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blinder-secrets · 4 years

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Count For Me

tommy x anxious reader, 2164 words

a/n: i’m not gonna say the reader is having a panic attack specifically, more that they’re experiencing a lot of anxiety, so take that with a pinch of salt pls. i’m not suggesting this is how all anxiety feels or that it can be alleviated like this every time, im just basing it on my own experiences so enjoy!

You’re sat in the kitchen, or rather, the stairwell to the kitchens. You had every intention of making it there, of sitting at the large oak table in the fore-room, and having tea. Bread. Of letting Frances relax and serving yourself. But, instead, you’re on the last step down, legs bouncing on the balls of your feet.

It can only be described as fretting, incessant worry; your mind is agonising over things already done, over what’s to come next. It isn’t guns, or business, or family arguments that’s got you. It’s something invisible. Unknown, but biting away regardless. It’s sitting on the step and thinking about everything, and nothing — it’s losing yourself entirely, feeling the hand tighten around your throat, the dread, the weight of it in your chest. You sit and you feel afraid. After all you’ve seen in the world, all you’ve been through with Tommy. It’s your own head that works itself against you now, your own commentary that rots your mind in the quiet moments. Fuck. If you said it aloud they’d laugh you out the room. If you told Pol she’d say you were sick, that you needed air and spirits, and none of this Shelby wreckage to pull you down.

‘In the kitchen, Sir.’

Oh, Christ, Tommy’s home. You hear him, direct and toward where you're hiding. From his footsteps, it seems like he’s coming from the opposite wing, so he’ll make it into the kitchen before you ever did.

He calls your name through the hallway. It bounces off the cool tiles.

‘I’m here, Tommy,’ you say back in a false tone; you dread him finding you more than the rest of it.

You’ve got maybe a minute to collect yourself, but from the way your feet are sinking through the stone of the floor beneath you, that’s not going to happen. He arrives in the kitchen, says your name again. He can’t see you from where he is.

‘On the stairs,’ you tell him.

Once he’s in front of you, your energy spikes. It’s easier to ignore the feeling when you’re with him. He tucks it away for you, somewhat, just a bit. ‘What is it?’ he asks, shaking his head slightly, his lips parted. A cigarette leaks smoke from between his fingers. He’s taken his coat off, but the jacket’s still there. Still dressed like he could leave again at any moment.

‘Nothing.’ You smile. ‘Are you back now?’

‘For now,’ he answers. He steps forward, places the back of his hand against your forehead. ‘Are you sick?’

‘No. Just wanted to sit somewhere.’

He doesn’t believe you, he knows you too well. You still your knees but they’re bouncing again before you can offer an explanation.

‘Tell me,’ he insists, clueless.

Where do you start? What could you possibly say that would make sense. I was going to make lunch, Tommy, but then I sat down here and I couldn’t get up again. ‘Nothing,’ you repeat, pausing to force a swallow. ‘I don’t know, really.’

He takes a drag. On the exhale, he offers the smoke to you, silent but willing to help. You shake your head; it’s not your habit, it doesn’t calm you like it does with him.

‘Has something happened?’ he asks. He’s patient, waiting for you to give him a way in, prepared to go slow when you need it.

‘No, nothing’s happened.’ Nothing you knew of. You were doing fine, going about the day like normal, and then suddenly you weren’t. It had already swamped you before you realised it was coming. ‘It’s just my head,’ you say, forcing the words over a breath that hadn’t quite made it. ‘I think it’s out to get me, Tom.’

He sighs. His lips pour smoke onto the tiles as he looks down. Another stress for him: you sat on his shoulders like the rest of it did, weighed him down without meaning to. You feel yourself rock forward, your head pulling into your chest, like there’s string attached from your chin to your heart and now it’s constricting. ‘Sorry,’ you pant, though you may have said it in your head. It could’ve been a thought amongst the sea and you wouldn’t have known. Sorry for the stress, Tommy, sorry for it all.

‘Hey,’ he says, repeating it firmly after a pause. ‘Hey. Look at me.’ His hand goes to your face, fingers leading your chin upwards until your gaze is on him. ‘Whatever it is, it’s just noise, alright? Just shit in the trough.’

Your lids drop a fraction. ‘Tommy…’

‘No.’ He shakes his head. ‘You’re here, with me, right, in the kitchen. Don’t let it pull you under.’

You don’t want to. You’re scanning him, looking for something to ground you, the gold of his cufflink, the button of his waistcoat. Nothing sticks. You’re trying to focus but it’s splitting your attention again. Filling your head with the noise, the pull, the drag. ‘I think I’m going mad,’ you say. Your head’s so tight you can’t make sense of it.

His brows draw together. You focus on the crease in the skin between them. ‘What is it?’ he asks. ‘Eh? What’s worrying you so much?’

‘I don’t know,’ you answer honestly. It sounds like a plea but it’s all you can give him.

You feel like a horse on the track; everything’s past you, behind you, loud in the stands and betting against you. There’s a worry to your left but it’s overtaken by the one on your right. So much at once, too often and too fast to know which is the biggest problem, which is the one causing the damage. If you could pluck something out, you would. If you could tell him, it’d be the first thing you did. There isn’t an answer to his question that doesn’t just make it worse — the more you try to put a name to it, or explain, the harder it gets to breathe. You can feel your heartbeat in your wrists.

Swearing, you drop your head again like it’s a lead weight, letting his fingertips drag up your cheek with the motion. ‘I can’t tell,’ you say weakly. ‘Feels like I’m drowning.’

The ring you’re wearing sits loose on your index finger; you spin it around the knuckle nervously, forcing a shallow breath each time the ruby completes a loop. If you look at him again you might cry. He didn’t ask for this, he didn’t know what to do with you anymore than you knew yourself.

Clearing his throat once, Tommy puts the cigarette between his lips and bends to grab you with both hands. He takes you by the elbows, thumbs tight on your arms, and pulls you to your feet before you have room to complain. You try to avoid his gaze, but his head ducks and chases your eyes until you give in.

‘Listen,’ he starts. He takes the cigarette out, blows the smoke away before he talks. ‘I won’t let you, alright? No-one’s drowning here.’ He looks certain, dedicated, his eyes dig through yours and back into the noise. ‘There’s nothing going on in there that we can’t sort. Okay?’

You want to believe him, so you nod. The next breath you take swells your chest into his.

‘Come here,’ he says briskly, pulling you after him as he walks you deeper into the kitchen. ‘When we were in France—stand there.’ You’re put by the table. He goes to the nearest drawer, pilfering through the silverware as he continues, ‘When we were in France, they told us we had to count.’

‘Count?’

‘To still our hands.’ He turns, pushing the drawer shut with his hip, and files through the forks he’s now holding. ‘Bullets, cards. Saw John counting his teeth once.’

You blink like it’ll help you listen. Everything he’s saying is going in, but bouncing back again. It rattles in your ear canal like coins down a well.

‘Here,’ he says, offering them to you. ‘Count them.’

You hesitate. Then he grabs your wrist, sets your palm straight, and pours the cutlery into it.

‘Go on.’

Mumbling an agreement, you turn to the table and put the first fork onto the wood. One. Two. You hope he doesn’t notice the slight shake along your fingers, the clumsiness as you pass forks from one hand to the other.

‘Do it out loud,’ he guides, as he stands beside you. He exhales, dragging it out and pushing the smoke over your shoulder; you’d forgotten he even had one lit.

‘Three,’ you say. ‘Four.’

All those cigarettes. Lips barely his unless there’s one between them. They’ll get him one day, you think. The cough will get worse and then it’ll be you, on your own in this big house, you looking after Charlie, you with the ache and the grief and the silence.

‘Stop thinking,’ he chides. ‘Count.’

‘Five, six, seven.’ You sigh. The forks clatter on top of one another. ‘Eight, nine. This is stupid, Tommy. Ten.’ You turn to him, expectant of something else, something more helpful.

He just raises his eyebrows, gesturing for you to pick them up again. ‘Now do it over.’

‘Again?’

He nods. The cigarette is extinguished, flicked to the floor and crushed between his sole and the tile. ‘You do it again, and again,’ he lists, ‘until it feels like you can breathe.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

It takes four rounds of it before your chest loosens; four tens, over and over, forks placed down and picked up again as you count. He stands in silence the whole time, his hands in his pockets, his eyes on the table. How he doesn’t tire of it, you don’t know. He clears his throat occasionally but doesn’t say anything until you break the rhythm.

‘I think it’s worked,’ you mumble, taking care as you set the last fork down. ‘I feel better.’

It’s not all gone, but you feel calmer. Stiller. Your hands aren’t as jittery and the room feels big again, cold and empty and utilitarian.

He sighs, heavily, thankfully. The noise loud and partnered with a rough tone. ‘Alright,’ he says. He clicks into motion, pulling his hands free and turning to you so that he can bracket them around your face. His fingers are rough, warm, grounding. The rings stamp your cheeks, cold like ice. ‘What did I say, eh? Nothing we couldn’t sort.’

You smile limply and put a hand to his wrist. ‘Thank-you, Tommy.’

You hadn’t expected him to break through it, to make you pause. Breathe. It’s usually the other way around, you calming him. You sifting through the muck. It had never crossed your mind that it would work in reverse.

‘Next time,’ he says quietly, ‘you tell me.’ His chin dips a fraction, blue eyes laced with intent. ‘You tell me as soon as it get’s too much, alright?’

‘Okay,’ you promise, nodding between his palms. ‘Sorry.’

His lip tweaks slightly. ‘What have you got to be sorry for?’ he asks. Then he tilts up to kiss your forehead and, pulling back, utters ‘my silly girl’ under his breath.

You can’t smile. The question almost loses you again. You have plenty to be sorry for, you think, handfuls of apologies shoved into each corner of your brain. ‘Let’s do something,’ you say quickly, chasing the scatter away. ‘Distract me, please.’

He kisses you, lips firm and sure against yours in an agreement, a promise. ‘I have something to show you,’ he says afterwards. His grip on your face drops and he takes a hand instead, fingers curling around your palm. ‘The new horse is here.’

‘It is?’ You cling to him, put your free hand around his bicep and pull tight to his side like the closeness will help. He looks at you like he understands. ‘Well, show me then,’ you push, almost able to smile into it. ‘She was pretty from what I remember.’

‘Very pretty,’ he agrees. ‘Come on.’

You follow him through the house and across the drive. He doesn’t stop talking the whole way, which is unlike him, but he knows any silence will just cause you to slip again, to overthink until you’re tumbling. You answer his questions, dumb as they are, like he doesn’t already know the answers. You tell him what you had for breakfast, what you read in the paper. He asks, and he drawls, and he comments on the bloom of the roses as you pass them. He keeps going and going, until you’re so wrapped up in him, and the house, and the world outside, that everything else falls quiet. Peaceful. He fills your head with his own voice and you thank him for it. You thank him, and you hold on like it’s the only thing keeping you above the water.

‘You alright?’ he asks, checking once you’ve reached the stables.

‘Yes, Tom.’ You smile, meaning it. ‘I’m with you, remember?’

#tommy x reader #tommy shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby imagines #peaky blinders fanfic #this was only short and feels HORRRRRRRRFICALLYYYY exposing in terms of my experience with my horrible brain so #enjoy but avert your eyes and forget i exist thankyou!#mostly sharing because i know we all want to imagine tommy shelby looking after us :( <3

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buckyskorpion · 4 years

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Do Something Bad, Too - Part 5

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader

Summary: It’s like every single Alpha on the planet won’t rest until they’ve confessed their eternal wish for you to mother their children, and it’s getting old. Luckily, that’s a problem Bucky might be able to fix.

Warnings: language, a/b/o dynamics, mentions of violence

A/N: sooooo..... lets not mention the last time i updated this fic was four years, and get excited that im finally updating!! woo!! i really hope this was worth the wait, im very anxious about letting you guys down. let me know what you honestly think! love u all, thank u for sticking with me

series masterlist | main masterlist | my ko-fi

You stay in Nat’s apartment in the Tower for the rest of your heat, which lasts an entire week. Nat comes and goes throughout that time to make sure you’re drinking enough water, to make you dinner or run you a bath, or sometimes just to keep you company when you’re capable of that. She doesn’t stay long, though, aware her presence just makes the unbearableness of going through heat even worse. She also doesn’t mention Bucky’s clothes or anything about that first day, which you’re immeasurably grateful for. You don’t think you could talk about it without crying.

To say you’re humiliated is an understatement. Mixed with that is all this guilt and shame and self-hatred for inflicting that situation on you and Bucky. Mostly for Bucky. He had made it so very clear he was only comfortable helping you with the scent thing, and even with that there were boundaries. You had blown through them all by showing up to his apartment, triggering both your instincts to do things you couldn’t control, and now he probably resented you enough to never want to see you again.

You don’t blame him. It doesn’t stop it from hurting so much, though.

You’ve well and truly fucked yourself now. Not only is it omega instincts driving you towards Bucky now, but also your own stupid, naive heart. You miss his giant hands and broad shoulders that block out the world for a second, narrowing your scope to just the two of you. You miss the way you can breathe around him, how the world doesn’t feel so scary and foreign to you when he’s by your side. It’s crazy because you weren’t even close, you weren’t even really friends, but now you never will be because you’re so goddamn stupid it’s actually astounding.

Nat’s plan had not worked. And this time, you couldn’t even blame her for this colossal backfire. This is all your handiwork.

You’re back in your office, returning to work once your fever died down and you could stand to be in the vicinity of other alphas without passing out. Maybe you’re tapping rather aggressively on your keyboard, and maybe all the techies on the floor can hear you sigh and groan in frustration every two seconds and are sending you strange looks through the glass. Whatever, you’re their boss, they can’t say anything. Besides, your boss has requested some rather strange security upgrades and you’re not sure if it’s within your job description to email Tony Stark and say what the fuck?

It turns out you don’t have to, because Tony Stark comes to you. It’s not often he takes part in the day to day workings of Stark Industries - that’s your job, after all. But he comes striding into your office eating an apple and wearing sunglasses during the middle of the day, and points a ringed finger at you.

“You’re back,” he says, and you find yourself glancing down at your baby-blue pantsuit just to make sure you are, in fact, back. Stark takes a very pointed breath through his nose and adds, “You smell terrible. This is great!”

“Great?” You can’t help but sound bitter. Your smell is hardly great to you. Even after sweating out your entire body-weight and taking more showers than is considered healthy, you still smell like Bucky. You can’t escape him - not your thoughts, not your heart, and certainly not the way your skin seems to emanate him like he’s crawled underneath and set up shop. It’s embarrassing and humiliating, because it’s not real, and just serves to remind you of the terrible mistake you’ve made. You hope beyond hope Stark doesn’t recognise the other alpha scent clinging to your pores.

“Yes, great. I need your help,” he says, sitting down in a chair opposite your desk. You glance at the specs you have open on your computer, the strange security upgrades he wants you to make to the Tower, and then back to Stark’s million-dollar smile. It’s unsettling. You feel a headache forming before he even opens his mouth.

“If this has anything to do with these emails-“

“Those can wait,” Stark says, waving a dismissive hand at your computer. He lobs his applecore into the bin beside your desk as if to punctuate his point, then says, “This is a request on behalf of the Avengers.”

“Um,” you say, rather eloquently. Avengers? What on earth could they want with you, unless- you groan, rolling your eyes to the ceiling. “Natasha.”

“She highly recommended your expertise,” Stark says, and that headache brewing in your temples blooms into a full-blown migraine. He stands, smooths out his slacks, and says without room for question, “Follow me.”

This is how you end up back in the residential floors of the Tower, much to your chagrin, which Stark seems to pick up on. The closer you get to Bucky’s floor the more fidgety you become, heart racing and skin turning clammy until you watch the numbers fly by and you leave him somewhere in the clouds above Manhattan. The elevator doors ding open to a floor that seems to go on forever, full of gym equipment and fancy simulation tech you figure the Avengers must use to train. You find Natasha’s red head on the sparring mats, tackling someone to the ground with her thighs, and glare daggers as you follow Stark into the room.

“She’s alive!” Natasha calls across the room, ignoring your death glare for a knowing smirk. Her voice echoes through the warehouse-style gym floor, drawing the attention of the others in the room. The Avengers, and all of a sudden you feel like an eighteen year old kid watching aliens attack New York on a grainy satellite TV in the desert again. This is like meeting celebrities on another level. Steve Rogers finishes wrapping his hands as he walks over to you and Stark, Sam Wilson beside him, and Natasha gives Clint Barton a hand to help him up from the mats.

“What have you roped me into now, Nat?” you ask, not bothering to hide your frustration. You’ve just about had it with her meddling, but you should’ve known it was a pipe dream to think she would stop.

“We know you’re very busy, we won’t take up much of your time,” Steve Rogers says, extending a hand and introducing himself like he needs to. Captain America needs no introduction.

“I know who you all are,” you say, giving them a nod. “And you’re right, I am busy. So why am I here?”

“You and Nat must get along like a house on fire,” Clint says, earning him an elbow in the gut from Nat herself. You grin, all sharp in the way Nat tells you looks scary in a hot way, and watch as he subtly shifts behind Nat as if to hide behind her smaller frame. It’s only then that you register the scents mingling between them, and realise that Clint Barton is Nat’s omega. She grins at you, beatific and serene, as if she can read your thoughts and knows exactly what you’ve just figured out.

“Let’s not hold (Y/n) up any longer,” Nat says, grinning in a way that always spells trouble for you. “She’s a woman in high demand.”

Stark leads them to what seems to be a large empty space in the training facility, but it’s soon filled with hologram projections from a tiny Starkpad he pulls from his pocket. You fall into step beside Nat, using your height advantage to glare down at her and convey the level to which you want to strangle her right now. She just loops her arm with yours and kisses you on the cheek, frustrating your attempts at intimidation before you can even begin. Bloody Russian spies, you grumble to yourself as you come a halt in front of the holograms.

You’re looking at building specs, that much is obvious. Why, though, is entirely lost on you. The structure is a tall hexagonal building reminding you of a panopticon, with security floors in the centre and what seem to be prison cells surrounding them. Details jump out from Stark’s hologram - security cameras, miniature guards patrolling the floors, thermally sealed doors and electromagnetic force-fields on the cells. It’s a prison, you surmise, and you’re starting to get a bad feeling as to why you’re here.

You turn to Nat and say, “I’m not going back in the field.”

She pats your arm with only a tiny bit of condescension and says, “I’m not asking you to.”

“You’re my Head of Security,” Stark says, then gestures to the hologram building, “If you can design impenetrable security systems, surely you can undo them.”

“You want me to help you break into this place?” you ask. The team all nod, and you look back at the intimidating, virtual-blue building in front of you. “It’s a fortress.”

“Yeah, they really upped the anti on security since I was in there,” Sam Wilson says, earning him a reproachful look from Steve. It does nothing to soothe the anxiety starting to thread through your chest. Failing the Avengers doesn’t seem like an option, but from where you’re standing, neither is breaking into this facility.

“I’ll need to know what it is first,” you say, “Then I can try and help you. Emphasis on try. I’m not a miracle worker.”

“It’s called the Raft,” Steve says, his face growing stony and set as he talks. “It’s a prison designed for enhanced persons by Secretary Ross. After Germany, I broke Sam, Scott, and Clint out. But Wanda-“

“We need to get her out of there,” Clint says. You pretend not to notice as beside you Nat discreetly takes his hand, rubbing her thumb across his bruised knuckles.

“Leave the search and rescue to us,” Stark says, and you watch him shift uncomfortably under some inscrutable looks Steve and Sam are giving him, “We just need your help on how to get into the joint.”

“Simple,” you breathe, but only Nat laughs. This seems like an impossible task, but from the look of everyone around you, failure isn’t an option. You’re going to have to make the impossible possible. It’s a good thing you’ve had some experience with that - in the military, trapped into sand-filled corners with no foreseeable way out, it really did seem like you were working miracles to stay alive out there. You swallow past a dry mouth and blink through desert-gunked eyes, say, “I’ll need that Starkpad, and some time.”

“You have forty-eight hours,” Stark says. The hologram disappears in a blink as he throws the Starkpad, no bigger than your palm, which you only just manage to catch. Stark clicks his fingers, as if an idea as just occurred to him, and says, “Oh, I almost forget to tell you! The Raft is underwater. Completely submerged, middle of the ocean, super top-secret. Fun, right?”

Your heart drops to your stomach. Fun is not the word you you would use. Only forty-eight hours to break into the most secure facility in the country, if not the world? This day couldn’t possibly blindside you anymore.

As if the universe is conspiring against you, FRIDAY’s voice chimes in from overhead speakers to say, “Mr Stark, Sergeant Barnes is on his way to the gym floor.”

You feel your whole body lock up, heart seizing in your chest - Bucky? Here? You weren’t prepared to see him yet, or speak to him. What would you say? How could you apologise for one of the worst crimes you may have ever committed, and you’ve killed people? Natasha unloops her arm from yours, tries to soothe you with a hand on your back but it does nothing for the anxiety shooting sparks throughout your blood stream.

“How many times have I got to tell that illiterate Soviet popsicle, he’s not on the fucking team,” Stark grumbles, storming towards the elevators with a scowl. Steve clenches his fists, glaring after Stark but Sam holds him back. He mutters something only Steve can hear which makes him close his eyes and exhale sharp through his nose - frustrated, but calming by the nanosecond.

It’s a shame nobody thought to do the same for you.

“What did you just call him?” you say, ignoring Natasha’s warning murmur of your name as you follow after Stark. Maybe you still have some residually elevated hormones from your heat, or you really are just a lovesick idiot who can’t control her temper, but whatever it is has you absolutely incensed. Stark stops dead, clearly caught off guard by the venom in your voice, and spins on his heel to stare at you incredulously.

“Excuse me?” he says, blinking owlishly at you as you lean up into his space. You’re aware you’re overstepping the boss/employee line, but you can’t help yourself. The rage is brewing, and with each laboured breath Bucky’s scent grows stronger and stronger until it’s all you can smell. It settles over your skin like armour, and the urge to protect that hold on you, to protect him, is beyond your control - it’s primal.

“Don’t talk about him like that, ever,” you snarl, watching with satisfaction as Stark’s eyes turn round and wide.

He glances behind you towards his friends and says, “Are we sure she isn’t an alpha? Sheesh.”

“Tony,” Natasha warns, but it’s too late. You use the palm of your hand to slam into Stark’s solar plexus. You kick out his kneecap and he drops on one knee, wheezing and gasping for air. It all happens so fast you can’t even think about the repercussions of assaulting your boss, let alone what’s driven you to do it in the first place.

“I don’t need to be an alpha to kick your ass,” you hiss, glaring down at Stark who looks up at you like you have, in fact, lost your mind.

At that moment, the elevator dings and reveals Bucky practically seething behind the elevator doors. He storms in, larger than life - in the week or so it’s been since you’ve seen him, you’ve somehow forgotten how physically intimidating he actually is. You immediately step back from Stark’s kneeling figure, feeling the strange need to hide your hands behind your back like a kid caught with the cookie jar. Bucky glances wildly between you, Stark on the ground, and the ring of Avengers in different states of attempting to intervene. He heaves ragged breaths and is emitting a scent that threatens to take you to your knees, too. Authoritative, powerful, protective.

That submissive, animalistic side of you makes you really hate being an omega sometimes.

“Why is she here?” Bucky asks someone behind you, probably Natasha. He swings his, frankly, frightening gaze to Stark and demands with just as much venom as you had, “What did you do to her.”

“Jesus Christ, nothing!” Stark wheezes, clutching at the spot on his chest you’ve definitely bruised. He points an accusing finger at you and cries, “She hit me!”

“I’m so sorry,” you say, feeling your hands start to shake where you clutch them behind your back. You look to Bucky like maybe he can explain, which makes you sick to your stomach because he’s not yours to look towards. Now, more than ever, that is abundantly clear. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do!” Natasha pipes up behind you, helpful as ever. Bucky glares at her for you this time, releasing you of his burning-hot stare. His gaze has the power to paralyse you, and you need to get away from him, this, all of it - right now. You don’t get a chance to, however, before Natasha once again sticks her foot in it and says, “She was defending your honour, James.”

