#i’m so afraid he’s gonna get hit by a car or train
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hello. i’m about to rescue this chicken from the train tracks that’s been wandering for 4 days
#bird speaks#i’m so afraid he’s gonna get hit by a car or train#he’s been in the same spot since friday#the humane society doesn’t open until 11 tho#chicken#pet rescue#chicken rescue
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Bad day
luke hughes x chubby!reader
a/n- hey y’all! so guess who’s not dead 😋 i’m so so sorry i’ve been so inactive this past month! i’ve been dealing with college starting back up and my new job. but now that i’m back to semi-normal schedule, im hoping to start posting more! so please don’t be afraid to send in any thoughts or requests you may have! also, im so sorry if this is shit, i didn’t really know where i was going when i started writing. i just wanted to get something out for y’all to read😭
p.s- gif is not mine, credits to the owner!!
some days truly never seemed to end.
even though it was only a wednesday, the bleakness of the sky and air ruined every seemingly good thing coming y/n’s way. her day started off great. waking up next to her boyfriend who gave her plenty of good morning sleepy kisses and “i love you’s.” luke even went the extra mile and warmed up her morning shower, paired with a fresh towel straight out of the dryer.
as she stepped into the shower, she felt confident that she was going to have a fantastic day. her classes were easy on wednesday and only lasted till early afternoon. although she knew that luke would be gone for practice by the time she returned home, she was excited to lounge around and be lazy for the day.
only, her day took a turn for the worst.
walking to her first class of the day, the coffee she held in her hand, that luke put so much effort into, somehow managed to slip from her grasp. the cup went tumbling into the pavement, leaving ugly light brown splotches in its wake. frustrated, she picked up the soaked cardboard.
y/n took a deep breath and quickly disposed of the cup, before continuing her journey to class. even though she felt bad for wasting the coffee, she was still set on having a great day. her class went by decently fast, ending when the professor decided to go on a tangent about his recent disk golf tournament.
on wednesdays she only had two classes, her next one being the longest. sitting down for her next lecture, she noticed the thigh portion of her jeans had begun to rip. y/n couldn’t help the feeling of dread that filled her body. those were her favorite jeans and the store in which she bought them, had discontinued this style.
sighing, she placed her head down on her arms. she decided to close her eyes, since she got to class early anyways. what seemed to be a few seconds, quickly turned into her feeling a jab to her side. she lifted her head, eyes squinting due to the bright lights. she looked over to her desk partner. julie looked back with concerned eyes.
“dude, are you okay?”
puzzled, y/n replied, “yeah….why?”
“you just slept through the entire lecture. which, by the way, prof decided to assign some stupid essay on. he said it’s gonna be due friday.”
with wide eyes, y/n stared at the clock on the wall.
i slept through the whole thing?
hitting her like a train, she turned back to julie.
“wait wait wait. an essay? shit, i don’t even know what he talked about today.”
worry gripped her like a vice. how the hell was she ever gonna get an essay done about a lecture she didn’t even listen to? there goes her plan on being lazy for the rest of the day.
“don’t worry, i got you girl. i made sure to take some major notes for you.” julie handed y/n the purple notebook, “just make sure to bring it to class on friday.” with that, julie gathered her things and left the classroom.
still stuck on the fact that she slept through the entire lecture, y/n slowly began to pack up and make her way home. rushing to her car, she made the drive as fast as possible.
not to her surprise, she was greeted with an empty apartment. she would normally be a little sad at this, but she took it with grace. the quiet will give her time to go over julie’s notes and start her essay.
❥.
by the time luke found his way through the door, it was easily past six.
“angel?” luke called into the open apartment. “y/n?” he called again. when he still received no response he walked to their shared bedroom, only to find her hunched over a desk with headphones in her ears.
he walked up to stand behind her, gently placing his hands on her shoulders and a kiss to the top of her head. her body jumped slightly, startled at the sudden touch.
“what the fuck, lukey?” she turned to him.
“awww, im sorry baby.” luke responded, chuckling slightly.
though his smile began to fall from his face when he saw the deep line of worry and distress around her eyebrows. luke felt his own furrow.
“what’s wrong, angel?” luke felt his own worry begin to set in. he could have sworn she was in a great mood this morning, recalling when she told him her plans for the day.
frustrated tears began to fill her eyes, “today has just utterly been shit. first, i spilt the coffee you spent so much time making me. then, i fell asleep durning my lecture and missed the entire thing. and to top it all off, my professor decided to assign an essay on said lecture. so now i’m having to bullshit this assignment, which means i’ll probably get a horrible grade.”
by the end of her rant, hot tears found their way from her eyes and down her cheeks. luke’s hands quickly reached to wipe them away.
“don’t cry, pretty girl. it’s okay.” luke said in a hushed voice. he swiveled the chair around, crouching to look up at her down casted face. he placed his hands on her plushy thighs, not failing to appreciate the warmth they radiated under his palms.
“hey, hey. look at me, y/n” at the sound of her name, she tilted her head up slightly, meeting his concerned filled eyes.
“you did nothing wrong. that coffee took me all of about 30 seconds to make and i can help you with your essay. i promise you, you are doing great, baby. you’ll do fine on this essay and it sounds to me like you needed the sleep anyways.” his hand reached to cradle her damp, round cheek.
“i’m sorry. i don’t know why i’m upset. it’s not like anything horrible happened. it-it’s just today was supposed to be so good. a-and,” a small sob cut through the air. taking a deep breath she continued, “and i’ve been doing this essay for the past 4 hours. i feel like i’m getting no where.”
luke’s heart hurt at the sight of his girlfriend so drained. it was a complete 180 from the cheerful attitude she had that morning. he slowly stood up, reaching over to close her laptop. she opened her mouth in protest, but was quickly cut off. “before you try and stop me, you need a break, sweetheart. you’ve made plenty of progress on your essay for today. come lay down with me. we can call in some take out and watch a movie.”
luke’s eyes gazed pleadingly into her own.
“but what if i can’t get it finished by tomorrow? it’s due at the beginning of class friday.” luke was fast to ease her worry, “i promise i will help you finish it tomorrow. i don’t have practice, so we can spend the whole day making this essay a+ material. now, go change and meet me in the living room.”
with a smile and another kiss to her head, luke walked out of the bedroom. attempting to brush off the last thoughts of her essay, y/n got up and walked to the closet. she grabbed a pair of sweats and one of luke’s big sweatshirts. putting it on reminded her of how thoughtful he is, always making sure to get them a size bigger so they’ll be extra oversized.
she smiled as the scent of his cologne filled her nose.
now completely changed, she walked out, only to be met with what seemed to be every blanket in the house set up on the couch. next to it laid plenty of her favorite snacks, along with her favorite drinks. with wide eyes, she turned to meet luke’s nervous form.
“w-what’s all this?” she gestured toward the couch. luke walked up to her, placing his hands on her full hips.
“i just wanted to do something for you, make your day a bit better. do you like it?” luke’s eyes were hopeful.
“of course, i love it.” she looked up at luke’s face, “thank you. for everything.” luke flashed his beaming grin.
“anything for you, angel,” he whispered. luke leaned down to press his lips into her soft ones. his hands pulled her hips to meet his, deepening the kiss. y/n found her own hands finding home in the curls on the nape of his neck. she gripped his hair, slightly pulling at the intensity. luke’s light groans filled the apartment.
forcing themselves apart, y/n placed her hands on luke’s shoulders as he tried to chase her lips. a whine escaped his throat, “whyyy? i want to kiss you.” a laugh bubbled out of her mouth, bringing a smile to luke’s face.
“as much as i would love to keep kissing you, i want to go lay down. and that movie isn’t going to watch itself.” with this, luke took liberty of going to lay across the couch first, opening his arms to welcome y/n into them. she didn’t hesitate to find comfort in his arms, laying her head on his chest.
luke grabbed one of the many blankets, covering them both. he placed his chin on the top of her head, grabbing the remote lying next to him.
“alright angel, what do you want to watch?”
#luke hughes x chubby!reader#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes#luke hughes headcanons#nhl x reader#umich hockey x chubby!reader#umich hockey x reader#luke hughes oneshot#luke hughes imagine#leawrites🍀
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Injury
Pairing: Solo Sikoa x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Fluff!
Word Count: 984
A/N: Anonymous, I know I didn’t make this extremely fluffy, but I might retry this again. Hope You Enjoy!
The match was crazy. You and Bayley taking brutal hits to each other, Dakota Kai and Io Sky getting involved, and close endings of the match, but only to be wrong by a kick out.
But for some reason, Bayley thought it would be a good idea to 'spice up the match' with a little chair shot. She brutally beat you down to your stomach before flipping you over and putting the chair around your leg, up to your knee.
She got on the top rope, taunting and yelling at fans before jumping with all her weight. Her feet connected to the chair, making it harshly close around your knee. An ear piercing scream, left your mouth as you clenched on your knee for your life.
Fans watched in horror as you cried in pain, with Bayley looking concerned. She might be a heel, but you two were close friends and her seeing you like this made her broke character. She got you on her knees, holding you, asking if you were okay.
"Y/n? Y/n? Are you okay?" Tears fell from your eyes as you looked up at the lights in the arena. The referee gave an 'X' symbol with his arms, letting people know this was an actual injury. Cheers erupted through the arena as Solo came running down the ramp and onto the ring.
He pushed Bayley off you, cradling your face in his hands. "Baby, please talk to me." This side of Solo was something fans had never seen before. Usually he would look cold and act like he didn't care, but oh did he care right now.
You tucked your head in his chest, letting out loud cries. The pain was unbearable and you just wanted it all to go away. The medical team came out with a stretcher, before strapping you in it. Fans watched as they rolled you, outside the arena to the waiting ambulance, with Solo by your side.
Co-workers and your Bosses watched in shame as they closed the doors to the ambulance, turning the sirens on, and taking off to the Hospital. Solo walked up to Triple H and grabbed him by the collar, not caring about assaulting the Boss.
"You better fix this shit or else I will myself." The Bloodline held him back. "Bro, just forget it and go help your girl." Solo looked at Sami, then went to his car to follow you.
~
He sat next to you, holding your hand while rubbing soothing circles on your knuckles, saying sweet words to you. You both waited for the doctor to come in after taking X-rays.
The doctor walked in with a nervous expression with a clipboard in hand. "Y/n, I have some good news and bad news for you." You bit your lip nervously, feeling Solo's fingers calm you down. "I'm afraid you have a dislocated knee."
Your grip tightened in Solo's hand, knowing the amount of weeks you're gonna have to take off. The max might be 2 months. Right? Solo asked, "So hold long will she be out?" The Doctor's face said it all. "About 6 months." (I know it doesn't take that long to heal, but just imagine.)
You felt your whole world shatter into pieces when hearing this information. You didn't think it would take that long. Your eyes grew wide at the thought of not being able to do the one thing you love for so long.
“W-what? 6 months!?” The doctor saw on the machine how your heart rate quickened, as you frantically attempted to get out of the bed. “I-I’m fine. S-see!” You stood on your legs, but instant pain came as you almost felt.
Solo caught you before you could even think. “Babe! You need to stay in bed!” The doctor helped put you on the bed and tuck you in. “The good news is that if you do some training for 2 weeks, you’ll get discharged.” That didn’t help at all. All that was in your mind was wrestling, but 6 months was about to get in the way of it.
The doctor left after getting a nod from Solo. Solo pushed back your hair, admiring you. “Get some sleep, Baby. The boys will be here when you wake up.” You took his advice, scooting down and closing your eyes. Silence took over the room as you except for the beeping from the machine.
~
The two weeks flew by quickly. It felt like it was just yesterday when you woke up to the whole Bloodline surrounding you with gifts and telling you how you could get over the injury and now you were getting taken to your home in a stretcher.
The paramedics took you off and laid you on the bed. Solo came in the room with paper work and pills in hand before putting them on the dresser. “Babe, it’s- 7:46. Don’t you have to be on Smackdown tonight?” Solo shook his head, making you confused.
“Nah, I want to take care of you everyday, hour, and minute.” Solo wanted to have one last match before fully putting his career on hold to take care of you. When he told you that, you were shocked and emotional, but he assured you a million times that it was nothing.
“I can’t believe you would do that for me! I love you so much!” Tears welled up in your eyes, making Solo chuckle. “It’s okay. Are you hungry?” You nodded your head, while rubbing your eyes. “I know exactly what to make!” Solo ended up making salad with a refreshing smoothie.
It was delicious and filled you up so good that you ended up falling asleep. Solo loved taking care of you and would do anything in the world to do it for the rest of his life.
Especially, when there’s an injury involved.
#solo sikoa#solo sikoa imagine#solo sikoa smut#solo sikoa x reader#solo sikoa fic#the bloodline#wwe fluff#wwe imagine#wwe smut
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I am OBSESSED with your Vance writings, literally losing my mind I’m so glad someone else likes him as much as I do. Any chance you could write an AU where the reader is kidnapped by the grabber and Vance saves/comforts them?? thank you again for your works omg I love them, and no worries if my ask is out of your comfort zone!
Stolen (Vance Hopper)
Pairing: Vance Hopper x GN!Reader (romantic)
Word count: 2034
Description: Ever since Y/N was taken by the Grabber, all of Vance’s time has gone towards finding them. When Vance wanders a certain neighborhood after days of searching, he spots Y/N in the window of a stranger's basement.
Tags: canon divergence, alternate universe, kidnapping, blood, police, gunshots, violence, angst, fuck sound physics
~~~~~~~~~~~~
On normal days, Vance would walk you home from school. However, Vance had tutoring on Fridays so you were all alone today. As you walked along the empty sidewalk, you could hear the sound of a car rounding the corner behind you. You could hear the car approach and in your peripheral vision, you could see a large black van pull up beside you. You paused and turned your head to look at it. The window on the passenger's side was open and inside, you saw an unfamiliar man wearing dark sunglasses. He stopped his van alongside you.
“I’m sorry, kid, but do you know how to get to the highway from here? I’m trying to get to Denver,” the man inside said, laughing a little as he talked. You took a moment to think about how to describe the directions.
“Uh, yeah. You’re gonna wanna turn out of the neigborhood up on Rayland street and go left ‘till you hit Main and-.” The man raised up his hand to interrupt you.
“Do you think you could just show me on my map? I know I’m gonna forget what you said,” he laughed again as he spoke. It put you off a little but you nodded.
He grabbed something you presumed was a map from his glovebox and opened his driver side door to step out and walked towards you. He walked around the van to you and you waited for him to show you his map. Before you could even comprehend what happened, he brought up some kind of aerosol can and sprayed something into your face. You cried out but a consuming void overtook all your senses and you fell limp into the man’s waiting arms.
- - -
When you awoke, you found yourself on a stained mattress with an offensive odor. Your vision was cloudy as you looked around the room. Through your blurry vision, you saw concrete walls with one small window near the top of the wall on your left. Other than that one source of light, the room was dark. You groaned slightly and tried to use your arms to raise yourself. Despite your best efforts, they gave out and you fell back onto the mattress. Black began to cloud your vision again and sleep took you once more.
- - -
When you awoke again, your vision was more clear. Your body didn’t feel as heavy and you were able to support yourself when you sat up. You rubbed some of the sleep from your eyes and ran your hands through your hair as you typically would when you woke up. When you finally took a good look at your surroundings, it hit you what had happened. You cautiously lifted your head to examine your space.
You jumped slightly as you saw a figure standing on the wall, just under the window. Your eyes went wide as they stayed trained on them.
“Awake?” The figure asked, slowly stepping forward. You didn’t respond. As the figure came into the light, you saw a tall man wearing a strange mask with horns and a large smile. He stepped forward, stopping at the edge of the mattress and crouched down so he was eye level with you.
“Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you,” he said with a casual tone, speaking slightly slower than you would expect him to. He reached out his hand and lightly ran it along the side of your face. You shut your eyes and shuddered at the touch.
“You look thirsty. You want a soda?” The man asked. His tone was hard to read and not being able to see his expression made his intentions unclear. You were thirsty though, but you were too afraid to properly respond.
“I’ll be right back,” the man said, standing back to his full height and walking to the door at the other end of the room. With nothing else to do, you lay onto the mattress and waited for the man to return.
---
Vance, once again, wandered a new neighborhood. He looked at all the houses, gardens, and even trash cans looking for something that could guide him to your whereabouts. As he had for the past five days, he found nothing. All of the houses were normal houses, all the gardens were normal gardens, even all the trash was normal trash. His steps grew tired, he was beginning to lose hope.
Just inside the range of his hearing, he began to detect a quiet sound. The sound of a voice calling out, though he could make out no words. Although he had very little reason to believe it was anything other than normal, Vance followed the sound to find it’s cause. The sound was only a couple houses away, someone not looking likely wouldn’t notice. Once he finally found the area from which the sound was coming, he paused, his eyes dutifully searching.
There were two houses right next to each other, and Vance stood between them. As soon as he had reached the peak of the noise, it stopped and was replaced by another sound. What sounded like quiet screams before was now replaced by even quieter sobs. Vance’s mind was racing, but only between two thoughts. ‘What if it was you’ and ‘what if it isn’t you’,
---
You had screamed until your throat burned and your cheeks hurt to move. Even with all your desperate screams, there was no indication that anyone could hear you. You tried to push out another scream but your throat refused. After another attempt, you stopped. An utter feeling of defeat began to sink into your heart. You lay down on the mattress and rubbed your palms on your eyes.
Your breath hitched in your throat as tears began to spill from your eyes. Even though there was no one there to witness your misery, you tried to hold in your tears, as if crying was admitting defeat to the situation. Despite your best effort, the sobs broke through. As soon as they came, you caved into the sadness, allowing your emotions to break free. You hugged your arms around yourself, leaning on your side as your body shook. Your body was still quite injured from what you had endured a couple of nights before, so your sobs were agonizing.
You missed your house, you missed your dog, you missed your friends, and in this moment, you missed Vance. You wanted so desperately to leave wherever you were and to just forget this all happened, to pretend it was a dream. You imagined that you left, you imagined you were saved, you imagined that you stayed late at school or never agreed to give that man directions, anything but this.
