).

(If anyone other than me did the maths and figured out that Luigi wouldn't actually be at Bowser's castle for Day 69, assuming a consistent week-in-the-Mushroom-Kingdom/week-in-Bowser's-castle, this is why. It's always a bit more than a week-long visit).

And, of course, Junior. He's more resilient than Bowser in the being abandoned department, though he's still a bratty kid who's used to having his own way. He's very determined to show Luigi every single last one of his presents so Luigi will know what he's missing out on if he goes ahead with his stupid leaving plan. Similarly, the Koopalings also get the full range, but they have to leave in dribs and drabs over the next week too.

I guess part of why I couldn't figure out a plot was because Junior is going to be getting more and more intense and overexcited as his birthday party goes on and that would narrow the focus too much to be interesting.

(Maybe the lesson here is that putting it in Junior's pov was a bad call and I should've been trying to see Luigi's thoughts on the whole thing).

I don't know what Luigi would get Junior. He'd probably play it safe and do some art supplies (which are fine, but nothing super exciting and he gets a bit miffed when Junior moves on fairly quickly). He also delivers a letter from Peach (which Junior initially dismisses as boring), with an invitation to a brand new tournament she's organising (I'd have just picked a random sport that's not a main Mario tie-in game, or maybe one of the less represented sports like one of the Olympic ones). Luigi can't remember speaking with her about that, but he must've said enough for her to do this. Junior's quite excited over this - it's his own invitation, not just his dad's!

I also imagine that Mario sends something, maybe food? Possibly a bunch of hot sauce bottles from the various places he's helped out (they won't stop sending them and, while he likes spicy food, he can't eat this much!)? He puts the same amount of effort into it as he would a nephew. Luigi's also surprised at this and has to deal with the (actually super obvious in hindsight) realisation that he's sort of on his way to becoming Junior's step-dad, not just a regular old babysitter.

(Yeah, this would've been a challenge to properly depict in Junior's pov. Possibly an interesting one though.)

It was definitely set up more as potential day for writing, but it was useful to help reassure Bowser once I'd added it.

#bowuigi #days #this got long #ask

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tigertale · 1 year

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A/N: What do I love more than Jamil? The angst surrounding him <3 I will correct this piece later, I'm just posting this so that it doesn't stay a draft forever (or maybe that it should've stayed one).

A/N 2: Also thinking about starting a grown-up series of sort because I've got enough material for it but- yeah still unsure

Reader; Jamil; Kalim

•〔　！〕 Angst (kinda), Grammatical errors; Not proofread, The ending is so funky wth

"My, how proud am I to see such an unexpected addition to the Asim." The patriarch of the said Asim family looked over the garden. The glassless windows allowed him to watch his own children playing by their caretaker side's. Despite being visibly overworked by the number of kids, she kept a soft smile on her lips as she would rock the baby to sleep while stopping an umpteenth argument between the siblings.

By the side of the eldest, his son, smaller in size, looked at his brothers and sisters with the same fond look his father had. Or was it softer? He nodded in agreement with the previous statement, truly enjoying the sight before him. "I'm glad to see her adjusting well to this situation." And her smile, never falling despite the huge amount of work she had taken over ever since she had entered the Asim palace, had managed to win over those residing in it.

The patriarch turned towards the servant who had yet to pronounce a word. The black haired was silently watching the same scenery, although no words were uttered. It was not his place to speak without his master's demand. And pleased by the attitude, he turned back to face his son. "Kalim, you're already old enough to marry. Find us a wife just like her!" His booming laughter followed suit, but none of the two friends dared speaking.

"But I trust my son and any judgments he may have." Oh did Kalim wish he had the same confidence in him.

He remembered his years at NRC, the way everyone was looking at him like he was the most oblivious person around. He had always seen those words as what they were, mere words, and that he shouldn't care about those. Yet how ironic it is for him to agree with them years after, now that he had finally lost what he had been passionately chasing after. The only thing he had ever so fervently adored and wished for was now someone else's, all because he had too much confidence in himself and never fathomed the idea that she may have fallen in love with someone else.

She was blissfully unaware of the talk happening right behind her back. But she did catch sight of them as they were leaving. Hers and Jamil's eyes met, and she waved shyly at him. His stare only lingered a bit more before he followed his masters, but she was not hurt by the lack of answer. If anything she was happy that he had even looked at her. A blissful sigh left her lips as she went back to taking care of the Asim children who were crying for her attention.

However, later that night, when she entered the Viper's given side of the manor (around the same size of a small house), Jamil made sure to apologize.

"I'm sorry for leaving without saying anything." She reassured him that there were no problems. She understood that his duties prevailed above anything else. But he was still pleading, both for her forgiveness and for her to show the slightest bit of anger towards him. They had waited years before embracing each other as tightly as of today. Years before he could make her his fiancée. And they couldn't even bask into their love during the day, having to eat up their sleeping time to care for one another.

"I'm sorry for bringing you here."