“Yeah, and I’ve no idea why. One quick google search should tell you he doesn’t need any-“

It takes you a second to realise the snarling, growling sound echoing through the gym is coming from you. Your face burns as you roll your lips together, cutting the sound off completely. For your entire life you’ve been headstrong and confident, but this whole experience with Bucky from the very first day you met him has shaken your entire self-perception. Everything you’ve known has been turned upside down - it was easy when all alphas were assholes, and you were one omega they couldn’t fuck with. Now, you stare down at your shoes and refuse to look in Bucky’s direction because he’s affected you so much you can’t even control yourself anymore. The worst part is that it’s entirely your own doing, because Bucky made it very clear you aren’t the one he wants, so everything you’re doing right now is just incredibly humiliating.

“(Y/n)?” Bucky’s voice makes you shudder. Looking at him would surely make you burst into flames, from embarrassment of the last time you saw him which you can’t even think about, or from the shame of pathetically defending a man who doesn’t want anything to do with you. He doesn’t even want you here, storming up to ask why you’re in his home in the first place.

“I’m gonna go,” you say, giving Bucky a wide berth as you head for the elevators. You can’t get there fast enough, practically sprinting to press the close-door button as fast as you can.

“Wait-“

And then, the absolute worst thing happens. You almost crush the Starkpad still in your hand from clenching your fist so hard - you have to, in order to keep your hands by your sides and not in Bucky’s personal space. Because just as the doors are about to slide closed, he slips in between them and FRIDAY seals you both in. The elevator fills with Bucky Bucky Bucky, just like your heat-addled brain has been chanting at you since you stumbled into his apartment a week ago.

Bucky stares at you wide-eyed, and you stare back just the same. This could possibly be your worst nightmare come to life, especially when the elevator screeches to a halt and FRIDAY’s dulcet tones hammer your fate home.

“I appear to be having some technical difficulties,” FRIDAY says, sounding confused if an AI can sound like anything. “I’m so sorry, I’m trying to fix this. It seems someone is manually overriding my control of the elevator.”

“Nat,” you groan, in unison with Bucky. So that’s it. You’re stuck in an elevator with Bucky and are being forced to face the music, by the powers that be. The powers being Natasha, a no good meddler who is going to be in a world of pain when you get out of here. Alpha be damned.

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bungou-stray-dingus · 4 years

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I love the one you write about Dazai having a new infant. Could you do the same with Fyodor(・∀・)

a/n : Fyodor is both a baby and an asshole and I love him wholeheartedly. He deserves to be happy too. Thank you for the request!

Fyodor Dostoevsky

You were the purest thing in existence according to Fyodor. He loved you, that much was clear even without him verbally saying so. You didn't have an ability, and you always took care of him whenever he came home both physically, mentally and emotionally. He worked himself too hard, and it worried you deeply considering his anemia. You'd check in on him constantly to make sure that he was getting enough sleep, that he was eating and he was drinking enough water. Whenever he came home you made sure to give him enough love and affection to make up for the time he missed when he was away.

He was just waking up, always the early riser and he gently kissed your temple before scooting out of the bed, making sure not to wake you in the process. He loved the way your hair would curtain your face, your lips slightly parted as you slept peacefully. He always thought you looked beautiful, but there was something so mesmerizing to him about the way you looked when you slept, he couldn't explain it. You rolled over, your hand absentmindedly reaching out to his side of his bed, feeling around for him, a small pout forming on your face as your eyes slowly fluttered open. "Good morning, dearest." His voice was still coated with sleepiness, and mixed with his accent it was beyond sexy.

You rolled over and looked at the clock on the nightstand, it was only five in the morning, the sun hadn't even risen over the city yet. "You're leaving already?" He nodded to you as he began dressing himself, his fingers carefully buttoning his shirt as his eyes stayed focused on you. "Hmph... well, I'll make you some breakfast before you go." You moved to get out of bed and he shook his head, softly pushing you back down on the pillow, pressing his lips to your temple.

"Get back to sleep. I'll grab something before I go. I promise." He wrapped his pinky around yours, something that you had begun doing with him whenever you promised something. It showed that you were serious about it, you never break a pinky promise, and he took it just as serious as you did. You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips as he brushed your hair out of your face.

"When will you be back?" You asked, reaching up to brush your fingers against his face, his skin was always so cold, but you had long since gotten used to the temperature difference between the two of you. He shrugged after pressing one last kiss to your lips and then pushing himself up off the bed. "What do you mean..." You mimicked his shrug as you propped yourself up on the bed, your eyes following him around the room as he grabbed his cloak, ushanka, and boots.

He hesitated next to the door, you heard his sigh before he turned to look back at you. "I don't know, but I'll keep in touch, and I'll try to be back as soon as possible. Now go back to bed." He walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him. You grabbed one of his pillows and held it over your face as you fell back onto your own pillows and started crying. You hated when he left, you never knew if he would come back, and that terrified you.

One Month Later

Fyodor hadn't returned home yet, but he wasn't the only thing that hadn't come to you as you thought it would. You sat on the edge of your bed, a bed that seemed ridiculously large whenever he wasn't there with you, and you swiped through the calendar on your phone. "One week, two weeks, three weeks, four weeks... five weeks... six weeks... seven...?" You counted the weeks over and over again, just to make sure you weren't miscounting. "Shit." You groaned, getting up off the bed and grabbing your shoes out of the closet. He hated when you left the house without him, he always made sure the house was properly stocked before he left so you would be able to avoid leaving at all, unless it was necessary. This seemed pretty damn necessary though, and the store was only a block away.

You walked in and made your way to the aisle with the tests, grabbing four boxes, just to be sure. It didn't hurt to be 200% sure, you know, just in case the first test was a fluke or something. You weren't really sure what you would do if they came back positive, and you definitely weren't ready for Fyodor's reaction if they were positive either. He didn't seem like the type of man that would want a child, especially not right now considering the mission he was on. He was barely ever home, the kid would barely ever see his or her own father.

When you got back to the house you ran to the bathroom, sitting on the lid of the toilet and reading the directions of the tests. Sure, they were pretty simple, but you just wanted to be sure that you took them correctly so there weren't any false results. You were stressed, and you cursed Fyodor for not being there with you right now when you needed him the most. You would feel a lot better if he was there to comfort you in the moment, to make you feel like it wouldn't be as bad if those tests came back positive, but no, his work came first.

The tests sat on the back of the toilet, your phone was in your hand, the timer set for five minutes as you paced the length of your bedroom. You picked up on the habit of biting the tip of your thumb from Fyodor, and you were biting it so hard that it had started to bleed. "Dammit..." you sighed, walking into the bathroom to grab a band-aid for your freshly self inflicted wound. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the tests on the back of the toilet, and you immediately forgot about your bleeding thumb, your eyes scanning over all four tests that had a combined total of eight pink lines. "Oh... shit...." You mumbled, your heart was racing and your vision became cloudy as tears began to build on your lower lashes.

You had to call him, you had to let him know, but you didn't even know if it was safe for you to do so at the moment. He hadn't texted or called since last night, and you were sure that he was out somewhere, if you called him it could draw attention and he could get hurt. So you had to wait, you had to wait for him. You were left alone with your thoughts for God knows how long, and your anxiety would only build more and more until that moment comes.

By the time he called five hours later, it was nine o'clock at night and you were sitting on the couch curled up in one of his cloaks, angrily eating a tub of ice cream while crying about the movie on the television screen. You hadn't realized how quick the hormone charged emotions would kick in, but they were evident now. You had never cried at a movie before, and here you were ugly crying into your Rocky Road while still internally fuming at your fiance who was no where around when you needed him most.

You grabbed your phone and answered it quickly, holding it up to your ear. "'Bout time you called." You said snidely, but the sound of your sniffles was what got his attention.

"You're crying. Are you alright, my love? Is there something wrong?" He chided, hoping to pull an answer out of you, and you let out a dry, humorless chuckle.

"Is there something wrong? Well I sure as hell think there is! You're never around when I need you, and I'm stuck going through shit all by myself and there's tears in my ice cream and you're not fucking home!" You shouted at him through the phone, your voice cracking whenever you reached octaves that you were unaware you could go to.

"Hmmm, my love is upset. What can I do to possibly make her feel better?" His voice was soft and velvety through the phone and as much as it used to comfort you before, it was only upsetting you more now.

"You could come home so I can talk to you in person."

"You know I can't do-"

"Fyodor, I'm pregnant." You said, closing your eyes, bracing for his reaction. He was quiet, and you wished that you could see his face right now, but all you got was silence. It was deafening, and his silence was much more scary right now. You wanted him to say something, you needed to know that he was still there.

"Are you sure?" He asked after what seemed like an eternity of silence, and you sighed, letting your head fall back against the cushion of the couch. Of course he would ask that, he wasn't here to see the four tests that all showed positives, he wasn't here for anything.

"Yes. I'm sure." Your anger hit you again. This wasn't a conversation you should be having over the damn phone. This should be an exciting time for you and your fiance, but instead, due to his constant absence, you were scared, and you were alone. "But you know what, I'll handle it myself, just like I handle everything else. Hope your mission goes well. I'm going to bed." You hung up the phone and placed it on the coffee table. You shrugged out of Fyodor's cloak and turned off the television, grabbing the empty jug of ice cream off the table and tossing it into the trash as you made your way to your bedroom.

You shut the door and locked it behind you before undressing and changing into your pajamas, climbing into your bed and pulling the comforters up to your chin. You finally fell asleep as the tears formed puddles in the divots of the pillow.

The sound of pots and pans clanging in the kitchen startled you awake, the smell of pancakes, bacon, and eggs filled your nostrils, the sun was shining brightly into your room, you saw dust particles floating around in the large beam of light. You stretched as you got out of bed, sliding the slippers onto your feet and wrapping your robe tightly around your body before you left the room to inspect what was going on.

When you opened the door, the first thing you saw were the rose petals that created a trail down the hallway. You hummed to yourself as you followed the trail around the corner to the kitchen, and you could have sworn that your heart grew three sizes at the image. A bouquet of white roses, lavender, and purple hydrangeas. They stood in a beautiful crystal vase, and sitting in front of the vase was a large white teddy bear with two smaller teddy bears, pink and blue, on each side.

"What are you doing home so soon?" You asked as you leaned in and smelt one of the roses. He turned to face you, a small smile on his face as he took you in. Whenever he came home, it was like falling in love with you all over again. He could never get over how absolutely gorgeous you were. He placed the spatula on the counter as he made his way over to you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you close against his chest.

"I know I'm gone a lot, I apologize for my absence. I wasn't here when I should have been, but I'm here now."

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

Fyodor was never one to express his emotions well, but your pregnancy had changed him, and he began trying. He wanted to be there for everything, every moment of your pregnancy he wanted to experience it with you. Not only was it exciting for him, but he also found it fascinating. He still went out for his missions, but he was never gone quite as long as he used to be. The longest he was ever gone since your pregnancy became known was two weeks, and even then he called every hour, on the hour to check in on you.

When he was home, he was actually quite over bearing. You never complained though, it was nice having him around so much. Every step you took, he was right behind you. He didn't want you to lift a finger. He learned how to cook so you wouldn't have to, he even did the laundry, although you had to help him at first so he wouldn't destroy any of your clothes. He was very invested in your pregnancy, learning everything he needed to know so that he was prepared for everything and anything.

Your morning sickness came later in your pregnancy, and it was a scheduled occurrence, one that he knew very well. Whenever the time came he was already helping you off the couch to get you to the bathroom, holding your hair behind your back as he rubbed soothing circles into your back. He had a cup of water and mouthwash prepared on the counter for afterwards, and he'd help you back to the couch after you were done. He'd bring you a couple saltine crackers to fill your stomach and another glass of water and he'd sit next to you on the couch, holding his hand against your forehead, helping to cool you down after you worked up a sweat from your retching.

He came to every doctors appointment, although he had to wear a disguise due to being one of the most wanted terrorists in Yokohama, it made you happy that he was there. If one your appointments fell on a day that he was out for one of his missions, he would be found waiting outside the doctors office for you to show up. He wouldn't miss a doctors appointment for anything, he would be caught dead before that ever happened.

When he found out you were having twins he became extremely over protective of you and your stomach. He always had a hand on your growing abdomen, tracing your stretch marks with his icy fingers. Whenever you felt self conscious about them, he would place kisses across your stomach and remind you how beautiful it was that you were growing and glowing with two of his children.

Whenever he did have to leave for missions he brought the ultrasound pictures with him, he would look at the pictures and they were a constant reminder to him that the world needed to be ridden of its sin before they came. He needed to cleanse the world so his children could grow up in a society free of sin.

During one of your doctors appointments at six months the doctor told you that you had high blood pressure and needed to be on bed rest for the safety of the babies and yourself. Fyodor enforced that rule, and he stopped going on missions completely. He had his "rats" do his work for him, and they would report to him at the end of the day. He refused to leave your side. When you had to use the bathroom, he would help you onto the toilet and then stand in the doorway with his back turned until you were done, and then he'd help you up. It was embarrassing at first, but you ended up getting used to it, and you knew that he was only doing it because he worried so much. He helped you bathe, sitting on the edge of the bathtub to wash your hair and your body, always murmuring to himself how beautiful you looked. He would only leave the room to cook your meals, and then he would bring those meals to you in bed and feed them to you.

Since you couldn't do shopping at the store, he would lay with you in bed, his laptop on his lap as he scrolled through websites, ordering everything that your eyes lingered on for longer than two seconds. Your front door was filled constantly with packages because according to him, money wasn't a problem if he was spending it on you and the babies. Their bassinets were both a pristine white and they were set up in the corner of your bedroom. He said nurseries were useless until they were about a year and half, that they needed to be with their parents until then because there's a lot of complications that could occur with a child that young while they were sleeping and it would be safer for them to be as close as possible if anything were to happen. You did not argue, there was no point in arguing with that logic.

When he found out that the children were a girl and a boy he was overjoyed. He got both a son and a daughter in one try, it was truly a blessing to him. He started making a list of potential baby names and you both stayed up late at night looking through the names until you both agreed on two.

Elizaveta for your daughter and Iosif for your son. Picking their names made it more real for him, it was more concrete now. He would often lay his head against your stomach, cooing in Russian to the children. They would usually kick when he did this, and whenever they did he would quickly look up to you and ask if you were okay, and then lay his head back down and talk again in his mother tongue, probably scolding them for kicking you.

You had no doubts about him as a father, he truly loved his children. Before you had gotten pregnant he had rarely ever said the L- word, but now, every night, he would press a kiss to your lips, and then lean down to kiss your stomach twice, once at the top, and the last kiss at the bottom. He would whisper that he loved them both and then tell them not to move too much so you could sleep. Then he would move back up and place one more kiss to your cheek before whispering that he loved you.

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

The snow coated the ground, building up against the windowsills. It was a blizzard, and it was beautiful. Fyodor had helped you move into the living room, lighting the fireplace and handing you a cup of hot chocolate as you both watched the snow fall. His legs were stretched along the couch as he leaned against the arm, you were laying against his chest between his legs. His finger traced hearts over your stomach and you both sipped on you drinks enjoying the view. "It's beautiful, I wish the children were here to see it." Fyodor murmured before taking another sip.

Just then you felt a sharp pain in your stomach, you shot up straight and he quickly grabbed your cup out of your hand and placed it on the coffee table. His brow furrowed and his forehead creased with worry lines. "They... they might be... fuck..." You squeezed your eyes shut and gripped onto the couch cushion as you tried to breathe your way through the pain. You felt the wetness build between your legs and you turned to look back at Fyodor. He nodded and helped guide you up off the couch.

He grabbed your coat and helped you put it on and button it up, then he draped a large wool blanket over your shoulders as he led you to the door, grabbing his keys on the way over. "Fyo, there's a blizzard, you can't drive in this."

"My dearest darling, I'm Russian." Was his only explanation, and you rolled your eyes. His arm was wrapped tightly around your waist as he helped you walk down the front stairs. The snow was deep and the wind was strong, it felt like it was lashing against your face. You shivered as it hit you, and he held you closer, helping you walk through the snow to the car.

It must have just been a coincidence that he had just traded in his small sedan for a larger SUV with four wheel drive only the week before. Surely if he still had the smaller car you would have been delivering these babies at home. Your luggage was already packed and stored in the back of the truck, the carseats were hooked up in the second row as well. He was more prepared for this than you were.

He slipped off his cloak and placed it over your lap and as soon as he started up the car he blasted the heat. The contractions came steadily and you felt the pressure building, you were panting heavily as you held onto the handle above the door. He drove slowly through the snow, trying to get there as quick and as safely as he could. "You're doing great, dear. Keep breathing." He said softly, his hand on your thigh squeezing it gently to try to calm you down.

"How much longer... Fuck! Please go faster." You pleaded with him as the next round of contractions came on. You clenched your teeth and you whimpered as the tears threatened to fall. You had never been in so much pain, it felt like every single bone in your body was being broken, it was torture.

You were checked into the hospital and wheeled to your room. Fyodor watched as the doctors worked over you, checking how dilated you were, hooking you up to heart monitors and other machines that you didn't quite understand. You got hooked up to an IV that would help ease the pain of the contractions, but nothing seemed to help as much as you hoped it would.

Fyodor stood by your bed and held your hand as you labored through every contraction. You had been clenching your teeth so hard that they actually hurt, your head was throbbing and you felt nauseous. The doctors had come in and told you and Fyodor that you would need to have a C-Section which was something that you didn't really want, but opted to do just so you knew both of the babies would come out safely. You had done enough research to figure out that even if one was delivered naturally, the other would most likely come out through a C-Section anyway.

He was quickly suited up, and if you weren't in so much pain you would have giggled at how he looked in the blue scrubs, they definitely did not accent his beautiful dark purple eyes. The doctors began wheeling you down the hall and he walked quickly next to you, refusing to let go of your hand for one second.

You had been given sedatives through the IV and you were numb, it felt strange because you could still feel a dull pull whenever you had a contraction. There was a blue curtain blocking the view of your stomach, so you found comfort in looking up at Fyodor, staring into his eyes as he looked down at you. You could tell that he was smiling, even behind the mask, as the corner of his eyes would crease slightly.

He would occasionally glance around the curtain and hum as his interest was peaked, watching as the doctors carefully sliced through the skin and muscles of your abdomen. You could still feel it slightly, the sensation of the tugging and pulling, but it never actually hurt. His hands were on your shoulders, and although you couldn't actually feel the circles he was rubbing into your skin with his thumbs, there was comfort in knowing that he was touching you, that he was there with you.

The birth itself took not much longer than thirty minutes, and by that time you felt like you were going to pass out, so you weren't sure how much longer it took for the doctors to stitch you back up, and none of that really mattered anyway. When you forced your eyes open, the only thing you were looking for was your babies.

Elizaveta Fyodova Dostoevsky, born January 15 at 5:28PM, 5lbs 8ounces.

Iosif Fyodovich Dostoevsky, born January 15 at 5:30PM, 5lbs 2ounces.

They both had jet black hair which contrasted against their skin perfectly. They were tiny, but they were healthy, and they were beautiful. It was love at first sight as soon as you laid your eyes on them. Seeing Fyodor hold both of your children in his arms though, that hit different. You never thought you could love the man more than you did in that moment, but there was something about seeing him in that arm chair, smiling down at both of his children, the look in his eyes spoke volumes. He absolutely adored his children, that much was obvious.

When you were finally discharged from the hospital, he took extra care of you, making sure that you didn't push yourself too hard. He was worried about your incision, and he knew that you would have trouble walking for the next couple weeks. He made sure that you took your medication at the right time every single day, he continued to help you shower even though you told him that you didn't need help anymore, he insisted.

He took stayed home with you, refusing to go on missions until you were fully healed, and if any of the "rats" complained about his lack of focus on the mission he would write their names down to "handle them" later.

Fyodor was strict about scheduling their feeding times and nap times so they wouldn't affect when they went to bed. He was honestly such a devoted father to Iosif and Elizaveta, it was almost shocking to you. You hadn't known before the children came that he could sing, but you learned one night that he had the most beautiful singing voice you had ever heard. He would stand over their bassinets and gently brush his thumb across their heads as he lulled them back to sleep, singing in a hushed tone a gentle Russian lullaby.

He ended up teaching you Russian, you had asked him after you heard him crooning to them while he fed them their bottles. The children seemed to find the language relaxing, and they would often fall asleep listening to their father talk. He wanted his children to know their heritage, to know where there father came from.

Fyodor wasn't one to spoil his children either. When he finally went back to "work" about two months after their birth, he would stay away for only three days, maybe five tops. Whenever he would return, he would bring back something small, something that reminded him of you, Iosif, and Elizaveta. The items didn't cost much, sometimes they cost nothing at all. One time he returned with a small rock, a leaf, and a bird feather. The rock was shiny and a dark grey color with purple streaks going through it, it had reminded him of the beauty of Elizaveta's eyes. The leaf was small, but it was a bright green, it reminded him of Iosif, who was the smallest at birth, but was intelligent and bright already at only two months old, already attempting to hold his own bottles. The feather was pure white, and it reminded him of you. You were still, and always will be the purest thing in his life, the most amazing and beautiful woman he had ever met. You made him feel like the luckiest man on earth, he was so happy, so over joyed with you and the small family that he had, it felt like he was flying.

If someone had asked you in the beginning of your relationship if you thought Fyodor Dostoevsky would ever want to have children, you would have scoffed and said no. Fyodor was a man who, at the time, didn't seem like he would ever be capable of being a father. That hadn't bothered you, because you loved him enough to want to be with him no matter what. Now, here the two of you laid, both of your children between you on the bed, and you couldn't imagine him not being a father to your children. He was the most amazing father you could have ever wanted your children to have.

He pressed quick kisses to the tops of the children's heads before smiling up at you, brushing his fingers along your cheek. "YA lyublyu tebya, moya dorogaya."

a/n : Thank you for reading! I got really really really into it, and I love my baby Fyodor so fricking much. He deserves so much love. Also daddy!Fyodor is a whole ass mood, love me a big Rat Daddy. Okay but seriously, I love him so much. He's just *chefs kith* Also, what he says at the end is "I love you, my dear" because Russian is hot and him speaking Russian would just *kaboom*

#bsd imagines #bsd scenarios #bsd headcanons #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoevsky x reader #fyodor dostoevsky headcanons #fyodor dostoevsky scenarios #fyodor dostoevsky imagines

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dylanxmin · 3 years

Text

painkiller ∣ 5 ∣ j.hs

breakups are habitual, ordinary maybe even easy for some other people, and maybe it could be easy for you, too, if you haven’t been dumped by your boyfriend after finding out that you were pregnant. no, it wasn’t easy even a bit. and a stranger who wants to be your side doesn’t make this all easy for you, at all.

pairing; jung hoseok x reader

genre; angst, fluff, humor, pregnancy au, strangers to lovers au, single!mom au, slice of life au,,

warnings; little high on angst, swearings, mention of abortion, mention of adoption, mention of miscarriage, unedited(rlly sorry about this)

word count; 5k+

rating; nc17

a/n; heyyy, it’s been a month since i last update this story and i only blame my finals, my sudden lost of muse, and some side effects of my life but there it is, freshly served, angsty episode!! ion know how did this come out but im feeling positive for the next episode! so,,,, hope you all enjoy reading this part, and as always, i do really appreciate a little comment soooo... lol, love y’all ♡

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‘‘Yes, can we have a brief explanation about the story of our current project?’’

‘‘Miss Y/N?’’

‘‘Y/N?’’

Light, red and yellow mixes and crushes down when something hard nudges at your shoulder and brings you the reality. Shake of your body startles Namjoon, who was nudging your shoulder to wake you up. Pairs of eyes currently stares at you, wide, curious and surprised, too, as no one expects you to fall asleep in the middle of an important meeting. But, you did anyway. Surprising yourself with such an action, yet you lost control of your sleep schedule way before this meeting, so you weren’t that ashamed as the sleep still lingers around your head.