---
Stuck between two houses, Vance contemplated what to do. He looked for a place to start, maybe a window or a door, something. Close to the ground on the house on his left lay a small window, maybe two feet by four feet. Having nowhere else to look, Vance leaned down and peered in the window. He wasn’t prepared for what he would see inside.
Inside, he saw a stained bed with a curled up figure in the middle, emitting the sobs he heard from outside. There were metal bars on the window obscuring his view, but he could still see what he needed. He gave the window a knock, trying to attract the attention of the figure inside. The person inside froze at the noise, ceasing all noise and movement. Vance knocked again and the person cautiously looked up to the window with new confirmation of where the sound came from.
Although he couldn’t make out any facial features, the hair and clothes were strikingly familiar. The figure on the bed stood up and slowly approached the window. He waited impatiently for their face to enter the light.
---
The knock on the window had pulled you from your sorrow. You froze at the sound, not sure if it was real or imagined. When it came again, you knew it was real. You looked up to the window, hopeful someone had noticed your screams. As you looked up, you saw a shadow blocking the light coming in. You stood up slowly, cautiously approaching the window. You were careful. What if this was a trap? You approached the window until you were as close as you could get while still remaining in view.
---
Now that light was shown on the features of the person in the basement room, Vance’s hopes and fears were confirmed. There you stood, red eyes and tear-stained face, scratches, and bruises on your cheeks and eye. Your hair was messy and your clothes wrinkled and splattered with blood. Emotions inside him swelled as he processed you standing there. He watched your face change from confusion to shock. He watched you run up to the window and try to jump to climb it. Your hands hit the sill but your grip wasn’t tight enough and you fell. Empathetic pain crossed his face as your head smacked against the concrete floor.
You took a small second before standing up and walking up to the window again.
“Vance,” you said, your voice greatly muffled by the thick glass and metal bars. “Vance, help. Please help.” Sadness filled Vance’s heart as he heard the subtle defeat in your muffled voice.
“I’m gonna get you out of there, Y/N. I swear, I swear on my life,” Vance promised, pressing his hand to the window. “I’m gonna get the cops, and they’re gonna get you out of there, and they’re gonna arrest the motherfucker who did this, and everything’s gonna be ok.” You nodded, back up slightly, and sat back on the bed, still looking at Vance.
“Please hurry, Vance,” you pleaded. “I’m scared.”
---
Sirens blared around the house as cops flooded the inside. Vance stood anxiously by the sidewalk, waiting for any sign of you. At least six cops entered the home, guns bared. There was shouting inside and the sound of a single shot being fired. Vance winced at the sound. Normally, Vance would appear stoic to any passersby, but the emotion of the situation had him anxious.
Soon enough, two officers walked out of the house, escorting a man. The man had chin-length hair and pale skin. He struggled against the cops, who held him by his arms. They escorted him to the herd of police cars, where they roughly shoved him inside of one. It was maybe one minute more before the rest of the officers exited the house. The first three cops emerged empty-handed, but the fourth carried a body in his arms. Vance immediately knew it was you.
You were curled into the officer’s body, shaking slightly. Vance watched the officer walk over to and rest you in the ambulance parked by the sidewalk. Once they sat you in the van and the police officer walked over to the others, Vance ran over to you.
“Y/N!” He called out as he ran to you.
“Vance!” You shouted back to him, trying to stand to meet him. He met you before you could and almost tackled you in an embrace. Pain coursed through your body as he held you, but the emotional relief was too great to end it.
Vance pulled away slightly to examine you. He lightly brushed a piece of hair away from your face to examine your facial injuries.
“Y/N, I, I’m so sorry, I-,” you cut him off with a finger to his mouth. You grabbed either side of his face and pulled his lips to yours. You kissed him gently, yet passionately. As soon as you pulled him into you, he wrapped his arms around your torso and leaned into the kiss. After a couple of seconds, you pulled away.
“I really missed you, Vance,” you sighed, your lip trembling slightly. Vance brought his hand up to your face and smoothed over your lip with his thumb.
“I missed you too, baby,” he replied softly. “But you’re back to me now, and you better bet I’m never letting you go again.”
“Never?” You chuckled quietly. Vance pressed another quick kiss to your lips.
“Never.”
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A/N: Woah! This is the longest fic I've written exclusively for this blog! I hope y'all who had the stamina enjoyed it, I had a blast writing it. I based the reader's experience off of Finny's in the movie since it sounds like the same things that happened to him happened to the other kids as well
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For These Empty Nights
Noah Sebastian, Holly(ofc), Nick Ruffilo
content warnings: brief mention of oral sex
This is rpf. I know this isn't real. These are fictionalized versions of real people. Not your jam? Hit the back button.
Part of the PolyVerse // MasterList
<Noah> So, how's the date?
<Holly> Terrible. 10/10 would not recommend.
<Noah> That bad, huh?
<Holly> Enough to make me question why I bother.
<Noah> Need an out?
<Holly> You're a saint. <3
Holly's phone rings as soon as her date returns to the table. She gives him an apologetic look as she answers.
"Hey, everything okay?"
"Well, not really, see, my friend is on this terrible date."
"Oh no, that's awful."
"Isn't it?… So, I'm gonna need her to leave. For her sanity."
"Okay, no problem. I'm on my way."
Noah chuckles as she hangs up, and she pushes away the feeling it stirs. Eyes back on her date, Holly clears her throat, “Aaron, I’m sorry, my friend’s car just broke down right outside of town, and she needs someone to pick her up. I’m afraid we’re going to have to cut tonight short.”
Aaron’s mouth turns down for a split second before he huffs a laugh, “Yeah, okay. If she needs you, I guess this is the end, huh?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Holly starts, “I really am sorry.” He stands when she does and tries to rebuff her when she pulls out some money for her half of dinner, but she talks him into it in the end. They share an awkward hug and then Holly’s on her way home. She meant it when she said that she was sorry, Aaron’s a good guy, attractive in all the right ways, kind, and funny; but there just wasn’t anything there.
So, with Nick tied down, Holly’s concluded that she should try to find someone for herself, even though the voice in the back of her head that whispers she's already got someone she wants to be with, but she pushes that voice way down. She's ignored that train of thought for the past four months. Since the night she slept with not only Nick but Noah as well. Waking up the following morning to a head between her thighs; Noah's whisper of can I? waiting for a breathless yes before eating her out like a man starved.
This makes the third unsuccessful date in as many months. She's not big on the dating scene and doesn’t put herself out there often. But her and Nick's situation ended a few months ago after he started seeing Lys. Holly’s happy for him, Lys is a brilliant girl, she is; she just seems to have a problem with one of Nick’s closest friends being a woman. They got along great when Nick introduced them, but then it changed. While she doesn’t know who Lys talked to, they thought she needed to know about the casual sex Holly and Nick sometimes have. She doesn’t know the extent of Lys and Nick's conversation, but when he called her to talk about it, he sounded tired and a little hurt. Holly misses him like an ache sometimes, her best friend, but she understands that if Lys makes him happy, she can respect the woman’s boundaries. No matter how much it might sting.
She knew there would be a change afterward, she just didn't know it would be as a closer relationship growing between her and Noah. Didn't expect him asking for her number, and if it was okay to text her if he wanted to talk before Nick drove her home. She thinks they've talked more in the past four months than they ever have in the time they've known each other and her phone's in her hand as soon as she's home, thumb hovering over his contact. Sighing, she presses the call button before she can talk herself out of it. He answers almost immediately.
"How'd he take it?"
"He knew what was happening, but he was polite about it."
Her insides melt when she hears his laugh from the other end.
"So what are your plans for your now free evening?"
"Well, usually I'd call Nick, but that's off the table, so…"
He’s silent for a moment as if he’s trying to find the right words.
"... Do you miss him?"
"I miss having sex with him if that's what you're asking."
The comment gets her nothing but more silence because they both know there’s more.
"Okay and him too. She's not super into him hanging around the girl he used to have casual sex with. I can see where she's coming from, but it's not all we did. We're actually friends."
He’s still quiet, so she laughs nervously, unsure how the conversation took this turn and changes the subject.
"So, what's your Friday looking like?"
"Oh, just another exciting day of finalizing tour stuff."
"That's right, you big-time rock stars head out in a few weeks."
She hears a scoff.
"I wouldn't say big time…"
“Oh, stop being modest. You guys have been everywhere lately, and deservingly so.
Just don't forget about us regular people when you fully reach the top."
"I don't think it's possible to forget about you."
He says it easily, yet something in his voice gets to her. This isn't the first time it's happened either. If she's honest, they're both tip-toeing around the possibility of something more profound than what they already have. Once again, though, she pushes the thought away, and goes for humor instead.
"Duh, I'm awesome."
Noah laughs, and it makes her smile.
"That you are, Holly. That you are."
“Guess I'll let you go, get back to your important tour stuff. I have some bad tv to
catch up on."
"Enjoy your bad tv. I'll talk to you later.”
"Night."
It's quiet, without his voice in her ear, and as loathe as she is to admit, she's a little lonely without it.
Bad tv only gets her so far, but she can’t focus. Too wrapped in thoughts of Noah—Nick too, not that she’d admit it though. Sighing, she turns the tv off, deciding to go through the motions of her nightly routine. By the time she's in bed, it’s late but Holly’s listless. Tossing and turning when she should sleep, resisting the urge to reach for her phone. Because, no; she’s not going to message Noah, not again.
In the end, she picks up her phone, but it's not Noah she reaches out to.
<Holly> Help.
<Nick> Isn't it a little late into your date for help? I mean, I'll call, but…
<Holly> Oh, it's not that, Noah got me out of that an hour ago.
<Nick> Oh, he did, did he?
<Holly> Yep. But now I'm bored.
…
Waiting for Nicks' reply, Holly watches as the dots dance up and down her screen. She can almost hear his panic from across town.
…
<Nick> And how can I help?
<Holly> Oh, stop freaking out. I can hear you from here.
I wouldn’t ask for that. I can respect boundaries.
She pauses after she sends the message before typing again.
<Holly> I just miss you is all.
As my friend.
<Nick> I know. I'm sorry I haven't been around as much.
…
Want to get lunch tomorrow? Just us.
Her chest warms, because of course she wants to, that’s not the question, the question is:
<Holly> Is Lys gonna be okay with that?
<Nick> We'll see.
<Holly> Well, either way, I'm in
<Nick> So. You and Noah talk now.
<Holly> What? We're friends. We text, just like you and me.
<Nick> Oh, is that all?
<Holly> Goodnight Nick.
<Nick> Tell me more about how you and Noah are texting.
<Holly> I SAID GOODNIGHT
There's no stopping the smile on her face. Because even when things are off between them, something about Nick just makes her feel settled. Even better, she feels she can finally sleep now.
… And if Holly dreams of a certain tall, tattooed man, that's her business.
~~
She should have known the promise of lunch with just Nick was too good to be true, when he calls her midmorning, voice somber.
“Hey, so… I won’t be able to make lunch today.”
It’s not unexpected, and while she won’t admit it, there's a piece inside of her that cracks.
“Oh… Okay.”
“I’m sorry Holly.”
And the thing is; she knows he means it, but that doesn’t make this space that’s formed between them hurt any less. She clears her throat, aiming for casualness as she replies.
“Hey, no worries. Shit happens. We’re still getting together before next week though, right?”
“Of course we are. Can’t leave without a proper last hurrah.”
He says it so easily, like it's obvious, because that’s what they’ve always done. But even as the words leave his mouth, Holly knows. She knows she probably won’t see him before he leaves for tour. While she admires his optimism, she can already feel the walls building inside, a barrier widening the ever-growing space between them. Something to protect herself from one of the few people she never thought she’d need to. There’s a lump growing in her throat that she has to swallow down before she speaks again.
“Just tell me when and where and I’ll bring the wine.”
“You got it. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“Later.”
In the end, they don't end up seeing each other at all before he leaves. All Holly gets is a text that he's about to board at the airport and that he'll miss her. She leaves him on read for a few days out of spite.
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When Nighmares Return; ch 3 - Haunted
Emily is in deep trouble....
JJ had been unable to sleep all night. She told Will not to come back in case he led Askari to her. They’d talked over the phone for hours, trying to soothe one another’s fears… listening to one another cry. God… all she could think about was her little boy afraid and crying for her. He would be wondering why his mommy and daddy hadn’t come to save him. Jesus. And to top it off, she’d vented her anger onto Emily, who had flown all this way to try and help.
She sighed and dialled Emily’s number. It went straight voice mail – and why shouldn’t it: it was past one in the morning. But there was something niggling inside her. A sense that something was wrong. She wanted to go and see Emily, but Hotch had made her promise to stay at the BAU until all was clear. She gnawed at her lip and dialled Emily again.
Her gut was telling her to go, and she listened. Her instincts had never let her down before. Within five minutes, she was in the SUV tearing through the streets towards Em’s hotel. She screeched to a halt and ran in, flashing her badge at the guy on the desk. “I need access to room 189.” She demanded. “Right. Now.”
“Yes ma’am.” The man said, grabbing a master key and leading the way.
JJ barged into the room as soon as the lock clicked, her gun in hand. “Em!” she called. She jumped in shock as Emily’s computer bleeped at her, and she swiped the screen to reactivate it.
*
Emily turned the car’s headlights off when she got within two blocks of the place, driving slowly and carefully. She killed the engine and walked the last half block, her hand on her gun, her breath making puffs of steam in the still, cold air. She automatically crept around to the back, ducked under the police tape and went through the same sliding door as she’d been through just yesterday.
There was a sound to her right, and her gun was immediately trained on the figure who stood there.
“Who the fuck are you?” he asked, his accent British.
“Hastings, right? Who am I? I’m the woman who’s gonna stop you.”
He scoffed. “Nice try. Where’s Jareau.”
Emily eyed him in the darkness. “She’s too busy to deal with the likes of you. She sent me. And I know you, Hastings. I know ALL about you. CIA grad, right? Plenty of missions…you tracked Bin Laden, right? So why throw in your hand with Askari?”
“Money’s better.” He said, his own gun glinting under the moonlight. “So are the perks.”
“Perks? You mean rape.”
“Call it what you will.”
“I call it rape.” She nodded. “You’re hard to find, Hastings. Records list you as deceased - you faked your death, right? Made a pretty good job of it, too.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, that isn’t an exclusive club. Been there. Done that.”
“Where’s Jaraeu.” He hissed.
Emily smiled and opened her mouth as if to answer him. Instead her finger squeezed the trigger on her gun and she saw the flash, felt the recoil travelling through her body, warm and powerful. She didn’t blink, not until she saw him fall.
She watched him until he hit the ground, her aim true, her shot taking out half his head. Maybe she shouldn’t have watched for so long, because in that second as Hastings dropped, something smashed into the back of her head.
*
JJ’s heart pounded in her chest when the tablet came to life, illuminating the dark room, and she gasped when she saw whose face was on screen.
“Em, I thought – “ Clyde Easter frowned when he realised it was NOT Emily Prentiss staring back at him. “Who are you?”
“Agent Jareau.”
“Where’s Emily?” he asked. “She wanted leads on where Askari might be.”
“Have you got a lead? Where is he?” JJ asked.
“We can’t find him.”
“You can’t…” JJ closed her eyes in frustration. Henry was gone and now Emily too!
“WHERE is Emily?” Clyde asked again.
“Weren’t you on a call with her?” JJ asked.
“Yes – an hour ago! She was supposed to wait for me to get back to her.”
JJ’s eyes fell on a scribbled note next to the tablet. It simply read ‘Call Hotch’ in Emily’s unmistakeably scruffy capitals.
*
Emily groaned, a frightful buzz cutting through her ears, muting all other sounds. Her head felt… like a grenade had gone off inside her skull, leaving just a shattered mess of matter over the walls. One hand reached unsteadily to the back of her head and it came away wet. There were patterns in the kitchen lino, she noted, her face pressed against the flooring and her fingers absently traced the spongy ridges as her brain tried to furnish her with where she was; who she was and what she was doing here. Wherever here was – she couldn’t quite remember.
A boot to her belly broke her train of thought, making her grunt and cough at the impact. That boot planted itself in her shoulder and flipped her onto her back, before nestling painfully at the front of her throat.
Askari looked down at the woman on the ground and he pressed his boot harder onto her neck. “Who are you?” he demanded.
“Alleanet…ealayk.” She gasped in Arabic.
“You think that’s funny?” he spat. “You want me to fuck myself? What if I fuck you instead?”
“Do it.” Emily gasped. “But you’re too much of a coward aren’t you?”
“You whore.” He hissed.
“Where’s the boy?” her hands gripped the toecap of Askari’s boot as he pressed down with even more weight. She was blacking out, she knew it…
*
JJ ran back to the SUV, dialling Hotch as she went.
“JJ?” he gasped, seeing her number flash on his cell.
“Emily’s gone!” she yelled. “She left a note to call you.”
Hotch frowned – it was close to 2am and he took a look at his phone, the message flashing. “I have a text from her.” He said, opening the message. “God – she found him.”
“Where?!” JJ nearly screamed.
“They went back to your house.”
*
There was a hand on her shoulder, pushing her, rocking her, and fuck the motion made her head scream in agony. She shrugged the hand way and heard a whimper. She groaned and tried to figure out if it was her whimpering or…someone else. A child.
Emily’s eyes snapped open and she reached for a gun that wasn’t there. When her eyes regained focus, she saw Henry cowering away from her, his little body shivering and wedged in the corner of…Shit. If this was JJ’s basement, she needed to have serious words with Will about decorating this place!
“Henry?” she called softly.
Henry shrank deeper against the wall as the strange woman crawled closer to him.
“Hey…I won’t hurt you.” She winced at the pain in her head again. “I’m a friend of your mommy and daddy. I work with your mommy. My name’s Emily.”
Henry stared suspiciously at her.
“I’ve been… away since you were a little guy… but I’m back now. Are you afraid, huh?”
