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pennylanefics · 3 years

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Space Heater - Theo Raeken

a/n: this was supposed to be a small fic about playing with theo’s hair, but it turned into more.

*gif is not mine, credits go to the owner*

•••

“God, it feels so good to shower,” Theo sighs as he walks into your room. You smile and admire his exhausted figure. You found out he was practically homeless after being brought back from the ground, so you invited him to stay with you.

The two of you had never been really close, but you were the one to convince the pack to bring him back, hearing his cries of pain and cries for help. As much as you didn’t think he was a good guy, you could tell he regretted what he did. And the fact that he didn’t ask any of the pack if he could stay with them proved he was back to help and not take advantage.

“Yeah, you look a lot more comfortable.” He chuckles and runs a hand through his hair.

“My hair was getting so greasy and gross, it feels so much better. And I don’t have to rely on cologne anymore.”

“Yeah, I think everyone is thankful for that,” you giggle. Theo smiles and stands in your room awkwardly.

“Oh, uh, I came in to ask if you have an extra pillow? I would use mine but it’s kind of flat.” You nod and stand up, walking with him to the hall closet to give him one.

“If you need anything else, just let me know,” you tell him.

Before you can walk into your room, he grabs your hand gently and gives you a thankful smile.

“I really appreciate you letting me stay here. I know bringing me into your home probably isn’t what you wanted, but I am really grateful you were willing to.” His voice is soft and serious, and in that moment, all of your thoughts and assumptions about him went out the window.

“Of course, Theo. you’re still human, er, well…” you both share a laugh at your slight misstep, but he understands.

“You deserve a roof over your head, a shower, a warm bed, and food. I wasn’t going to keep you from that if I have the room for you.” He starts to respond, but opts to remain quiet.

Instead, he just silently backs into his room and shuts the door. You do the same, hopping into bed after a long day and falling asleep quickly.

Around 2:15 in the morning, you were awoken by wind against the house, then the incoming rain, thunder, and lightning followed. Seeing as you couldn’t get back to sleep after ten minutes, you head downstairs to get a glass of water.

As you were walking through the kitchen threshold, you bump into Theo.

“Oh, sorry,” you gasp, knocking into his chest. He grins and shakes his head.

“Are you alright?” You wonder. He glances down at his water.

“Uh, just came down to get a drink.” You could tell he was lying, and in this moment, you wished you could hear heartbeats. His slightly shaky hands and ragged breathing gave everything away.

“Hang on a moment. Let me get some water for myself and then let’s head upstairs.” He nods and stands there, watching you move around the kitchen swiftly. When your glass is full, you motion for him to follow you upstairs.

He is about to go back into his room, but you catch his wrist and nod your head in the direction of yours. You turn the light on just to make it a little warmer and brighter to contrast the storm outside.

“Come here,” you whisper, crawling into bed. Theo hesitates for a moment, but when a particularly loud gust of wind shakes the house, he is quick to join you, but still keeping his space.

“Did the storm wake you up?” You ask.

“Yeah. Usually I'm not phased by them, but when I was underground, they...they w-were, uh…”

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to continue.” He inhales and exhales deeply.

“What's your favorite letter in the word monday?” You randomly ask. Theo is slightly taken aback by the odd question. He laughs a little, feeling the anxiety fade away a little.

“My favorite letter in the word monday?”

“Yeah. Like my favorite is the ‘y’ because it ends the word and just gives it a nice little ring.” He is silent for a moment, thinking over it probably too much.

“I’d say the ‘o’. It’s not the first, but it is an important letter.” He pauses. “What’s with the weird ass question?”

“I just figured you needed something to take your mind off of things. So why not throw an incredibly random and nonsense question at you.”

“Well thank you. It definitely helped and I thought too much about that question. And now I’m going to be thinking about what my favorite letter in every word is.” You giggle and rest your hand on his bicep.

You both were laying on your sides, facing one another. He stares right at you, his mind racing.

“You know, you’re the last person I expected to help me come back,” he whispers. “I always thought you hated me.”