Blinking, blinking, blinking for a couple of times before your vision loses its blur, and the faces look way better to your own eyes. Shock still fresh on their faces, a weird sound rises by your throat as you try to clean it before talking. Namjoon holds his laugh back, but you can see it in the redness of his cheeks and the veins that struggle under his skin.

‘‘I-’’ you clear your throat, once again as it comes hoarse from sleeping. ‘‘I’m sorry, can you say it again?’’ Mr. Lee stares directly into your eyes, he opens his mouth but closes again. And you know you will try to drown yourself in the sink if the corner of his mouth hasn't curled up.

You sigh, before he asks again, and listens to your explanation. You try to keep it smooth, and once you start to talk about your work, all the sleep leaves your head, enthusiasm fills it place.

You love your work. Falling asleep doesn’t mean the opposite.

‘‘I swear to god if you won’t stop laughing, Kim-’’

‘‘But..- but you told the story of our new game, drool drying on your chin, with such an enthusiastic manner.’’ Namjoon’s giggles cut himself, palm hangs in the air, other on his knee. A manager who is in his thirties enjoys his coworkers suffer, laughs his lungs off. Such a mature man. You sigh, hand curled around the cup full of water for you to go to the bathroom after. Countless times.

Fingertips pinching the tip of your brows, you stand on the kitchen side of your office. Shame still red on your face, you barely able to hold yourself back from either crying or smashing the cup on your friend’s head. Which, you like the last option very much. It’s a shame that you possibly couldn’t do that here. Maybe later, on one of your movie nights.

‘‘I think it was cute, though.’’ the man in his much more formal clothes rather than his usual sweatpants and his shirt enters the kitchen side. Brown hair brushed neatly on the left side, his features look good. ‘‘Don’t pressure yourself anymore. I’m sure they are used to these things.’’

‘‘Thank you for helping my self-reliance to gather itself, but I don’t think it’s that simple, Damien.’’ imitating his smile, even though it’s more faint then he has, you sigh once again. Taking a spot on the table, you let your head fall on it. ‘‘I was literally drooling all over myself. Ugh… such a mess.’’

Another laugh escapes by Namjoon’s lips, but he pats your head also. ‘‘Damien is right. You know Jihoon and Yeona will be cool about this.’’

You scoff. ‘‘Yeah, but I don’t refer to them by their first names as they are the Ceo’s of this company. Like you,’’

‘‘Then you shouldn’t refer to me with my name, too, as I’m your boss.’’ an annoying smirk alive on his mouth, he swipes his body on the table. Gulping down his coffee, his stares never leaves you. Something hot, almost burning coils in your chest. Reminding you red, as you stare at him back. Mouth wrinkled, your breath felt heavy.

It was anger and you didn’t know how to pressure it back where it came from. Even before your pregnancy, you weren’t good with handling your emotions, but now. With so many hormones not knowing what to do, you were even worse. Sudden crying sessions, constant fury always ready to burst out, and the sneaky, dark anxiety getting you at the worst moment, where you were alone and in the dark. It was hard, and too much. Even before being pregnant, and while being pregnant. You weren’t good with them.

‘‘You know what, I decide not to cook for you anymore.’’ heartbreak flashes in Namjoon eyes, you crossed your arms over your chest. ‘‘You can buy your own chicken breast from somewhere and eat that shitty sauce.’’

‘‘Ouch..’’ Damien who is currently watching the cold vibrations coming from you, stays silent after your gaze lands on him. He is scared, and not ready to be the next target of your stinging tongue. Though, it doesn’t last that long.

Once you see the tremble of Namjoon’s lips, and his hug follows his sorry’s, your coldness melts away. Shame creeps back, sits heavy as you lower your head on the table. But before you can dive in your bad scenarios in your head, brutal yet familiar bickering starts when Nara enters the kitchen, after she takes her place on the table. Her nose crinkled with disgust while waiting for Namjoon to end his insults, only to throw another to him. Damien tries to cut them off, but it’s useless as he gives up and rests his back on his chair. Hesitant stares gather on you, only to tear them apart while you pretend like you didn’t notice.

Yet, you don’t want to suffocate yourself with your thoughts, you raise your head, eyes meeting with the brown haired man. Because you don’t and probably can’t break that cold war between your friend and Nara, you find your escape on Damien.

‘‘So, we have to prepare a meeting for you to put a suit on?’’ cocking your brow high, you ask. His surprise fades after a moment of waiting. Maybe because you aren’t the warmest person or because of the effect of your friends that filled your head with the idea of him having some feelings for you, you never attempt to talk with him first. Not that he isn’t a decent man, but more likely, you weren’t into him and did not want to make a wrong move. For him to get the wrong idea.

But maybe you are being stupid for believing your delusinal friends about his feelings, and he just wants to be friendly. Though, it’s good to not risk anything, right?

‘‘Suits just not my type, and also, who is wearing these other than him?’’ Damien points Namjoon, who is in a deep, hurtful conversation with your other coworker. You tear your eyes from him to land on Damien once again, his smiling this time. Wide, eyes imitating it. ‘‘Also, doesn’t it hurt your feet? You weren’t wearing heels for a long time.’’

After he mentions it, your feet start to pulse with pain. Embarrassment clouded all over your other senses, but his words bring them back. And you wrinkle your face in pain. Of course, it hurts. How it won’t hurt while your feet try to set themselves free by growing bigger inside of its cage and the process isn’t an easy one. Though, these whining are the last thing for your coworker to hear so you simply go with a soft smile.

‘‘Yeah, a bit but nothing I can’t handle.’’

‘‘Oh okay then. Good to hear.’’ he leans closer, eyes gleaming like a child in his pre-mischievous stage. ‘‘Just in case, I have a pair of nice sneakers waiting in my closet. All comfy and less deadly.’’

Mirroring the act, you also get close to him. Palm covering the side of your curled mouth, ‘‘I will consider it, but why are you acting like you were selling drugs?’’ whispering the half of your words, you cocked your head aside, watching his face wrinkle due to his growing smile. And seeing him from this side, you realise how good looking he is. Radiant smile adds more point to his charisma as he does, eyes narrow but curls cutely on the ends, and for a second you just stare at his side profile. His spotless skin dips on the cheek as his dimple wants to show off. Thankfully, when he starts to talk the silvery sheet goes away, to your luck.

‘‘Well, we won’t want other heel wearers to come at my desk for my fancy shoes, right?’’

Nodding, you point your finger at him as if he made a good point. ‘‘I see… Of course we wouldn’t want that, of course.’’

After the short break, everyone turned in their work the same as you. And you find yourself so tired after talking about the details of the story of your current game with Heejin. Trying to find reliable reasons and motives is hard for some time, as you continue to work on the specific character’s choices in the game, and why and exactly how they should do is sometimes irksome even when you have someone who tries really hard to help you. Yet, you know you can’t put all the weight on Heejin’s shoulders as the poor woman barely had some sleep because of the pre-cold effect.

When she sneezed for the fourth time in the last five minutes, you had to stop and be sure of her well being. Putting your palm on her clothed arm, you mimicked a smile to look sympathetic rather than annoyed. Even though you were a little bit. Thankfully, she doesn’t have to know that.

‘‘I know I asked this before but are you sure you are okay? Maybe you should take a rest for the rest of the day. Obviously, you need some.’’

She looks hesitant at first, eyes widens at your words but she covers it with a faint smile and nods. ‘‘Oh, I’m okay, I’m okay. You don’t have to worry about me.’’ Heejin bites down her lip before continuing again. ‘‘Did I annoy you? I’m sorry, I just took a pill, so I think that will make me better in a couple of minutes.’’

‘‘No, no…’’ pulling your hands in the air, you shake your head in denial. It did bother you but not much for her to apologize for being sick. ‘‘I just wanted to check on you, I’m not… disturbed. It’s okay.’’

Your half reassurance works barely, as she tries to lower the voice of her sneezes after that. And everytime, a drip adds to your growing guilt. As Heejin is younger than you for three years, and you have been working here longer than her, it puts some stairs between you two and now with that, you fix the ice between you two. The ice that you have been trying to melt from the first day she was here, and now, thanks to your pregnancy hormones, it started to build once again. Not just with Heejin, but everyone around you was walking on eggshells around you as your rage came out of nowhere, so sudden that sometimes it even shocks you. But for a stupid reason - well, it’s not stupid as you are pregnant and that played with your emotions -, you couldn’t control the sudden change of your feelings.

One second being calm and the other being tense did tire you for sure as senses flow through every nerve you have. Breathing exercises merely helped, and that led you to staying away from the people around you. As sometimes words come out rude before you can realise. And nobody deserves that kind of attitude, even the ones you know from your childhood.

For that reason, you turned down Taehyung’s offer to come with you as you know that owing to his nature, he will do something silly to make you angry or stressed even when he does it with all his good intentions. Some days, even when you are in your usual state you can’t stop being bothered by him, and you had no intentions to taste it today. Which, nothing was normal in your current mental state, so that’s for the best.

Driving past the now familiar streets, you learned a new thing: Driving with a jean without opening its button can be hard, as you have to undo the button while your stomach growls in need. While your stomach become visible, looking like you ate too much for your stomach to handle, sudden thirst for stupid cravings increased day by day. Sadly, it affected your friends as much as you.

In the middle of night, you woke Yoongi up for him to get you apples, pickles for Taehyung and last but not least, ice cream for Namjoon. As your cravings decide to choose the oddest times, three of them find the solution to fill your fridge until there is no space left. Well, after you sat on your kitchen floor and cried they had to eat some of them with you, as they basically called you fat by doing that, and paid for it. For them, they just wanted to make sure you get what you want but at this point, what they thought barely mattered.

‘‘Okay, that was tiring.’’ you whispered through your exhale, while parking the car. For the records, parking turned into a hell show for you as going further and back, further and back, further, further and back has your nerves strain like a string. Though, you never liked it anyway. You were ready to leave your car, but the ringtone of your phone cut the act.

‘‘Hey, mom.’’

‘‘Nope. Your voice sounds the same, rather than I thought so.’’ sighing, you brushed your face by your palm. Words like a needle on the skin, your mother always knew how to use them. ‘‘Well don’t ‘ahhh’ at me. As we barely speak, I obviously expect to forget your voice, tell me if I’m wrong.’’

Nodding as if she is able to see you through the phone, you put your head on the wheel. She was annoyed as it was very clear by her high and thin tone.

‘‘Yes, Ma’am.’’ your reply earned another high pitched warning from her so you had to calm her between your giggles. ‘‘Okay, okay… You’re right, Mama. I should call you more but you know work and everything keeps me busy. But I will try my best, promise.’’

‘‘Apology accepted. But even though I know you prefer to talk about work, and the video thing you adore talking about, I’m most likely interested in my baby’s baby. So, how’s the pregnancy going?’’

This is the exact reason why you didn’t call her more than you did. As she is very interested in your life and interior with it, of course pregnancy will be the same. And you couldn’t ignore the things you can as she will talk about them, will want to know about them and give some advice from her past experiences. Not that you will need any of them, but of course as you postponed everything, you did the same thing to this topic, too, and left your mother in the dark. You will run as far as you can.

‘‘They called games, not video thing but it’s your choice.’’ while thinking of it itched your tongue, you swallowed all the tensing thoughts down, and ready yourself to talk. ‘‘And the… pregnancy is going good if we don’t count the constant eating, peeing, crying, being tired twenty-four-seven, not fitting in my favorite clothes and all the pain it put me through.’’

She laughs as if you just told the funniest joke she heard. Cocking your brows, you run through what you said to make her laugh this much to fail.

‘‘Ohhh, my baby. Stop talking about this as the things are all bad. You have a baby in your belly, your baby. They will become your everything, and mostly good things because you will love them more than anything you can. Believe me, I could die in return for your laugh. A bubbly, vivid laugh. Ahh… remembering it made me soft, right now.’’

‘‘Trying to be unbiased about gender, I see?’’

‘‘Well, I don’t want to affect the baby.’’

Though you want so bad to ask how that could actually affect the baby, you stay silent. All the baby talk is already pulling you down, it is better if you can stay out of the gender topic as much as you can. Not that it mattered, you thought.

‘‘What do you mean? Why it wouldn’t matter darling?’’

Huh?

Clearly, you weren’t thinking, but murmuring under your breath as your mom heard it. When you hit your head on the wheel, the horn startles you both. Fixing your posture, you answered your mother’s hurried question.

‘‘It was horn, I’m in the car. Yes, yes I’m okay, don’t worry. I’m at the hospital- No, no- Mom, for the appointment. Yes… yes, for the baby. I will talk to you later, okay? I will call, I promise- Yes, I promise. Okay, love you, too.’’

You sigh once again. A loud one.

You do hate lying to the woman who would do anything you want, but you know she is not ready to lose her grandchild, yet. You are not ready for the speech you will receive, also. Not that it will be harsh or critical, you just are not ready to accept the whole thing. Yes, you still had problems with the whole pregnancy thing even though you made your mind with adoption. You still had thirty weeks to go, and that won’t go fast. Not in a normal time, or in the pregnancy.

Head full of blurring thoughts, you missed the man who shakes his hand from afar. The black haired man’s smile faded as you passed by his side without sparing a glance. Too busy with thinking how to calm your mother after you give her the news. The news that she won’t have a grandchild anytime soon. Fuck… that’s gonna be hard.

Well, maybe not hard as much as the door you decide to welcome it with your face rather than opening. A loud thud, and muffled curse under your breath, instinctively you checked your nose if there is more than the pain you feel, as there is no blood you calm down, shoulders drop their usual place. Apparently, you were conscious enough to lead yourself to the floor where your doctor’s office, past the stairs, and find his door but when it comes to open the door you fail. Tears sit on your eyelids at once as you close them due to the pain that crushes your sight. Trying to massage your nose bridge barely helps but giving it a try won’t hurt, you think.

‘‘Oh my, are you okay?’’ from your closed and blurred eyesight, you can’t choose who is the one talking but his voice lets you know that he is your doctor, Seokjin. ‘‘I heard a loud thug but couldn’t understand it was a human until you groaned. Are you okay, you bumped your nose? Let me get a look at that.’’

Not forgetting to thank him while he guides you inside his office, now you are able to open your eyes and set the tears free as they go down. Seokjin sits you on the white sheeted chair, handles your head to go right and left as he scans your face and nose behind creased eyes. He looks really concerned, more than you, and somehow it puts you on a stage where you feel like you have to make him sure that you were okay and nothing was wrong. It still feels weird when someone gets concerned over you more than yourself, as who would care for someone more than one’s self so it’s still vague.

‘‘I-I’m actually okay. I didn’t hit that hard as it sounds, it doesn’t even bleed so…’’ wry smile is all you offer him as your voice trails down when his eyes meet with yours, a bit keen rather than you thought they will.

Seokjin sighs with a line between his brows but he lets go, and when he puts a decent distance between you and himself, professionalism settles in his features as he adjusts his tie.

‘‘It does look okay, but make sure you put some ice when you can as it could leave a bruise behind.’’ he smiles, both sweet and very technically. As he practiced it for every client he had and now performing it without any difficulties. It looks natural. ‘‘So, tell me how are you feeling? You should still have the early pregnancy symptoms such as morning sickness, sleep issues, and more likely they will hang around for a few more weeks. But it’s more important if you have a symptom that comes unnatural or unbearably painful for you?’’

After taking two deep breaths, you feel ready to give him a reply. Nose still throbs by the hit but it’s faint now.

‘‘Uhm…- yeah, other than the ‘expected’ symptoms, I don’t feel like something is wrong, or not supposed to happen. No more painful urination, though I still need it frequently.’’ you grimace lightly as you share, shifting a bit. ‘‘But yeah, I’m okay.’’ you try to wipe the fresh embarrassment with the non glowing smile you had in your storage. Probably he should but you still don’t know if he needs to know that you choose adoption. As he is your doctor, and the one who is taking care of you and the baby, you know that he must know about it, but unpleasant eerie stops you from doing what you should.

Old habits die hard, that’s for sure.

‘‘Excellent. It’s good to hear that everything is going on it’s way, and today, as now you are in the tenth week of your pregnancy, I’m recommending you a genetic test in case there is any birth defect.’’

‘‘What is that?’’ even though Seokjin was done with talking, you utter so fast that it feels like you interrupted him, as you shut your mouth with wrinkled brows. It was just getting tiring day by day with all of these tests, things to do and not to do, being extra careful because you have another living creature in you to take care, more than yourself. No more selfish, damaging, stupid choices can be done as your body no longer belonged to you. At least not only to you and this was really, really tiresome.

As he was expecting this, Seokjin comes up with some papers as you can understand them. ‘‘As I said before, it’s a test to acknowledge any kind of defect in the baby. These tests take two forms: screening tests and diagnostic tests. And a screening test tells you the likelihood that your baby could have a birth defect; a diagnostic test tells you with more than ninety nine percent certainty whether the baby has the disorder.’’ He explains more as you take the papers from him, scanning the words but they are almost identical as Seokjin continues with his further explanation. The blank eerie gets heavier and heavier the further he talks, and when he comes to the risks, it feels like your pulse palpitates on your throat. Tearing your eyes from the papers that sit on your lap, you stare at the man who is still talking.

‘‘There is small risk of miscarriage, that’s why you need to carefully consider tha advantages and the disadvantages of these test before you make any decision, even it’s small.’’

A slap to the face, a weight falls on your stomach after Seokjin is done with his statement. Mouth hangs open, you stay still, silent as the Doctor waits patiently, now he is behind his desk, sitting his hands intertwined. As if he knows the new information would put a heavy dullness in you as he searches your every movement, yet you gave him hardly any.

‘‘Do I… have to?’’

The idea of taking these tests would be tiring is there but the cause of your nausea is not just that. More likely, it’s the idea of losing something. Even though that something doesn’t belong to you because you never wanted it, and nothing has changed since then. Whether it's the guilt of knowing everything caused because of your recklessness, or it’s because you feel obligated to give the baby a good life due to your current maternal instincts - you hardly say you had one -, whether it’s beside you or far away from you, you feel the suffocating necessity. Even if the risk has one percent chance, you can’t take it. Maybe it’s odd to push your one percent chance to become free with the back of a hand, but that would be running away, and both of you already had one runner in your lives, and the baby wouldn’t need another.

‘‘I know it sounds scary but you can take your time, you don’t have to do it now. You can search it a bit more about the cons and pros but I never had any problems with my former clients if you need any consolation. And you can always ask for me more.’’

Chewing your bottom lip, you still look at him in the eye like you need to give him an answer. You do trust your doctor but that doesn’t mean that you purposely rejected the idea of getting abortion while you deal with an unwanted pregnancy only to come across with a risk of miscarriage. Of course it is always there whether you do the test or not, but that's nearly a consolation.

Nodding, you put all the papers in your bag before leaving the doctor’s office. Biding your goodbyes after ending with this week control.

You come to the hospital with a dazed head, and you were going to leave it even more wrecked. But you just needed some air, somewhere to ease the wave of emotions that is going through your head. To catch your breath, you adjust your route to the cafeteria in the outdoors. Maybe, that could help you somehow.

Not temporarily, but taking fresh air in your lungs somehow helped you. The phone call you had with Taehyung while you were at the verge of tears, too, and you sit in the cafeteria during all of these. Mimicking the doctor's words to your friend and Taehyung had listened to you, hang on your every word as much as he can on the other side of the line. Tried to console you, said that things will be alright and nothing bad will happen as if he was as sure as his name. And momentarily, you believed him. Both because you needed it, and he was being a good friend and you didn’t want him to feel useless.

For good or ill, now, your heart is resting in ease.

Well at least it was until you see a glimpse of dark uniform in the corner of the wall, and then a familiar face you haven’t seen in a while. A smile that softly shaped as heart, causing your heart to palpitate fast but in a much different way than the news you learned today, or the idea of your mother's future disappointment. It’s more thrilling and in a way even scarier than the other two options. As the opposite of how familiar the face is, the reason for your heart going this insane was abrupt. Even odd when you think the very less time you spent with the owner of the familiar face, yet it was there, forcing you to gulp down, consume every emotion he forced you to feel.

Contrary to what you expect - and you didn’t know why you were expecting him to be happy after seeing you - his face falls, the shape of heart shutters around his mouth. And to your shock, it put needles somewhere near to your chest.

The last time you saw him, the atmosphere was intense as you shared things that normally you wouldn’t do with a partially stranger but with him even though feelings were gloomy, you weren’t uneasy. And to you, when he was consoling you, internalizing what you were telling him, he wasn’t disturbed. At least he didn't look like that. But, the more you size him up, the more you get sure of his strange disturbance. And it did burn. Smoke choked you down, and put tears on your eyes. Fucking pregnancy hormones…

Not aware of your action, you caught your hand in the air, in the middle of a shake as Hoseok greeted you by the tiny bow of his head. And expecting more cutted harsly, as a knife in the gut.

Whether it’s because of your blind act, or whether he feels obligated, Hoseok comes closer to the table you were sitting, leaving the person behind he was talking to before he saw you. With every step, you breathe another air to gather your confidence a bit high, but it’s useless as your hands start to tremble under the table, fortunately away from his sight.

‘‘H-hi,’’ no matter how much Hoseok tries to sound friendly, it’s not, and you can hear in his voice as it comes out broken. His eyes are still deep and candid but not glowing the way it fascinated you when you first saw him. Still, you greeted him with a tight smile, wave of your hand small.

‘‘Take a seat-’’ pointing the available chair, you cut yourself to say something else. To correct your words. ‘‘I mean if you want… of course,’’

To your surprise, he holds the chair to adjust for him to sit on. But everything feels so forced and awkward that you can’t stop wondering if you said something to him and cause him to feel uncomfortable around you. Your brain works so hard to scan the memories of that day, but you fail to find something so disturbing to make Hoseok shift in his seat, a line between his brows and a noticeably insincere smile.

It takes minutes for someone to talk first and scare the clouds away only for a moment.

‘‘Are you waiting for your appointment or has it already finished?’’

‘‘Ah, yeah, it’s done. I just needed to take a moment and fresh air because…’’ your voice eventually trailed off as you realised he just asked to look friendly and probably doesn’t want to hear your whelming emotions anymore. ‘‘of stuffs, you know.’’

Hoseok nods, his mouth thin as a line, and even though it shouldn’t, it breaks your heart. Yes, this man owes you nothing, and of course he doesn’t have to sit there and listen to how sorry and depressed you feel over the things doctor Seokjin have told you, but it still hurts to see him this… joyless. The curiosity burns deep and wild as you desperately want to know what the hell you did to make him this anxious, but your mind barely helps as you wander in the empty field.

‘‘I should probably get going-’’

‘‘It’s been a while-’’

Words clashing and drowning one another, silence takes over and Hoseok abruptly stops above his chair as he was about to leave before you parted him. And now he looks at you with wide eyes, fear in his chest growing big as your bottom lip trembles for only a second but he catches it.

He sits back on his seat with hands on the air. ‘‘Oh, yeah, it’s been a while since we last saw each other.’’ he says but you know it’s out of pity, and you would rather die than crumbling under his gaze. So you shake your head with a false smile, though hammers work in your chest.

‘‘Ah, don’t mind me. Go ahead, you are probably busy and have so much to do. So, you can leave, seriously.’’

‘‘No-, no, no, Y/N. I’m sorry, I want to stay and talk to you, really. I really am sorry for acting rude.’’

Maybe because the look on his face, or the warm tone of his voice, you decide not to pressure him to leave after you ask if he really wants it for a second time. But he nods and smiles, and this time it reaches his eyes, a hot pink blossoms in you.

Though, before either of you can say anything, a touch at your back stops you. You hear the breathy voice before you turn your head. ‘‘Ahh, finally I found... you. Care to explain why you are-...not picking your phone?’’

And when you turn over, you see a panthing Yoongi. His hand on his knee and looks at you with concerned gaze. Then, they leave you only to land on the man on the other side of the table, and Yoongi’s eyes go wide.

He extends his hand in a non-moving shake to the air. ‘‘Oh, hi. Sorry to butt in.’’ he stretches his hand towards him, the ghost of a smile appears on his lips. ‘‘It’s Yoongi,’’

Voice deep, and it takes long to draw out when the man in dark uniform mirrors the act. ‘‘Hoseok.’’