Henry nodded.
“Me too, buddy.” She sighed.
“I don’t like the basement.” Henry whispered. “It has big scary spiders and is too dark. Daddy said he was gunna put a light down here so’s it wouldn’t be scary.”
Emily chuckled. “Yeah. How about you and me tell your daddy to get some carpet and paint down here as well, huh? Maybe… a couch and playstation?”
"Wii." he said.
“I guess I’m too old to know what that is.” Emily winked, close enough now to rub his knee. She watched him relax a little into her touch. She opened her arms for him. “Want a hug, big guy?”
Henry nodded, little clean streaks on his cheeks where his tears cleaned the grime of the past few days.
Emily wrapped him in her arms and kissed his forehead. “Is that better?” she whispered, feeling him nod against her chest. “You’ll be safe with me Henry. I’m gonna protect you until mommy gets here, okay?”
“’kay.” He whispered. He reached up to her ear, touching the blood there and said “You got a boo boo.”
Emily nodded. “Yeah I do. I might need a doc when we get out of here.”
Their moment was interrupted when the door swung open and Askari marched towards them.
Henry squeaked in fear and scampered back to his corner.
“Phone.” Askari demanded.
“What?”
“Give. Me. Your. Phone.” He grabbed at her hair to emphasise his point, aggravating her head wound.
Emily fought not to cry out and scare Henry. She fumbled in her pocket and threw the phone on the ground.
“Call Jareau.” He ordered.
“That’s mommy.” Henry breathed, hope cresting in his chest.
Emily glared at Askari.
“Call her or I’ll kill the boy.” He whispered into her ear, his fist winding more tightly in her hair.
“Don’t hurt her!” Henry called.
Askari laughed at him.
Suddenly Henry charged out from his corner and was trying to tug Askari’s hand from Emily’s hair.
Askari whipped his free hand across Henry’s cheek and chuckled as the little boy fell back, stunned and whimpering again.
“Bastard!” Emily hissed.
“CALL JAREAU!” Askari screamed.
Emily nodded and did just that. “Fine. Just leave the boy alone.”
“Video call.” He demanded.
Emily sighed, remembering the fate of Janine. “I’ll do it, but… you can’t let the boy see.”
“It’ll make a man out of him.” Askari sneered.
“Is that what happened to you, hmm? You saw violence as a child? You suffered it? Abuse? Rape? You want that for him?”
“Fucking bitch whore!” he snarled, grabbing the phone and dragging Emily across the basement, further away from Henry, by her hair.
“Jesus!” Emily gasped, feeling like she was being scalped.
After only a single ring, JJ answered, her face pale and her eyes wide. “EM?! God Em – we’re –“
“Henry’s okay.” She gasped, interrupting JJ, not wanting her to inadvertently alert Askari that she was coming.
Askari grabbed the phone. “Want to hear your friend scream, Agent Jareau?”
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Tired of the people who have all the space in the mind and no space in the body
(Written for my friend Ted Ree's poetry workshop in Feb 2021)
Hyperempathy two
Every week she mentions the pain
I remember that pain
The kind that goes with the rigidity
It’s a different kind of pain that comes from the ancestral one
Or was that the same pain?
Sciatica came from coffee from a car accident from using too much speed in 1998
And disappeared, a wink
Tomorrow I’m fine
The lightning is out.
Makes Tanya’s doctors raise eyebrows at the clipboard
There is not a pill for it, though she takes them and I respect that
Just creating more space between vertebrae, just baths, just affirming truth of what it meant, just better climates, just self-love, if they would all just get off you already
But she experiences something different at the doctor’s, being Black,
Being Medi-cal, I heard the Medi-cal complaints about certain kinds of people from the surgery scheduler who thinks I will nod, scheduling surgery, the type of person who usually gets this same surgery, who thinks I will nod
She jumps out of a car, more than once, I remember with her.
But what was the first event.
What was the first pain.
Formation of a total being
Fibromyalgia, the tissue that creates uterine fibroids is the same connective tissue at the joints
A little blockage of the energy center, location of womb, literal blockage in tissue
What is the hardest part of your body
Roll out with the foam roller
Do an extended compression on the groin by folding your leg underneath
Emerge feeling like you’ve been hypnotized, sucked with a straw, emerge better
Rise more slowly than anyone else, noting you are the slowest
The space between sleep and waking is long.
Other options of cultures in which there is spiritual permission to fall apart
It is held, because spirits exist
“I don’t know what version [...] I’m gonna get when I get home and I don’t want to get hit again today so you start sensing, ok he’s safe/or he’s not safe, so that you start feeling. You were 6, now you’re 36 so you have 30 years of feeling out whether the world is safe or not, you are a master, you are a champion. This is a skill set you have been developing your entire life. So now you are highly aware of your neighbor, the person sitting next to you on the train...you’re just taking it all in because it’s come out of survival. ...But it’s not actually healthy to have your adrenals running all the time in fight or flight...it is dangerous to start checking in: how do I actually feel, what do I actually need, what does it mean to take up all of my space and feel from the inside out, rather than the outside in?” -L’Erin Alta, in the episode “Empathic Superpowers” from Ya Gay Aunties
The skill set I don’t want
Hyperempathy
It got better
It got worse
I went to the gym and kicked and punched things with the cool anarchists. I grappled. I earned clout.
One day I couldn’t stand up. The tissue had taken over.
Months of extremely low hemoglobin and hematocrit, offered a transfusion
I was the walking dead
I found the dead tissue inside of me
I have a metallic candle
But nothing to show you this morning
I felt the joy of a rushing bashing crowd, but now I feel nothing but roots, plants
Hummingbirds coming up to me
I wanted to build a home with freaks and a courtyard
I wanted to change the course of things
But slowly, at the pace of some plant
Tired of the people who have all the space in the mind and no space in the body
She says when she’s exhausted her mind gets more logical
I look over my shoulder
I would love to sit in a field with you all , NOT exhausted but resting
I sit at the edge of a cliff, reaching behind me for your hand, I have no ego left.
I threw it over.
I’m pure energy, like skating with no fear
My legs seize up again, I am numb in my left foot. I’m afraid to get hit by a car.
All the cars flipping lanes in front of me. I embrace you because I don’t know what to do
I throw my arms around you, car, and I just roll and roll jump up and out and toward the grass
A ton of friends are there, I will always be running with you. We’ll never be lonely.
We were in the redwoods talking about time management
Made you look
The only direction was “look inside” after I turned down the volume on the classroom presentation.
Protect the time
Blow down from the dream
Curl up from the bow
Your body is a blasting rocket
Not bragged on the internet
But just being in real time
A swish
Not getting a direct camera angle
The camera documents I am not dead
There are ways that I can move.
The rink folks create a rink outside and I go with them
Nobody special no star skater no new discovery
Just some trashy alley street sport or trashy rink rat
Trying to put an outfit together from the piles
To not look too poor
To not show the things that have happened to this body, or that other body
Look at your hand proof you have grown
Look at your drivers license proof you have grown
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Worth the Risk || Bucky Barnes
pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader
summary: when bucky and sam get captured you have to go in alone to save them leading to a worried, overprotective bucky who cares about you a bit more than a teammate should
a/n: reblogs and replies are super appreciated!!
word count: 2.2k
warnings: description of violence, injuries, a gun, dagger and blood, swearing, angst w/ happy ending
masterlist || taglist
“Bucky?” You whispered through the earpiece. “Sam? Where are you guys-”
Sitting in the van, you began to grow worried as you couldn’t find any of your teammates on the screen after they had turned around a corner. Tapping the earpiece, you were about to speak again when you heard Sam’s voice on the other end.
“Y/n?”
Sitting forward in your chair, you breathed a premature sigh of relief.
“Sam? Thank God you guys are okay.” You told him. “I was worried when-”
“Y/n, listen,” Sam cut you off, his voice a near whisper. “They got us- me and Bucky- but I think you’ll be able to take them out if you think you’re ready for it.”
You began to feel your heart race in your chest just at the proposition. Although you had joined the group almost half a year ago, you had never gone on a mission by yourself- always having others to back you up, but you knew Sam well enough that he wouldn’t have suggested the idea lightly. If he asked you to go in alone... you knew it was because there was no other choice.
“Okay.” You said. “I can do this, Cap. I’ll be there soon- just hold on.”
With that, you left the vehicle, making your way into the building. When the door of the facility closed behind you, you raised your gun.
“You shouldn’t have told her to come in here.” Bucky told Sam, pacing around their cell. “If we couldn’t handle it together, what makes you think that she can do it by herself? You’re going to get her killed-”
“Buck,” Sam said firmly. “I know you’re worried about her, but she can handle herself. She’s our only shot of getting out of here so I’m gonna need you to calm down.”
Sitting himself down in the corner of the room, Bucky said nothing more to Sam, instead placing his head in his hands.
Bucky knew logistically that you could handle yourself- you were on the team for a reason- but that didn’t mean he didn’t worry about you. He worried about you all the time- even in training- nagging Sam if he threw you down a bit too hard and feeling his heart drop to his stomach when bruises littered your body after a mission. He hated seeing you get hurt, but as he sat in the cell with Sam, knowing that you were coming into the building all on your own- he felt as though he was going to be sick.
Now he wasn’t there to watch your back. He wasn’t there to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt. He wasn't there to make sure you didn't get yourself killed- the thought of it too horrible for him to even allow himself to think about. He worried because he knew in your line of business, every wrong move could be fatal and he couldn’t bare the thought of not having you by his side every day.
Listening to the sound of water leaking from the sealing above him, Bucky prayed you would be alright.
Turning a corner inside of the building, you were hoping the same.
Peaking around the edge of a wall you spotted two men, armed with batons. Taking a deep breath, you aimed for one of the men’s bullet proof vest, taking the shot and knocking him to the ground. Immediately the other man ran towards you with the baton raised in his hand.
Ducking as he swung the baton, you threw a punch to the man’s stomach, knocking him backwards, but just as you did the other man hit you in your back with the baton.
“Fuck!” You screamed out in pain, taking the man’s arm between your knees. You pulled the baton out of his hand as you stretched it in the other direction, causing him to yelp out in pain.
Once in your hand, you spun around, swinging the man in the face with the baton, knocking him unconscious. Dropping it to the floor, you pulled your taser from your belt, shocking the other man, forcing him to the ground.
“Y/n?” You heard Sam ask through the earpiece. “Y/n are you alright?”
Shoving the taser back in its slot and raising your gun once again, you stepped over the two men’s unconscious bodies, running down the hallway.
“I am now.” You huffed, placing one of your hands on your lower back. “When this is over, you’re paying for my chiropractor.”
Turning another corner, you were met with a man and a woman standing at the end of the hallway.
“Are you guys always in pairs?” You asked. “Frankly I think it’s unfair.”
When they said nothing, just raising their batons from their belts, you spoke up again.
“Where are my friends?” You asked more seriously.
“You’re about to find out.”
The woman running at you first, you hit the butt of your gun in her face causing her to wobble backwards but the second you did, you felt a burst of searing hot pain run throughout your face as the baton collided with your nose. Stumbling backwards, you felt as another of the baton’s swings hit your midsection, causing you to double over in pain.
The man tugged your collar as you felt another blow connect with your face.
Wheezing, you dropped the gun to your side.
Standing in front of you, the woman slid her baton back into her belt.
“See?” she said. “I’m sure your friends will be happy to see-”
As she spoke you carefully slid your dagger out of your belt, but before she was able to finish her sentence, you threw it cleanly at her, the dagger jamming itself through her shoulder, sticking her to the wall.
“Shit!” She shouted in pain.
Immediately afterwards, the man grabbed your coat shoving you against the wall only to throw another punch to your mouth. Rather than giving him the satisfaction of yelping out in pain, you headbutt the man, causing him to stumble backwards into his partner. Grabbing the baton from his hand, you swung it over his head, knocking him unconscious.
Spitting blood onto the ground, you heaved as you picked up your gun and the keys from the man’s waist, making your way over to the room on the right.
Swinging the door open, your eyes immediately fell onto the reinforced cell in front of you, Bucky and Sam rushing to the front. Stumbling over to the cell, you unlocked the door, swinging it open and leaning against it.
“Y/n?” You heard Bucky’s voice first as he ran over to you. “Fuck, look at you.”
Moving his hands to cup your face, not being able to help yourself from wincing, Bucky could feel his heart shatter in his chest. Sure, you had a few bruises here and there in the past but never this bad.
You had a deep gash across your nose that he was sure would need stitches along with a cut along your lip and a large bruise forming around your eye- and that was just your face.
Looking up and seeing his worried eyes, you shot him a quaint, bloody smile.
“You should see the other guys.” You joked.
You attempted to laugh, only to wheeze and begin to cough.
“Y/n this isn’t funny.” He said seriously. “You could have died. Sam should have never asked-”
“Bucky,” You cooed, reaching your hands up to cup his face. “I’m okay. Besides, I couldn’t leave my favorite boys in here could I?”
Feeling your fingertips against his face, he couldn’t help but melt into your touch. You always managed to make him a lovesick mess as if he was still fifteen and not a one hundred and six year-old man who had been to hell and back.
“Hate to break up the reunion,” Sam said. “But those guys will only be out for so long. We got to get out of here.”
-
After falling asleep on the car ride back to the Compound, you woke up in bed, the dim glow of the lamp shining on the night stand above you. Opening your eyes, you pushed yourself up in the bed, only for a shooting pain to spread throughout your torso. Not able to stop yourself, you yelped out in pain.
“Hey, hey,” You heard none other than Bucky’s voice beside you, one of his hands coming to rest on yours while the other adjusted your pillow. “Take it easy.”
“I am, Doc.” You lied, leaning against your newly adjusted pillow.
Tucking you in, Bucky shook his head, leaning on the nightstand beside you.
“We should have never let you go in alone.” He sighed, leaning his head on his hand. “I just felt sick the entire time. You could have died, Y/n. If they just hit you in the wrong spot... I’m never letting you go in alone again. I’m not letting you leave my sight.”
During your time as a member of the group, you and Bucky had grown incredibly close and during the past few months maybe even closer than friends. It was normal for him to worry- you never even had to wonder where he was during missions because he always had your back- but looking at his face now you could tell just how worried he had been and you couldn’t help but feel your heart break.
“Bucky,” You hummed. “You go on dangerous missions all the time alone. How am I any different?”
A silence settled over the two of you as Bucky squeezed your hand.
Not meeting your eyes, he spoke up again.
“Because I can’t lose you.” Bucky said, his voice nearly a whisper. “I can’t even think about what would happen if anything happened to you, Y/n. Even seeing the cuts and bruises on your face? I’m... I’m not the Winter Soldier anymore, but I think if you put me in a room with those people I would kill them for what they did to you. I almost broke us out of the cell myself because I hated the idea so much of you going in there on your own. If something happens to me... it’s different. Nothing can happen to you, Y/n. Nothing.”
Staring at the super soldier sat at your bedside, you began to feel tears prick in your eyes. You had cared for Bucky in a way that you had been too afraid to admit- not wanting to ruin your friendship- but as he sat there, confessing his feelings for you, you couldn’t help but feel your heart tug in your chest, just wanting him.
“Do you love me?” You asked finally before you could stop yourself.
Looking up at your injured face, he felt his breath catch in his throat. He wasn’t able to read you in the moment at all, your face straight, seriousness laced in ever bit. All he could think was that even with the black eye and the stitches across your nose, he had never seen someone as beautiful as you.
He knew his answer. There wasn’t a single part of him that doubted it.
“Yes.”
Hearing his answer, you stared at him and smiled.
“Are you sure?” You asked. “Do you love me as more than a teammate-”
“Y/n,” He cut you off, squeezing your hand once again. “As much as I love working with you, every time you call me your ‘teammate’ I want to go find a punching bag.”
Trying to bite back your smile, you couldn’t help but chuckle.
You hated calling him “only” your teammate just as much as he did- if not more. Knowing that he hated it just as much as you the entire time you used the word to disguise your true feelings made you feel as if a weight had been lifted off of your chest despite the aches that still consumed your being.
Bucky was more than your teammate, he was your partner.
“Oh Thank God.” You laughed. “I can’t tell you how many I’ve knocked off the hook after you called me your ‘friend’.”
Furrowing his eyebrows, he leaned in closer to you.
“What are you saying?” He asked.
Shaking your head in disbelief, you reached your free hand up to his hair, brushing it back with your hand.
“I’m saying,” You smiled. “that I love you too and that I’m not going anywhere, Buck.”
Leaning into your touch, a smile finally reached across his face. “You know, if it weren’t for your stitches, I would kiss you right now.”
“So my face isn’t too messed up then, right, Doc?” You asked. “If you still want to kiss me and all...”
Reaching your hand up to his lips, he pressed a soft kiss to your skin.
“You could never look bad, doll.” He hummed. “But promise me you won’t do that to me again. I almost had a heart attack, Y/n.”
Leaning your head against your pillow, admiring him, you smiled.
“I promise, Buck.”
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes oneshot#Bucky Barnes drabble#bucky barnes blurb#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes fluff
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ur requests are open! love ur writing. what abt being on a boring ass stakeout in a car w/ bucky and things get....you know 👀
wc: 804
warnings: smut, oral (m receiving), semi public sex
It started innocently, for the most part. You and Bucky in the front seat of a dinky Toyota, dressed in dark colors, talking to Steve and Natasha through your earpieces, telling them what you see.
You’ve done a good job with keeping your relationship a secret—waking up early to go back to your own places after spending nights together (Steve insists on daily morning runs with Bucky), sneaking kisses only when you’re sure you’re alone—but you’re considering risking it tonight. There’s something about the way that his black t-shirt hugs his biceps and contours his broad chest that’s driving you crazy.
It’s been about an hour with absolutely nothing new to report to the team about your subject; no lights turned on, no shadows in windows, nobody arriving or leaving. They even notified you that you’d have to click the small button on the comms that makes a dinging noise on their end to alert them of anything, because they’d no longer be listening every second.
Perfect opportunity.