“I did,” you admit. “But hearing your painful screams and cries for help, I could tell you changed. I had a feeling that you’ve changed as a person.”

“I have. And I can’t thank you enough for convincing everyone to bring me back.” Suddenly, a loud boom of thunder roars in the sky after a bright flash of lightning. The lights in your room flicker then turn off completely.

“Was that the power?” He wonders, sitting up.

“Yeah, I think so,” you sigh. Theo falls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.

“You know, I’ve always thought you were cute,” he murmurs after a few minutes. “But Stiles warned me to not get close to you.”

You giggle and gaze up at him, admiring his features that were illuminated by the streetlight shining through your window.

“Yeah, he told me the same thing. If I were to ever get close to you, he would disown me as a friend. When I told him that I thought you were cute as well, he flipped.”

“Has he always been so protective of you?”

“Yeah, since we all got involved with the supernatural world. He said he didn’t want to see me go through what Scott went through, that he can’t lose another friend.”

“I never wanted to see you hurt either. You were the only person I truly cared for since we met. And I know you hated me, and I understand that. But now, I want you to know that I’ve always had feelings for you.” A smile slowly appears on your lips and you scoot closer to him.

Theo follows you and goes back to laying on his side, but he cuddles extremely close to you, his face falling into your neck. You are confused and a little bit surprised at his sudden action. To make things more comfortable, you turn into your back and Theo cuddles up beside you.

“You’re like a space heater,” you whisper, throwing the cover around your bodies to trap the heat in. Since the power went out, it was starting to get chillier in the room, so having him close to you was great.

“One good thing about being a chimera. Unlimited body heat.”

He peppers gentle kisses to your skin, making your face heat up at the feel of it. Absentmindedly, your hand behind his back comes up to play with his long hair. You thread your fingers through it, the silky strands falling between your digits.

“Damn, your hair really is soft,” you tell him. He chuckles and lifts his head to kiss your cheek.

“It’s a good thing I washed it then because it was not so soft before.” You giggle and turn on your side again, snuggling into his chest for even more warmth. He takes this hint and wraps his arms around your body.

But since you couldn’t help yourself, you sneak your hand back up to his hair and mess with it lazily. Theo smiles and closes his eyes, content with the current situation.

“Would you like to lay on my chest to play with my hair instead?” He offers. “In a more comfortable position.”

“No, I’m pretty comfortable and much warmer here,” you respond. Theo laughs and shakes his head, readjusting himself just a little to match your position. His arms were still wrapped around your waist, and his face was now buried in your hair.

“So, are you going to be gone in the morning, or are you planning on staying?” You ask him hesitantly. Theo kisses your head a couple times and pulls back a little to look down at you.

“I was hoping I could stay and we could, maybe, get to know each other better? Maybe I could show you that I’m not entirely the worst person.”

“I was hoping you would stay, honestly,” you chuckle. “And no need to show me. It’s the reason I convinced everyone to bring you back.” Theo grins and nods, reaching between you to hold your hands.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I know I’ve said it a lot, but seriously. It means so much to me.”

“Of course, Theo,” you whisper back, stroking his cheek.

His eyes dart between your eyes and lips, and you take the hint right away. You reach up and kiss him as soft as ever, but he takes it into his own hands to deepen it slightly.

It lasts for a few seconds, longer than you expected, but you didn’t mind. When Theo pulls away, you catch your breath for a moment before kissing him again. You’ve imagined this moment since you first met him, back when he first arrived in Beacon Hills for senior year.

You break the kiss to yawn, exhaustion taking over you.

“Should I go back to my room and let you sleep?” He wonders. You shake your head and before he can get up, you tug his arm to make him stay.

“The power is still out, and I need my space heater,” you shyly say.

“Alright, I guess I can stay,” he jokingly responds. He had no intentions to leave nor did he want to, so he was really hoping you would make him stay. Which you did.

“Is that all you see me as now? A space heater?” He asks. You giggle in response and snuggle into his chest.