#heartsforbts #bangtanhq #bangtanarmynet #houseofddaeng #btsgoldnet #btswritingcafe #hyunglinenetwork #hoseok x reader #hoseok fanfic #hoseok fluff #hoseok angst #jung hoseok #painkiller #dylanxmin

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fmufmu · 4 years

Text

Boo’d up.

[hi can you please write ash island fluff???]

You got me boo'd up, boo'd up – you like Yoon Jinyoung. You’re boo’d up.

A/N: re-upload because im trash and forgot to upload this!

You can’t pinpoint where your feelings started for Jinyoung.

You’re not anything special – you’re nothing more than the waitress girl of your parents’ chicken restaurant and it just happens that Ambition Musik go here frequently that you see Jinyoung. That’s how you meet actually – they pile into the corner of the room and you serve them with shaky hands and a nervous smile. Your eyes meet Jinyoungs and you feel so embarrassed and enchanted at the same time. There’s nothing more to it.

But that’s not the point, the point is that somehow you become friends. Jinyoung paid, tells you that this is the best chicken place, tips heavily and leaves with a fond smile. It becomes frequent and sometimes it’ll be just Jinyoung by himself eating. And the weeks pass, and you find yourself looking forward to seeing Jinyoung. And Jinyoung starts greeting you like you’ve known each other forever.

Suddenly, things change; Jinyoung swings by just to see how you are; Jinyoung offers you lifts back to your apartment that’s on the way to his; suddenly you’re pulled from your own little world to and you’re falling at an alarming rate with no intention of stopping. You don’t know how it came to the point of friendship – how you got his Kakao ID, how you’d find yourself sending him funny pictures –

Somehow, the universe, gifted you something good. Something great, actually. And you told yourself that you wouldn’t fall for him – guys like Yoon Jinyoung could have any girl they want, so why would he want you? You were average – not good or bad. In the middle, floating somewhere. You read the magazines, see the videos – Jinyoung was popular these days. He speaks about how he doesn’t have time to date, to see girls, to like anyone but it was all talk for the cameras. Someone like that wouldn’t be single, you tell yourself. And they wouldn’t be enamoured with a chicken restaurant waitress.

And it’s one of those nights where you parents let you leave early and as you close the door to the shop. You’re grateful for it, really. Weekends were always the busiest and your joints are aching. As you step outside, you tired eyes focus on the picture in front of you as the door shuts behind you; Jinyoung leaning against his car in an expensive jacket, scrolling through his phone mindlessly.

“Jinyoung-ah.” You say, tiredly, catching his attention. He looks up and meets your eyes and a face splitting grin covers it. Your heart twists uncomfortably at that. “What are you doing here? Are you getting food?” You say. Jinyoung shrugs and steps forward, sliding off his jacket and walking behind you to drape it over your shoulders.

“I was actually going to pick up some food, but I heard your parents telling you to go early so I was thinking I could drop you home.” He’s being nice. That was Jinyoung, he was kind-hearted to those who deserved it. Did you really deserve it? Of course not. You slip your arms into the jacket and you find yourself suddenly feeling shy. Is this what it’s like to wear your boyfriends’ clothes? You can smell his aftershave and shower gel and your stomach tingles.

“Jinyoung, you don’t have to keep doing this.” You say, but Jinyoung is already grabbing your arm and moving you closer to the sleek looking car. He doesn’t even look fazed at your reservations, at this point, it’s like Jinyoung is immune to it. “I can walk you know. Or even take the bus.”

“It’s late, y/n. And it’s freezing. You’re only wearing your work polo. What kind of person would I be if I let you just walk home like this, huh? I’d be a bastard.” Jinyoung counters back, he’s opening the door and you can feel the warmth from where your standing from the leather seats. “You know I don’t mind.” He squeezes your shoulders. Of course, Jinyoung doesn’t mind dropping you home. That’s just Jinyoung. You sigh, climbing into the car. Jinyoung shuts the door promptly and hops into the other side, shutting the door.

“I always feel bad when you drop me.” You say, clicking your seatbelt in. “I do have two legs.”

“And I have a car.” Jinyoung counters back, teasingly. “Why take a bus when I can drop you. Chauffeur service.” You can’t help but roll your eyes at him. Has Jinyoung always been this dorky and lame? Why was it so cute?

You fiddle with your fingers quietly staring out of the window as he starts the car. What’s with you tonight with all these feelings? Is it because you know you can’t be friends with someone who you have feelings for – especially, someone you know who would never like you back. Jinyoung doesn’t deserve that and more importantly you don’t deserve that. The city blurs into one picture as you stare out of the window.

“You’re quiet tonight, y/n.” Jinyoung comments and you turn to face him. In the darkness of the car, you can make out his side profile – it’s frightening how quickly you’ve fallen for him. You give a half-hearted smile as you turn back to the window, watching how Jinyoung races through the streets. “You okay?” No, you want to say. You’re not because him. It’s not his thought, you think again. It’s your fault. You shouldn’t of caught feelings.

“I’m just tired.” You lie, turning your head back to the road. The car hums quietly underneath you both. You’re so full of life, why couldn’t you speak properly? Why is everything you’re thinking about saying get stuck in your throat? “You know how it is on the weekends.”

“Well, school starts for you soon again, right?” Jinyoung hums. “Less shifts and more time sleeping.” You can hear the grin in his voice. Your lips pull up into a small smile.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” You pull up to a red light. In the corner of your eye, Jinyoung glances at you before looking ahead. He doesn’t say anything for a minute before reaching for his phone and opens it up. You can see how his hand shakes slightly.

“Can I show you something?” Jinyoung asks. “A song I’ve been working on actually. I just – it’s nothing much but I just thought I’d show you first.” You nod and he plugs in the aux cord. You watch how he taps furiously on his phone before pressing something and the car fills with soft, melodic piano intro fills the car before the hook sinks in and you hear Jinyoungs classic voice. It’s nothing more than vague lyrics about liking someone who’ll never like you back. About wasting your time, your precious time, over someone who’ll never waste their time for you.

You swallow hard because it’s a hard pill to swallow. Unrequited love. Unrequited like. Unrequited everything. You don’t even realise you’ve pulled up outside your apartment complex until Jinyoung touches your arm and you flinch like he’s burnt your skin.

“Sorry,” Jinyoung says with a small laugh. “Did you, uh, like the song, y/n?” You loved the song. You just hated how it made you feel. You hate this swirling pit of anxiety that consumes you when you think about Jinyoung.

“It was really good.” You say. Jinyoung switches on the light in the car. “I just -,” You shake your head, trying find the words to say. You’re touched, firstly, that he’d even consider someone who should listen to his unreleased music.

“– you’re crying, y/n.” Jinyoung says, blinking at you with wide eyes. “Y/n. . .” His hand reaches out to touch your face but you turn your head quickly, wiping your face to see teardrops on your fingertips. God, no. Not here. You shake your head with an embarrassed laugh. You go to open the handle but Jinyoung catches your arm.

“Y/n, talk to me.” Jinyoung says. “Why – why are you crying?” You’re overwhelmed with emotions. Why are you crying? You’ve known Jinyoung for the last few weeks, you started falling from the go and now –

“I’m sorry.” You quickly say, slipping off Jinyoungs jacket off your body. You need to get home, to be alone and be sad in private. “I just – I’m being stupid and everything.” You lie and Jinyoung stares at you, unbelieving. “It was just a stressful day and -,” More tears leave your eyes. God, you can’t believe you’re crying in front of Jinyoung like this. You let out a loud sob, shaking your head as your cover your face. “I’m really sorry, Jinyoung. You just wanted to drop me home, you don’t need any of my problems and –,”

“ – I like you.” Jinyoung says, interrupting you. “I . . . I like you, y/n. Is that okay? I want to know about your problems, that be okay.” The car goes silent and you let out a sniff, looking up to see Jinyoung looking straight ahead. “I’m not good at this sort of thing, you know? I’m too blunt. I wanted – the song is about you. I wanted write about how I felt about you and I wanted to let you know that I like you.” This . . . you can’t believe this. Because Jinyoung could be with anyone, have any girl – why would he want you. You’re . . . you. “I don’t want to see you cry, y/n. It makes me wanna cry.” Jinyoung rubs his hands over the steering wheel with a nervous laugh and glances at you for a spilt second before looking back at the steering wheel.

Does. . . does Yoon Jinyoung really have feelings for you? The guy sitting beside you, the famous rapper, really like you? The guy that plays silly songs on the aux when he drops you home, the guy that tips you when he really doesn’t, the guy that has a smile that lights up the entire room?

“Oh.” You say, stupidly. It feels like a puzzle when you think about. Jinyoung wasn’t just being nice . . . he was doing it because he wanted to get to know you more. And you were to oblivious to this. “I . . . I didn’t realise you had feelings for me.”

“I thought it was a little obvious.” Jinyoung says, laughing a little. “I guess maybe it wasn’t.” You’re both silent again. It’s awkward suddenly. Why is it so awkward? “I understand if you don’t feel the same, y/n. And if you don’t want to be friends -,”

“ – what?” You say, head turning quickly. “Why wouldn’t I want to be friends with you, Jinyoung?” You wipe the tears off your face properly. “What if . . . what if I liked you back?”

“Then . . .” Jinyoung taps his fingers against the steering wheel. “Then I’d take you out.” He says finally. “Somewhere nice.”

“Somewhere nice.” You echo, biting your lip. “That sounds nice, actually. I’d really like that, Jinyoung.”

#ash island scenarios #ash island imagines #khh writer #khh x reader #khh scenarios #khh imagines #ambition musik imagines #ambition musik scenarios

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vinylhazza · 4 years

Note

“hear that? im alive. im right here” with e 🥺

(don’t make fun of my edit i’m actually proud of it)

play ‘Medicine” by The 1975 while reading this. I swear you won’t regret it.

this is really fluffy

you could feel yourself getting bad again. you could feel that pricking anxiety slashing through your nerves and thoughts one by one until you looked down to see your own hand trembling with the pressure. you could feel the crashing waves of thoughts you’ve thought to shreds until you’ve overthought them so much you’re convinced you’ve imagined them.

how could you be here? with ethan…a man that’s honestly far too good to be with someone has messed up as you. messed up meaning mentality exhausted. he’s sleeping soundly beside you, breathing even and light - not like your strangled breath that comes out in uneven panicking puffs. it’s an out of body experience, as if you’re looking down at yourself in this lonely frenzy, one where no one is around the help, and you wouldn’t dream of waking ethan up when he looks so peaceful. even if looking at him so calm makes your anxiety worse. you take a moment to think about what he might be dreaming about for the smallest of a smile that has blessed his lips right now…maybe you? the sunset in Hawaii the week you both decided to run away together and not tell anyone? the future? are you in that future? what if he’s dreaming about someone else? you stop yourself short on that one, knowing it’s not fair to make accusations about such a ridiculous topic when you’re in this mindset.

it happens from time to time - this panicked craze that has you up at all hours of the night while the world sleeps around you, almost mocking you for your silly anxiousness. moments like these are impossible to handle by yourself. most of the time, when you feel this sinking revelation that you won’t be getting any sleep due to the spiraling thoughts, you need a distraction - something your mind refuses to give you. because that would be to easy. it would be too easy to let your thoughts go for a couple hours, cuddle into ethans arms, and go to your safe place for a bit. it would be too easy to get up, make some coffee, maybe watch a movie as a distraction.

no, instead you’re going to torture yourself like you always do. bury yourself in your thoughts until you can’t breathe and you don’t notice the sun rising over the hills and shining down on your exhausted body that craves for the moment ethan flutters his eyes open and makes you feel better you can’t wait-

“baby…”

you jump at the groggy sound of ethans voice, hoarse and thick. your head shoots to the side to catch his hazel eyes half closed but looking at you intently. the look of concern in his face let’s you know that he understands what’s going on without you having to say it. this isn’t his first ball game on a night like this. he knows it’s not something within your control, that your mind tumbles sometimes, but he’ll always be there to help you get back up.

“what’s wrong? bad dream?” he goes on after noticing your lack of response. your hand is soon held within his large one tightly, circles being drawn on your wrist with his other as he tries to ground you. that’s always been his thing. he knows that at times like this you feel lost, as if you’re floating somewhere outside of your body, never really attached. he takes his time to gently whisper where you are, how you got there, what time it is, that you’ll be ‘okay’, that you’re safe and he won’t let anything happen to you as long as he has breath in his lungs and a mind that hasn’t failed him. and it does help. it helps more than anything for him to tell you something you already know in a beautiful way…like he wants you to know being here right now with him is where you belong.

a small shake of your head gives him little information, but enough to let him know you’re in your own thoughts again, another sleepless night filled with worry about things out of your control. he’s been there too, many times, and you were always there as his shoulder to cry on. the support you give each other still blows his mind sometimes. he’s never had anyone that really understood him, of course grayson - but not someone that he’s not binded to with DNA. you…you’re miraculous, something ethereal that he has to keep learning about, forever changing, keeping him working. he loves it.

he waits patiently for you to tell him what’s bothering you, your head coming up to trace patterns in the little hair that he has now that he shaved his head. it suits him. although you do miss his hair as fluffy and luscious as it was, he can pull this off too.

“do you ever feel like….maybe you’re not meant to be here? like…you don’t deserve the good things that you have? like maybe…God gave the wrong person someone else’s good fortune?” you finally ponder out loud, scanning his prominent features for what he might think about your irrational thoughts. you never want to be a downer, especially in the middle of the night when the two of you are supposed to be asleep - but to not tell your boyfriend of three years what’s rattling around in your head keeping you awake would be a disservice.

the look of disbelief tells you that - no - he doesn’t think any of that.

“God didn’t make a mistake giving you a good life y/n…you deserve good things…what makes you think otherwise?” he mutters calmly, thumb rubbing over the hair by your temple to try and calm your erratic nerves racing through your body about what you might say next. your breathing grows heavier by the minute.

“it’s just…I don’t feel like im worthy of the things I’ve been given. not when there are so many other people who deserve it more. I just feel…useless. what do I have to offer that someone else can’t? why do I get to…be with you when there are plenty of beautiful women more…suitable to your lifestyle? I just don’t understand why i’m sitting here breathing…” you’re voice is small, a shaky squeeze that reveals your nerves under the surface. the burning in your cheeks is a dead giveaway that it’s embarrassing to look so weak in front of someone so strong, even if you know he’d never judge you. it doesn’t help your overloaded mind.

“because there is so much you have to offer - so much happiness that you give the world when it doesn’t deserve an ounce of it most of the time. you came into my life and…” he raises to his elbow first, then to his hip to look down at you with so much depth, like the weight of what he’s saying is too unbearable not to tell you. his large, strong hand raises to cup at the side of your face, his pulse resting against the dainty skin of your neck, close enough that you can feel the thumping against your skin, almost hear it humming, “hear that? i’m alive. i’m right here. and you don’t get to decide that you aren’t worth it. you don’t get to decide that you have no value. forgive me for being disgustingly mushy in the middle of the night but…i’m alive because of you. you’ve saved me more times than I could ever count on two hands. from myself, other people, shit that drags me down daily. you did that, y/n. you. yeah grayson of course because he’s not only my brother but my twin but you…have no obligation to love me and yet here you lay…spilling your heart out in some irrational fear that I won’t understand when really I’ve never heard something I relate to more.”

“this life doesn’t make sense and I fear it never will. but that fear goes away when I remember that I have you by my side to figure it out with me. we are a team, and as your boyfriend, teammate, best friend….future husband, I won’t ever let those thoughts take over to the point you can’t bring yourself back to me. you’re too important to be thinking of yourself this way. too special to not see that you’re alive and feeling all of this pressure because you’re meant to achieve greatness and you will - I promise you that. so…stop worrying yourself sleepless my love…it will all fall into place one day - it already is.”

calm. understood. held. accepted. for once in your spiraling clusterfuck of a life you felt things you felt as if you’d been chasing and would never find, all because this 20 year old boy is looking at you with eyes full of tender wonderment like he can’t grasp why you don’t love yourself. his thumb continuously strokes the skin of your neck, your finger twiddling with the ring on his finger, gazing at him just to give you a bit more time to mewl over a response that could even come close to what he just said. he’s patient - something you’ve never had with a partner before. it’s always been fast and on the go, the complete opposite of the steady trusting pace of the relationship you have now. even if your life consists of jumping through hoops, working, and trying to do everything you can not to be on the hateful side of the media - the relationship you have with ethan always remains steady.

“thank you for always having the right thing to say…” you begin, kissing at his knuckles lightly, “I know that it’s not the greatest of moments to be having a life crisis and I know I sound like a broken record…but thank you for always being so patient with me when everyone else would have shrugged it off and turned away. I hope all of the things you say are true even if i’m doubtful i’m anymore than a background dancer in everyone else show-”

“never,” he interjects with a chuckle, stopping at your mouth still ajar in mid sentence.

“-but you never make me feel like i’m anything less than royalty and i’m trying my best to see what you see.”

leaning in close he gives you a ghost of a kiss, simple and soft, like he’s afraid too much pressure might break you. with a grin you’re bringing him closer with a hand resting on the back of his neck, playing with the little hairs that were recently cut. you can feel in the kiss that he plans to always have it this way for as long as he can, being there for you whenever you need that extra boost of reassurance, and vice versa.

“but I will say that my princess needs her sleep, I’ve noticed all the naps your taking and although i’m happy you’re getting the sleep whenever you can, it makes me nervous that you’re running on empty all the time,” ethan soothes, laying back down on his side and opening his arms to guide you against his chest, always loving the feeling of your weight on him while he sleeps. you can’t say that you complain about the position, knowing you’ve woken many morning with the biggest smile that ever come on your face because of that very same position. he always has a way of bringing out the happiness in you.

you oblige to his request, hooking your other leg around his waist and flattening your face down on his chest, noticing that his heartrate his exceptionally more rhythmic than it was moments ago when he was pouring his heart out to you. you like the thumping sound, knowing it will be your bedtime lullaby for many more nights to come almost has you drifting off into that wonderful dreamland you always wish for on nights like this and never receive. but as the moments tick on and you start to replay all the mushy, love filled truths that ethan explained so kindly to you, it takes you only a moment to remember one tiny little detail that had latched on your heart like a lasso. deciding that you wouldn't be able to sleep until you confirm the scene in your memory, you push pride aside and take a deep breathe before sitting up and giving him your best curious smile, tapping at his cheek before you speak.

“oh and one more thing…did you say future husband?”

#asks #e!concepts #ethan!concepts #definitely rusty aren't I?#yikes

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fuck-customers · 4 years

Text

Oh my god I’m livid. Tell me what you think because frankly I’ve got PTSD from my last job and I get bad anxiety quick when shit like this happens. Here we go;

Two weeks ago on a Friday, my sup was asking me about why I wanted to be a lead. I think I shared the quick version a while ago because I was so angry about it. But here’s a bit more detail. I was on my lunch, sitting in the manger’s cubicle while he was in a meeting because I’m tight with him and wanted to be alone. Supervisor comes over who at the time I had no problems with and we had a good working relationship. She asks me why I want to move up to lead and potential supervisor, and I tell how I genuinely like helping people and when sup or manager aren’t around my team members ask me how to handle something or fix something on an account.

She makes a big point how she’s not seeing this and she wants me to be more assertive. I ask plainly “Are you sure? I don’t want to step on toes and once I get the green light I’m going to be myself and on the ball, I don’t want to do anything that would cause me problems with us.”

She is all smiles and says it’s fine, she knows I’m ‘Sassy’ !? And she’s a big girl she can handle if I answer a question. Okay cool.

Well, while we were having this conversation, one of my co-workers is eavesdropping and starts throwing a literal fit. Keep in mind this is a call center type job, we’re the billing department. There isn’t a huge amount of down time and we take up to 500 calls a day, she wasn’t on break, she literally took herself out of the in take for calls to LISTEN INTO THIS PRIVATE CONVO WHILE IM SITTING IN THE MANAGER’S CUB. Also we were being quiet!!

So by the point that this bitch starts throwing a fit, my lunch is close to over and I was switching departments for some additional training (thank you manager!) and so I went and thought nothing of it. WELL, one of my team member comes to me VISIBLY upset and tells me that the bitch coworker and the supervisor are talking shit about me and the bitch is saying how she’s been here longer she shouldn’t have to fight for a higher position. And the sup was AGREEING with her and how she’s got her back!?

Well ever since my supervisor has been on a rampage with me. And I did what asked, about showing I’m assertive? Yeah she GRABBED MY ARM and squeezed it in front the person who was asking for help, not specifically for the supervisor mind you, she was somewhere behind me and other teams know i know my shit for billing and this guy came to ask a quick question. She grabs me interrupts us and says everything I just explained and then demands he send her the acct and she’ll fix it. Once dude leaves she turns to me in front of everybody and says “I don’t appreciate you doing my job.” And walks off.

Well minus the bitch my entire team is up in arms over this. Demanded I go straight to the manager, I agreed but manager was in meetings all week for the new quarter so I told them to calm down and I’d handle it later. The rest of the week was anxiety filled as supervisor raves about the bitch coworker getting her first 100 on her QA, one of my coworkers who has a mouth looks at her and asked “Oh you mean like (my name) gets all the time? I don’t hear you say anything about that!” And then the bitch and sup try to gang up on me about a note left on an account because it goes by initials and they ASSUMED they were mine. Like wtf the sup should know my initials I’m on her team! But I had to PROVE my initials were not the ones on the note by pulling up my info for her. If I do end up needing to ask a question I’m flat out of luck, sup snaps and states I should know this by now. She snapped at me when my computer crashed acting as though I did this on purpose. Keep in mind this sup can’t handle anything you throw at her, has physical reactions like punching a chair over a bad call or refuses to take a sup call.

At this point I’m just begging the team to calm down, I go to the unofficial supervisor (everything but the title that he honestly deserves) about it and he is pissed says if I don’t take care of it he will. So I did go to the manager when he got back. Again I know it sounds fishy but I’m tight with my manager, we hang out after work and I try to not bring problems to him since it’ll look like favoritism and I want to get promoted on my own merit here. But I went and detailed everything. Of course my manager is pissed and he tells me I should have come to him sooner so he could nipped this in the butt last week, he said even if he was in meetings to email him about it. He made to email him anyways and write a detailed summary of everything that happened and he said not to worry about and let me have my anxiety induced crying fit before I went back to work. Ultimately I went home for the day because the bitch kept getting involved when someone asked me a question and told everyone that if they needed anything to come to her. Look I keep my head down for a reason, my team doesn’t want me to, I don’t brag and I come in drink my tea and leave for the day without making a peep if I can. This is ridiculous, it’s childish. I’ve got my own shit going on outside of work. I don’t need this BS too! But now this is obviously going to come up, they’re gunna know I said something and I feel like it’s all a lost cause. I actually LIKE MY JOB. Sure it’s phone calls but despite the angry fuckers it’s pretty easy from my collection agency job and I’m excelling. But I don’t want problems....

#fuck co-workers #submissions #call center problems #fuck managers #fuck coworkers #submission

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mother-snake · 4 years

Text

self preservation

@idkanameatall enjoy the angst!

to everyone, ask and the next story i write i shall tagg you if youd like so you dont miss out!

(sorry for this lengthy boi. Also, my cat missy says hello

Word count- 3769)

angst. very angsty and i dont know what else to put as a warning cause i wrote 90 precent of this around two weeks ago... please say if there is something im missing... :P

- janus helps the others but can they help him, thast baiscaly the plot-

The first person to get a slight feel for Janus’s intentions was Logan.

He had huddled himself into his room for a couple days, trying his best to make a schedule that he knew would just end up being forgotten by the others. his computer screen was blank. He hadn’t even started. The knowledge of the fact that it wasn’t going to be used stopping him. Why should he do this if it will just be disregarded? he knew they wouldn’t listen to him I he just asked for them to try and stick to the plan. They would only ignore and apologise. He’d forgive them and it would continue like that.

His eyes were heavy. He hadn’t felt like this in a long while. Not since Thomas was a teenager, when he was always being worked overtime.

He was fine. He was going to be okay. They would listen this time.