You start with a hand just above his knee, and he thinks nothing of it. That it’s sweet, even. He smiles, but keeps his eyes trained on the apartment you’re meant to be watching.
“Bucky.” You say quietly, just loud enough to get his attention.
“Yeah?” He looks to you, scanning your face as if to detect anything wrong.
You slide your hand up his thigh, toward his crotch, and raise your eyebrows slightly, to ask if he wants you to go further. He only nods.
You undo the button and zipper of his dark jeans with only your left hand, leaning over the console to kiss at his neck. You palm him through the fabric, listening to him moan softly and shift uncomfortably when his cock strains against the restrictive garment.
“Take it out, Buck.”
He swallows hard and lifts his hips slightly, enough to be able to pull down his pants and boxers. He frees his cock, which stands straight up against his stomach. You put a knee beneath yourself to be able to reach his lap, and you look up at him before spitting on his cock. You watch his eyelids flutter, like he needs to blink but doesn’t want to look away.
Licking a stripe up the vein on the underside, you hold the base of his cock and promise yourself you’ll do this quickly, both because you’re in public and because your leg will surely be asleep soon. You swirl your tongue around the tip before you take it in your mouth and suck gently, pumping the rest of him with the hand that’s already there.
“God,” He whispers, “fuck, Y/N.”
You only hum against him, which earns a cautious, breathy chuckle.
The first time you did this was on your second date, when he brought you back to his place and gladly let you suck him off against the inside of his front door. He was much more shy then—didn’t know what to do with his hands, painfully still, eerily quiet—but he’s definitely gotten comfortable with it. Now, he’s not afraid to grab handfuls of your hair, or to tell you how good it feels to have your mouth around him.
You push yourself further down, relaxing your throat, breathing through your nose, hollowing out your cheeks. You bob your head up and down at a pace that allows you enough breath, but still drives him crazy. His long fingers tangle in your hair and he tilts his head back, letting it hit the headrest behind him.
You take him out of your mouth, continuing to stroke him, twisting your wrist, swiping your thumb over the tip, squeezing lightly. You kitten-lick the head while you look up at him, and you take it into your mouth again when you’re ready, moaning around him and sending vibrations down his length.
His eyes squeeze shut and he lets his jaw fall open while you continue sucking and licking, pushing him closer to the edge. He looks so pretty when he’s about to cum—his face tense, fingers rigidly wrapped around your hair, chest heaving. It’s a sight to behold.
“F-Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He whines, inadvertently bucking his hips into your mouth when he shifts in his seat. You keep working him with your mouth and hand until you taste him, salty and warm. He shoots ropes of cum into your mouth, and you swallow what you can, which is most of what he gives you.
A drop lands on his pants, and another on your chin. You smile and collect it with your finger, sucking it off and swallowing that, too. He looks at the stain on his pants after he pulls them back up and wonders how he’ll explain it to anybody who asks.
You shrug. “Could be salad dressing.”
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes#sebastian stan smut#sebastian stan x reader#bucky barnes fluff#sebastian stan fluff
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Moonlight On The Sand
Summary: Stationed to the desert for a short mission, you are on terrain inspection when the full moon emerges from behind the clouds. However little do you know there’s something about the Captain accompanying you that may change things forever. Based on this ask from @fairndsquare
Pairing; Captain Syverson x Female Reader (no race or size mentioned)
Fandom: Henry Cavill, Sand Castle (Movie)
Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Werewolves, Werewolf!Sy, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Unprotected Sex, Ovulation, Breeding, Outdoor Sex/Car Sex.
This is NOT an ABO story.
I do not run a tag list, but please go follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications. You’ll then get an alert every time i post a new story.
Masterlist got too big for Tumblr, so past works can be found at @angryschnauzerwrites or on my AO3
Only the finest, free range, organic typos for me, allowed to run wild and free.
Sy fumed silently as he drove the truck through the abandoned desert. He was furious that he had been overruled, but the general had finally done a site visit and his word was final; Sy had to show the new logistics planner the area, and there was no avoiding it.
What the General didn’t know was what Sy had been through during his posting in the dry and barren landscape. That mythical creatures didn’t always originate from leafy green valleys, or snow capped mountains, sometimes they dwelled in dry arid plains and rocky outcrops.
The truck hit a particularly proud rock on the dirt track and leapt into the air, your hands flying as you grasped for something to steady yourself on, one on the dash and one on the particularly meaty thigh of your commanding officer.
“Sorry” the gruff man uttered through gritted teeth.
“S’okay… the moon’ll be up soon and we’ll be able to see better as its full tonight” you casually replied, looking out over the desert surrounding you, surprised as the truck slowed down a little.
“The moon?”
“Yes, you know the big round rock orbiting the earth?”
“I know what the moon is darlin’, been cloudy the last ten days so hadn’t been keeping track…” he muttered to himself.
You used the small penstick flashlight to glance over the map;
“I need to see this valley, and get an idea of what it’ll be like to bring the trailers in with water tanks on”
The Captain glanced where you were pointing and nodded once, letting the truck veer to the right to follow the camel route up through the hills.
As the truck gained elevation Sy could feel his mouth watering. He could not only smell you, he could sense how you had grown wet in his presence. It was like a sickly sweet coating of pollen at the back of his throat on a spring day back home. Halfway through the day he’d been in a conference call as you stood in the corner of the room, observing as he updated his superiors back in Washington, when he’d picked up another sense, the only way to describe it was as if something had suddenly ripened in the room. It’d taken him until the end of the call to realise it was you and your body had just reached its most fertile point in the month. You were ripe and ready, you just didn’t know it.
That single thought had plagued Sy for the rest of the day, something in the pit of his belly was just telling him to flee, to get as far away from you as possible… for your safety. But then his military training had kicked in and he’d followed orders, and that’s how he found himself pulling the truck onto a rocky pullout on the curved track as it skirted around the hill, the view over the valley spectacular as the moon finally emerged from behind the clouds and illuminated the earth below.
Stepping out of the truck you used your night vision goggles to scan over the plateau in front of you, looking out over the wide vista. You felt the heat of his body first, standing behind you, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling up. You knew what he was wanting.
-
24 hours earlier.
Scrolling your phone you checked the calendar, relieved that the mission to the desert would be there and back in the space of two weeks, back in time before your monthly bleed would start again. If there’s one thing you didn’t want to have to deal with, it would be tampons and sand. It would mean you’d be ovulating whilst there, but you had enough sugary snacks packed to keep the hormones subdued, and this wasn’t your first time being overseas, although normally you were confined to a small base north of Washington DC.
The flight had been long and bumpy, little more than a glorified cargo hold, so by the time you arrived at the compound and finally got to meet the infamous Captain Syverson, you were tingling with anticipation for what the next two weeks would involve.
-
When he finally spoke, it was low and deep, resonating through your spine;
“You need to get in that truck, and drive it far from here…”
You went to turn but his hand caught your arm, keeping you looking out over the valley;
“Captain?”
“Private, do as i tell you… there are things in these hills, that you don’t know of and don’t need to know of…”
It was then that you sensed it: the connection. It was like a spark shot up your spine, and in a moment of foolhardy courage you turned, the air being sucked from your lungs when you saw him. The Captain stood before you, his eyes burning into your soul, the ring of fire in his irises and his canine teeth just a little more prominent. Your chest heaved with a shaky breath, and his nostrils flared;
“Private…” he warned one last time.
But rather than running in the opposite direction, you slowly took a step forward, holding your hand to his cheek and for a moment your touch soothed him. You took in how his hair had grown longer, his shoulders even broader, he was virile and potent. That’s when he felt it, his senses clouded as the moon took hold, but finally he realised; you weren’t afraid.
His body slammed yours against the side of the truck, his lips on yours as his tongue pushed into your mouth; tasting you, devouring you. Your hands clung to the sides of his weather beaten uniform, pulling him ever closer so you could feel every inch of his body pressing against yours until suddenly his hands were on your hips and he was lifting you onto the still warm hood of the truck. With expert skill he had quickly shed you of your cargo pants and sensible undergarments, his face between your thighs and you watched with fascination as he inhaled deeply, humming as your scent hit his brain before he dived in.
His tongue was everywhere; licking and tasting you, running firm circles over your clit before descending and pushing the thick muscle into your velvet channel, his sharp teeth pressed against your soaked folds as he tasted you from within. When you came you screamed into the night sky, your legs shaking as the feral beast between your thighs growled in satisfaction, his eyes glowing.
He pulled you from the hood and carried you to the rear of the vehicle, opening the tailgate before sitting you on the edge as he made quick work of his cargo pants, his thigh holster holding them up as his thick cock unfurled from the worn in cotton. You swallowed nervously; you were far from a virgin but the thought of the thick gnarled girth splitting your insides apart had you pulling away for a moment. That was until he gently cupped the back of your neck, pulling your face to his as he rested his forehead on yours and you instantly felt calmer and relaxed. The first touch of his hot flesh against your soaked core had you trembling with anticipation, before he paused, one massive hand resting over your stomach, and he growled as the warmth of your womb almost burnt into his palm;
“Mine...” he muttered, before those feral eyes met yours; “...ours”
“Captain… now, please…” you whined, knowing that what he knew about you, and you were ready.
With a roar he surged forward, your ripened walls parting for him as if welcoming him home. With his palm still pressed to your stomach he could feel himself inside you, the thickness pushing out your belly as he moved slowly and carefully, working to get just the right angle until he paused and you saw that ring of fire in his irises again burn bright.
It was then that he moved faster, the pull and push hitting every spot inside you, feral and wanting, an urgent need to to fill you with his seed, to breed you took over. Faster and faster he pounded into your soft body, drawing orgasms out of you quicker than you could process them, before he slowed and pulled you up so you were sitting, your bodies still connected. In that moment it was when the connection, the bond was finally fully formed, and as he pressed his forehead to your and started to fuck you again, you felt your spirit joining with his. His thrusts got faster, harder, his breath hot on your skin. The angle of his pelvis meant it took just a couple more thrusts and you were coming again, this time he threw his head back and let out a cry-come-howl as he released into your womb, his seed flooding into you as your body eagerly milked him of it.
You stayed joined in the most intimate of ways until the cool night air made a shiver run down your back, the movement of your body making you realise the Captain was still hard and nestled deep within you;
“So… are we stuck?”
“No… but this is the first time i’ve done… this… whilst i’ve been like… this…” he let out a huff of air; “I’m not exactly sure how long i’m gonna stay hard Darlin’... we could be here a while…”
“All night?” you said, a hint of hope in your voice
“I’m yours until the moon goes down Darlin’”
“And after the moon goes down?”
He Captain paused;
“What would a girl like you want with a beast like me come daybreak?”
Running your hand over his beard your thumb caressed the skin of his cheek;
“Everything Captain… i want all of you...” It was only in that moment that Sy saw it, the ring of fire in your own eyes. He had found his mate and you had found yours; “Breed me Captain…”
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not gonna miss this chance
Characters: Han Seojun & soloist!female reader
Genre: fluff
Setting: true beauty au, set a year after the tv show’s ending timeline
Summary: Your career is on the verge of ending, hence your management puts you up to do a duet with the infamous Han Seojun. You have heard too many rumours about him to keep track of and yet, none of them could have prepared you for the feelings that came with meeting him.
Words: 4.1k
Self indulgent little snippet because he deserves happiness too.
You had heard of Han Seojun before meeting him, of course you had. Everybody who was in the industry had heard of the hot trend of a Newstagram star-turned idol and his band's shining debut from a year ago. They were told to have snatched teenage girls hearts all over Korea with their good looks and soulful music. You had heard their title track and you had to admit it was nice but nice wasn't enough in a cut-throat industry like entertainment.
Look at you, starting training at twelve, debuting at fifteen and now barely twenty-one you were on the verge of becoming a thrown away doll. Once you had been called cute and the it girl of your generation and now? People were saying you got boring just because your music had matured. Gosh, you couldn't keep singing about first love like your hit song had been for the rest of your life for god's sake. Your last album had been a flop, your company had been losing money and you were still afraid that even with a year left of your contract, they would cut you. But your manager had begged them for a chance and here it was: a collaboration with the newest love of Korea.
But the thing was, Han Seojun had quite a reputation and you didn't know who to believe. Some said he was well-mannered and hard-working. Others gossiped that he was always flirting with his makeup artists and Chen claimed he had been rude to her even when he had just been a ‘nobody’. Not that you were particularly fond of Chen either but as a fellow solo female singer you were a tad bit worried how the infamous singer would treat you.
Well, standing in front of Move Entertainment, you were just about to find out. Taking a shallow breath you followed your manager's lead, bowing to the receptionist and getting into the elevator after taking your visitor's badge. You had heard the company has gone through many changes after the executives were replaced due to the revealed Seyeon scandal but everything looked expensive, shiny and new, unlike in your small agency.
“Hey, I’m Lim Heekyung, nice to meet you. Seojun will be in a minute, too,” a woman in a pantsuit walked up to you on the right floor with a confident smile as she introduced herself. She led you to a meeting room which was apparently customized for a few people only and started preparing papers. She looked excited which was a relief and nice to see, at least someone from Move Entertainment was happy for this project apparently. You were a bit afraid they would see you like a leech, trying to cling onto their new star’s popularity.
“Shall we start? Seojun is a fan of dramatic entrances anyways,” Miss Lim laughed joyfully as if it wasn’t new to her that the idol didn’t make it on time. Ah yeah, you had heard rumours saying that he had something on the company and that was why they were so lenient with him.
You sat in silence, let your manager do the talk about the collaboration project. Seojun could play the guitar, you could play the piano, apparently it was perfect for a ballad duet, though if you used instruments yourself it added to the preparations time. But luckily, there was a songwriter named Leo at the company who had already sent in a few samples specifically for Seojun, so you didn’t have to start from zero.
“Ah, I see you started without me. What did I miss?” A tall boy opened the door wide and flipped down onto the chair across you casually. He had grown into his lanky limbs and with those wide shoulders hugged by the leather jacket, helix earrings in one ear and soft brown hair brushed to one side, it wasn’t a surprise how many female fans swooned over him. But there were a lot of handsome boys in the business, just his looks – no matter how confident he was in them based on the way he carried himself – wouldn’t make a difference.
Miss Lim patiently let Seojun know about the advances and only when she mentioned your name, did the boy glance at you. His dark brown eyes had a sharp form, just as piercing as his gaze, but the cunning smile spreading over his lips softened it a bit. He looked at you as if he wanted to see through you, to figure out how he should have approached you. You expected a snarky or arrogant comment, but in the end, he just flashed a blinding smile at you, one you could see on his posters, before turning back to Miss Lim.
“What’s the schedule?” he asked simply and you both were notified about the deadline of deciding and finalizing the song, the dates of planned recording sessions and the photoshoot. Since there would be no promotion period, it all would be done within a month and half from start to finish. You were a bit relieved hearing that and leave Move Entertainment without any confrontation.
You thought you were good at masking your wary feelings since the further meetings went well and the first recording session went okay-ish. Although both of you had been a bit scolded by the producer for not putting enough feelings into your singing. He claimed that the demo sent by Leo was much more emotional which made Seojun scoff and mumble under his nose. The PD called it for a day, making you promise to practice for next time and one by one they all left. Your manager told you that he would bring the car while you refresh yourself in the bathroom, so you really didn’t expect anyone to wait for you when you stepped out of the restroom, much less Han Seojun.
"Spit it out," he bit out barely glancing your way as he leaned against the corridor’s wall.
"What?" you spluttered as you were really taken aback by his out of blue appearance and question. The guy let out a tired sigh at your obliviousness and pushed himself away from the wall just to walk up to you, towering over your height with his.
"You look at me as if I killed your hamster or something. Which rumour about me bothers you? I fucking can't keep walking on eggshells around you, especially when it's just the two of us," he tsked and you gulped at the sudden called out. You didn’t think it bothered him, or that he was considerate enough to ‘walk on eggshells around you’, you merely thought he was so distant from everybody. It was still better than what Chen had told you.
"Oh, I… nothing. It's stupid. Sorry," you mumbled, feeling embarrassed for your your actions but Seojun apparently wasn’t satisfied without a real answer as he carried on:
"I didn't bully kids in high school but I threatened ones that deserved it, I didn't only get a pity chance from the entertainment, one of our makeup artists is actually one of my best friends, I'm not…"
"Chen told me you are rude and arrogant and have no respect for girls," you blurted out to stop him from speaking because you felt like you didn’t deserve to hear all that. He didn’t owe you any explanation for the way he was. You were just co-workers for a project after all, you had no place in his life, nor he had in yours, so he shouldn’t have been that bothered by your opinion but you understood that he felt uncomfortable due to your silent accusations.
Hearing your hasty interruption, the singer scoffed, a laugh-like sound leaving his mouth.
"Well, I have no respect for girls like Chen who harass my friends and turn their lives into hell just to go on a date with me," he said and it made you blink slowly.
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh. Check your facts before you go around believing such crap," Seojun stepped back with a roll of his eyes.
The whole situation made you feel made about how you acted, so you wished to apologise but it fell from your lips all too carelessly: "Sorry, I was just worried. This is my last chance, so–"
"Last chance?" the guy quirked a brow at you, curious but you quickly waved his question away.
"Nevermind, I just need this song to do well."
"Of course, it will. I'm Han Seojun, it will turn to gold under my hands," he grinned and made eccentric gestures as if he was about to do magic. You couldn't help a smile. “Or well, vocal chords.”
And turn it to gold, he did.
The rest of your recording sessions went smoother, even the previously grumpy PD complimented your for the development in your chemistry. Funny, you wouldn’t have thought that the wall pulled up between the two of you mattered that much, but at least you didn’t have a knot in your stomach, nor did you worry about every small thing you did around Han Seojun. He also acted more casual, more playful, joking around when both of you had a bit of time to take a breather. He snapped silly pictures, showed off with his height, smirked when he got too close but despite all his bravado and lowkey flirting, you believed even he wouldn’t have jeopardised his career over something like this.