She removed herself from his embrace, eyebrows almost touching one another with how much her frown was pronounced. "Jamil." Her voice, firm, so unlike how she would always call for him with honey dripping down at each word, made him freeze up with surprise. "I've said it already, didn't I? I'm ready to follow you everywhere, I've even followed you here to prove to you just how much you mean to me, no matter what happens. It's really cheesy for your liking but… Just knowing that I'll see you by the end of the day makes me happy." And indeed it was too cheesy, and he would've surely complained about it if someone other than her would have said those words.

But she's her, his dear fiancée, the one he has fought for and miraculously won over, and it was enough for him to forget about it. She has indeed followed him all the way to the Asim household; they had waited after both their graduation to live with each other. And although she was officially registered under the Jamil family, now having masters to serve, she seemed to be more than happy to take this job over, even if she had expressed her distaste to such hierarchical social structure back when they were students at the night Raven college.

Back when they were just students basking into each other's presence with no thoughts or possible ideas of what awaited them. When she was on the verge of crying, telling him how much she wished for him to be free of any duties that tied him away from truly appreciating what the world had to offer. And when he would merely kiss her as a silent way to express how grateful he was to hear her feelings.

"I'm sorry… But I just don't want you to regret coming here." Even if she was fine with this outcome, he would, actually, always regret making her come all the way here. All the way down to this place, tying from the true home that awaited her far beyond this world. When his head fell against her shoulder, his arms loosely crossing behind her back, her calloused fingers moved to his hair. She hummed softly as she looked at his tresses pooling from the gaps between her fingers and back onto his back.

She would be lying if she said that there weren't times when she… "regretted" her decision. When the sun would blind her, her body warming up from both its light and the surrounding heat. And only then, she would dream about going on a trip all the way to the high snowy mountains in the Shaftlands, feeling the soft snow crunching under her imposing boots. Or just going to a swimming pool, which she wasn't allowed as of now. She would have loved to be satisfied with her situation, but the cold reminder that she was now restricted often weighed on her mind. Jamil needed someone to lift his mood up, someone not caring about these kinds of things. Even if she wasn't this person, she would try to be.

He felt her move, her fingers drifting along the side of his face before lifting his head up. "But I'm with you. I live with you, enjoy my dinners with you, go to bed with you." She pressed her forehead against his with a soft smile. "I may have given up some of my freedom for it, but it's a sacrifice I was willing to make and certainly won't regret any time soon." Yes it's true that she has often dreamed about everything she had lost by tying the knot, but she would have regretted it even more if he wasn't here, in her life, to love her when they both had a bit of free time.

"Jamil." She pressed her lips against his. It was a soft kiss, the pressure lacking in sensuality but making up to it with the fondness she held for her soon to be husband. "I love you. And I will, hopefully, love you until my death." He didn't say anything, just diving back into the kiss. He hoped that she would never leave his side and continue to love him until death do them apart.

___

And merely a year later, under the tent, white scarfs of the finest silk draped over it, and surrounded by all the members of the Asim family and their servants, she thought back about those words. If she had known that they would have hurt the both of them she wouldn't have said them.

Before her ring was to come, she took a glance at Najma sitting closest to her. And despite the proud smile she wore, she could see the hint of sadness behind it. They had spent enough time together in the same place to know about the other's habits, from the slight way her lips were twitching to her eyes drifting to her own decorated fingers trembling with anticipation of the ring.

Aah, she tensed up when she felt a hand caressing the side of her face. She turned around, finding her soon to be husband looking at her with longing eyes. He was sweet, so sweet…

His fingers drifted to hers once the rings were put before him on one of the most expensive cushions she had ever seen, and with his other hand, he passed the cold metal to her left index. Paired with the henna that has been made the night before, the sight of the many gems only doubled in beauty. But she couldn't ponder too much as she was forced to do what he had done before, passing the diamond ring through his finger.

And as what the patriarch asked was to be done, the two newlyweds both stared ahead, hands entangled with a beautiful painted smile on their face as they looked at the camera. But despite the fondness in which he was gently grasping her hand, she was too focused on the one behind the photographer to reply to his gesture. She… she couldn't regret it now. The promise that she had made.

She would love him forever, until her very end would she still think of him. Because even if Jamil was congratulating her with the rest of the guests (the sound of hundreds of people clapping at the same time almost deafening her,) they both knew that they would always love one another. Even if he's watching her marrying someone else, even if tomorrow he would change the sheet she had used with someone else, even when… he will follow and raise the children she would have with someone else, he would still love her. And she would still love him.

She eventually turned towards her husband. Kalim's grin was bigger than any she had seen before, and she finally tightened her fingers back as a pitiful answer to his love filled action. Because the vows she had made to him were actually meant to someone else.

Until death to them apart, both she and her now to be attendant would love each other.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst angst #twst jamil viper #twst jamil #jamil viper #jamil x you #jamil x reader #jamil viper x reader

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