It was then that he sensed the other presence in his room. He didn’t need to turn to know that the deceitful side was there. It was six, he would always visit around this time every other day.

But when he looked at the time, he knew it was for another reason. It was three in the morning, and he had visited yesterday. so why was he here?

“lying to yourself I see Logan,” he let out a sigh, “get some rest, you’ve been in here for four days,” “I can’t, I need to get this done,” Logan muttered to himself as he stared at the screen. “Logan, your over worked, you’re tired. Continue this tomorrow, it will still be here when you wake up,” the scale covered side closed over the computer screen and stared at the logical side with a small smile.

It was then that Logan realised he had actually started crying.

Janus held a hand out to the other who took it thankfully. His legs shook as he tried to stand up. the bed looked enticing to him. He was hit by a wave of pure tiredness.

He didn’t remember falling asleep? he felt something giving off a small amount of heat and tucked himself closer. He heard a small chuckle. That wasn’t normal. he cracked his eyes open to be met with Janus smiling at him. Oh… he forgot about the other side.

He locked gazes with the other side for couple seconds before looking away with a small blush. “how do you feel?” Janus asked. “I… don’t feel anything” he stated. “that’s a lie, try again Logan,” “I… I feel better,” he did feel better, just a little bit drained but not as much as he did yesterday.

Half an hour later they were downstairs in the kitchen. Logan being the earliest up wouldn’t be a surprise to the others, but Janus still lived over in the dark side. he had always wondered what it was like over there. He wondered if it looked anything like the light side’s commons. How many other dark sides where there.

For the first time as the kitchen light flickered on, he caught something familiar the other side was wearing. Several things actually.

“is that Virgil’s old hoodie?”

The back hoodie was one he wouldn’t forget. The green fabric around his neck acting like a scarf he recognised as Remus old sash. It was bizarre to see. But he didn’t mind.

“yes, he gave it to me when he changed his outfit,” Janus spoke as he grabbed two bowls from the coubard.

“so, the scarf I take it was Remus old sash?” he only got a nod in response.

The deceitful side put a bowl of chocolate pebbles in front of Logan who sat down at the table. The other side had a bowl of krispies. Oh, he hoped that roman didn’t think it was him that stole his cereal again.

The two ate in silence. Both found it quite pleasant, but for two different reasons.

One because he hated how loud the others could get, the other because he had some company, something he hadn’t had in a very long time.

By the time the others had come down the stairs, Janus had long gone knowing they wouldn’t take too well to his company. A small part of him was upset that the other wouldn’t stay longer.

Patton had been the first to arrive. He smiled as he saw Logan sitting at the table. the next two to come down were the twins. Both giving a loud hello to the others in the room. the last one up was Virgil. Upon entering the room, he could feel the slightly heightened anxiety coming from the logical side. He gave Patton a quick look. He must have sensed something too.

Logan looked round the now busy room and made his way over to the exit. He was aware that Virgil had left after him. So when he was tapped on the shoulder and turned to see the anxious side he just stared. “you okay specks?” “what do you mean Virgil?” “well… I can feel your anxiety coming off you for one and second you were staring at the door for a while,” “oh, I see. I didn’t mean to stare, just have a lot on my mind, still got the schedule to finish,” his voice ending in a whisper.

Virgil looked at the other. He rarely showed emotion, this must have been affecting him.

“well, take a break and watch a movie?” Virgil began, “ill let you pick,”

It wasn’t noticeable, but a small smile appeared on his face, “that sounds reasonable,”

If he had arrived in his room, he would have caught deceit sitting at his desk for a while with a smile on his face. He could feel the others emotions falling back into place from there.

The next was Patton. He had been known for stress baking. Every night instead of sleeping he would bake cookies. The unfortunate part of that today was the fact he had enough cookies to feed a small village.

He grumbled as he looked at the enormous pile of chocolate chip cookies, peanut flapjacks and muffins. A thought crossed his mind.

Thus, he picked up a tuber-ware box and began to fill it as much as possible.

When he knew he could get no more into it he proceeded to make his way somewhere he hadn’t thought he would ever go. the door to the dark side was black with one panel of yellow glass, but it was to blurry to see anything on the inside. He could hear however what sounded like a movie playing.

He gave the door a quick knock. The noise stopped and replaced by shuffling, the door creaked open and he was met with a yellow eye. “why aren’t you here Patton?” the voice was smooth. “I brought you something, I hope you don’t mind,” he scratched the back of his head as he lifted the rather large container up a little.

The other side looked surprised before he opened the door the rest of the way and gestured the other to come inside. he gingerly made his way and was immediately hit with the smell of fresh bread and coffee. It was a welcoming smell.

“would you like some tea?” the other asked.

Not wanting to be rude he gave a small nod. “just set it down on the coffee table, I’ll be back in a minuet,”

True to his word he came back with a cup of tea. It was also then that Patton had seen what he was wearing. A smile appeared as he saw the dark sides toothless wonzie. It made sense, he was half way through the second movie. “you like how to train your dragon,” Patton grinned “what gave it away?” he passed the tea over and opened the box of goodies pulling out a muffin.

He grabbed the blanket and pulled it over the both of them. Patton smiled at the gesture. Soon the movie was back on. as it continued, he could hear Janus mutter almost every line that played. Then when the credits came, he sang the song. the third movie was put on. He could feel the others emotions. It was mainly happy but he could feel a deep sadness. “you okay kiddo?” he whispered. “of course, just don’t like the fact it’s the final movie, knowing it’s going to end hurts I suppose, but at least I can reply the movies,” Patton pondered that for a second.

When the movie ended Janus and Patton were both in tears. But both eventually calmed themselves. “I must ask Patton, what was the real reason you’re here?” Janus asked to the other. “don’t tell the others, but I tend to bake when I can’t sleep and I made far too much today,” Patton said. he shifted his gaze away from the others inquisitive gaze. “well the, perhaps next time if you’d like, we could do this again?” Janus spoke. “would you be alright with that? I don’t want to wake you by accident,” Patton responded. “it will be perfectly fine Patton, now I suggest you head to bed and try to get some sleep,” the window behind the tv showed that sunbeams were beginning to peak over giving the room a slight yellow huge. “alright kiddo, same goes for you, you need some sleep too,”

A couple minuets later he was back in his room. He practically collapsed as he made his way to his bed. The softness of the sheets lulling him to sleep.

Roman was the next. he hadn’t spoken to Janus since that incident around a month ago. it was two days after then that Remus had moved his room. But the two had connected together. Remus right now was in the imagination. Leaving him sitting in the shared room.

A sigh left his lips as he looked around the room. He just didn’t know. He wanted to apologize for making fun of the others name. but he didn’t know if he was ready to face the other. Logan, Virgil and Patton were busy as of right now, so he could easily watch some Disney for now.

That is how he found himself staring in the light sides living room at a familiar figure watering the few plants that lay around the room. he stood still for a couple second. this was fine.

“I could hear that lie from over here,” he groaned, “don’t worry ill leave if you want me to,” his voice was softer than normal, his gloved hands picked away at the bottom of his lose shirt.

“its fine, actually I would like to speak to you, if you don’t mind,” roman spoke.

Janus just sighed in response and sat down on one of the armchairs. roman sat near on the sofa, not really sure where to start. “well… I suppose I should say sorry,” roman began hesitantly, “I’m sorry I made fun of your name, that wasn’t my best moment,”

Roman shifted as the other stared at him.

“you shouldn’t be the one to apologise roman,” Janus muttered,” I was the one who manipulated you, I pushed you further than I should have. I also apologise for what I said after, I know that it was a dirty move,”

The two sat there for a while. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. But they both felt slightly better. Not as good as before but still better none the less. the silence was interrupted by Remus yelling. He was coming close. “well then, best be on my way,” Janus smiled at the other weakly. “id like to talk to you later if you wouldn’t mind Janus,” roman said, “I’d like to try out some scripts?”

The deceitful side nodded, and as soon as Remus was in the room, the other side seemed to vanish.

Later that night, they were setting up the table. Roman stared at the table. A couple seats were empty. Not enough people to fill them up. he stood still for a couple seconds too long. Logan and Patton who had been cooking and were just beginning to put the food on the table looked between each other with worried looks. “are you okay roman?” “yes, I was just wondering if we could perhaps invite our resident snake?” their shocked looks didn’t go unnoticed. “you two have talked then,” Logan stated, getting a nod in response. “very well the, go quickly,”

Roman excitedly made his way down the halls of the mind palace. He didn’t forget where the door was. He remembered when he was younger, he used to sneak here to play with Remus.

Then the door was there. The door had changed. Instead of three different coloured glass panes there was only one.

He quickly knocked on the door. It opened a couple seconds later with Janus standing looking confused at the other. Mildly confused as he was grinning.

“I am here to invite you to dinner my good sir,” roman said as he outstretched his hand. “do the other know you’re here?” “Logan and Patton do, if that’s what you mean,” “fine, but I can leave if I want to,” he took the others hand.

The walk was silent. The noise from the kitchen getting louder. He could feel deceit start to freeze up. he gave a quick squeeze as they continued on walking.

They arrived there sooner than they imagined. Patton noting deceit gave quick wave, Logan did the same and gestured for them to sit. the previous dark sides hadn’t been facing the two so when they turned to see the scales of the other, they immediately went silent watching his every move.

Janus sat down in an empty seat next to Logan, but opposite to roman. The ex-darks only sent sharp glares to the scaled one.

The dinner was quiet, no one spoke, the tension thick enough to be cut with a knife. Eventually Janus stood up, he gave a quick goodbye before he left. Virgil let out a sigh of relief as he left the room. Remus relaxed as well. Logan looked at roman with the same expression with one another. The plate that Janus had been eating from was barely halfway eaten.

The two seemed to have a small eye discussion before Logan stood up and left as well.

The day went on semi normal from then on. Roman glanced back to where the logical side had disappeared.

It was the next day that he saw the logical side, he was sitting in the kitchen once again. A book he hadn’t seen before in his hands. The words were covered but he did manage to find a name ‘the maze runner’.

He wasn’t normally up this early, Patton would be up before hand most days, but occasionally this ended up happening.

Thomas was the next. This day was different than normal. He had meant to go on a date. But when he had arrived there was no one there, two hours later and no one had arrived.

So now he was sitting in the living room watching steven universe trying to ignore the feelings that were creeping up on him. so he was rather surprised when he felt a weight sit down next to him. He had thought it was Patton so he didn’t really mind. But if had turned to look he would have seen a figure in a black wonzie.

He was just staring at the screen, not really watching. He felt and arm wrap around him and the figure pulled him close to their chest. His eyes felt heavy as he leaned into the soft comfort of whoever I was. soon he was fast asleep.

When he woke up, he was still lying on the sofa. It was then that he realised there was someone he was using as a warm pillow. as he cracked his eyes open, he tilted his head up to meet the face of a sleeping snake boi. to say he was surprised was an understatement, but he didn’t move in fear of waking the other side up accidentally. Thus, he stayed unmoving for another thirty minutes. it was when he felt the other shift did, he realise the other had begun to slowly wake up. Thomas sat upright to give the other some space. it was then that he realised the other was waring a wonzie as well. A toothless one that seemed to be one size to big. he smiled as the other muttered a quick good morning.

“how long were you there Janus?” Thomas asked. “since last night, you were unknowingly lying to yourself and summoned me,” he yawned. “oh sorry for that then,” “no need, I wasn’t really doing much in the first place.”

Thomas stood up and clambered over to the kitchen and took two bowls out of the coubard. When he turned to ask the other what he wanted, he found no one there. he looked at where the other had previously been and began to worry. A small part wondering what the other was planning… but another part happy that he had been there for him. maybe in the future he could repay that.

Remus… oh how he missed his friend. He was angry at himself for messing up what once had been a chaotic friendship. he knew his words would have an effect on the other the moment he would hear the words that had been spat like venom.

Virgil, he wouldn’t be surprised if his mother and son relationship had been torn beyond repair. He missed his dark shadow. Wished he could take those words back from their final meeting. But alas, the other wouldn’t even bat an eye in his direction anymore.

And that’s how he found himself curled up on his bed crying silent tears. He had been doing this well… it was the only thing he could do. He barely had anyone. The light sides were only just warming up to him along with Thomas. and yet his room unlike the others stayed still. And he knew why.

Virgil and Remus, they believed that the others had accepted them. They knew they had been.

Janus knew he wouldn’t be. No matter what was spoken. No matter who said the words. He was deceit. Lying was always wrong. His scales were hated. He was hated.

Then the tug. That tug he had never felt before but Virgil had described it long ago. he was being summoned. He ignored it. He wasn’t wanted. They were just going to throw his ideas to the ground and say he was lying.

Then the tug came back a little stronger. And again, and again.

He tried his best to compose himself as Soon he couldn’t block the feeling anymore and could feel himself being pulled into the real world. He appeared in a spot next to the stairs. Logan was next to him looking at the other with a slight worried look. One you’d find if you payed close attention.

He took a deep breath before it hitched as he looked around the room. Everyone was looking at him. “may I ask why you weren’t so insistent on summoning me?” he said. “we were wondering if you were okay, we hadn’t seen you in a while and we were getting concerned,” Thomas stated, worry laced in his voice. “I’m fine, I assure you,” Janus said staring at the other.

“see I told you snake face was fine,” grumbled Virgil on the stairs. Janus winced at the harsh words. They had all seen it however, the small flinch as Virgil verbally attacked his scales.

“Janus?” Patton mumbled. “I’m FINE.”

Everyone looked wide eyed at the others outburst. Even Remus and Virgil. It wasn’t often they had seen this type of emotion coming off the other. Virgil could feel the intense spark of anxiety that had filled him as he spoke.

Remus heard his thoughts. His mother figure… god if he could stab everyone other than Janus then he definitely would.

Patton could feel the sadness roll of him the moment he had appeared. But now it was so visible it made him take a breath that he hadn’t realised he had been holding.

Logan looked at the other with wide eyes. Not expecting the only other functioning braincell to have such an outburst.

Roman just felt guilt. He knew that this was long overdue. He knew the other wasn’t fine. He knew how easy it was to hide under a facade of fake emotion. That sooner or later it would overwhelm.

“I’m sorry,” Janus whispered. he had begun to sink down when I hand caught his arm. His eyes snapped to see the logical side before being pulled into a hug by him. His embrace was tight. Janus only cried at the warmth and comfort of the other. then he could feel another join. He didn’t look up. but only cried harder. He hugged Logan back ad best as he could.

Soon he was sure that a couple more had joined in the cuddle pile.

His eyes were heavy, but he was waking up? his eyes opened, he was sandwiched between Logan and Virgil. The ex-dark had his head tucked in the crook of his neck. Logan had an arm wrapped around his waist.

Patton and roman were on the other side of the couch. Thomas was lying with his head in Patton’s lap. Remus was spread like a starfish on the floor.

He mentally freaked out for one or two minuets before the events of yesterday came pooling into his mind. ah, they had fallen asleep watching how to train your dragon.

Everyone else was still asleep. And he knew he couldn’t move. But one thing had crossed his mind. A happy thought he hadn’t been able to think in months. was he accepted? Well, he would wait for now.

And if later he had gone back into his room and open his door, he would find a hall filled with other multi coloured doors. Well, he would smile wide and join the others for breakfast and attempt to strike a conversation with Logan, and it would lead to Virgil and Remus laughing so hard that they would fall to the ground in tears. Patton and roman would only look on in confusion. But they would still be smiling.

After all their famILY was complete.

#Janus sanders #Roman sanders #Sander sides #thomas sanders #remus sanders #Virgil sanders #patton sanders #angst #janus angst #i need a nap #please enjoy #hello there #dark sides #light side

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cagestark · 5 years

Note

Hi! Im not sure if you are taking prompts, but if not pls just ignore this (I LOVE YOUR STUFF ANYWAY UR GREAT ❤️❤️❤️) What about a PrisonInmate!Tony, PrisonInmate!Steve and PrisonInmate!Bucky all trying to get their hands on freshly employed Officer!Peter who was just trying to do his job. Smut? Shenanigans? Lots of good/bad/cheesy flirting? Anything would make me so happy!!!

Hope this works for what you wanted. I had a lot of fun, feel free to hop in my inbox and let me know if you’re satisfied. I tried working Steve in but :( still not very good at writing him. Bucky is a stretch for me, too. Did what I could though! Especially considering I scrapped what I had, wrote this in 10 hours, and didn’t even glance it over skskskks sorry for errors.

Warnings: some violence, smut, drugs. 7.5k. Peter is 22!

Read here on AO3!

The first time Tony meets Officer Parker, Tony is shackled at the waist and ankles to eleven other inmates from Lincoln Correctional Facility. He reaches up with bound wrists to scrub at his facial hair hoping that he isn’t as scruffy as he feels, eyeing the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed little twink who would be driving them twenty minutes to a nearby park There they would be giving restitution to society by picking up plastic soda bottles, cigarette butts, and used condoms from under the dugout benches at the baseball diamond. Thinking of the millions of dollars he stole from his father’s company (plenty of which was still offshore and safe), Tony figures that a week of this and his debt will be repaid. He and society can call it even.

“He’s green,” Bucky mutters from beside him. He tracks the younger man’s pale eyes to Officer Twink. “No question about it.”

“Hey Fury,” Tony says when the black officer goes by, doing a head count. He motions with his bound hands to Parker. “I didn’t know it was bring-your-white-child-to-work-day. Are his legs long enough to reach the pedals in the van? Does he have his permit? Where did you leave his Hot Wheels battery-powered jeep? Will we all fit in the back, because—”

“Pushing your luck,” mutters Steve from Tony’s other side, goody-fucking-two-shoes that he is.

Fury stops walking, actually doubles back to stand in front of him. “You want me to drag you out of line, Stark? You can spend the rest of your day inside washing dishes. Or in solitary, if you feel like being an asshole like usual. Don’t fucking test me,” Fury says. He’s a real hard-ass. Tony likes him well enough.

Beyond them, Officer Parker is blushing to beat the band having heard Tony’s criticism of him. “I’m twenty-two,” he mutters, and Tony nearly groans. Beside him, Bucky does groan. This kid is so, so fucking green. What kind of dummy correctional officer just spills personal information in front of convicted felons?

The harder inmates are going to eat him alive.

If Tony doesn’t eat him first.

“Twenty-two huh? When’s your birthday, sweetheart?” Tony calls. “I’ll drop a postcard in the mail for you—"

He hears the slide of chrome on leather as Fury draws his baton. Tony has just enough time to be thankful it’s not his taser before it is jabbing him in the chest. With his feet and wrists shackled, he has no real way to keep himself upright. He ends up sprawled ass first in the dirt. Steve and Bucky have to adjust to avoid falling themselves and likely taking the whole line down with them.

“Did you just threaten Officer Parker, Stark?” Fury asks, bending over him.

Tony squints up against the sun. “If my heartfelt affection is threatening, then—”

“One more word and you’re spending the week on D Block.” D Block is solitary confinement, and if there is anything more painful to Tony, he doesn’t know what it is. Being alone with his thoughts, no one there to fill the silence, walls so thick he can’t even hear the shouts from other inmates around him—it’s enough to drive him to the edge. He folds.

“Parker,” Fury barks. “Give me your keys. Stark isn’t coming on the field trip.”

“How else am I going to repay society?” Tony asks, holding up his wrists so Fury can unchain him out of the line. Fury doesn’t dignify him with an answer, and it’s probably for the best. Words tend to pour out of Tony’s mouth without thought even at the best of times. And he really isn’t looking for spending the first week of Officer Parker’s employment up on D Block getting his trays through the slot in the door.

While Fury undoes the locks with practiced ease, Parker stands back practically wringing his hands. He looks distraught, downright upset to be honest. When he catches Tony looking, the kid turns red and looks away. God. Fucking adorable.

Tony glances up at Bucky who is looking straight ahead with the smuggest fucking smirk. He winks at Parker and the kid literally has to turn away, probably before he has a stroke, because Bucky is a good-looking guy. And he’s going to spend the entire week, eight hours a day picking up trash while being supervised by Officer Twink.

“You lucky bastard,” Tony says to him.

“Bucky’s probably got him bent on all fours in one of the dugout’s right now,” Tony mutters unhappily around an unlit cigarette. They aren’t supposed to smoke inside—it’s against the rules, actually, not just frowned upon—but in times of anxiety, he likes the familiarity of it between his lips. He picks up his dealt cards from the table and glances at them: a straight. Not bad.

“Should have kept your mouth shut,” Toomes says from across the table. His joy at Tony’s dismay is poorly disguised behind his own hand. “That’d be you, right now. Picking up trash in Manhattan. The highlight of your day getting your dick sucked in a dugout littered with caramel corn and old wads of chewing gum. God, how the mighty fall.”

“Could be you right now, too,” Tony offers genially. “But those domestic violence charges mean you don’t even get the chance to go on field trips, huh?”

“Not to mention,” Rhodes says from beside him, a dark-skinned man with a generally unhappy face, and serious disposition. He was one of the only people on the block that Tony genuinely trusted—that sort of trust was hard earned. They’d even exchanged addresses so they could communicate after one or the other gets processed out. “No guard would risk their job for a suck job with you, Toomes.”

“Brutal,” Tony says, holding out his hand to shake Rhodes’s. “True, but absolutely brutal.”

“Thanks,” Rhodey says dryly. “Is someone going to call, or what?”

Toomes ends up storming off, leaving his hand flat on the table. When Tony flips it over, he only had one pair. Unfortunate bastard.

“He’s going to give you problems, Tony,” Rhodey says. His dark eyes are still tracking Toomes who is sulking across the floor back to his cell, where he stands in the doorway, scanning the room. “He’s not showing you respect, and he’s not meshing well with the block. It’s going to come to a head soon.”

“Is this foreshadowing?” Tony asks lazily.

Rhodey just stares.

Tony is dozing in his cell when a large form takes up the doorway. He slits his eyes open to see Bucky there, fresh from a shower with his jumpsuit half-undone and tied around his waist. The white wifebeater he wears shows off his arms, including the gnarly scars on his left shoulder from his last tour overseas. It clings to skin that is still a little wet, and Tony licks his lips.

“Hey snowflake,” he says, voice raspy. “Come to rub it in?”

Bucky sits cross-legged on the floor, back against the concrete wall. “His name is Peter. He graduated from the academy last May. This is his first job—if you don’t count the food joint he worked at as a kid. And his birthday is August tenth.”

Tony scoffs. “What, you didn’t get his social security number too? I’m disappointed. And I don’t believe you.”

Bucky holds up a scarred hand, solemn. “Swear on my tags.”

“How the hell could you have found out so much about the kid in a handful of hours? With Fury marching around no less.”

The smile that slides over Bucky’s face is so fucking handsome. Downright sensual. “Fury didn’t come. He was just there for headcount. It was Coulson escorting us with the kid. He spent the whole time sitting in the van with the AC and radio on, chainsmoking. You’re going to shit yourself, Tony. This kid is so fucking sincere and sweet—” Bucky throws his voice into what must be a poor impression of Peter’s trembling voice. “—thanks Mister Barnes, you’ve been so friendly. I’m glad my first day was spent with you.”

“Aww fuck. Goddamnit. Son of a bitch.”

Bucky laughs. “Don’t worry, you’re going to get your chance. He told me today was just to break him in. Tomorrow? He’s on the block. And don’t worry, I put in a good word for you. My friend Tony, I said, he’s one of the most solid guys I know. Arrogant as fuck, but a sweetheart underneath the ten different layers of ego and narcicism.”

Tony’s eyes shut. His hands come together in a prayer position over his chest. “Oh thank you, sweet Jesus.”

“Thank me,” Bucky says, wiggling his eyebrows.

In the back of the cell is a curtain that can be drawn shut while an inmate uses the facilities. It’s where most sex happens during the daytime, when anyone is liable to walk by and glance into a cell. Tony jerks a thumb at it. “You want to see what lies behind curtain number one, Buck?”

“Sure. I’m feeling lucky.”

Showers open at dawn, and Tony is one of the first inmates there. He takes extra time soaping himself up in the lukewarm water. By the time trays are brought in, he is dressed with his hair combed. The tank top he wears is white as is required for all clothes that aren’t jumpsuits, and it looks good against his tanned skin. Tony looks fucking good for his age—which is somewhere past thirty and before fifty, thanks, don’t worry about it.