Maybe that's why wrapping up the recording felt a tad bit weird: you got used to his presence, his jokes, his beautiful, deep voice that you could have fallen asleep to. Sure, sometimes he was cocky, a bit rough around the edges but he was a great singer and a fun guy. The project seemed to work out well and you loved it a lot, so you hoped the listeners would appreciate it as well.
But before all that you had one photo shoot together for the promotional pictures and the single's cover. You were grateful for the simple pastel colour background and elegant setting. The warm light latte colour and the clock in the background really fit the song's vibe. Luckily, your dress was decent and pretty as well, you didn't have to feel uncomfortable in it at least. However, you didn’t expect that happy yelp coming from one of the makeup artists stepping into the dressing room. You turned to face the girl, wondering whether she was your fan judged by her excitement.
"Oh my! I'm so happy to finally meet you! Seojun told us about you so much!" she beamed at you which obviously took you back. Well, that you didn’t expect at all. He spoke of you to others? Ah. Apparently to the makeup artist who was most probably that certain one of his best friends he had told you about?
"Don't exaggerate, Imju, I mentioned her like what… once?" Seojun walked in on cue. He rolled his eyes and cleared his throat, trying to avert the topic. "How's Suho?"
You had know idea who that said guy was but after a moment or two you could breathe properly once again while listening to their chatting.
“Just the usual. He’s excited about your duet.”
“Of course, he is,” Seojun grinned, a bit snarky but you could hear the proud undertones of it. When he looked at you, you were surprised by him leaning close though as he quieted down until only you could hear it. “Don’t worry, Jugyeong is really good and just stop her if she gets too gossip-y.”
“Are you talking about me behind my back, hah, Han Seojun?” The pretty girl called Jugyeong raised her fist as if she was about to hit the idol but he just laughed it off and left you two alone when he was hurried onto the set to start with his individual shoots.
“Have you known each other for a long time?” you couldn’t help but wonder as you were seated to get your makeup from her.
“Ah, almost 4 years, I think. We went to high school together. Plus, he’s best friends with my boyfriend. Though, they are always bickering like a married couple,” Jugyeong chuckled joyfully as she started with the cushion. You closed your eyes, listening as she kept going on about the time when Seojun had been obsessed with his motorbike, getting into trouble with his mother. It was strange hearing about a whole other side of him, mama's boy but the image tugged on your mouth, making you smile even though you weren't sure you had the right to know all that. You also learned that Seojun's sister was dating Jugyeong's brother and you felt so involved with the girl's trust albeit it was your last meeting, you were sure Seojun must have only told good things about you.
Hence, you felt shy under his knowing gaze when you walked out of the dressing room. He must have known that Jugyeong couldn't shut up for the life of her, so he looked a bit uncertain, too, stretching the back of his neck, forcing a cunning smile onto his smile when you took your place next to him.
To fit the ballad's theme, the setting was a piano decorated with flowers and you were instructed to sit beside him as if you were about to play a four hands piece. As you did what you had been told, you were very much aware of the way your arms brushed, his long fingers over the keys close to yours, his smile small but genuine.
"Great, great, guys! Someone help her onto the piano and Seojun, stand in front of her," the photographer directed the next scene but before any staff members would have rushed up to you, the singer next to you shushed them.
"I can do it," he insisted as he stood up and looked you in the eyes, silently asking for permission. You nodded while holding your breath back before Seojun put his hands on your waist above the fluffy tulle skirt part and counting on three, he lifted you onto the lid of the beautiful instrument.
You crossed your legs, watching in awe as your pink skirt fell down on waves but your breath hitched for an entirely different reason when you looked up, gaze meeting Seojun's feline eyes trained on you. You had never seen him look at you like that, lacking playfulness or suspicion or curiosity. He looked open, vulnerable, outright starstruck. Your lips parted meaning to ask something but your brain shut off when you heard the shutter of the camera go down and the director yelling compliments at you. It made you snap out of it and later, you blamed the evident blush on your cheeks on the makeup. Seojun blinked too, his guarded expression back in no time, finishing the photo shoot professionally, always lingering close to you, but never touching you. Even though you wouldn’t have minded.
"Hey," Seojun peeked into your dressing room just as you were about to leave, packing up, with a smile on his mouth and sparkles in his deep brown eyes. But unlike half an hour ago when he wore a fancy suit and looked at you like a prince would have looked at his princess, he acted just as casual as he looked in his denim jacket over dark tee. "Wanna grab something with me if you finished for today?"
His question took you back but first thing first you glanced towards your manager, eyes begging for permission which you had gotten with a sigh.
"Just be discreet and call me if you need me to pick you up," your manager shrugged, leaving you two alone with a knowing look that told you to be careful. You didn't need to be told though, you knew how much depended on the current public response to your image.
"Seems like a green light. Have you thought of anything specific?" you turned back to the boy with a subtle smile.
"Not really but I know a few less frequent, secluded places to avoid much talk about us," he said and you nodded, following his lead. Masks, caps and hoodies on, you barely talk on your way to the tent with the lovely ahjumma who welcomed Seojun (two heads taller than her) with a pinch of his cheeks and told you to get seated.
"Are you a regular here?" you inquire, carefully pulling down your mask since not many people are around.
"You could say that," the boy hummed letting you adjust to the place at your own pace, not pressuring you with extra reassessments about how safe it is there. Yet, he is so casual as if he wasn't afraid of a getting mobbed by Dispatch out of the blue. Not that it happened to you a lot of times but you heard stories and at such a crucial time in your career, you feared something like that more than anything.
"Do you want to come up to mine instead?" Seojun blurted out suddenly which made you wide eyed in a span of a moment as you splattered out a surprised yelp. "Come on, I don't mean anything by it. You just look really nervous being in the public," the singer said, his deep voice softening, soothing by the end and you needed to take a breather before answering. You didn't think it was so obvious but apparently you had never been a good liar with him.
In the end, you decided on going over to Seojun's place, so he asked the ahjumma to pack your food to go and you headed towards his flat a few blocks from the company. It was a small but cozy place, much softer and brighter than you expected, lots of pastels and photos of friends and family. While the boy busied himself in the kitchen, getting you plates, chopsticks and beer, you were encouraged to look around and you couldn't help but smile at his photos with not only his band members but high school friends, too. You had seen photos of his graduation with Jugyeong, then another one of his debut with her and another guy. He was a recurring person on a lot of pictures, so you assumed that he was the so-called Suho.
"He's Jugyeong's boyfriend," Seojun affirmed as he walked up to you which you acknowledged with a hum and smiled at his photos with his sister and mother. The makeup artist was right when she said he was only tough on the outside.
"You knew Seyeon?" you whispered as your gaze shifted of a picture of three boys smiling widely into the camera. The middle one was the talented boy you had known from the news of his committed suicide. Such a tragedy.
"Uhum. We were best friends. Him, Suho and me," Seojun nodded and without having to ask, he told you how they had gotten to know each other, what were their favourite past time activities and how they fell apart when he died. You could see he was hurting even now as he was talking about it, so you grazed your fingers against his knuckles as though to say you were there for him to listen, or whatever he needed.
Talking about his best friends and how a group of guys including someone named Chorong stuck by his side over the years warmed your heart. It was nice to know that not everyone had it as lonely as you who basically missed out on high school and memories from that time to be able to turn your dreams into reality. Your only friends were also in the industry but it made things both easier and harder.
"What about you? What did you mean by this being your last chance?" Seojun asked like a loaded gun but after everything he had just told you, you knew you could trust him with this and being in the industry for a while now, he must have understood, too.
You told him about the rising expectations, about your image and your company's ultimatum. It actually felt nice to talk about with someone other than your manager. Especially since Seojun seemed to understand exactly why you felt conflicted over the matter. You have given your youth to this dream of yours, so giving up on it would have felt like betraying yourself and everyone who believed in you but you weren't sure you could give it another 10 years of your life no matter how much you liked music. You had decent CSATs result, maybe you could have applied for a university program. Seojun even offered to arrange a meeting between you and Suho who was studying to become a proper songwriter.
You talked for hours and ate the tteokbokki even though it had gotten cold long ago and you couldn't remember when was the last time you had felt so light. You felt giddy even with just the tiny bit of alcohol in your system by the time you knew it was time for you to go.
Once you had felt relieved knowing that promoting your duet would be only one performance but recently, you started dreading the moment because that meant that you wouldn't have any more excuse to see Seojun. In the backstage, this time around you greeted Jugyeong like an old friend and teased to give Seojun a funny makeup before walking up to your own assigned staff members. Your look was full of sparkles and glow fitting the silver colour of your dress, completing the ethereal vibe off the stage you were going to do and the beautiful song you had grown to love so much you held it close to your heart. The last rehearsals went smoothly and if you noticed Seojun's gaze lingering a bit too long, you didn't comment on it.
"Are you nervous?" he asked before the final recording and you knew it would have been unreasonable to deny it, so you replied with a small smile.
"A bit."
"Don't be. You're pretty and you'll do amazing," he reassured you and the way he said those words oh so easy. As if they were natural. As if he believed in you and maybe this was all the reassurance you needed because when you walked up onto the stage, not taking your eyes off his, it felt like it was just the two of you there. All the stress about not being good enough, about being judged for who you were and what you wanted to do with your life was subsided as you focused on the moment, just to sing this one song with one while trying to fight your heart's crazy beating.
You didn't really have the luxury to have crushes. You had always been concentrated on your work, you couldn't let yourself have distractions, especially since love scandals always affected girl worse than guy. At least that was what you told yourself for always putting up a wall around you and guarding your heart all too well. But during the past few weeks, between playful or flirty remarks, between smiles and ruffling hair, Seojun took apart your wall brick by brick even if he wasn't aware.
So it might have been only a few days since you had last seen him but in that rare moment of boredom, alone in your room, you realized that you missed him. Hell, you liked him and the feeling made me want to scream into your pillow as if you were a silly teenager. As if on cue, your phone buzzed with a new message and seeing the KakaoTalk ID made you shy.
duet partner, han seo jun
so...
i've been thinking
you
sounds dangerous but ok
duet partner, han seo jun
don't get sassy with me, miss
you
what have you been thinking about?
duet partner, han seo jun
that i don't want to miss my chance
there's this girl i like
i thought of asking her out
do you think she would say yes?
you
oh. well... why wouldn't she?
i mean, you are talented, handsome, funny and reliable
duet partner, han seo jun
and what about my job? it's busy and a bit crazy
don't you think it would be unfair of me to ask?
you
I think you should let her decide that
duet partner, han seo jun
okay
are you free on friday?
you
um, sure?
duet partner, han seo jun
cool, then go on a date with me?
#han seo jun x reader#seojun x reader#han seojun#han seo joon#true beauty#stories#i just wanted to give him a happy end after ep16#that's what this is about
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The Kind of Girl You Take Home to Mom | Andy Barber x reader (part 1)
summary: Jacob was finally taking his college girlfriend home to meet his family. how was she, a sheltered Harvard girl, supposed to know not to trust the famous, respected lawyer who just so happened to be his father?
word count: 3.5k
warnings: smut (dub con??), age gap, infidelity, fingering, dirty talk, a lil choking, wedding ring kink, lots of awkward conversations lmao
@donutloverxo @evnscvll @ballyhoobarnes
“They’re gonna love you,” Jacob beamed at you as you buckled into the passenger seat.
“I dunno, Jake, I’m not usually a parent’s favorite…” you mumbled nervously, adjusting to be comfortable for the drive. It wasn’t that long of a trip— just from your dorm at Harvard to the southern suburbs of Boston; your discomfort was a lot more psychosomatic, in fact. Isn’t it normal to be afraid to meet your boyfriend’s parents?
“Well, my parents are pretty chill,” he assured you. “Besides, what’s not to like?”
You still felt a little dizzy as you tried to prepare yourself for a weekend with them. You’d hoped Jacob would just have you guys meet at lunch or something but nope, he insisted that you come with him the next time he visited over a three-day weekend and you’d agreed cause you didn’t know how to say no. Now here you were, practicing ‘Hi, it’s so nice to meet you!’ in your head as if you were going to forget how to speak English in the next fifteen minutes.
Honestly, with how nervous you were, it was plausible.
The sun through the trees cast flashing light and shadows through your window as you watched the scenery roll by. Something by Bon Iver was playing through the car speakers, but the mumbled lyrics were lost to your distracted mind. You’d heard a decent amount about his parents through him— his dad was apparently quite the bigshot lawyer— but you had no idea how much they knew about you. You hoped he talked about you a lot but you also sort of hoped he didn’t, so that you’d have a clean slate to start with.
“Your destination is on the left,” Google Maps informed you both.
“There it is,” Jacob smiled as he lifted a hand from the wheel to point to the house. It was nice, really nice, and a little tinge of jealousy hit you.
You took a deep breath and gave him a weak smile as you prepared to meet Mr. and Mrs. Barber.
~
You went through the motions of every great introduction to people who need to like you. So nice to meet you, I’ve heard great things, you have a lovely home, all that good stuff. Laurie, his mom, was bubbly and kind, and insisted you not call her Mrs. Barber because it made her feel old, apparently; Mr. Barber was a little more stern but still seemed warm enough.
After some basic hand-shaking and introductions, Laurie had explained that she was making dinner. You offered to help but she insisted that you wouldn’t lift a finger while staying in her home. That sure did sound nice, though you felt guilty.
So, while Jacob unpacked your and his stuff in the guest bedroom, and while Laurie was cooking, you and Mr. Barber were stuck together in the living room.
“We’ve been hearing a lot about you,” he informed you.
“Oh, r-really?” you stammered. “Only good things, I hope.”
“Only great things,” he assured.
You nodded, not sure what to say but realizing the conversation was going to peter out quickly…
“You can relax,” he encouraged with a smile, “we’re not giving you the third-degree or anything.”
You let out a little laugh of relief, trying to keep from looking too rigid. “I’m sorry,” you sighed, “I just really want to make a good impression.”
“You already have,” he assured you. “You’re a natural.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you laughed nervously, “I’ve never met anybody’s parents before. I mean, of course I’ve met people’s parents, just not a boyfriend’s or anything— that’s not usually my sort of thing…”
His eyes went a little wide, and you mirrored it as you realized the implication. “Oh, I don’t mean— it’s not like I only do hook-ups or something, I don’t do that, I just meant I’ve never really had a serious relationship before—” oh god, is that a bad thing to say? Does it make me seem like I’m too immature for Jacob; or does he not think we’re serious? “I mean, it’s not like we’re serious serious, it’s not— we haven’t really— we’re not thinking that far ahead, we’re young and all that…” God, even Jacob and I haven’t had this conversation, why am I having it with his father?!
“Well, whatever it is that you two are, he seems to care for you greatly.”
“That’s… good to hear,” you sighed, hoping you could just keep your mouth shut for a few minutes. Awkward silence was leagues better than this.
“The weather’s great so I thought we could sit outside for dinner!” Laurie suggested.
“Sounds lovely, honey,” Mr. Barber nodded, jumping off of the couch at any excuse to get out of this conversation. You resisted the urge to hide your face in your hands.
Their patio was spacious and covered in meticulously-gardened plants, with a glass table that had already been set with four place settings. You helped carry out some of the food and took your seat in the wrought iron chair.
“Do you want any wine, sweetie?” Laurie offered as she turned towards you, bottle in hand.
“Oh, I’m not twenty-one yet,” you explained quickly.
“Well, yeah,” Laurie raised an eyebrow, “but we’re not so sheltered, we know what college kids get up to— just a glass won’t hurt.”
“You’re kind to offer,” you relented, “but I don’t drink.”
“Really?” Laurie questioned, looking a little incredulous.
“Really,” Jacob butted in. He laughed when his mother gave him a look of surprise. “Yeah, I know, she’s like, the one person at Harvard who’s sober.”
“Finally, a little respect for the law in this house,” Mr. Barber added as he stepped out onto the patio.
“You want a glass, honey?” she asked him, seeming to ignore his apparent distaste for her offering alcohol to you.
“Sure,” he nodded, taking a seat.
“So,” Mr. Barber addressed you as he sat down, “what are you majoring in?”
“English,” you answered with a nervous smile.
“And what do you wanna do with that?”
“Whatever lets me read as much as majoring in it allows me to,” you chuckled.
“Do you think you’ll go to graduate school, get a Master’s?” he pressed.
“Actually,” Jacob interjected, “she’s thinking of going for a doctorate.”
Mr. Barber turned back to you with an impressed expression. “Wow! Smart girl.”
Something about him calling you ‘girl’ made you feel yourself blush slightly, and shift in your seat. Or maybe it was the praise. Still, for some reason it coming from him felt wrong but wonderful at the same time. “Um, I suppose so…”
It continued on like that for a while; he and Laurie asked you questions, you and Jacob told a few stories. Mr. Barber managed to get you to open up a little and not be so worried about him judging you or assessing you all the time. But then again, you’d heard he was a bigshot lawyer so he probably knew how to get people comfortable and talking so he could go in for the kill.
Sometimes you caught him looking at you like he was about to go in for that kill at any moment.
~
“Do you think it went okay?” you asked with faux nonchalance as you slipped into bed, watching Jacob brush his teeth in front of the mirror.
“Okay? I fink it went greaf!” he responded, the toothbrush in his mouth making his words difficult to parse.
You laughed a little at his silliness, though you were glad to hear he thought it was a successful day.
“And they don’t mind us sharing a bed?”
Jacob snorted with a quick laugh before spitting out his toothpaste into the sink. “They’re not conservative like that,” he dismissed with a shake of his head. “I mean, we’re boyfriend and girlfriend, it’s normal for us to share a bed.”
You nodded because it was true, but you also found yourself twisting a piece of your hair between three fingers; you wondered if his parents assumed that you two did everything that was normal for boyfriends and girlfriends to do… and, as always, you wondered if Jacob was growing impatient with you in that regard. He always said that he didn’t mind and was going to wait as long as you needed, but it was still hard to believe. Sometimes you just wished he would break up with you so that he wouldn’t have to deal with celibacy and you wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt.