“No. You’re a pretty great cuddles as well.”

#theo raeken #theo raeken imagines #theo raeken x reader #theo raeken imagine #cody christian #teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

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midnightmusings-et-moi · 3 years

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“in her eyes he saw a wild appeal for forgiveness.”

Sirius Black angst (written in third person)

A/n: credits for the artwork go to the artist

Warnings: mentions of wounds, distance, mentions of death eaters, crying

It was long past midnight but she couldn’t sleep. The dorm was quiet and the only source of light were the slivers of silver spilling in through the window. Every time the full moon was due, she never got enough sleep- but always hid it from Sirius by being distant, not wanting him to feel more burdened than he already was. She wasn’t aware just how much this hurt him though, it made him feel like his relationship with the only girl he’s ever loved was crumbling.

Remus truly did need his friends during this time because his transformations were particularly painful these past months and asking Sirius to stay would be selfish. She worried her head off for the boys, especially Sirius because he had so much on his plate. Very recently news had reached that his younger brother, Regulus, had officially become a death eater. To say Sirius was devastated was an under statement.

Pulling the covers off her body, she slipped out of her bed and crossed the room to the door. She opened it carefully, not wanting to wake anyone up in the dead of the night. The last sight she saw before closing the door behind her were the silhouettes of her dorm mates rising and falling with every breath they took, deep in peaceful slumber.

She made her way to the boys’ dorm, stopping right outside a dark oak door with “the Marauders” scratched untidily at the very top. Her heart sped up as she pressed down on the cold steel of the handle. For some reason she had a moment of hope- she wanted to open the door and see the dark haired boy behind it, arms open, so she could sink into his touch and be held.

When she pushed open the door, a wave of disappointment hit her, heart sinking to the pit of her stomach. It was empty, obviously. She had expected it to be. Why was she feeling so dejected then?

Her languid frame curled up on the scarlet sheets of Sirius’ bed. They were untidy and the pillows were strewn about, hinting at the hurry which he must have been in. She was motionless but wide awake with blankness tainting her mind and face.

The sheets adorned Sirius’ scent and the pillows smelled like his shampoo but they only sated a small fraction of her need for his presence.

Upon pressing her cheek against the pillow, she felt a small, hard object, under the velvet cover. When she pulled it out to examine it against the moonlight, a dull ache grappled at her heart ; it was a ring with the Black family crest on it. The object was goblin made and there was only one other which belonged to Regulus.

She was taken back to the first time she asked Sirius about the ring. He has smiled fondly, tracing the indents in the cold silver, “Mother had two of these made- one for me and one for Regulus.” His tone dripped with disdain as he talked of his mother but when he spoke his brother’s name, it was laced with love. Even if they grew distant because of Sirius cutting off his family, he cared for him and smiled at the memories of the closely knit brothers playing and laughing together.

His black hair curtained his face, obstructing her view but the clear droplet running down his chin told her everything she needed to know. She held him tighter in, heart breaking for the boy falling apart in front of her. Having never seen him like this, shattered her even more- he wasn’t the macho, carefree, fun loving Sirius in her arms right then. “He was just a child” he rasped.

Tears pricked her eyes at the painful memory and she balled her fists into the pillow for some consolation. When Sirius hurt, she hurt. Every tragedy he faced, she faced.

The door creaked open and someone stepped in, but she didn’t move because she did not register the presence of another in the room. Only when she heard her name leave the person’s mouth did she turn to see who it was- Sirius. His attire was covered in dirt and his shirt was ripped from the sleeve, a dark slit running down his arm. When he stepped in the moonlight she realized that the slit was a grotesque wound, blood rouging the white of his shirt.