He’s halfway through a tray of biscuits and gravy with more-than-decent hash-browns when Officer Parker comes in, the door of the block screeching open. He’s escorted again by Coulson. They tend to keep senior officers with green ones, because it’s so easy for the new guys to fall prey to inmates, whether by manipulation, intimidation, or sheer manpower. Tony has seen it happen. Tony has caused it, himself. He didn’t end up as the top guy in the block by shaking hands and kissing ass.

Coulson points out things around the block: the cells (obvious), the showers, the cameras. Tony isn’t close enough to hear what’s being said, but he can imagine. Guards come in every hour during the day and every two hours at night to stroll around the block peaking into cells. Even when they aren’t a physical presence on the floor, they are always watching behind the cameras. That will be Peter’s job today: walking the floor. Every sixty minutes, he’ll walk right by Tony in his cute little dress blues. They look too clingy to be at all efficient, especially on Peter’s lithe little form, narrow hips barely able to support the holster on his waist.

Peter turns around and Tony gets a nice glimpse of his ass—God, he wants to bite it.

Bucky looks less enthusiastic today, hair pulled back into a wet bun, dark circles under his eyes. They’d slept in the same bunk last night, but when he’d awoken in the morning, Bucky had been gone. Nightmares, probably. “Now who’s the lucky bastard?” he mumbles around his fork.

Tony. Tony is the lucky bastard.

When Coulson and Peter go by, Tony calls out, face wearing a winning smile. “Good morning, officers.”

“Good morning,” Peter says sweetly. When he notices that it is Tony who spoke, his eyes double in size. Obviously, Tony has already made an impression. He plants his chin on his palm, elbow resting on the table, and lets his eyes rove over the green boy. Unashamed is his middle name.

“Inmate number one to watch out for, Parker,” Coulson says. But Tony thinks there’s a little affection underneath the vacant expression. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking.

“I’m hurt, Phil,” Tony says. “Really hurt.”

“Stark is here for fraud, and he’s a master manipulator.”

“That’s better—stroke my ego, Phil. I love it. Go on.”

Coulson looks unimpressed. “Give him a wide berth.”

Peter nods obediently. His eyes trail over to Bucky and he lights up, squinting with a smile liable to outshine the sun. “Good morning Bucky! How are you?”

Coulson looks liable to have a fucking stroke. Lips twitching, Bucky salutes. “Doing great, sweet thing, how about yourself?”

“Can’t complain,” Peter says, blushing prettily.

Coulson ends up having to drag him off. Tony can’t imagine the dressing down he’s going to be receiving once they’re in private. Actually, he can, and it’s an image he cherishes. It wouldn’t hurt for the sweet kid to have some sense knocked into him by the other guards—before one of the inmates knocks it into him for them. The thought makes Tony’s fist clench around his fork. If anybody is knocking anything into Peter, it will be him. And Bucky. Preferably at the same time.

“You can hold him down,” Tony says lowly to Bucky across the table. “I’d like to see your thick arms wrapped around him. He looks like a squirmer, so sensitive. You can keep him still with nowhere to go, sitting on your cock, and I’ll suck him off. I bet he cries.”

“Shut up,” Bucky says, eyes half-lidded. He makes a stabbing motion with his plastic fork. “Or I’ll end up in the bathroom at the park beating off.”

“I like the thought of that.”

“Yeah, well I don’t.”

The next time Peter comes around, he is alone. Tony, Toomes, and some of the other guys are sitting around the table playing poker.

“Afternoon gentlemen,” Peter says cordially. Tony is immediately smitten—the kid is trying so hard to be a Big Boy. It’s so fucking endearing. All Tony wants to do is drag the kid by the belt to the nearest cell and suck him off.

“Afternoon, handsome,” Tony says.

“I hope there’s no gambling going on,” Peter says, his arms cross across his chest. Jesus, his arms are skinny but fucking built, muscles straining beneath the cuffs of his shirt. There’s strength there. He’s reminded suddenly that this kid did pass the academy, so he does have some training under his belt.

“Gambling is against the rules, officer,” Tony says brightly. He takes the cigarette from behind his ear, hands desperate for something to do, and tucks it between his lips. “Do we look like rule breakers to you?”

Peter shakes the hand of each man around the table. Tony would have to be blind not to see the looks he’s garnering: incredulity, attraction, calculation. Toomes looks like he’s about to cream his jumpsuit when his rough hand wraps around Peter’s soft, tiny one. The look he shoots Tony is smug.

“Do I get a handshake, Officer?” Tony asks sweetly as the kid is trying to make his escape.

He looks at Tony’s hand like it is a trap. Tony softens.

“I’m sorry if I came on too strong before,” he says gently. “I just want to say, Welcome to LCF.”

Peter takes his hand. It is just as soft and smooth as it looks, but the grip is strong and firm, and Tony feels irrational pride—look at this little boy standing up to him, so fucking fearless. He makes sure to keep the handshake simple and wholesome, even though it hurts to let go. Judging by the look on Peter’s face, he agrees.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” the kid breaths and fuck. That goes right to his cock.

“You’re quite welcome,” he purrs.

The guards work 2-2-3’s, predictably. That means that Peter will have two day shifts, two days off, three night shifts, two days off, two day shifts, three days off, so on and so forth. The next two days with no Peter to look forward to and Bucky spending the 9 to 5 picking up trash are some of the dullest he’s ever had. Rhodey is the only consolation. They spend a lot of their time watching television together or playing chess.

And nights are spent with Bucky. They take turns topping, pressing each other into the mattress and muttering a litany of dirty prose in each other’s ears. Peter makes a lot of appearances in their repertoire, and some of the best orgasms Tony’s had in ages come from imagining him walking into his cell someday to find Bucky sucking off Officer Parker, or the other way around.

Sometimes, Tony has to go behind the curtain in his cell and pretend he’s taking a shit, when in reality he is jerking off to the thought. Popping a boner during poker isn’t exactly welcome.

The night shifts aren’t ideal. From 6 pm to 6 am, Peter will come in to walk the floor, shining light into cells to make sure everything is up to code. There isn’t as much time for conversation, but Tony figures he’ll be happy to spend the night awake in his buck just for the glimpses of Peter he’ll get. God, he’s fucking worked up over this kid. Mr. Stark, he called him. Jesus.

When Peter comes in at six, it is to general greeting suffused with catcalls. His face turns red as a tomato, but he smiles, looking pleased by the comradery.

“Hey doll,” Bucky says when he strolls by. Trays came in a few minutes prior, so they are eating. Salisbury steak tonight, disgusting—but the gravy isn’t half bad. Peter waves, coming over.

“Hi Mr. Barnes. Hi Mr. Stark.”

“It’s Tony, sweetheart,” Tony says. “Even Coulson calls us by our first names. You can do it too.”

“T-Tony,” Peter stutters.

“Say it again,” Tony purrs. “You need to get your practice in now.”

Bucky kicks him under the table. “You’re going to give him an aneurysm. Sorry Pete—Tony is a bit of a horn dog. He’s what the kids call thirsty.”

Peter laughs, hiding his smile behind his hand. “Yeah, I could have guessed. Is he like this with everybody?”

Tony goes to open his mouth, but is stopped by the increased pressure on the arch of his foot by Bucky’s boot under the table. When he glances over, Bucky looks earnest, serious. He puts a scarred hand over his heart. “No sir. Swear on my service tags. You’ve got us all smitten.”

Peter melts. He bites his lip, casting Tony a shy but warm glance. “I—you guys are so nice. I better get back to—yeah—”

They both watch Peter’s ass as he walks away.

“You smooth motherfucker. I need to start taking a page out of your book,” Tony mutters. He rubs his ankle softly against Bucky’s. It’s the most affection they’re willing to give each other out on the floor. Affection is weakness here, and as the guy who runs the floor, Tony knows he has a big target on his chest. He’d rather not make it any bigger. For him, or for Bucky.

It’s nearing ten PM. Lights go out at 9:30, and while not everyone is asleep, the raucous gatherings are contained to individual cells.

Like Tony’s. He is biting his knuckles, panting as Bucky sucks him off. They’ve spent the last hour cuddling in the bunk, running their hands over each other, muttering dirty things between them. He’s been hard for the better part of that hour, and it’s only now that Bucky has shown mercy on him, tugging him up to sit on the edge of the bunk, knees spread wide. He rucks up Tony’s wifebeater over his abs and chest to rub a thumb at one of his nipples, causing his cock to jump.

“Let’s give a show, baby, huh?” Bucky whispers before swallowing him down. Tony jolts, barely managing to cut off the groan that builds up in his throat.

Bucky gives head with enthusiasm and without shame, probably because he looks so fucking hot without his inhibitions, and he knows it. Eyes closed like Tony’s cock is the tastiest thing he’s ever had in his mouth, Bucky drools and chokes himself, sometimes pressing Tony’s cock up so that he can mouth at the older man’s balls, taking them into his mouth one at a time.

Tony holds off his orgasm for as long as he can. He loves this, loves how aroused Bucky gets from sucking cock, whining around it, one hand reaching between his own legs to jerk himself off.

Then comes the light. It blinds Tony whose eyes are accustomed to the darkness. He gasps, jerking backwards in horror at being caught, but Bucky’s hands grab his hips and wrench him forwards, taking him deeper.

There comes a gasp, high and effeminate.

Peter.

The flashlight fumbles and clicks off, but Tony doesn’t hear the footsteps move away. His eyes readjust to the darkness, and he sees Peter’s form standing in the doorway, one hand up to press against his mouth.

Bucky chokes himself, swallowing around the head of Tony’s cock, and something about being watched—being watched by Peter—has Tony gasping, fisting Bucky’s long hair and fucking into his throat as he cums. He barely manages to keep his eyes open through the pleasure, because now he can just make out the dim form of features on Peter’s face, eyes half-closed, and knuckles clutched between his teeth.

He likes what he sees.

“Jesus, baby,” Tony whispers, stroking Bucky’s hair. The man stands up, pants slung to his ankles, fisting his naked cock furiously. The low cots mean that when he cums with a groan, he stripes Tony’s chest with it, and he loves it, fucking loves marking and being marked by Bucky. “You wanted to give Peter a show, huh?”

The sound Peter makes is tortured. He turns and nearly sprints away, perfunctorily walking down the rest of the cells, glancing in to make sure no one is smoking or hoarding blankets or any other thing.

They sit side by side on the bunk, panting.

“All part of the plan, handsome,” Bucky mutters, pressing a tender kiss to Tony’s forehead.

“Petey came to my cell last night,” Toomes says the next day. The guard on duty is in Tony’s palm, so Tony smokes unabashedly and without fear of repercussions, flicking his ash in a neat pile next to him, because littering isn’t cool.

He isn’t sure what his facial expression says, but he hopes its as stony and unbelieving as he feels. “Good for you, Toomes. Did you finally get that suck job you wanted?”

The other man scoffs, waving away Tony’s accusations. “He’s too skittish for that. But he saw me reading. Frankenstein. Did you know he’s a big reader, Tony?”

Tony didn’t know. He tries not to let it show how rankled it makes him, that there is any part of Peter that this vulture has picked off before Tony or Bucky.

“Maybe you can start a book club,” Tony suggests.

Beside him, Rhodey snorts into his cards.

“He’s full of shit, Tony. You know that,” Bucky soothes. He’s sitting on Tony’s cot, freshly showered, watching Tony pace, cigarette clutched between his lips. The younger man is getting a tan from his time spent out in the sun picking up trash. For a fair skinned, fair eyed man, he tans surprisingly well. Tony certainly appreciates the aesthetic.

“He’s not. Not about this, at least,” Tony mutters. “Peter waved to him tonight at dinner when you were getting your tray. I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to look at Toomes with a pleasant expression. I can’t unsee it.”

“You poor thing,” Bucky says, sounding not at all sympathetic. “Look, the kid’s worked here for three days. This is his fourth fucking shift. Seduction takes time. You always do this—if something you want doesn’t fall into your lap right away, you get mopey. Where’s the Tony you always talk about, the one who had patience, who worked hard to reap rewards?”

“Worked real hard to reap my dad’s money, you’ve got that right,” Tony mutters. “You suck at pep talks, snowflake.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Then how about I just console you?”

Tony takes the cigarette from his mouth and points it at him. “Now you’re talking.”

It’s nearing two in the morning. Peter has been by a handful of times, face red when he glances into their cell. Bucky and Tony jerked each other off hours ago—shame he missed it—and have spent the rest of the evening sitting on the cot talking. Bucky does push-ups. Tony admires the view.

“I’m out of smokes,” Bucky says. He means pot—Tony doesn’t partake, but on night when Bucky does, sleeps easier and wakes more rested. “I need more papers.”

“I got ‘em baby.”

“Thanks, Tony.”

Tony can get anything into prison. It’s about greasing the guards—and he makes sure to know which ones squeak and which ones don’t. Then he keeps them well, well lubricated. Whenever someone needs something (matches, drugs, porn, other contraband), Tony is the guy who gets it. But he’s not dumb enough to be the guy who keeps it. That’s on the straw men Tony keeps around the block. One houses the rolling papers. Another has the pot. There’s a cellphone in the cell beside Tony. And if there are shakedowns with guards Tony doesn’t have under his thumb, those men agree to take the fall, and Tony agrees to make it up to them.

It’s late and dark, most people actually asleep now. Tony feels his way down to the cells to the guy who’s housing the papers for joints. The guy snores to wake the dead, but Tony doesn’t care, letting himself in and going to the designated location.

It’s on his way back that he hears the noise.

Voices.

He’d ignore them—some guys will stay up all night talking—but one of those voices is too high.

It’s panicked, too.

Breathing heavier, he takes care to muffle his steps. He isn’t wearing shoes, and that makes him vulnerable in a fight, but he’s held his own in worse situations. The element of surprise will be instrumental in coming out on top—if he needs to. Keeping his breaths quiet, he follows the sounds to the showers, empty but still smelling damp and faintly of soap.

It’s definitely Peter’s voice.

There are windows here that let in the moonlight. Tony stands in the shadow of the doorway, watching and listening.

“Come on, Adrian, quit—”

“You come on, Petey. I’ll make it good for you. It’s got to be tough, being around all the men on the block, being flirted with all the time. Gets a kid hot and bothered I bet, huh? You’re a hot little thing. I saw the way you looked at me last night. I’m here for you, honey. You can use me—”

“I don’t want to. I could lose my job.”

“I’ll take it to the grave, Pete, I swear.”

Peter is pressed against the tiled wall between two showerheads. Adrian is pinning him there with his body, and the size difference is drastic. Peter is so fucking tiny and frail looking, eyes huge and frightened, hands clenching and unclenching even though he has a fucking weapon, come on Pete, pull your baton, your taser, your fucking gun—

Adrian’s hand drifts from where it’s caressing Peter’s jaw. It presses against his chest, fingering the buttons down Peter’s dress blues, and then palms the young man’s cock.

Tony sees red. He wishes he had the shiv he keeps hidden on the floor, but there’s no time to search for it in the dark, and he can make do without it anyway. Get Adrian down and then pull Peter’s baton, beat Toomes again and again and again until the man eats his meals through a straw or not at all.

“I said no, Toomes.” Peter grabs the man’s wrist and twists it expertly. With a strength Tony didn’t know could be contained in such a tiny form, he switches their positions to press Toomes’s face into the wall, grinding it against the tiles. The man struggles but Peter is holding strong, lithe little muscles bulging as he kicks the man’s legs apart so he can’t get proper leverage to push him away. Then he grabs his cuffs, and in a heartbeat, the larger man is subdued. “I tried to be nice, didn’t I? No means no, asshole.”

He wrenches Toomes away from the wall and they both turn to see Tony standing there. They all look at each other, mouths open. Then Tony lifts his hands and brings them together softly, a standing ovation.

“I’m not going to lie,” he says breathlessly. “I’m a little hard right now.”

Peter scowls. “Not now, Tony. Go press the button to let the other guards know I need help.”

“No can do, sweet thing. But it looks like you’ve got it covered for yourself.”

Peter does, frog marching Toomes across the floor and out of the Block. Tony watches it all with an incredulous expression. And a chub. Even after they’re gone, he stands on the quiet, dark floor, pondering what he’s seen. When Bucky puts a hand on his shoulder, Tony nearly jumps out of his own skin.

“What happened?” he asks. “Was that Peter I heard?”

“Oh Buck. You won’t believe this yarn I’m going to spin you.”

Toomes doesn’t return to the block. More than likely, he is shifted to another block with more violent offenders. They tend to group inmates based on the charges against them and their charge history. Tony wonders what exactly he’ll be charged with now. Attempted assault of a police officer? It sounds delicious. Whatever the punishment, it will be too good for him.

Bucky is torn up. Coming home from war has left him sensitive to certain aggressions, and he often feels things too keenly. Takes things too personally. “No means no,” he says, voice thick, faced press into Tony’s neck as he holds him. “Why don’t people listen? No means no.”

“We know that. They know that too. They just don’t care, baby. We’ll see Pete tomorrow and find out how he’s doing.”

Bucky lifts his head. His eyes are cloudy and distant “Tell me again how he roughed up Toomes.”

“With pleasure,” Tony purrs. “He’s so goddamn petite, but his hiding some serious muscles under that uniform. God, it had me worked up, the way he knocked Toomes’s legs apart. The snap of the cuffs. When we get out of here, snowflake, we need to invest in a pair of those.”

Bucky snorts, but he looks pleased.

Part of Tony worried that Peter wouldn’t come in for his shift. He wouldn’t blame the kid; he’d almost been assaulted on the job. The guards had it tough. If it wasn’t sexual harassment, it was physical intimidation—the latter of which Tony himself had been guilty of. But he shouldn’t have underestimated their boy.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Peter says shyly. He’s got his hands on his narrow hips, but Tony knows that those fingers are long enough to wrap all the way around a man’s wrist, wrenching it back.

“How are you?” Bucky asks when Peter comes by.

Peter smiles, soft and gentle. “I’m okay, Bucky. How are you?”

“Better, now that I’ve seen your handsome face.”

Peter blushes, so susceptible to Bucky’s lines. Then he turns his eyes to Tony, and they grow colder. He barely nods recognition before strutting away. Tony can’t even appreciate the way the tight pants hug his ass, because he’s too busy with his mouth agape, jerking a thumb at the boy’s back and asking Bucky, “What did I do?”

That night they are waiting up for Peter the first time he makes his rounds. They decide to sit on the floor so as to be as non-threatening as possible (Peter went through a fucking ordeal yesterday, and they aren’t looking to add to his stress), Tony with his back against the edge of the cot and Bucky propped up against the wall, one foot flat on the floor and the other tickling Tony’s thighs. Yes, the bunks are that small.

As soon as Peter’s light shines in, Bucky calls for him gently.

Carefully, he steps into the room, shining the light towards the ceiling to cast a glow over all of them. His face is somber, but he smiles.

“Hey Bucky. What do you need?”

Bucky doesn’t beat around the bush. “We want to know if you’re really okay. Tony told me about Toomes. That guy’s a fucking piece of work. Hope some guys up on B Block crack his skull in—won’t be no skin off society’s nose.”

Peter shakes his head. “That’s not a good way to talk. That’s not justice. I’m doing fine—Toomes wasn’t hard to subdue.”

“You handled him like a pro,” Tony adds.

Peter’s look frosts over. “Like a police officer, yes. No thanks to you.”

Tony groans. “Is that why you’re mad at me? Because I wouldn’t go press the button for you, baby?”

“Don’t call me that. And yes. I thought we were—” Peter doesn’t finish. He blushes, obviously knowing how silly that sentence sounds: a CO being friends with an inmate. But it cuts Tony all the same, and Bucky’s look across the room is murderous.

“You didn’t try to get help? What the fuck, Tony.” His foot lashes out and catches Tony in the shin, and fuck that stings!

“I’m not a snitch,” Tony snaps.

“Look, I’ll leave you both to this—”

“I was going to handle it if Peter couldn’t—I was going to kill that son of a bitch. That’s how things work in here, you know that Bucky. This isn’t the military. There’s no honor or morals. There’s just rules, and the number one rule is no snitching. If there’s a problem, we handle it this way.”

Peter swallows. “Tony—you can’t just say that. I can’t—I’ve got to tell somebody that you said that, I think.”

“This place doesn’t have honor, but we do,” Bucky growls. “Or at least, I thought you did.”

“You know I’d have killed for him,” Tony says through his teeth. “Just like how I’d kill for you—”

“Would you fucking stop it?” Peter hisses. It’s like a bucket of cold water dumped over them to hear him curse. His grip has gone white on his flashlight he’s so tense, lips pressed into a thin, furious line. “Why are you two doing this? Is it—is this just to, to fuck with me? I don’t get it, I—”

All the anger seeps out of him. He looks lost, tortured. Both of the angry men in front of him soften. What is it about this boy that melts them like wax under flame? Bucky shuffles up onto his knees, looking with his long hair like some knight from an old medieval story, begging for forgiveness of his fair lady.

“Pete, we didn’t mean to come on so strong. Please—will you sit for a bit?”

Peter glances back at the floor. It is dark and mostly quiet, some laughter coming from a cell further down the line. “I shouldn’t,” he says. “I need to do my job.”

“We won’t keep you here, if you want to leave. We aren’t like Toomes. But if you’re willing, we’d like to talk. Work this out.”

Looking torn, Peter sits. Tony and Bucky flank him, but the boy doesn’t look threatened in the slightest, just hunches himself over to rest his elbows on his knees. “Okay. Go ahead and talk,” he says.

“Bucky and I are together.”

Peter snorts. “I got that when I saw him sucking you off.”

Tony blinks. “Oh. Well that happens in here every now and again—some men will do anything in here for company, even if they don’t really swing that way on the outside. But Bucky and I—we’re pretty in love.”

“Yeah,” says Bucky. “He’s dumb. But I love him.”

Peter laughs a little. “Okay. Yeah. So you two are together.”

“We’re polyamorous,” Tony admits. “That means we have a lot of love to give and aren’t unopposed to giving it to multiple people at once. Bucky here, he’s got a boyfriend down the line, Steve—you know Steve?”

“I know Mr. Rogers. He seems nice.”

“He’s real nice,” Bucky smirks. “Our point here is that up until now, we’ve had passing flings with other people, but we’ve never shared anyone. We’ve never wanted to share anyone—until you. And now it’s like our stupidity has squared itself, because we both are falling over ourselves to try to attract you.”

He’s glad he’s letting Bucky take the lead. Tony might have a way with words, but Bucky absolutely has tact and softness that Tony can’t muster up in his wildest dreams. Peter is sitting between them looking red-faced but thoughtful. “So, what? You guys both want to date me?”

“We can’t exactly set up a table with a cloth and wine and dine you, princess,” Tony says. He tries to stay soft and honest, because his mother always used to say that honesty is the best policy. Peter looks like the kind of kid who would appreciate that. “As unfortunate as that is. I’ve got five months left on my sentence, and Bucky has almost double that. And as—what is it Bucky? Thirsty?—as thirsty as we both are, we understand that you wouldn’t want to put your job in jeopardy.”

Peter looks relieved by their admission. “I don’t really know how I feel, to be honest. You’re both—wow, you’re both really hot. Duh. But I don’t know you. Maybe I could get to know you? A little at a time? And once you’re out Tony, if I’m not seeing anyone, we could go out? There’s…” Peter swallows. “There’s definitely chemistry here.”

“Yeah, kid, I feel that,” Tony says.

“We don’t want to pressure you,” Bucky emphasizes, shooting Tony a look overhead that says keep it in your pants. They’ve been seeing each other in here long enough to have reached the telepathic portion of their relationship, thanks. “You’re already promising more than we could have hoped for. And we really appreciate you sitting down and talking things out with us. That’s never easy, doll.”

The younger man blushes prettily, shrugging. He stands. “I really should get back to work.”

“Okay, kid. Whatever you need to do,” Tony agrees. He shifts, hard in his sweatpants, the proximity to his lover and his maybe, possibly, someday lover has sweat beading at the nape of his neck and his imagination running wild. Peter’s eyes track his movements and then fall to his lap.