“You ready for bed?” he prompted, tearing you from your train of thought as he sat down on the other side of the bed.
“Oh, uh, yeah,” you agreed with a nod, laying down completely and plugging in your phone.
Jacob switched off his bedside lamp, and you were ready to fall asleep, but he quickly pulled you into him.
Oh, yes, cuddling. This was normal, this was expected; you should feel relaxed right now, and not nervous and confused. You tried to force yourself to, but it didn’t really work.
He hummed contentedly, kissing behind your ear. “Goodnight, honeybun.”
Another girl would love this kind of attention. Any girl should. You smiled, but it was fake. “Goodnight, Jake,” you replied quietly. You really did like him, you never doubted that. But as he drifted to sleep beside you and you took in the surroundings of Jacob’s old room— renovated and updated, but still feeling like the graveyard of a childhood— you couldn’t help but question why you were here at all when you knew, deep down, that this relationship was missing something that couldn’t be found.
~
You woke up for no particularly good reason in the middle of the night, a habit of yours. Squinting as you lifted up and unlocked your phone, you read the clock: 2:16 a.m.
You sighed and realized that you weren’t going to be able to get back to sleep, at least for a while.
Peeling Jacob’s limp arm off of you and slipping out from underneath the comforter, you tiptoed out of the bedroom and shut the door behind you.
The streetlights cast faint yellow light into the kitchen, enough that you could see somewhat; enough that you didn’t stub your toe, thankfully.
You did your best to open the refrigerator quietly as you searched for a snack. I could make a sandwich but that’s a bit too much food. There’s so much weird diet food in here, is that Mr. or Mrs. Barber’s? A glass of juice probably isn’t enough. Yogurt? Hmm, maybe…
“Burning the midnight oil?” the deep and smooth voice of Mr. Barber came from behind you.
You jumped a little as you spun around, finding him standing in the entryway to the kitchen, wearing pajamas and a smug little smile. You let go of the door and it slowly closed itself; Mr. Barber turned on a dim light and you were able to see him a little better.
“I think we’re a little bit past midnight, sir,” you chuckled softly.
He seemed slightly uncomfortable with the title, shifting awkwardly and clearing his throat.
“Did I wake you up?” you asked, concerned.
“No, no, not at all,” he shook his head. “I haven’t been sleeping so well recently. A finger of scotch usually helps…”
For some reason, him telling you this felt too intimate. You cleared your throat nervously as he poured the aforementioned drink into a crystal glass.
“You really don’t drink?” Andy asked you suddenly, and you laughed a little.
“I don’t know why it’s so hard for you guys to believe!” you replied.
“No, no, I believe you…” he trailed off. “I guess I’m just surprised because Jacob seems really into the party scene. You two seem sort of opposite in a lot of ways.”
“Yeah, we are,” you admitted. “I think it works for us.”
“You keep him honest?”
“I keep him from failing out,” you scoffed, though as soon as you’d said it, you instantly regretted your brutal honesty.
“Ah, I get it,” Andy smirked. “He’s partying while you’re back in the dorm studying enough for the both of you.”
“That’s not—”
“Don’t lie to me,” he instructed, a little more stern than you anticipated. “With what I do for a living, I’ve learned to spot a lie from a mile away.”
You swallowed, thinking this was getting a bit out of hand already. “Well, I ought to get back to bed,” you realized, “and… so should you.”
As you stood up and started to walk past him, he suddenly reached out and grabbed your arm, stopping you.
“Mr. Barber, I—”
“Call me Andy,” he encouraged, stepping closer until you were pressed against the wall and he was pressed against you, finally releasing your arm but leaving you just as trapped. This close up, your height difference was staggering.
“O-okay, Andy, I don’t—”
“Has he fucked you yet?”
The question made your eyes shoot wide open and your stomach burn with embarrassment. How could he ask you something like that? But he seemed cool and collected, staring down at you as he took the last sip of his scotch and set the glass aside.
“I think as his father, I have a right to know,” he added firmly.
“I… we don’t… he and I aren’t…”
“So, no?”
You nodded quickly.
“Well, why not? Is there something wrong with him?”
No, there’s nothing wrong with him at all, and I hate that about him because I should love him but I don’t. “N-no!”
He looked you up and down quickly before responding. “I can’t imagine how he keeps his hands off you…”
You knew you shouldn’t be enjoying this kind of attention, especially from your boyfriend’s father, but something about his gaze made shivers erupt in its wake. You looked away and forced yourself to remember everything great about Jacob.
“He’s been very patient with me,” you explained shakily. “He knows I’m not ready.”
“Not ready?”
“To be with someone… that way…”
You shivered when his fingers began to toy with the hem of your nightgown. “This is nice,” he complimented softly.
“Um, thank you…”
“You’re a very beautiful girl,” he informed you, leaning in a little closer.
“I—” you began, but he was already about to kiss you. You almost melted into it, you almost let your eyes flutter shut as you tilted your head; thankfully, you stopped yourself at the last second, pushing your hands against his chest. He was strong enough that your protest would’ve been useless if he hadn’t chosen to stop in the moment.
“Andy, your wife…” you explained weakly.
“She hasn’t touched me in years,” he grimaced. “She just wants my money, and the appearance of the perfect family. You have no idea what it’s like to lie next to someone every night and still be completely alone.”
For a split second, Jacob flashed in your mind and you wondered if you did have an idea.
“I’m… sorry to hear that…” you mumbled. “But I can’t— you can’t—”
He lifted your chin with one finger, and you looked up at him with wide doe eyes. “Is he treating you right, sweetheart? Is he everything you deserve? Don’t lie to me…”
“He’s…” you whispered shakily, unsure how to respond, “he’s great.”
Andy chuckled incredulously, seemingly not believing your answer. “Listen, he’s my son; I love him, obviously. But I know his flaws better than anyone. And even though I like to think he’s smarter than a lot of boys his age, they’re all the same when it comes to one thing: girls.”
“I think he’s pretty smart in that regard,” you defended.
“If he was smart, he would be taking you to nice places, buying you nice things, treating you right. If he was smart, he would’ve fucked you already. If he was smart,” he smirked a little, “he wouldn’t have left you alone with me.”
His hand slipped under the bottom of your nightgown, grabbing your thigh.
“Andy!” you yelped, but he lifted a finger to his mouth with a soft shushing noise.
“Don’t wanna wake anybody, now do you?”
I kinda do though… you thought to yourself.
His fingers travelled higher and higher, nearly brushing against the edge of your panties; you shivered, wondering if you should stop him, and if so, how.
Your hands were still resting on his chest from when you’d tried to push him away, but instead of fighting back all they did was clench and pull at the soft cotton of his t-shirt as his pointer finger hooked into your underwear and pulled them down.
The thick, calloused pad of his finger swiped through your folds, and you bit your lip. Something about it being the middle of the night, about the forbidden nature of it all, about the way his gaze burned right through you made your entire body so sensitive. He found your clit instantly, and barely had to touch it to get you bucking your hips into his touch; you only somewhat managed to suppress your gasp.
He leaned in to kiss you again, but this time it actually came to fruition and his lips were soft but determined against your own. You reciprocated eagerly, eliciting a little smile from him as you both realized how bad you wanted this even when you shouldn’t. The moment his tongue slipped into your mouth was also the moment his middle finger slid into your tight and pulsing channel. You moaned with surprise and it mixed with his own soft groans while your tongues intermingled.
A second finger joined his first, stretching your walls and making you nearly bite down on his lip in your mouth. He smiled and twisted them within you, pushing right against a spot that made your knees weak, while his thumb stretched out to keep circling around your clit.
He broke the kiss to watch your face, admiring the way your brows furrowed together, and your eyes fluttered shut, and your swollen lip caught between your teeth. Your head fell back against the wall, the effort of supporting it suddenly seeming too much, and it caused you to look up at him and make some awkward yet sensual eye contact.
“Has he ever made you come like this?” he whispered, jealousy apparent in his tone. You shook your head ‘no.’ “Has anyone ever made you come like this?” You shook your head again. “Fuck,” he groaned. “Including yourself?”
You nodded and he laughed a little, stooping down to kiss your neck. “Always such a good girl, huh?”
His tone shifted as realization crossed over his face. “Baby… am I the first thing that’s ever been inside you?”
You bit your lip, feeling a bit embarrassed, and nodded again.
He groaned and pressed his hips forward into your hip; the hard shape of his cock against you made you gasp. “Feel what you do to me?” he smirked. “God, you’re too fuckin’ perfect…”
“A-Andy, ‘m close,” you whimpered
“Come on my fingers, sweet girl,” he encouraged. “I wanna see how pretty you look when you let go.”
It felt like a wave of sensation was about to crash over you, faster than you knew how to handle it. You reached down and tried to push him away by the forearm, an instinctive way to run from the intensity of the feeling as it started to make your eyes roll back and your toes go numb. But he was too strong; your fighting was useless as his fingers kept fucking into you and pressing against your constricting walls.
“No, baby, you can take it,” he hissed. “Come for me, sweetheart.”
Just as you were sure you were about to scream, his other hand clapped over your mouth. You could feel the hard shape of his wedding ring against your lips and just as guilt hit you, so did your orgasm. Your knees went weak; you would’ve fallen if it weren’t for the hand inside you all but holding you up.
Your moans were muffled into his calloused palm as pleasure rippled through you. You felt your channel grip his fingers at the same time as a gush of arousal coated his hand and even began to drip down to his arm.
Your breathing slowly stabilized, and Andy trusted you enough to finally take his hand away. He pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to his lips, licking them with a smirk. “You taste like heaven, honey,” he praised. “Go ahead, clean off my fingers,” he instructed as he pressed the fingers into your mouth; it was already hanging slack from exhaustion. You closed your lips and sucked on his fingers, moaning at your own taste and at the way his skin felt on your tongue.
Once he was apparently satisfied with your work, the hand in your mouth moved back and instead wrapped around your neck as you whimpered.
“Tomorrow,” he growled against your ear. “I’m gonna get you alone, and we’re gonna finish this.”
You were a little too busy panting to respond to that. Honestly, you had expected that you would have some post-nut clarity at this point, or even just be satisfied once you’d reached your peak. But apparently not; even still coming down from it, you already wanted more. With a sigh, you realized that you were already completely addicted to Andy Barber, and you were going to come back for more as soon as you could.
“Tomorrow,” you agreed in a raspy whisper.
(part 2) // (part 3)
#andy barber x reader#andy barber smut#andy barber x y/n#andy barber fanfic#dark!andy barber#kinda...
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the comfort of rain
spencer reid x reader
summary ↠ spencer reid is her soulmate, isn’t he?
category ↠ angst
warnings/includes ↠ heartbreak, unrequited love
word count ↠ 1.6k
“Do not bother holding on to that thing that does not want you. You cannot make it stay.” — Rupi Kaur
Spencer Reid was her soulmate.
She was sure of it. The pair had been inseparable since she’d started working with the BAU four years prior, practically joined at the hip, never one without the other.
He’d never fail to bring her breakfast on days filled with paperwork, when he knew she’d barely slept and craved nothing more than a banana muffin from the bakery down the road. He simply placed it on her desk with a warm smile, receiving a thankful one from her in return.
Such a small gesture, but it meant the world to her.
He would press little kisses to the crown of her head after they arrested an unsub, a small act of thankfulness that she was ultimately unharmed. An appreciation that she was okay, safe.
For all intents and purposes, they were only best friends. Though she’d been helplessly in love with him for years, and she had an inkling he felt the same. She didn’t want to make assumptions, but then again she was the only person he ever really got up close and personal with. Sure, he’d hug the other team members too occasionally, but she didn’t see him holding Emily or JJ’s hands on the jet home after a case that ended badly. He didn’t give them countless book recommendations, or spend his evenings watching TV shows that she was in love with just so they’d have something else to talk about.
He always offered her his coat when it was cold, or when the rain began to fall heavily and she was only in her shirt and jeans (despite how he’d commented, as he looked up at the sky, that it was likely going to rain based on the colour of the clouds. She never listened to him.)
One of his most treasured memories is the time they were hanging out at his place on a rare Saturday that they didn’t have to go into work for a case. They were watching some eight-part crime series on Netflix that she’d finally convinced him to watch with her, after her complaining about needing someone to talk about it with. The loud clap of thunder cracked through the sky, making her jump up from his couch in excitement, looking out the window as rain began to fall heavily from the grey clouds above. She looked out silently as the rain pattered, watching how people on the street below rushed to find shelter from the unexpected downpour.
Spencer frowned, coming to stand behind her.
“I love the rain.” She commented, noting his presence behind her.
His frown deepened. “Why? It’s cold and wet and- gross.”
She chuckled quietly at his comment. “You’re not wrong there, but I meant more that I love watching the rain. I like the way it sounds. The way it smells. It reminds me that I’m alive. It’s comforting.”
It was quiet for a little, the sound of the rain pinging harshly against the window.
“Pluviophile.”
She turned back to him, speaking softly. “What?”
“Pluviophile. It refers to a person who loves the sound of the rain. They often find a sense of joy or peace of mind during rainy days.”
She bit her lip to stifle her smile and turned back to the window, giving him a simple nod in return. She was always somehow surprised by his never-ending plethora of knowledge.
They stood and watched the downpour together in a comfortable silence.
Spencer supposed the rain wasn’t so bad, after that.
In the recent weeks, she found herself wanting so badly to confess her feelings, but as every friends to lovers story goes- she feared rejection. She feared him leaving. And she’d certainly rather love him from afar than confess her feelings and risk losing him.
He’d managed to embed himself so deeply in her heart that she was sure there could never be anyone else for her.
She was mesmerised by him. Compelled by every word that left his mouth, enthralled by all his random knowledge and infinite number of stories he’d committed to his memory. When they sat on his couch watching Doctor Who, she’d gladly listen to any time travel related ranting he wanted to get off of his chest, without any interruptions or eye rolls. (She could listen to him talk forever.)
She’d often fall asleep on his shoulder, and he’d smile down gently at his best friend, a woman he cared so deeply for.
She stuck by him throughout everything, and she never sugar-coated things. If she thought he was being petty or overreacting slightly in a situation she was the first to bring it up, to call him out. And he’d listen, too, because he trusted her more than anyone and it’s likely she was right about it. She took care of him, in a way that no one ever had before. It was unspoken between them that they’d essentially die for one another, two souls destined to be one another’s everything.
When he confided in her one night that he was afraid that he should’ve amounted to more, she was quick to soothe his worries. She held him as he sniffled into her shoulder, with hushed reassurances that he was already doing incredible things, and that his work was making the world a safer place, one case at a time.
She was particularly close to JJ, the woman who had become like a sister to her. She told JJ of her feelings for Spencer, and the blonde had just smiled at her in response, as if it had been obvious.
“You should go for it.”
“Really? You think so?”
“Think so? I know so. We’ve all seen the way he looks at you. You mean everything to him.”
That conversation was the final push she needed to decide that it was time to come clean about her feelings.
With the nervous pit in her stomach being overwhelmed by the excitement she felt, she tried to clear her thoughts. She could only hope this went well. She was meant to meet Spencer at his place for the evening, and so knocked gently on the door when she arrived, taking deep breaths to prepare herself.
The door swung open, Spencer flashing her a smile when he saw her. “Hey! I’m glad you’re here, I have something to tell you.”
She grinned, making her way past him into the apartment. “Oh god, what did you do this time? Did you misplace your phone again?” She joked, sliding off her jacket.
Spencer shook his head, biting his lip to supress his smile.
“Okay. Then what is it?”
He smiled then, and it was a smile she’d hadn’t seen him wear before. One that was so much bigger than the rest, one that reached his eyes and made them glimmer with hope and glee.
“I- um. I met someone.”
and just like that, her face dropped.
“Her name is Maeve, she’s a Geneticist. We’ve been talking over the phone for about a month now. I know what you’re going to say, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I just wanted to see if it was going to go anywhere-“
Her ears stopped tuning in to what he was saying. She could only hear the pounding of her heart filling her ears, tears burning her eyes as she tried her best to keep them at bay. That’s the smile he’d had, the one she couldn’t quite place at first. She recognised it now. The realisation hit her like a train.
Lovesick.
Spencer had stopped talking, looking at her with concern. “Are you okay?”
She snapped her head up to meet his eyes.
No, I’m not okay. I’m in love with you.
Is what she wanted to say.
Instead-
“Sorry, Spencer. I think I’m gonna have to take a rain check tonight. I’m feeling a little sick, so I think I’m just going to head home.”
“Oh, are you sure? You can always stick around here for a bit, I could take care of you. You know, technically I am a doctor.” He grinned, attempting a joke.
She didn’t laugh, but gave him her best fake smile, one she could only hope he didn’t read too much into. She hoped he couldn’t see the tell-tale profiler signs of devastation on her features that she was so desperately trying to hide.
If he did notice, he said nothing about it.
She shook her head. It was taking everything in her to hold herself together, but she’d be damned if she ruined his happiness because of her own pitiful feelings.
She remembered the smile, his beautiful, lovesick smile. It was for Maeve, not her. It made her heart ache in a way that felt like it was trying to claw its way out of her chest.
“It’s okay. I’ll uh- I’ll text you later.” She mumbled, grabbing her coat before leaving the apartment, leaving a confused Spencer behind.
However, all was forgotten when his phone started buzzing, Maeve’s name flashing across the screen. He smiled.
Outside in the car park, she sat in her car as the thunder cracked above her, the treacherous rain coming down in harsh hits against her windshield.
She found herself grateful for the rain in that moment, as the dam holding her emotions back broke, tears flooding down her cold, pink-tinted cheeks.
She placed her head in her hands and began to sob, her uneven breaths and heartbroken cries being slightly muffled by the patters of the rain hitting the gravel outside.
She felt comforted by the sound.
It was as though the sky was crying with her.
Yes, Spencer Reid was her soulmate.
But she just wasn’t his.