“What happened to you?” her hoarse voice rasped as she hurried to him, carefully lifting his injured arm. “Mooney was a little feisty this evening” he chuckled, but it was devoid of even a drop of humor. The worried girl grasped the spare wand on Sirius’ night stand, murmuring spells to lessen the severity of the wound. He hissed at the stinging sensation shooting up his arm. “Sit down and rest for a bit”

Sirius did as she said, wincing when his arm brushed the bed. “Here” she took his arm lightly stabilizing him so he could lean against the headboard. There was a tension in the room because the two had been so distant as their troubles had pushed them apart. But in that moment all she wanted was for him to hold her close to him and stroke her hair, telling her he was alright. But saying he was alright would be a lie.

“Why are you awake?” Sirius asked after a long silence. “Couldn’t sleep” she whispered trying hard to avoid the topic. He switched on the lamp, casting a low yellow glow on her face ; under her eyes, deep purple circles were etched, her skin was pale and exhaustion traced every inch of her figure. Sirius’ breath hitched in his throat and she immediately looked away.

He didn’t need another reason to be worried. She couldn’t add another weight on his already burdened shoulders, she thought, desperately turning her face away from him. “W-what happened” Sirius questioned with an undertone of horror. “You’re so weak and sleep deprived...” he mentally chastised himself, cursing himself for not noticing earlier. He had been selfish and it showed through the way she was fatigued. Why had he let himself do this to her? Why? Sirius’ gut wrenched at the sallow of her cheeks and the frail ness of her limbs. “It’s all my fault” he thought to himself.

It’s like she had read his mind. She knew he was blaming himself for something which was not in the slightest his fault. “Please don’t” her voice was low and shaky. He looked up at her, his grey irises, tormented. “Please don’t blame yourself, I’m begging you” tears garnered on the brim of her eyes, now spilling down in streams over her boney cheeks.

She couldn’t stand seeing the boy she loved in more pain than he already was, it tore her apart completely. Trying her best to hold back the sobs that fell from her, she murmured a sorry. All the pent up sadness was spilling out after weeks of holding it all in.

Hesitantly, he drew his hand to her cheeks, thumb stroking the wetness away, and in her eyes he saw a wild appeal for forgiveness. His already broken heart shattered into a million pieces at the sight.

With his uninjured arm, Sirius pulled her into his body, her head resting against his warm chest as he kissed the top of her head ;what she had been craving for a long time was finally sated in that moment. She pressed her eyelids into his chest, arms wrapping around his torso.

The two sat there, in the dim light, basking in the comfort each of them provided- but it wasn’t enough to dispel the sadness that shrouded their shoulders.

“Promise me you’ll never shut yourself away from me because you’re scared of burdening me” his voice came out in a whisper. “It’s tearing us apart. I can’t lose you. I love you too much” Sirius’ voice was shaking.

“I promise. Whatever happens to me or to you, I’ll be here. Always” she replied turning her head to look at the boy who was holding her. His skin was a delicate silver in the glow of the night and his hair was messy, falling into his face. “I love you more than you know” she whispered before drawing her lips slowly up to his. “More than you know” Sirius repeated before closing the distance between their mouths.

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black angst #sirius black imagine #sirius black oneshot #sirius black fanfic #remus lupin x reader #marauder x reader #marauders imagine #marauders x reader

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shlutnutt · 3 years

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- Degrading Desires -

warnings: lots of smut, slight angst, sadism, degrading kink, subby colin (the only right way), dom reader, masturbation

psst! look i know all i write is colin and kai and i apologize, i just really needed to get this fic idea i had in mind for colin lmfao. i'll definitely have more varieties up in no time:) // not fully proof read

Apart from being one of the few women to be working for the police investigating department, you made sure you were considered one of the strongest, independent, and courageous of them all. Whether that'd mean you'd always have to cancel plans to keep your full focus on the current investigations, or even distancing yourself from friends and family.

"Here, it clearly looks like a sniper rifle bullet, was definitely shot from afar. Fucking asshole seemed to have planned this perfectly." you made your claim public to the other detectives in the room, passing around the bloody bullet which was secured in a ziplock bag.