He licks his lips.

Honest to god.

“I—wait for me. Just—” Peter disappears, flashlight bobbing as he continues down the line. They can hear him popping his head in to a cell further down and telling the guys to please be respectful of the other inmates, thanks!

“Buck,” Tony groans. They smash together with no finesse, both of them stressed and horny from their confrontation with Peter. They taste like mint toothpaste they used before lights out, and Tony licks into the younger man’s mouth unabashedly, sucking on his tongue, licking at his teeth. “God, I need you,” he whispers.

“Take me,” Bucky urges. “Come on, baby. Take me.”

They shed clothes like they’re on fire. Tony folds Bucky’s legs up—for a large guy, he’s surprisingly nimble—and lowers his mouth to Bucky’s ass, licking a hot stripe over his hole and to his balls. He hears the hiss above him, the groan muffled by a fist in his mouth. Not for the first time, Tony hates prison. He hates that they have to be quiet, that they can’t let themselves go and love each other properly, just hushed romps like this in the middle of the night.

“What do you think he meant?” Bucky pants, fingers clenching on Tony’s hair. “Wait for me?”

There is a whispered groan from the doorway. They both turn to see Peter there, leaning against the bars, eyes heavy. “I meant wait, but I get it. God, I get it. You’re both so, wow, god.”

“He’s eloquent,” Tony says. They shift on instinct, turning so as to give Peter a better view. He turns off his flashlight and it takes time for their eyes to adjust to the darkness. Peter stands with his back to the wall, hands clasped behind his back like he’s in handcuffs.

“I can’t—I can’t do anything,” Peter pants. “But I could watch. If you wanted me to.”

“Do you want to?” Bucky asks.

“God yes,” Peter breaths, voice high. One hand palms at his crotch. His uniform has him blending in to the darkness, but they can guess what he’s doing, and fuck that turns Tony on, like there’s fire in his blood. He goes back to eating Bucky’s ass, pressing a thumb against the rim to hold him open so he can slip his tongue inside.

“Jesus, Tony,” Bucky says. “Fuck me. Just fuck me, come on.”

Tony is in full agreement. It’s too much; they’re all too worked up. The sounds from Bucky, the sounds from Peter, the taste of his lover in his mouth—his cock feels fit to burst as he pulls it from his sweats. He doesn’t dare pump it for fear of blowing his load right away. God this isn’t going to be the best performance to share with their new love, but he hopes that Peter can forgive him if he comes off as a three-pump-chump.

He presses in slow. Bucky is still soft and pliant from their fucking the night before, and there’s no discomfort on his lover’s face even when he bottoms out. Bucky’s legs wrap around him and he urges Tony forward with his heels and voice: “Come on, baby. Fuck me. Give it to me. Put on a show.”

Tony knows just how Bucky likes it. There’s no holding back, just the brutal thrusting of his hips that has Bucky giving off choked noises, one hand pressed firmly over his mouth and the other scrabbling at the sheet on the cot. It only takes a moment for Tony to glance over and see Peter, hand flashing in the darkness as he jerks his own cock through his dress blues, and Tony is mounting the crest, balls contracting, stomach tensing.

Bucky blows first, untouched. Tony barely gets a fist around him when he realizes what’s happening, pumping furiously to help his lover through it. Then he is there himself, grip maybe too tight around Bucky’s cock, hips snapping desperately while he blows his load. It feels like it lasts forever. Was over so, so quick.

Even when they’re done, panting, sandwiched together, they hear Peter: breathy little whines from across the room. He stops jerking himself off when they stop lazily and lovingly grinding their hips together, but it’s obvious by the unconscious swaying of his hips that he didn’t cum.

“Take care of him,” Bucky mutters, pressing a kiss to Tony’s sweaty temple. “Get on your knees for him.”

“Yes,” Tony gasps. His cock slips free of Bucky, still tingling pleasantly. He walks on his knees the few feet it takes to be at Peter’s feet, staring up at his tortured expression.

“I can’t,” Peter gasps. “I can’t do anything. That’d be wrong—”

“Then don’t do anything, Officer,” Tony purrs. He reaches a hand up and rubs at Peter’s cock. The kid keens softly, thrusting his hips out even as he grips uselessly at the wall. He’s desperate for relief, desperate to get away. Tony bats his eyes, though no one can see in the dark. “Let me do the work, sir. Please?”

Peter swallows hard. He nods frantically, and that’s all Tony needs to undo Peter’s belt, wrench down his dress slacks and boxers. He doesn’t even get a good look at the kid’s cock, just swallows him down. It’s a nice mouthful, and he has to work to get the last inch or so, taking the head just into his throat. “I’m—I don’t want to hurt you,” Peter gasps.

Tony swallows.

Peter cums. Tony barely manages to pull back, desperate to taste him on his tongue. One hand comes up to work at Peter’s twitching cock, the other cradling his balls to help prolong his pleasure. The kid sounds like he’s never cum before in his life, hands gripping at the concrete wall, giving tiny aborted thrusts, mouth open and panting.

“Thank you, Officer,” Tony says, voice a little distorted from deep-throating. Peter slumps down the wall, knees shaking, until they’re kneeling across from each other. Tony can’t help it, he laughs a little. “You didn’t need to be worried about hurting me, baby. That wasn’t my first blowjob.”

It’s Peter’s turn to chuckle. “I did have good reason to be worried.” He cuts himself off, like there was more he was going to say, but stopped himself.

“What is it, doll?” Bucky asks. He’s lounging on the bed, watching them with lazy, sated eyes. He’s so fucking handsome, Tony crawls across the floor to kiss him and press the last of Peter’s cum into his mouth. The other man moans appreciatively.

“It’s kind of a crazy story,” Peter admits.

“We know a thing or two about crazy,” Tony says. “Try us.”

Peter’s clenches his hands together tightly. “It’s weird, actually. It has to do with a spider.”

Bucky and Tony share a glance, equal parts confused and amused. Tony settles in, leaning his head to rest on the cot beside Bucky. “Go on then,” he says. “We’re listening.”

Tag list: @crown-filth

#winterironspider #starker #winteriron #prison #drugs #violence #cagewrites

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littleorangecactus · 4 years

Text

Go with your head

This is really long but it is a slow burning parrlyn fic with Aragon and Jane acting as parental figures to Anne.

This is for @politics-notmything per her request for fluff to wake up to!

“Jesus FUCKING Christ!!” Anne screams as slams her head against her pillow. She has spent the past half hour trying to devise a plan to ask Cathy out, and it hasn’t gone anywhere. It wasn’t like it was bad enough that she likes her best friend, she also can’t get up the courage to ask her on a date. Suddenly there are footsteps surging up the stairs, yanking ion her door.

“WATCH YOUR LANGUAG-“ Aragon and Jane came to an abrupt halt at the sight of their little gremlin in tears. “Oh sweetie what’s wrong??” Jane coos as she rushes to wrap her arms around Anne. The teenager sniffles, moving to wipe away her tears so as to not get made fun of. “Nothing,” she mumbles into Jane's shoulder. “What was that darling?” Jane asks gently, stroking Anne’s hair while she looks to an un-amused Aragon by the door. “I can’t talk about it alright!” She screams, pulling away from Jane and shuffling into the corner of her bed. “You need to watch yourself Boleyn!” Catherine steps close to the bed, making sure she’s there if this goes wrong for Jane.

Anne falters, taking in the two faces of the women before her. Aragon has a look of confusion and unsteadiness, watching to see what Anne will do next. She huffed to herself, saying she didn’t care about what Aragon thought of her, even though she did. But the look of hurt and sadness on Jane’s face is enough to do her in. Big, pooling tears come fast from her eyes as she starts to sob, the anxiety coursing through her over this date getting too much. Jane immediately grabs her and wraps her in her arms, Aragon joins in to rub curled on her back for comfort. “I..I’m so stupid!” She cries, leaning into Catherine’s touch. “You are no such thing! What on earth makes you think that?!” Jane questions her, a socked look on her face. “I want to ask if Cathy will go out with me, but I can’t think of what to say. I keep thinking of the worst ideas, and I don’t even know if she even likes me yet!” Anne finally spills the secret that had gotten her so upset in the first place.

In seconds, Jane is back to cooing her and she strokes her hair, while Catherine gets stiff. “You want to do what exactly?” She asks Anne, looking at her with a glare only Anne could get. “I... I know you don’t like me, but this is serious. I really like her, like I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t see her smile everyday. Like I couldn’t picture life without her, I don’t even want to ask her because I know this could hurt the group! But every time I look at her and think it couldn’t ever work, Cathy looks at me with a soft smile, and I fall for her dorky self all over again.” Anne is begging Aragon at this point, trying to get her to see her intentions. Aragon softens a little, putting up a front for the girl. “Well did you even think about things she likes?” She questions softly. Anne’s head whips around. “I know she loves books and coffee. I know she doesn’t know that I watch as she likes to sit outside and watch the birds fly around as she works on her books. I know she likes quiet things most of the time, I know she doesn’t agree with sports, I know she likes heartfelt gifts.” Anne lists the facts about Cathy that she knew on her fingers, proud that she could remember them all.

Jane looks at her with tear filled eyes, seeing Anne so open and soft about someone wasn’t a sight many saw. “Well darling, why don’t you put some of those things together? I’m sure you could use her love of books, food, and the outdoors to get her to say yes!” Her eyes brighten as she tries to help the little girl in her arms. “Set up something special for her, things that she would like around her.” Catherine gives a slight smile as she adds her input into this. Knowing her goddaughter very well, she could help give the right answers. Anne’s head shoots up and she jumps out of bed and goes into her closet. “I GOT IT. I KNOW WHAT IM GONNA DO!” Digging around she finds her favorite sweater, throwing it on her body. Pulling her hair up in messy space buns, she turns back to the bed. “I’m gonna set up a picnic with her favorite foods and some books so we can relax in the park!” She smiles as she relays her idea, nervous at the reactions. Both queens on the bed smile brightly at her, nodding their heads happily. “If you would like dear, I could go get the basket ready while you ask Cathy to go with you?” Jane offers, with a big smile. “I will make sure all other things needed will be there as well” Catherine stands, pulling Anne into her. “I know you won’t, but if you hurt her, I do know where you sleep.” She whispers quietly.

Jane shushes her and they both go their separate ways to get the surprise ready. Anne was so excited as she walked over to Cathy’s office. Knocking quickly, she stands there waiting for Cathy. “What can I do for you?” Come a voice from the doorway, as Cathy opens it for Anne. “I would like it if you would come with me somewhere. It’s a surprise, but you’re gonna love it. I promise.” Anne smiles as she grabs Cathy’s hand. The sixth queen giving her a questioning look before the puppy dog eyes set in. “Alright alright!” She huffs, turning back into her room to get ready. Anne beams as she waits for Catherine to get ready, heading towards the kitchen to wait. “In here are some of her favorite foods; different fruits, grilled cheese sandwiches, a little thermos of coffee, all ready!” Jane smiles brightly as she hands it to her. Aragon comes in with a blanket and 2 of Cathy's favorite books that were left in the living room. “Here are some other supplies you need. Be careful, but have a good time.” She smiles softly at the second queen before her. Anne’s eyes begin to tear up at the generosity of her fellow queens as Cathy comes into view.

“I’m ready to go, but I swear Boleyn, if this is anywhere near the stunt you pulled at the water park, you’re sooo dead.” She exclaims, walking over to the other three women. “It won’t be I promise, and I said I was sorry for drenching you’re book! I was aiming for your head, you moved!” Anne throws back at her lightly. Cathy rolls her eyes, while looking at the basket in the teens hand. “Okay everything is set, let’s get going!” Grabbing Parr’s hand, she pulls her to the car, setting the supplies in the back. Looking over to her she laughs, “This won’t take but a minute to get there so don’t get too comfy.” They pull out of the driveway and start towards the park. The radio playing lightly is the only noise as Anne focuses on driving and Cathy watches the world pass by the window. After a bit, the get to the park and Anne jumps out to get the basket of goodies before opening Parr’s door. Looking at the girl for permission, she grabs Cathy’s hand and they walk to an open, quiet area. Setting out the blanket and the books, Anne sits down and gestures Cathy to follow. The fellow queen stands there staring at her. “What’s all this?” Cathy asks with confusion covering her face. “Well..I wanted to ask you if maybe, you wanted to, and you don’t have to, but maybe go out with me?” Anne looks up as she says these words, innocence and fear written on her face.

Looking at the scene before her, Cathy sits down and grabs Anne’s hand. “Wait I don’t understand. You did all of this, just to ask me if I’d go out with you?” She looks into Anne’s eyes and sees a nervous girl looking back at her. “Ye- well I’m not sure... you know what forget it, this was a bad idea!” Anne turns away blushing and hurt at the questioning look and starts to gather things up. “Wait! wait! I’m not upset! I just..I didn’t know you felt this way!” Cathy grabs her hands to stop her. Anne looks at her again, “ I have wanted to ask you out for about 4 months now, I just didn’t know how.” She confesses. Her shoes now more interesting than they were three seconds ago, she looks down, not daring to look at Catherine. Cathy smiles and tilts Anne’s chin to look at her. “No one has ever done anything like this for me. Ever. Not Henry, not Thomas, nothing even close. I can’t believe you went through all this trouble for me. Anne I have likes you for ages, I just didn’t think you’d like me back!” She scoffs with a laugh, looking into Anne’s eyes. “Of course I will go out with you, I’d like nothing more. You put so much effort and time into this, the caring alone makes you so special to me.” Smiling at her, she leans in and pecks Anne’s cheek. The fellow queen turning a beet red, smiles brightly back at her. “I brought your favorite foods and books so we can stay here and have a nice lunch before heading home, if you want. Jane and Aragon helped set it up, with only minimal threats to my life!” She jokes, while grabbing the snacks out of the basket. “This is so sweet of you, of the queens to help as well. Remind me to talk to them about those threats though.” She said with a faux angry look. Giggling softly she leans into Anne as they enjoy their day with each other, just sitting in the other’s company.

Packing up and heading home, the pair held hands the entire way, Anne with a dopey look on her face, and Cathy with a bright smile. Pulling into the driveway, they head inside towards the living room, talking softly to each other. Looking up at the noise, Jane smiles as she and Catherine pause the movie they were watching. “Did you girls have fun?” She asks with a knowing smile, the interlocked hands a dead give away. “We did actually. I’m surprised to say it was the best date I have ever been on.” Cathy replies with a smile, looking at Anne as she spoke. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourselves. Now you two come join us, it’s movie night and the other two are coming soon!” Aragon smiles as she snaps back into the order of their routine, her smile shows how happy she is for the two young girls. The pair roll their eyes but head towards the couch, getting comfy as the noise around them blurs out, the feeling of each other’s hands all that matters in that moment.

The end!

I hope you like it, and I’m so sorry that it was so long but I needed the angst to get to the cute mess that the pairing is. If you have anything you want to change, please let me know!

#six west end #anne boleyn #parrlyn #catherine of aragon #six the musical fanfic #six the musical #fanfic

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aplaceforthesoul · 3 years

Note

im getting older. my friends are getting older and it hurts. every birthday i have a good cry at some point in the day because im growing up. i had an hour conversation with a friend that just ended with me crying. i was remembering a church friend who went to collage and it hit me she was no longer 18 shes 25 and oh god it just hurts. and everyone's like live in the moment enjoy it and i do but god it hurts so much. growing up getting old and dying is scary and sad and it gives me so much pain

I apologise if this sounds repetitive, but all I can say is advice that others have given you: live life in the moment, enjoy it. it’s not always easy to do when you’re weighed down by anxiety, but it’s something to practice.

it’s all you can do really, because growing up and getting older is something that you can’t change. it’s going to happen regardless of whether you want it to or not! however what you can control is your narrative, what that looks like for you, which in can can positively influence your thoughts and feelings about it.

life is bloody hard right now with coronavirus triggering a lot of lockdowns and social restrictions, life is a little monotonous and dull at the moment (especially if it’s winter where you are). when things start to settle down and restrictions ease though? create as much joy and things to look forward to as you can :* maybe that means a nice holiday somewhere, a picnic with friends, dinner dates with friends, organise to go to an ice skating rink (if you live somewhere that has an all-year-round rink), make plans to visit local art museums if that’s your thing, or maybe games nights with friends, organise to go to a music festival later in the year, have friends over for dinner or maybe an afternoon of arts + crafts, go bike-riding with loved ones (maybe hire bikes if you don’t have your own), there’s so much you can do! fill your days with fun and enjoyment as much as you can, and it can help a little bit to take the edge off the anxiety and fear.

allowing yourself to exist in the present moment takes practice, being present in the here & now and not letting the anxiety consume you takes practice. practicing mindfulness can help? but honestly there’s a lot to celebrate as life goes on! you get more freedoms and independence, you gain new life experiences, you stop giving a fuck about what others think and gain more confidence in your decision making, relationships become more mature and stable.

I can absolutely, unequivocally say with confidence that right now, this very moment? I’m the oldest I’ve ever been, and the the happiest I’ve ever been :) I have total control and freedom over my life, I’m (semi) financially stable, I have a small but decent group of friends around me, I’m dating someone who makes me feel like my best self, I’m out here living! yes I’m getting older, yes every day does bring me closer to death. but the saying “life is about the journey, not the destination” is so on point, it’s so true. we all have a starting point (birth) and an end point (death). what matters, what truly matters is what we fill life with and who we spend it with.

give yourself things to look forward to, try to fill your life with as much joy and happiness as you can. getting older does bring good things, it’s not all bad. if you feel like you have mental health concerns that are getting in the way then that’s something to address too. getting older is inevitable, but it doesn’t have to be all doom and gloom. take care lovely, be kind to yourself <3

- tash

#advice #ageing #fear #death #anxiety #Anonymous

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thepeterfuckinparker · 5 years

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miss. thompson pt.2 — peter parker smut

Summary: After the heated exchange at school, Peter goes to Flash’s party to see you and things get hot and heavy.

Notes: CHARACTERS ARE 18++ and im still trying to get the hang of tumblr :( i think i tagged pt 1 properly so get check it out :)) it was a hit so i wanted to make another part, maybe there will be more ;) let me know! SEND REQUESTS!

Warnings: smut!!!

pt. 1

You sighed in boredom as the front door closed, instantly rising off of the large couch and trudging towards the kitchen. Flash could be heard on the phone while you poured yourself a glass of lemonade, climbing onto kitchen island and scrolling through your phone. All at once, your phone was flooded with texts. You furrowed your eyebrows, pressing on each one as you sipped your lemonade.

‘What should I wear?’

‘Yo! Is there alcohol?’

‘Byob?’

‘Send me the addy, I didn’t ss it.’

‘Is there gonna be food?!?!?!!!!’

You heard Flash enter the kitchen, his fingers tapping away at his phone’s keyboard. You glared at him, crossing your arms immediately. “Eugene, do you have something to tell me?” You said harshly. Your step-brother ignored your tone, rummaging through the fridge and pulling out a box of beer. Your eyes widened, instantly chucking the empty carton of lemonade at Flash. He yelled in annoyance, throwing it back to you. “Are you throwing a party?” You ask.

“What’s it to you? You’re not invited.” Flash spat back, pushing your shoulder to get off of the island. You did, watching him spread out bottles of alcohol and bags of chips onto the marble counter.

“It’s my house too.” You snapped, “Mom and dad are out for literally two days and this is what you do?” You watched him continue to walk past you and set up red solo cups. “Hello!” You exclaimed. Brothers could be dicks, many were gifted with sweet ones but you had been burdened with Flash. He wasn’t a complete pain, he always had your back and was very protective of you but he was also incredibly insensitive. You grew used to it, learning it was better than being an only child sometimes.

“Invite your dumb friends! I don’t care. Hot girls only.” Flash rolled his eyes, ignoring your stomps as you fled to your bedroom. You slammed the door closed dramatically, squealing in excitement after a few minutes and desperately searching your closet for what to wear. Your step-brother was known for having notorious parties, you hadn’t attended one in a while and had to admit you were eager to dance and drink a bit. You settled on a tight red dress, one that was casual yet party-ish. Flash wasn’t a big fan, but he had already downed a beer so he had loosened up. You texted friends while helping Flash set up the house, putting cars in garages, placing important vases into your parents bedroom. The party would commence in thirty minutes and you had finally gotten time to do your makeup. It consisted of mascara and lip gloss before fixing up your hair. You looked over at your phone as you heard the doorbell start to ring, people were arriving. You looked over at your backpack that sat by your bedroom door and thought back to a few weeks back in school. The time with Peter Parker, chemistry project gone wild, you hadn’t done much speaking to him since. You bit your lip as a thought crossed your mind, you grabbed your phone and instantly shot a text to Betty Brant. You both weren’t exactly friends, she was well-known, you were well-known. In a matter of minutes, you had gotten exactly what you wanted. Peter Parker’s phone number. You sent him the obnoxious party flyer that Flash had made on an app, insisting he should come. Peter hadn’t replied which made you a little upset, but you attempted to not overthink and join the party.

You grinned at the set-up, Flash had brought out speakers and was already blasting music. It wasn’t too shitty, you made some requests and helped him tweak his ‘DJ Flash’ persona, he was getting better. There were even flashing lights, people already crowding the house with red solo cups in hands. You found yourself a beer, popping it open and taking soft sip; you were to be the chaperone. You danced with friends, watched people jump into your backyard pool, you made sure the neighbors weren’t being too bothered. You kept yourself busy, one beer turning into three - enough to keep you buzzed yet alert. An hour into the party, you locked yourself away in your bedroom. You simply wanted a time-out, to scroll through your phone and lay down. Swiping out of Instagram, you found yourself searching for Peter Parker’s response only to find that he still hadn’t replied. ‘READ AT 9:32 PM.’ You sighed out in annoyance. The other day at school must’ve meant nothing, maybe you hadn’t made yourself clear, maybe he simply thought it was a one time thing and you clearly weren’t interested. But you were, you wanted to see him again. It wasn’t just the light amount of alcohol in your system, you were still sober. You liked Peter, a lot — and you liked him sexually too, he probably didn’t feel the same way. That had to be it. You were buried into your pillows, still scrolling through your phone before your bedroom door opened. The music that had been blasting downstairs seeped through, instantly causing you to groan.

“This room’s off limits. Find somewhere else to fuck.” You turned over and instantly sat up at the sight of Peter Parker, you fixed your hair, pulled down your dress. “Oh - hey!” You smiled.

“H-Hey, can I come in?” Peter asked softly, your smile grew wider as you nodded. He shut the door behind him, awkwardly walking and standing in front of your bed. “I heard about the party, a-and saw your text so I figured I’d swing by.” His eyes widened, “Not swing by! That’s crazy. I mean - my aunt dropped Ned and I off.” He cleared his throat.

You laughed at him, a rose tint covering his cheeks in embarrassment. “I understand.” You bit your lip, you noticed he hadn’t moved, anxiety in both of your systems. You crawled towards the end of the bed, waving Peter to sit by you. Your legs hung over the end, hands placed on your thighs as he took his seat. “Peter, about the other day - “ You noticed disappointment flash over his eyes, “I really liked it.” He instantly lit up, eyebrows raising. “I don’t know what came over me, that’s not usually how people tell their crushes they like them but - “

“I’m your crush?” Peter blurted out, his lips parted in shock. You twisted your lips and nodded, “You like me?” You nodded again, instantly feeling the urge to just run to your closet and hide, but you pushed forward and rested your hand on his thigh.

It was silent, it was making you nervous. Was Peter thinking about what to say? Obviously because he wasn’t into you. You mentally scoffed at yourself, you were you, of course he was into you! You smirked, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him into a kiss. Peter’s hands flew to your waist, feeling you crawl onto him and hover over. Your hands rested on his shoulders, knees buried into the bed as you sat on his lap. Your kiss deepened, his tongue easily playing with yours. He bit down on your bottom lip softly causing you to moan quietly. Just from the make-out session, from his hands running up and down your waist and back, you were soaking wet.