Tag list - @beyonces-breastmilk @pinkdiamond1016 @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @thelovelyrose @averyhotchner @cynbx
#idk what this is#plot who?#i don’t know her#spencer reid#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid x reader#matthew gray gubler x reader#matthew gray gubler#mgg x reader#mgg#criminal minds#spencer reid angst
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Crown Made Of Barbwire
Everyone got their wings, sooner or later.
Feathers of every color, size, variation.
They start as two little bumps on your back, itching like a growing tooth, around the same time you hit puberty. A bit earlier for girls, a bit later for boys. They grow over the course of your teenage years, and stop once all their feathers have reached their full size.
Some people could fly with their wings, some couldn’t. Most people’s wings were two meters on each side when they were outstretched.
Peter’s wings had only taken two years to grow fully, and were beautiful, pure-white angel wings.
He’d never seen anyone with wings like his. All the other white wings were more like snow owls, speckled with browns and grays, or had underlying colors that gave the top feathers a tint.
He couldn’t quite fly with them, but they were perfect for gliding. He’d scale the tallest buildings in his area, and get a running jump off of them, plummeting for a moment before he got pulled up and flew around the neighborhood until his wings got tired. Of course, you couldn’t just fly anywhere whenever you wanted to. You needed permits, licenses, there were laws to uphold. Most people preferred staying on the ground, anyway.
But not everyone got to keep their feathered wings.
Peter had always heard stories of the burnt ones.
His aunt used it as a reason for him to be good, or when his friends were yelling about seeing criminals they’d allegedly seen out ‘n about.
“-Eat your greens or your wings will burn right off, Pete”
“-I’m telling you, man! His wings were all black and torn up, I’m not kidding!”
They were the result of corruption, evil, immorality, and sin. Once soft feathers scorched, charred, and turned into soot. They blackened and burned away, turning into a shadow of their past wonder, skeletal and black.
Peter had never imagined that one day he’d be standing at the Four Seasons, shooting photos for The Bugle, trying to get a good shot of the Tony Stark.
Peter was among the crowd of journalists and other photographers, rapidly clicking away, aiming his camera lens at Stark. Reporters were yelling out questions, waving wired microphones and recorders over the barrier between them and the walkway Tony Stark was walking down.
There was something about his wings that set them apart from a normal burnt set. Most CEOs, businessmen or just rich, successful, famous people had burnt wings.
But Tony Stark’s weren’t just burnt.
They had horns cascading from the tips to the forearms. The burning away of the pure white feathers had revealed bat-like structures. Stark had no idea why, or how. That was just how they were. Or so he’d told the public.
Peter’s breath caught in his throat when Stark focused on him, looking into his camera and flashing a well-practiced smile. Peter fumbled for a moment before he looked through the viewfinder and took several photos.
And again, he’d never imagined that he’d get a personal request for a photoshoot, by the Tony Stark.
He packed his camera bag with shaky hands, taking extra drives and lenses.
His boss had pulled him aside earlier that morning, and told him that Stark had reached out and asked for Mr. Parker to be the one present and in charge of the interview’s photos. Peter, of course, had accepted in a second. He’d be an idiot to decline. Tony Stark’s picture on his portfolio? What kind of artist would he be if he said no?
Peter stepped out of the glass lobby of The Bugle offices half an hour later and looked up from his phone, his camera bag slung over his shoulder. He was wearing a deep red sweater over a white collared shirt, the front tucked into his soft beige dress pants. He hoped his outfit wasn’t too casual for the occasion, but he didn’t really have time to change anyway.
Just as he looked away from the screen, a sleek black car pulled up in front of him. The driver’s window rolled down.
“Peter Parker?” the driver, a roundish man, asked.
“Y-yeah- yes!”
The man jerked his head towards the back seat door.
“Get in, kid.”
Peter did as told, nervously sliding into the car, barely moving when he sat on the leather seat, hugging his bag.
“Wh- Where’re we going-?” His voice came out a lot squeakier than he’d meant for it to.
“Stark Industries Tower, where else?”
Almost an hour later, the car stopped in front of the blue, glass building. The driver got out and opened Peter’s door. He hadn’t moved since he’d gotten in.
Getting out of the car and almost forgetting his bag, he mumbled, most of his attention drawn by the tall tower.
“Thank you- uh, mister- um-”
“Hogan. Happy Hogan.”
“Yes! Thanks!”
With a nod, he closed the car door and got back in, driving off. Peter took a deep breath, held his bag properly again and started towards the building.
After a short chat with one of the three receptionists, he was led to an elevator a bit farther away from the general area of the entry. He and a shorter woman entered the lift. Judging from her formal attire, Peter guessed she was an assistant. Her wings were far smaller than his own, made up of light blue feathers with streaks of royal blue. He kept his own wings contracted to offer her enough room in the small space.
“Friday, take us to the penthouse, and please let Mr. Stark know that Mr. Parker will be arriving shortly.”
Peter looked at her, confused until a soft tone went off and the elevator started its ascent.
She smiled at him before he let out a soft “Oh-” and averted his gaze.
With another soft tone, the lift stopped and she gestured for him to step out.
“Thanks-”, he started to say, but the elevator door was already closing behind him.
The elevator had opened to something like a living room area. Two sleek, white sofas were facing the rounded glass walls, with an ornate sculpture between them that looked like five giant bowls stacked on top of each other. Everything Peter could see was modern and minimal, with a white-gray aesthetic throughout the penthouse.
He looked around nervously, holding on to his bag by the shorter strap.
“Mr. Parker, welcome.”
Peter gasped and turned around with a jump, startled.
“M-Mr. Stark! Y-yes, hi, I’m Peter Parker, I-I’m here for the Bugle interview shoot?” He inwardly cringed at how he sounded, stuttering, his voice a lot higher than it usually was, clutching his bag for dear life.
Stark smirked at him. “I know, kid, calm down.” He gestured towards the sofas. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”
Peter stuttered out a thank you, and sat down at the far end of one. He kept his wings close to his body, feeling like he was taking up too much space, still hugging his bag to his chest. He looked up shyly, taking Stark in properly. His wings were relaxed as he walked to the sofa facing Peter, sitting down comfortably.
“Are you afraid of me, Mr. Parker?”
“N-No sir. I mean, you’ve obviously done s-some- uh-.. Not so great things- but uhm- You’re an icon, people admire you-”
“Would you like anything to drink?” Stark cut him off, motioning to the minibar that had very literally risen from the ground.
Peter stuttered out, “Oh- N-No, thank you, I can’t drink on the job-”
Stark poured himself two fingers of whiskey in a lowball glass, without ice, and gently pushed down the top of the minibar, and it reclined back into the floor, looking like another dark grey ceramic tile.
He took a sip, eyes trained on Peter.
Peter cleared his throat, relaxing a bit. “So, where d’you think would be best for the uhm- the shots-?”
They talked about light placement, the conversation somehow dragging over to technology and science, Peter engaging a lot more, and forgetting his nervousness eventually.
After about an hour, they got up, Peter set up his camera, and took his photos.
A behind-shot of Tony Stark with his hands tucked into his pants pockets, wings stretched out behind him. A side profile, while buttoning his suit, and various other shots.
Peter was on his knees, getting a photo of one of Tony Stark’s iconic shades on a small table, the city line stretching out behind it.
Stark had excused himself to take a call, and told Peter to take photos of anything that he wanted. Peter didn’t hear him step back into the room, too focused on trying to set his camera’s shutter speed. Stark quietly took long strides to him, stepping in front of the table.
“Oh, Mr. Stark-! I just wanted to take a shot of the glasses, they’re-”
He stammered into silence as Mr. Stark softly ran the back of his finger along his cheek. He held it under Peter’s chin, tilting his head up. Peter was blushing furiously, but couldn't make himself look away.
“Let me see your wings, angel.”
Three months later, Peter’s life had changed drastically.
He was decked out in the latest designer clothes, a skinny white Etro strap top to match his wings, baby blue Dolce & Gabbana shaded glasses perched on this nose, sitting by a marbled kitchen counter, a Valentino white leather clutch bag resting on it, and inspecting his manicured nails.
A man in an obsidian black suit entered the room, buttoning his jacket and running a hand through his hair, smirking.
“Ready, angel?”
Peter looked up, a cheeky smile on his lips. Wings fluttering, he slid off his high stool and made his way to him. He straightened Tony’s tie and pecked his nose.
“Yes, daddy.”
He leaned away, but Tony let out a growl, grabbing Peter by his waist and pulling him flush against his body.
Peter gasped, “You’ll ruin my outfit!”
“Angel, I bought it.”
Peter pouted, “Well yeah, but you gave it to me”
“I’ll buy you a new one, you spoilt brat.”
Peter giggled and cupped Tony’s face, looking into his eyes and leaning into his touch. “Y’know I love you, Tones.”
They kissed softly, Tony not letting go of his vice grip on Peter’s waist.
“Tony, we’re gonna be late... I want you to check the set up one last time-”
“Angel, I had you set things up. I trust you.”
Earlier that day, Peter had gone to the hotel’s restaurant on the top floor, under a different name and reservation. He’d checked the entire place for wires, mics, or anything that could put them in any sort of bad situation. He checked exit points, weak spots, and all the cameras. He’d been thorough.
He had taped a Glock 9 mm handgun underneath their side of the table, checking repeatedly to make sure it was fully loaded and had its safety off.
Peter grumbled a bit, before letting go of Tony, dramatically sighing, rolling his eyes and picking up his handbag from the counter.
“Well, we should get going anyway.”
Tony shot him a wolfish grin before grabbing his wrist and pulling him back.
“You missed something, i mio angelo.”
He tilted his head to the counter, a navy blue felt box sitting on it now. Peter was surprised. He knew it was a jewelry box, but he hadn’t asked for anything, and even though Tony loved showering him with gifts, there was usually some silly occasion he used as an excuse for it.
He curiously looked at the box, wondering what it was. Something beautiful, no doubt.
“Go on then, Angel, it’s yours.”
Peter stepped back up to the counter and set down his bag on the nearest stool. He pulled the box closer to himself before glancing at Tony, who was smirking at him, arms crossed against his chest.
He slowly opened it, keeping his eyes on Tony until the lid was completely vertical.
His eyes flicked down to the box, and he took in a sharp gasp, hands flying to cover his mouth. “Tony, you didn’t!”
Tony’s smirk grew into a full grin again as Peter rushed around the counter to kiss him, cradling the box in his arms, even though he could easily just hold it in one hand.
“Of course I did, mia carissimo.”
Tony took the box from Peter’s hands, setting it down on the counter. He pulled out the choker he’d gotten for his princess, with Round Brilliant cut, D rate diamonds in the center of Cushion cut diamonds arranged like figure eights.
Peter lightly grazed his own neck with his fingertips, already feeling the weight on his neck, even though he hadn’t touched the jewels yet. Tony held up the necklace.
“May I have the honor?”
Peter silently turned his back to Tony, holding his head high. Tony pressed a kiss to the back of Peter’s bare neck and gently ran his hand through Peter’s feathers, making him shudder before placing the necklace on his neck and fastening the tiny clasp. It didn’t have a chain at the end, it had a specific size. Peter’s size.
Half an hour later, Tony held the passenger door of his Audi R8 Spyder open and led Peter out, Peter giving him his hand like a princess, to the entry of the hotel. There was no swarming press, just the coming and going of guests of the hotel.
Handing his keys over to a valet, Tony pressed a kiss to the back of Peter’s hand.
“Relax, angel.”
They walked into the lobby hand in hand, people stopping to stare at them every few feet. Even if they didn’t know who Tony Stark was, they’d stop to look at the man with the bat wings and the boy who looked like an angel.
They didn’t stop at the reception, they walked straight to the private elevator that led to the restaurant, Tony’s security detail already armed and ready at the top. Once they got there and had been patted down and checked for weapons by Osborn’s security, Tony walked them over to their table.
It overlooked the city skyline, winking lights dotting the land underneath them. He pulled out a chair for Peter, getting a soft smile in return. Sitting in the chair next to him, he held his hand again. Peter shot him a worried look.
Peter kept his voice low, “I thought you said he’d be here on time?”
“Princess, he’s only five minutes late. His detail’s here, he’ll be here, too.”
Peter toyed with the table’s centerpiece while they waited. After about ten minutes, Tony abruptly got up, rebuttoning his suit.
“C’mon bambino, we’re leaving.”
Before Peter could get up, there was a short yell and a loud muffled thump from the elevator.
The glass wall beside their table shattered, rapid shots taking out most of the security team. Tony yanked Peter down by his suit collar, looking out at the building in front to try and see the snipes. The elevator doors ominously opened, a man in black armour stepping out. His wings were plated with metal.
It all happened in the span of two seconds.
He shot the remaining guards before training his gun on Tony. Before he could get a word out, Peter pulled the gun he’d hidden earlier. In an instant, he cocked it and aimed for the man’s head.
The assassin had been a split second too late in aiming at Peter.
Peter fired.
The shooter fell to the floor, dead.
Peter dropped the gun, falling to his knees, a sudden hiss sounding behind him.
His wings had burst into flames.
He yelled out, pain blooming in his wings and along his back. Tears sprung from his eyes and ran down his face, ash falling around him, smoke rising behind him as Tony rushed to his knees beside him, holding him as he cried into Tony’s shoulder, his agonized screams muffled.
In the matter of minutes, his angelic wings were gone.
#starker#starker fic#starker moodboard#wings au#hope yall like it#gonna go cry now#reposting bc im a bit of an idiot
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Too Late For An Apology
Word Count: 1,823
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Reader
Pairings: Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader; John Winchester x Daughter!Reader
Warnings: angst, slight torture, slight TW: abuse, but doesn’t go too in depth
A/N: i’m sorry my posting schedule sucks now oof
A/N 2: Thanks to my fav bitch @tragedy-of-sorts for reading and also for being my fav
A/N 3: The reader’s like six years younger than Dean, two younger than Sam
Masterlist
You heard your doorbell ringing in the middle of the night, while you shot your head up, looking at the clock next to you. It was 3 in the morning. You frowned slightly, reaching for your gun before slipping out of bed, looking through the eyehole.
“Dad?” you opened the door, revealing your father showing up in front of you.
“Hey, (Y/N),” you wrapped your arms around John, still in shock.
“Dad, what are you doing here? And at this time?” he walked into your apartment before you closed the door, turning on the lights.
“I have a lead. Hunting the demon that killed your mother. I’ll need your help,” he started.
You felt chills going down your spine.
“Where are Sam and Dean?” you asked.
“Sam went away to college, and Dean’s off somewhere, on a hunt probably,” he replied.
“Wouldn't either of them be able to help you better? I haven't hunted in two years, Dad,” you kept your voice low.
“They can’t know. They’ll mess everything up, you know how your brothers are. We leave tomorrow, okay?” you nodded your head softly, before going to pack your bag, getting ready for the big hunt.
---
“That’s totally unfair! (Y/N) doesn't have to train! (Y/N) doesn’t have to do anything!” you could hear Dean yelling at John, while you hid behind the door of Bobby’s house. You held a drawing in your hands, one that you made of yourself with your siblings and father.
“She is a child!” John yelled back.
“She’s twelve! When me and Sam were twelve you would force us to hunt! You never let us rest? I hate (Y/N) and I hate how you give her special treatment all the damn time!” tears welled up in your eyes as you crumpled the paper, stuffing it into your bag before sneaking back upstairs.
---
“Do you know how long we’ve been looking for you and Dad for?” you kept your gaze on your bed sheets in your hospital room, hearing Dean yell at you.
“I tried to-”
“Not only do you abandon us, now you’re back, and with Dad, and never thought it was important to tell us?” he yelled.
You frowned slightly before realization hit you. They never knew why you left.
“I’m sorry,” you clenched your jaw.
He groaned, frustrated.
“Get ready, we’re leaving,” he slammed the door shut as he walked out of your hospital room.
---
“I saw your journal in the trash can, (Y/N),” John sat down next to you in your bed.
“I’m kind of over the whole drawing thing,” you lied, shaking your head.
“What happened?” John asked.
“Nothing happened, I just don't like it anymore,” you shrugged, turning back to your schoolwork.
“Just like that?” he questioned.
“I want to go on a hunt,” you said.
“What? (Y/N)...”
“I’m sure, Dad,” you interrupted him.
“Fine. We’ll start your training tomorrow,” he agreed.
He kissed your forehead and left, before you laid on your bed, digging your face in your pillow.
---
You held back a sob, watching John’s body burst into flames. There was silence between the three of you, while you stood a distance away from them.
“Sam,” your voice was barely above a whisper.
“Let’s go,” he walked away from you, while he and Dean headed back to the car.
Your tears fell down your face, as you let out a shaky breath.
“(Y/N)!” Sam yelled.
“I-I’m coming,” you followed them back to the car, keeping your head low.
---
Your vision was blurry as you sat in the chair, a rope tied to your hands painfully. There was blood dripping from your wounds as you cried out in pain.
“Just tell us where he is,” the vampire grabbed your hair, pulling your head up.
“No!” you screamed.
Your face was covered with dried tears, new ones forming. Your eye was bruised.
“You’re gonna talk, kid. Sooner or later,” you felt his fangs enter the skin on your neck as you whimpered. Your body was too weak to move.
“Just let me go, please,” you begged.
You could barely keep your eyes open, crying softly.
---
“What happened to your eye?” Dean walked past you, noticing the darkened skin around your left eye.
“Don't worry about it,” you shook your head, avoiding eye contact with him.
You knew he didn't remember what he did to you last night.
“Me and Sam are going on a hunt,” he said.
“Just you and Sam?” you asked.
“(Y/N), you know you’ll just end up slowing us down. If we need you, we’ll call you,” he replied.
“Right,” you nodded your head softly.
After the two of them left, you ran to your room, stuffing all your belongings into a duffel bag.
Now was finally your chance to leave them. They always hated you, it didn't matter that you were their sister. Your black eye is the least they've done to you while drunk, and you knew you had to leave.
You stood at the door, looking down at the bunker before shaking your head. It was time to go.
---
“Dad?” you opened your eyes, scrunching them as the fluorescent hospital light blinded you.
“(Y/N),” he let out a breath of relief, wrapping his arms around you as you winced.
“You’re not hunting ever again,” your eyes watered slightly as you nodded your head.
“I’m going to set you up with an apartment. You’re leaving this life,” you frowned.
“Dad, no-”
“Yes, (Y/N). You were tortured for information. I am trying to keep you safe, do not argue with me,” he raised his voice slightly.
“How come you never treat Sam and Dean like this?” you scoffed.
“They’re not my daughter. You are,” he said.
“That’s not an excuse. They’re still my brothers. They are still your sons,” you crossed your arms together.
“Enough, (Y/N). I’ll be back in the morning to get you,” he said.
“Dad,” he closed the door, leaving your room while you sighed, slumping in your bed.
---
“Babe? Are you home? I’ve been stuck at work all day, and I know we’re late to pick up…” you dropped your bag on the floor, Sam and Dean standing in front of you while you entered your house.
“Your husband and kid are out,” Dean spoke.
“What the hell are you doing here?” you were sure to take a step back.
“We could ask you the same thing, you know,” Sam scoffed.
“You left us again. You abandoned us again,” Dean clenched his fist in anger as you tensed, feeling fear run throughout your veins.
“I don't… why are you guys here?” your voice was softer as you scratched the back of your neck.
“You can't be here, you’re a danger to my family,” you could feel the nervousness in your veins as you stood firmly. You’ve spent too long afraid of them.
“You son of a bitch. What the hell are we then?!” Dean yelled.
You flinched slightly.
“Why did you leave, (Y/N)? Why did you run away?” Sam’s voice was slightly calmer, anger still evident.
“I couldn't take both of your crap anymore,” you shook your head.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean scoffed.
“The day I left, you asked me how I got that black eye. Because you didn't remember giving it to me that previous night,” you dug your nails into your palm, trying to hold back your tears. Dean immediately scoffed, shaking his head.
“You’re lying,” he said.
“All my life, the two of you have despised everything about me,” you started.
“(Y/N),” Sam opened his mouth.
“Shut up!” you yelled.
You saw a surprised look on both of their faces.
“I never noticed it until I was twelve. I drew a picture for you, Dean. It was a picture of all of us, Mom included. I wanted to give it to you until I overheard you talking with Dad. Y-You told him how much you hated… how much you hated me,” you let a tear fall down your face, as Dean’s softened.
“I always tried to do whatever I could to get you two to like me, or at least to not hate me. But nothing I ever did was good enough,” you sniffled.
“That doesn't change the fact that you abandoned us,” Dean tried to defend himself.
“The first time I left was because a vampire was trying to use me to get to Dad. He didn't want that for me, and so he took me out of the life, at least until he got a lead on Azazel,” you clenched your jaw, letting out a shaky breath.
“T-The… you and Sam used to get really, really drunk. You’d never remember it in the morning. You would h-hurt me. I covered up so many bruises because I didn't want to upset you two,” your voice broke slightly as you looked at Dean.
There were visible tears in his and Sam’s eyes.
“I never knew why you hated me so much. W-Was it because Dad treated me differently? Was it because I’m the youngest? Was it because I reminded you of Mom? Was it because… was it jealousy?” Dean took a step forward, while you quickly took a step back.
“(Y/N), we never meant… We never meant to hurt you,” Sam’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“That’s all you have? Really?” you scoffed.
“Sam, just… (Y/N). Listen to me,” Dean started.
“I was jealous of you. Dad always treated you differently, always treated you specially. I was stupid, and wrong. Every time I did anything for Dad, I would only get into more trouble. Whenever you disobeyed him, he would ignore it. I’ve been jealous of you my whole life. Even now. Y-You have a kid, you have a family. You got out. I’m sorry, kid. I’m so sorry for everything,” you wiped away your tears as you kept a strong face on.
“I need you both to leave,” you said.
“I’m sorry-” Dean said.
“The door. I need you both to leave. Now,” you shook your head.
“(Y/N)...”
“You’re about 34 years too late for an apology. I want you to leave. Don't come back here, stay away from me and my family,” the two of them looked at you in shock, before walking to your front door, while you held it open to them.
Dean gave you a small hug, while you remained stiff.
“Take care of yourself, kiddo,” he gave you a small smile, before walking out of your house.
You closed the door behind the two of them, immediately falling to the ground as you let out a loud sob, feeling your heart racing as you wrapped your arms around yourself. Your sobs died down as you leaned against the door, wrapping your arms around yourself. You needed to stay strong, and they needed to stay away.
#supernatural#supernatural fanfiction#Supernatural fanfic#supernatural angst#supernatural family#supernatural imagine#SPN#spn fic#spn fanfiction#spn angst#spn fandom#john#john winchester#john winchester imagine#john winchester x daughter!reader#dean#dean winchester#dean winchester imagine#dean winchester angst#dean winchester x sister#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x sister!reader#dean winchester x sister reader#dean winchester x platonic!reader#sam#sam winchester#sam winchester angst#sam winchester x reader#sam winchester imagine#sam winchester x sister reader
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12x01 Rewrite with Trans Dean
trigger warnings for minor mention of dysphoria. Also minor/negligent transphobia.
“Mom?” His heart is stopped in his chest, staring at the face he’s kept in his head for all of his life, the face he’s thought of as the only real home he’s ever had. She looks the same, exactly the same. “I… uh, are you really… real?”
He reaches out without thinking, needing to just make sure that Amara didn’t bring back a fantasy or a ghost or a sick joke. She proves it without him touching her, flipping him in a neat trick he recognizes from his own training and ending up with her foot on his neck, pressing him into the dirt. “Where am I? Who the hell are you?”
She looks so scared. Dean swallows, his Adam’s apple bouncing against the bottom of her foot. He needs to make her trust him, preferably before she does something rash like snap his neck. “I’m Dean Winchester. I’m your son. I’m… Sam’s brother”
The pressure lets up on Dean’s neck even though Mary’s shaking her head. “No. No, I don’t have two boys. They’re- they’re just kids.”
Dean winces, breathing heavily. This is gonna be a motherfucker for her to understand. Still, Mary lets him up, and he stands and rubs his neck, trying desperately to recall every bit of information he’s stored away about his mom. “Mom. Listen to me. Your name- your name is Mary Sandra Campbell, okay? You were born December 5, 1954, to Samuel and Deanna Campbell. Your father, he bounced around a lot for, uh, work, and you bounced right along with him, and you ended up in Lawrence, Kansas.”
Mary flinches, the facts hitting straight-on. “How do you know all that?”
“Dad told me.” Dean tells her. He doesn’t tell her that he had to gather the story from slurred words, drunken tears in between stories about the perfect wife. That he recited them in his head like a prayer so he wouldn’t forget her. “March 23, 1972, you walked out of a movie theater - Slaughterhouse-Five. You loved it, and you bumped into a big Marine and you knocked him flat on his ass. You were embarrassed, and he laughed it off, said you could make it up to him with a cup of coffee. So, you went to, uh,” God, what was the name of that stupid place? “Mulroney’s, and you talked and he was cute and he knew the words to every Zeppelin song,” A memory of a smiling young alive Mary comes to mind, and he pushes it away because it hurts. She’s right there. “So when he asked you for your number, you gave it to him, even though you knew your dad would be pissed. That was the night that -” You fell in love with- “that you met -”
“John Winchester.”
“August 19, 1975, you were married… in Reno. Your idea.”Dean had always thought that was hilarious. He looks her in the eyes again, pleading with her to not dispute the next part. “A few years later, I came along, then Sammy.”
“No, no. My oldest was a girl, Deanna.” Mary looks Dean up and down, taking in his short hair, wide shoulders, and flat chest. He crosses his arms over that now, uncomfortable, hoping she isn’t looking at his long eyelashes or his delicate cheekbones or his hips. All the places he’s insecure about.
“Yeah, um… that’s me.” He looks up at her, his jaw clenching, waiting for the ball to drop. “I shortened the name a little, and the- uh- hair.” He tries for the old charming smile as he runs a hand through the spiky hair he hasn’t let grow out in 20 years. It doesn’t quite get there, settling at a more delicate need for approval. Mary doesn’t give it to him. “Do you believe me?”
She bypasses the question, turning her eyes away from him to look at the car behind him. Something changes in her eyes. “I burned.” She says quietly, like she’s remembering the heat. Dean swallows. He remembers the heat too. “How long have I been gone?”
“33 years.” His voice cracks.
Mary looks back to him, and she moves forward, putting two gentle fingers to his cheek, to the freckles sprayed across soft skin. He’s had them forever, even when he was little. “Dee?” She calls him by his old nickname; Dean’s doubly thankful that he doesn’t use his deadname.
“Hi, mom.” There are tears in his eyes.
------------------------------------------------------
“How did he die?”
Dean bows his head. He’s really not selling himself too good here, is he? First the trans thing, now- “He gave himself up for me.” He’ll be surprised if Mary wants anything to do with him. Surprisingly, she chuckles and sniffles.
“That does sound like John.” He looks over, and she’s smiling. His brow furrows. Killing himself to save Dean’s ass does sound like John, but not in a way that makes him want to smile. “And he was a hunter? And he raised-” She stutters now, looking at him again and looking away just as quickly. “You and Sam to be-”
“Yeah, he did.” A cold weight is settling in Dean’s stomach, and he tries and fails to not let it seep into his words.
“And you said we’ve met before, when you traveled through time,”
Dean nods. It had been horrible and amazing to see Mary and have her see him, just as some guy. A guy, at all. “Twice. Your memory got wiped, so…” So you don’t remember me telling you I was your kid, and you not believing me. I do.
“And you’re… my daughter-”
Dean coughs. He hasn’t been called a daughter in a long-ass time. “No, I’m- I mean. I was. I know it’s a lot. And I’ll explain everything. I will. But right now, let’s get out of here. Let’s get you home. Come on, Mom.”
She doesn’t correct him, which means she must believe, at least a little bit, that she is his mom.
-----------------------------------------------------
“You live here?” She looks around the cavernous space and he smiles, looking around too. It really is awesome.
“Yeah, when we’re not on the road. It’s an old Men of Letters bunker.”
“Men of Letters?” She scoffs. Dean grins a bit and looks at her. He thinks he likes her. “They’re a myth. An old hunter’s story.”
He tilts his head. He’s just gonna keep blowing her mind today, apparently. “Not so much. New duds look good.” He gestures to her clothes. He’d lent her some extra clothes he’d had in the trunk, and he tries not to fixate on how they weren’t that big on her. He’s not much taller than her, and he knows part of that even is the heeled boots he’s wearing.
“Well, thanks. It’s better than walking around in that nightgown the rest-” Dean’s nodding, about to say something extremely awkward like ‘Yeah, nightgowns are a bitch,’ when he finally looks at what she’s staring at, spattered on the floor of the bunker. “That’s blood.”
“Yeah.” Dean’s heart leaps into his throat, but he goes into autopilot before he can think about freaking out. He takes his gun out from his pants and cocks it, clearing the immediate area. A blurred sigil on the wall puts another bolt of fear through his chest. “Sammy? Cas?” He winces at how high his voice goes.
He takes the Map Table’s gun out from its hiding place and hands it to Mary. She was a hunter too, and he’s not about to leave her unarmed to clear the place. “Take this. Stay here.” Dean takes off immediately. It isn’t until he’s moving on to check the kitchen that he hears the voice. Mary’s clear as a bell, saying,
“Hands, now,”
Dean’s in the room before he can think about it. His heart practically comes undone when he sees that dumb familiar trench coat. He puts his body between Cas and his mom’s gun immediately, hoping she will trust him enough not to shoot through him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa! It’s okay, it’s okay. He’s a friend, all right?” He meets Cas’s eyes and sees the utter relief in his eyes, and a surge of warmth fills his chest. “Hey, Cas.”
It’s a lackluster greeting when they both thought they’d never see each other again, and Cas shows it when he steps forward quickly and pulls Dean into a tight hug. “Dean!”
Dean grins and pats his back. “Hey, okay. All right,” He comforts him quietly.
“Dean, you’re alive?” Cas pulls away and looks him over, like he’s afraid Dean might disappear. Dean nods, understanding; he had done the same thing to Mary, after all.
“Yeah.”
“What about the bomb and the Darkness? What happened?”
“I’ll tell you everything. Where is Sam?”
“He’s not here.” Obviously. Dean could smack him, but his face wants to break into a fond smile instead. He represses both urges.
“Are you a hunter?”
“No, I’m an angel.”
“He’s an angel.” Dean says over Cas. They look at each other and then back at Mary.
“Come again?”
“An angel, with a capital A,” Dean clarifies. He feels, ridiculously, a little bit like he’s showing off. Showing Cas off. “You know, wings, harp.”
“No, I don’t have a harp.”
Dean laughs. “This is Castiel. Cas, this is… Mary. Winchester.”
------------------------------------------------------
“It’s been kinda weird, here. You know, with mom being back?” And learning that her baby girl is now a full grown man? “It’s like we don’t know how to act around each other, so we just kinda make this small talk, and act like it’s normal, but it’s- it’s so not normal.” Dean can hear the pleading in his voice.
“What has she said to you?” Cas asks quickly. Dean bites his lip to hide the smile he’s trying to get from hearing Cas get all angry and protective on his behalf. He’s reminded of the time Cas looked him directly in the face and said, ‘Dean Winchester, if anyone is ever transphobic to you, I will smite them immediately and without any remorse.’ And before Dean could make a quip about internalized transphobia, Cas added, ‘Do not make me do that to you.’
“Well, nothing. That’s- that’s the whole point.” It’s the kind of thing most people usually wanna go over, what the fuck gender their kid is? He’s pretty sure no news does not mean good news in this context.
“Okay, what have you said to her?”
“Well, nothing. I’m- I don’t know what to say to her, y’know? It’s like it’s all too much, and I don’t wanna overwhelm her.”
“Dean, your identity is not ‘too much.’” Cas says immediately. Dean sighs. That wasn’t what he meant, even though he has said something similar before. Something when he was lonely and sad and feeling like explaining his dick to a one night stand was too complicated for him to do to even assuage it that way.
“No- I know. It’s not that. It’s… everything.”
Now it’s Cas’s turn to sigh. “Don’t make things unnecessarily complicated, as you humans tend to do. I’ll call you.” He hangs up.
Dean lets the phone fall with his arm limp to his side. “Yeah. Great. That’s helpful.” He says to the empty air. “That’s helpful.” Asshole.
-------------------------------------------------------
They’re in the car, and Dean is driving, and there is too much going on. He’s not sure whether he’s happy that Cas is in the backseat for this conversation or not. “So you’re… my Deanna.”
Dean’s hands tighten on the wheel. He looks at them and ignores the voice in his head that says they are petite. Womanly. “Uh, yeah. I was born Deanna Jane Winchester.” He clears his throat and meets Cas’s eyes in the rearview. He gives him a little nod, and Dean continues. “I’m… It’s called trans.”
Dean risks a look over at Mary, and she’s playing with her ring. “So you… wanted to be a boy.”
Dean clears his throat again. He’s pretty sure he does it every time before he talks, and he’s also pretty sure his voice gets lower every time he talks, too. He swears it’s an automatic reflex.
“Dean’s soul is- that of a human man.” Cas interrupts, saying it like that clarifies things. The corner of Dean’s mouth tilts up a little bit. Cas did tell him that he could see his soul, and also told him that it was, and he quotes ‘A color more similar to that of a men than women.’ Which, yeah, that tracks. He guesses Cas leaves off the ‘more similar’ part to make things simpler for Mary.
“And so you…” Mary trails off, a finger pointing toward his chest aborting its mission when she realizes it might be rude.
Dean raises an eyebrow with amusement. “Cut my tits off? Yeah.” He takes a hand off the wheel to raise his shirt, proudly showing off his top surgery scars. Mary trails a hand along them, feeling the raised skin. “After Sammy went to college. It was a bitch of a few weeks, but it was worth it.”
Mary takes her hand away and nods, brows furrowed like she’s trying to wrap her head around it. Dean grins. The grin freezes awkwardly, the edges tilting down, when Mary opens her mouth again. “So you have a-”
Cas coughs loudly in the back seat. Dean meets his wide eyes with a similar expression, and Mary cuts off the question, catching onto the fact she said something wrong. “Don’t think we really need to go there, do we, mom?”
That was a question for him and whatever lucky son of a bitch (gender neutral) ended up in his bed at the end of the night. “Right.” Mary says quickly. She turns her whole body then, asking, “Is that why you like men?”
Dean only swerves a little, he swears. The car coming the opposite direction doesn’t seem to agree, holding its horn long and hard. Luckily, it gives him a moment to stutter less obviously.
“Sorry, I just meant- since you two are-” Mary gestures between Cas and Dean, and Dean blinks his eyes solidly, trying to convince himself this is really happening.
“No! I mean, we-” Dean doesn’t have the balls (hehe) to look at Cas in the back seat, but he can see the trench coat shifting out of his peripheral. “I’m not-”
“Was John okay with this?”
Dean laughs. It comes out bitter and dark. “Dad didn’t much give a fuck what I did with my body. He’d given up on grandkids about the time he saw how decent I was at hunting, so my long hair wasn’t a personal loss.” He knew I wasn’t gonna live long enough to give him grandkids, not without some self-sacrifice on John’s part.
Mary looks a little shocked at his outburst, and Dean almost feels bad for being so blunt and crass. But then he remembers growing up with John as his male role model, and he tightens his jaw. No, the bluntness and crassness was accurate. “Oh.”
“... Yeah.” Dean bites his lip and risks another glance at his mom.
“So, you’re okay with this?” He waves a hand at himself. Asking if she was okay with him was just too pathetic, even for him. She looks at him uncertainly, a frown he recognizes as his own on her face.
“I don’t think I’m okay with any of this, Dean. But… I guess I’ll adjust.”
#tw: dysphoria#trans dean#destiel#deancas#ftm dean#transmasc dean#fanfic#dean is trans#my writing#mine
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