Peter stood to his feet, your legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed down your neck. Your eyes fluttered closed, soft whimpers leaving your plump pink lips. The wall was pressed against your back, your arms wrapped around his neck as he kissed down your collarbones towards the valley of your breasts. Your breathing was heavy, you took it upon yourself to pull up the bottom of your dress and pull down the top of your breasts. He admired your chest, pulling you up higher to take one nipple into his mouth. You groaned, arching your back as his warm wet mouth engulfed the sensitive bud. Peter set you down, your hands instantly going to his pants. You unbuckled his belt, unbuttoning them and yanking his pants down with his boxers. His length hit your stomach causing you to bite down on your bottom lip, eager to have his cock fill you up. You slid down the wall, your tongue taking a bold stripe up his shift. He gasped from above you, his hands instantly balling into tight fists. Peter hadn’t done anything like this before, the closest he had gotten with a girl was kissing; a bit of ass-grabbing. You, on the other hand, were somewhat experienced; but still a virgin. You intended on keeping it that way, despite your dripping pussy begging you to consider otherwise.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Peter stammered out, his hands unsure of where to go. You took his hard dick into your mouth, taking your hands into his and leading them to hold up your hair. He bit down his lip as he looked down at you, your pretty lips wrapped around his cock. It was a sight he surely would never forget. Your eyes locked onto his face, watching his face twist in pleasure as you looked up at him innocently. Your tongue focused on the tip of his length, swirling around it and hollowing your cheeks. You used one hand to jerk what you couldn’t take, his hips bucking. You gagged on his thick cock, stopping for air and wiping your lips. Peter instantly apologized, embarrassed for getting carried away. You giggled in response, kitten-licking his tip after reassuring him that all was well. You sucked softly, your spit dribbling down his shaft and down your chin. Peter’s eyebrows furrowed, his fingers gripping your hair tighter, pulling you in a bit closer. “I’m gonna come.” He whined out, Peter felt your hands trail from his cock to your wet pussy. Your fingers found your clit, rubbing it roughly while you continued to focus on helping Peter reach his climax. The eager boy began to thrust in your mouth, which you didn’t seem to mind at all. He groaned out, his eyes shutting tightly as he came into your mouth. You released him with a pop, sticking your tongue out jokingly to expose his release. Peter watched you swallow, instantly biting his lip at the sight.

“How was that?” You asked with a grin, wiping your mouth. Peter barely responded before he pulled you to your feet. You both moved to the front of your bedroom door, your hand gripping the doorknob for support. His lips found your swollen ones, his hands kneading your breasts. He peeled off your underwear with his lips still on yours. You felt him place his hands on your hips before he muttered for you to jump. You did as told, ready to wrap your legs around him only to be brought up higher. You squealed in response, his hands holding you up as you pressed your hands into the ceiling. “What are you doing?” You laughed, looking down to see him eyeing your wet pussy.

“Returning the favor.” Peter smiled at you, his hands held your hips tightly.

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss onto your swollen clit. You moaned in response, your hands still touching the ceiling. He licked it lightly before swiping his tongue up and down. A cry left your lips at the feeling, Peter soon licking back up to your clit and wrapping his lips around it. He sucked lightly, his tongue still playing with the bundle of nerves. Your hands flew from the ceiling to his soft brown curls, tugging on them in encouragement. Your eyes rolled as his tongue flattened, you took the opportunity to grind down. Your body shook above him, your fingers still tangled in his hair, you didn’t want him to stop. It was almost like you were seeing stars, the building orgasm in your core was ready to burst. His tongue was doing wonders and you didn’t know how much longer you would last. Peter held you up with one hand, you weren’t sure where the strength was coming from but you didn’t care. His other hand trailed down your thigh before his fingers made their way inside of you, a louder cry leaving your lips. It was a gentle yet quick gesture, he looked up at you, making sure you were okay. The sight he saw was gorgeous, your back arched while your lips parted, sweat glistening across your body. His cock was harder than ever, even after the mind-blowing orgasm you had given him. He felt your fingers yank at his hair harder, your hips bucking, your moans growing louder.

“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come,” You panted, your eyes rolling as you bursted. You felt a bliss, pleasure coursing through your veins as your orgasm washed over you. You shook in his arms, his tongue and sucking becoming lighter as you relaxed in his arms. “Oh my god, Peter.” You moaned softly, a smile spread across your face as he pulled back. Peter’s big brown eyes gazed up at you, returning the smile as you caught your breath. Suddenly, the door began to open. You gasped, pushing your back further in and Peter’s hand quickly shutting it. “Um - who is it?” You shouted, mouthing at Peter to let you down.

Peter did as told, bringing you down and setting you on your two feet. You used one hand to lock the door while the other adjusted your dress. The brown haired boy beside you scrambled to dress himself, his eyes wide. You fixed your hair and wiped your mouth before shoving Peter away from the door. You unlocked it and cracked it open, sticking half of your body out. You instantly grinned at Flash who glared at you, arms crossed. “What do you want?” You asked, clearing your throat.

“I need your help, neighbors called the cops. Someone saw them. Get everyone the fuck out of here!” Flash insisted, he gestured for you to hurry up.

“Oh uh - shit! Okay.” You nodded, “Let me put on some shoes.” You held up a finger before scrambling back into your room and locking the door.

Peter stared at you, “What do I do?” He asks quietly. The music was now off, Flash was sitting at your door. You pulled on your shoes, looking around for answers. The doorknob rattled again, you quickly pushed Peter, pointing towards underneath your bed. He understood, quickly scrambling to hide himself.

You rushed back to the door, opening it before Flash stormed in. “Mom and dad!” He pointed to his phone, you shut the door behind him. Your step-brother answered the phone, a fake grin plastered on his face as he spoke. He sat on your bed, laying down as your parents checked up. You felt nerves in your stomach, you felt like throwing up. “Yeah, everything’s fine. We’re watching a movie and we’re gonna head to bed, right Y/N?” Flash looked at you.

“Oh yeah! Totally - everything’s cool here.” You answered quickly, running a shaky hand through your hair. After a few minutes, your parents hung up. “Okay, go and tell everyone to get the fuck out. I’m gonna talk to the neighbors.” Flash inspected you carefully before standing up and nodding, he headed towards the door. He stopped in his tracks, his face scrunching up in disgust as he looked at the floor. “W-What?” You asked anxiously, looking at him with wide eyes.

“I thought girls rooms are suppose to be clean.” He pointed at your discarded panties on the floor, Flash rolled his eyes before leaving.

You sighed out in relief, locking the door behind him. “You can come out,” You mumbled before watching Peter crawl out. A light-hearted laugh left your lips, he rolled his eyes at you as he walked over. Peter kissed you gently, his thumb pressed against your cheek. “Thank you for tonight.” You muttered on his lips, he pulled back and thanked you in return.

“I gotta go.” Peter reminded you, his hands on your hips. You both clearly didn’t want to be separated but he had to leave. He reached for the door before you pulled him back.

“No! Flash will see you.” You argued, Peter looked at you in confusion. “Um - “ You thought to yourself, turning and looking at the window. “It’s not a far jump.” You smiled nervously.

“Y/N,” Peter whines before sighing and trudging toward the window. He opened it, peering down and glaring at you jokingly in response.

“I’ll see you again, right?” You asked softly, tucking a hair behind your ear. You ran your hands down your dress, bouncing on your feet.

Peter nodded, a smile on his sweet face. “Yeah.” You enjoyed tonight, it wasn’t just about the touching and being with him physically. You genuinely had feelings for Peter Parker, you wanted to see him again. You wanted more than this too, but until that comes, this would be fine.

You kissed him again, hands pressed against his cheeks before you heard your door rattle again. Your eyes widened as you ushered him to jump out. Peter nodded, watching the door open and quickly jumping out of view. You whipped your head, quickly closing your window and grimacing at Flash.

“Well, are you coming?” He shouted in an annoyed tone.

“I’m coming, jeez!” You exclaimed, rushing past him.

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waitinginthedarke · 5 years

Text

It Consumes Me

A BTS/Kim Namjoon Fanfiction

Summary: The minute he laid eyes on her he knew she was the one. But love is a battle of the mind and the heart, and when the voices in your head start winning, how can your heart possibly compete with a choice that consumed you before the very start…

Type: Angst/Love

Disclaimer: This story contains strong themes. Should a chapter be potentially triggering, it will be stated beforehand. (This chapter contains more direct reference to triggering subjects, most prominently EDs)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter 7

It was always mesmerizing to you, when you could circle the little brown spots on your arms, smiling weakly at the way they’d disappear when you pressed them like a button, before reappearing when you moved your fingers aside. It was like when your tummy grumbled and you would press on it hard, and like magic it would stop, leaving you with quiet; peace.

You were too busy pushing on the spots to notice when he arrived, tilting your head curiously as you distracted yourself from the cold with your new interest, a quiet voice in the back of your mind regretting your choice of clothes; thin, long sleeved, over-sized, black sweater over a thin tea dress with your regular converse. You’d forgotten a coat as you’d rushed out the door, having only brought your pre-packed bag with you which lay at your feet, and a stomach full of nerves.

‘Am I going to have to start bringing two coats with me everywhere I go, just so that I have one for you?’

His voice has your head snapping up in surprise, grin growing slowly on your face when you see him, and you hurriedly pull down your sleeve as you do so, so that you can stand up to greet him. Without pause you’re threading your arms around his waist, squeezing him tight as you draw the scent of him into your lungs, feeling your muscles weaken with the light-headedness that came with the action and thanking the powers that be that his automatic reaction was to do the same back to you.

He was so warm.

‘I missed you, beautiful.’

The night peeking out from behind his arm seemed to lighten with those words, tinges of white seeping into your vision in your delirious happiness, and you cant help but turn your head up to look at him so that you can catch his gaze, smiling before flickering your sights to his mouth and eagerly stretching up to touch a kiss to his lips.

It was like a movie the way you end up bent backwards, still secure in Namjoon’s arms whilst yours lay delicate against him, your lips barely grazing in the taste of a kiss, before he pulls away, the dreamlike scene scattering delicately with the minute frown that appears between his brows.

‘Are you okay?’

His voice is filled with concern, and the muscles in his shoulders bulge with tension beneath his coat, but the butterflies in your stomach were battering away too loudly for you to really cotton onto his meaning.

‘I’ve never been better.’

The answer seems to at least partially satisfy him as he lifts you back onto your feet with a smile, eyes darting behind you and tightening before he replaces his face mask back onto his face and proceeds to remove his coat.

‘Put this on before you catch a cold.’

You do as you’re told, having not stopped smiling at him since he’d found you, and feeling your cheeks hurt when instead of picking your bag up to return it to you after watching you put his coat on, he slings the pastel coloured beaten backpack onto his shoulder, before sliding his hand into yours and beginning to pull you away down the street.

Being surrounded by the smell and warmth of him had you distracted for all of 30 seconds, before you registered the feel of his stare on you, and you turn to see him smirking at you, pausing momentarily, before quickly pulling his facemask down and swooping down to plant a soft kiss to your lips, the taste of him being cola and cherries.

‘Now that I have your attention after you ignored my question five times in favour of staring at my coat that you’re wearing- with an adorable smile on your face, might i add…Have you eaten yet?’

The whole way through him talking you could feel your cheeks burning with heat where he’d caught you out for not paying attention to him, yet when he reaches his actual question, you feel the heat dissipate rapidly as you turn the words over in your mind in search of an appropriate answer.

But as it turns out, your body decided to answer him instead; your stomach rumbling loudly enough for him to hear it over the street noise.

‘Well, that’s one way to answer.’ He chuckles, seemingly paying no attention to the unsure look on your face as he switches your bag onto the opposite arm so that he could slip his arm around your waist, the move distracting you from the conversation as he proceeds to continue down the road with you, his warmth surrounding you the whole way back to his.

He’d asked you all about your day on the walk back, and even though you’d been actively responding for the most part and getting lost in his little tangents he’d take every now and again as he’d share an anecdote from his life- which you’d noticed he’d been much more open about since you found out about his occupation the other day- the moment he’d announced you were almost there, your senses had become acutely tuned into your surroundings, your mind wanting to process every tiny detail about the place he called home.

In fact, it wasn’t until you were stood before a large dark wood door within a building that appeared on the outside just as ordinary (if not a little cleaner) than all the rest, that the nerves of the situation you were about to find yourself in, and the reason you were stood there in that moment, really sinks in.

‘Hey, are you okay? You’re shaking.’ He suddenly comments, turning to you just before he goes to knock on the door, instead lowering his hand slowly to allow his palm to cup your cheek, gently lifting your gaze to meet his.

‘Im fine.’ You hurriedly murmur, offering a fragile smile, before letting it go and sighing shakily, ‘I’m just nervous about meeting the rest of your friends. I know you’ve said they’ll love me, but I’m still worried that they might not. I mean, im awkward, and shy, and nerdy, and-‘

‘And you’re funny, and brilliant, and beautiful beyond comparison, y/n. Believe me, …they’re going to adore you.’ He cuts you off, his face looming closer and closer to yours as he bends down slightly until his ungodly beauty is the only thing that your brain can process as your eyes lock with his.

‘I wouldn’t let you meet them if I didn’t think they’d love you; hell, I wouldn’t be stood here with you now if I didn’t think that I’d still find myself stood by your side in well over ten years’ time…and they know that, y/n. And when they know im serious about something, they make sure that they at least try to understand why.’ He says, smiling softly at you, before dropping a quick kiss to your forehead.

‘So,…yes, they might be a little inquisitive and imposing tonight, but I can promise you, its just because they want to understand why you mean so much to me.’

As much as you could appreciate that this sentiment was meant to relax you, the idea that you’d be on a podium for the entire evening as his friends examined you only proved to cause your anxiety to raise, your poor job at concealing your worry being easily signaled to Namjoon and leading you to suddenly have all thoughts vanish from your mind, finding yourself becoming over taken by the feel of his mouth caressing yours roughly and his hands clasping at your back as his torso presses desperately against yours. Your hands raise up to cradle his neck, a bubble of need surging up through your chest as the taste of him drowns out the noise of your thoughts, the excitement the feel of him beneath your fingertips caused leading you to want more as your lips begin to work harsher against his, all shyness being left behind as you forget all hesitation caused by your surroundings, shivering repeatedly with the feel of his hands caressing your body.

‘God, you’re intoxicating.’ He murmurs against your mouth, a breath of space following his words before he suddenly pulls back and looks quickly around you both, relaxing visibly when the only person within reaching distance was an old couple outside of their shop across the alley road, both shooting you disapproving looks before returning to peeling their vegetables.

‘Come on, if you’re going to be playing me like that, we should really be somewhere more private.’ He says, winking at you when you look up at him to object, before you realize you still had your arms tied around him and you hurriedly pull them back down to your sides, pulling his coat tightly around you when you notice that your dress underneath had ridden up to expose the tops of your legs.

‘I was just joking, y/n.’ he says quietly when you look back up at him, voice filled with concern, and you quickly plaster a smile on your face before gently tiptoeing to kiss his cheek, grinning when his face tinges pink in response.

‘I know, pabo. I’m just nervous…and also slightly dizzy after that kiss.’ You tease him, biting lightly on your bottom lip where you find you really were slightly tense at the evening to follow and noticing his gaze lock in on the move, his chest expanding suddenly as he draws in a deep breath, before he snaps his eyes back to yours.

‘You make me nervous.’ Is all he mutters under his breath before knocking on the door before he could hesitate again, his comment causing you to smile to yourself, becoming lost in your thoughts at its sentiment, this being the way you stay until the latch unlocks on the door and light from within suddenly spills out onto you.

‘Hyung, what took so long? Jimin has been waiting for ages- he keeps annoying me because he’s so excited.’

The sight of an irritated Jungkook relaxes you minutely, the casual look he was sporting making you smile until his eyes snap to you and he hurriedly bops his head in greeting.

‘Oh, sorry y/n noona.’

You grin at him in greeting, putting him at ease as he hurriedly scurries back inside, Namjoon guiding you in with a gentle arm around your waist and helping you remove his coat-although you put up a tiny fight where you wanted to keep it on just for the fact that it smelt like him- before he slips his hand easily into your own, and with one last reassuring smile, begins to pull you into the house.

First appearances show that it was all decorated and accentuated with the same dark mahogany, the expected smell of men not really being apparent with how neatly they kept the space- with the exception of the front porch area, which seemed filled with more shoes than a shoe store. Upon emerging into the living space your eyes immediately drink in the sight of the floor to ceiling windows that line the far side of the room, the scene beyond of the han river at night, twinkling with the lights of peoples lives in their own homes, the reflection of them upon the river mesmerizing you past the point of noticing the new body that enters the room just as Namjoon goes to pull you over to the corner sofa.

‘Ah, Jin-hyung. Just in time, I’d like to introduce you to someone.’

Namjoon’s voice pulls you back to the present as you turn in the direction of his attention, hurriedly bowing in greeting as your brain simultaneously registers Namjoon’s use of honorifics, offering a timid smile when you look back up at him, and feeling the blood drain to your toes when you see the man before you staring at you with a look of confusion and slight skepticisim.

‘Aish, Namjoon-ah, is this the lady you were on about?’

The man’s sudden change from intimidating confusion to relaxed joker almost feels like it causes you whiplash, but before you can let the feeling sink in, you’re focusing on Namjoon’s reaction to him, attempting to gage the appropriate response to him.

‘Yah, you didn’t forget what I told you yesterday did you, hyung? I made sure everyone was okay with her coming over for the evening- we had a debate about it for almost two hours!’ Namjoon insists, the disbelieving smile on his face signalling that you could relax with the humour-filled banter passing between the two of them: - that was until their attentions were turned back to you.

‘So…you must be y/n.’ the man Namjoon had called ‘Jin’ says, offering you a welcoming smile as he approaches you in polite greeting, looking between Namjoon and yourself and letting out a short, quiet chuckle.

‘I’m Jin. I don’t know who out of the others you’ve met yet, but you can refer to me as the friendly older brother- as well as the comedian of the group.’ He offers, winking at you, and the action makes you laugh in relief, despite the way your fingers were twisting together with your nerves. The feeling of Namjoon’s palm suddenly sitting warmly at the base of your spine has your attention drawing back to him, and you notice the slight tension in his jaw which wasn’t there before, the sight causing you to raise an eyebrow questioningly.

‘Its nice to meet you, Jin-sshi.’ You offer, turning back to the older man and seeing him nod his head at you, before he draws in a deep breath and looks awkwardly back to the corridor from where he’d came as though he’d become just as nervous as you and was seeking comfort in the nearest opportunity.

‘Well, I was just about to run to the store, so…I guess I’ll see you in a few.’ He explains, raising his hand as a farewell, before hurrying down the short corridor towards the door, out of sight.

‘See, that wasn’t as bad as you thought was it?’

You narrow your eyes at Namjoon’s playfully condescending tone, turning away from him as you make yourself comfortable on the sofa, and smiling cryptically as something enters your mind, and you watch him follow your lead, leaving only the slimmest gap between your bodies as he settles beside you.

‘And on a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being the easiest person to meet and 10 being the most unsociable, how would you rate him?’ you ask, turning your head to look at him inquisitively, having to look up a little cause he was still so much taller than you even when you were sat down.

‘Uhhh…maybe…a 3? Perhaps even a 2?’ he offers sheepishly, chuckling when you hum in tense anticipation of what he would pose as a 9/10, but becomingly easily distracted by the feeling of his hand reaching over to find your own to offer comfort, the way he pulls it into his lap to gently trail his fingertips over every knuckle and line pulling a warm smile from you as you watch his inspection.

‘Are you nervous with me here?’ you ask quietly, drinking in the features of his face as his eyes narrow with the smile that pulls at his lips, ears reaching back into his hair line and his adams apple bobbing lightly as he draws in a breath; every movement he makes being mesmerizing to you.

‘I can’t help but be- you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, ever had the pleasure of calling mine, and I’ve brought you into an apartment with 6 other men, all of whom have their own charms, and undoubtedly they will have their own ways of making you smile, and yet for some reason I want to be the only one who makes you smile. I have this rage of irrational jealousy burning in my chest…all because I cant bear the thought of seeing you with anyone else. The human mind baffles…’

You watch him intently as he explains, subconsciously intertwining your fingers with his when he mentions wanting to be the only one who made you smile, not noticing the smile that creeps onto your own face…or the way you end up sneaking closer to him until your arms brushed and you practically had your chin sat on his shoulder.

‘I love your mind.’

The quiet mutter from you has him turning his head slightly so that he could make eye contact with you from the corner of his eye where he’d been too shy to look at you during his confession of jealousy, his mouth curling up at the edge in a smile causing the butterflies in your chest to riot before you find yourself stretching up to touch your lips timidly to his, not being able to resist the temptation presented before you, and biting your lip sheepishly when your brain catches up with the action and you pull back suddenly.

‘You’re such a tease.’ He whispers, the fire in his eyes that had been ignited by the kiss being accentuated through his grip tightening on your fingers.

However its just as he leans closer to you, holding your hand in place so that you couldn’t escape (not that you ever wanted to), that the two of you are interrupted by a cacophony of noise coming from the direction of the front door, causing you to pull back from him a little, being stopped from going too far by his grip on your hand, and you look up at him worriedly, fear twinging through your veins momentarily, before you see the sultry look in his eyes and your heart reverts from panic mode, turning your automatic reaction into a shakyily shy smile- but not before you’d already watched his expression flicker from sultry to surprised, before finally settling on confusion with the hint of resolution.

‘Hey Namjoon-ah! Jin said your friend was here already, can we meet-‘

Upon hearing the voice you’d already started to your feet, being stood ready for inspection by the time the owner of the voice emerged into the room and watching him trail off when his sights land on you.

As you inspect the first guy, two others trail in behind him, all of their eyes immediately locking onto you and you cant help but smile awkwardly as you all become caught in a bubble of hesitation, the pause giving you a moment to suss out what you could from their visuals.

The first guy who’d entered the room was a bit shorter than Namjoon, but you guessed older by his lack of honorifics, his warm brown hair being brushed back under his cap, the shade of which accentuated his cheekbones which in turn drew your attention to the strong line of his jaw and the statue like build of his eyes and lips, immeasurably precise compared to the proportions of his face. He was wearing simple clothing; a white shirt under a dark denim jacket paired with plain basketball style shorts, as though he’d just come back from sports practise- or in this case you’d guess ‘dance rehearsal’.

That was still gonna take some getting used to.

The first guy who emerges from behind him has a similarly lanky build, the two not much different in height, although you already found yourself mesmerized by the angelic softness of his face, his inquisitive puppy-like eyes as they dance over you and the child-like tilt of his head as calculations about you begin to dance behind his gaze. The way his fringe frames his face brings your attention to the bright blonde of his hair and the cuttingly sharp angle of his jaw, before your eyes wander to the impeccably white shirt he was wearing that he’d paired with black slacks, almost as though he’d just come from a business meeting; the look completely contradicting the first man’s outfit.

It wasn’t until you’re about to turn your attention to the final guy who enters the room a few seconds after the first two that Namjoon stands from where he’d been apparently bracing himself on the sofa, angling himself minutely in front of you as he addresses his friends, before slowly sliding an arm around to lay his palm on your lower back in comfort and to demonstrate a certain level of possession of you to the other men.

‘Hoseok-hyung, Taehyungie, Yoongi-hyung, This is y/n; this is the girl I’ve told you about-‘

‘You mean the girl you haven’t stopped telling us about for the past 24 hours since you broke it to us that she was coming to stay for the night?’ The first guy cuts him off, smirking playfully at the man beside you, before he approaches you with ease and offers you a tiny bow in greeting.

‘It’s very nice to meet you, y/n. I hope you don’t mind the mess, its Namjoon’s fault.’ He comments, the tiny quip making you chuckle as your eyes dart to the pile of books in the corner next to the bookcase (note: not ON the bookcase, despite there being space), and remembering the few shoes in disarray out in the hall.

Its only then, as the two begin to joke around- a few shoves being given and received- and the conversation beginning to go off on a tangent, that your gaze moves to the final person who had arrived with the little entourage…

…and you find him looking right back at you, with an unreadably dark expression.

So this would be the 10.

(T.B.C)

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