"Yup, thats a modular sniper rifle. This was a perfect planned murder, due to how much accuracy is needed to shoot one of these bad boys. " shouted Colin whilst inspecting the bullet in between his rough hands, completely taking away the attention you had held onto you, aggrivating you immensely.

Colin would do this ever so often, always finding a way to snatch away the minimum attention you'd have gathered up, completely becoming the spotlight. You felt as if he had just so much hatred towards you, like he couldn't resist the fact that you were in fact solving more cases in a week than what he could've in a month. His body language although, spoke differently than his actions.

The detectives cheered Colin on, patting him on his wide back, all just so amazed by how easily he solved the puzzle of what specific type of sniper it was, –when you was literally already getting to the point–. Not one of them credited you for shit, not even the women who claimed to be so sick and tired of the misogynistic behavior that's been going around the department. They were certainly the ones cheering him on the loudest.

You only stood there silently staring down at the pieces of evidence that layed infront of you, the dim lighting that took over the small office room making you disappear almost entirely now. Erasing the fact that your only goal was to help these poor victims rest in peace, allowing their families to have complete closure of every each and tragic murder as Zable in the other hand, was focused on stealing your spotlight, just to feel superior and laugh it off in your face later on.

As the detectives all went to their correspondent offices, you and Colin were the only ones left in the room, as he decided to linger around noticing how you'd stay in to investigate through your lunch break. You feeling nothing but envy and him admiring how difficult he was making your job.

"Good job, buddy." blurted Colin as he walked a step closer towards you, a playful hop almost. His dark brown eyes looking down to your Y/E/C ones, as he fidgeted with his large fingers above the evidence table.

"Look Y/N, Im s-

"You're what Colin? Sorry? Why do you enjoy making my life so fucking miserable? Im fucking tired of it, im trying to genuinely help these families." you spat, looking deeply into his soul, noticing how his eyes began to water.

"You're gonna fucking cry now? Good. You deserve to feel like shit." you continued. Colin only looked down at his fidgety hands before taking a seat on the table, and munching on some leftover salad he had left from his lunch break, allowing his shiny eyes to shed their tears.

"It doesn't feel good to feel like shit does it, you needy whore? You just need attention and validation so fucking bad, why can't you just let me do my job in peace." your usage of language taking the both of you by surprise, pausing quickly after noticing Colin struggling to eat his salad with his left hand, when the man was a righty.

"Colin.. what the fuck are you doi-" you attempt to ask the obvious before getting unpredictabley interrupted by a loud whimper. You bent down slightly, letting curiousity taking the best of you to encounter Colin massaging his bulge through his pants.

"You're a fucking pathetic." you continue to degrade, unintentionally causing the member in his pants to leak in precum, dampening his boxers.

"Stop.. p-please stop." pleaded Colin as he massaged his enlarging buldge under the table, still unaware of you're awarness at his self pleasing.

"Why should I stop Colin? You deserve nothing." you proceed, enjoying the effects your words had on him, his teary eyes looking up at yours whilst you walked around the office.

Despite the fact you truly disliked the man you were currently sharing an office with, you just couldn't deny the fact that you enjoyed making him feel this way. Like shit. I mean he looks like he's enjoying it as well. The way he struggled to chew on his salad whilst attempting to keep his cool infront of you, how his long sleeved shirt slightly attached to his body from his sweat, and how his dark decepting eyes shed tears after tears. It was an admirable view.

He enjoyed the suffering, and so did you.

"I-I need to go to the..bathroom.." said Colin, now getting up from his office chair attempting to leave the room in pure hurry, before you got in his way blocking the door entry making him jump slightly.

"Please don't do this.."

"Don't do what? You've fucked up my job experience for all these months Colin, i think you deserve to get punished. Don't you think?" you teased whilst slowly dragging him back to his seat by his veiny arm.

Zable, although being in complete shock by his show of uncontrollable needs was also taking aback from your actions towards him, feeling out of place by letting a woman dominate him. He only sat on his wheely chair, laying down almost, whilst his breathing was surprisingly heavy allowing small whimpers escape his lips. The man needed you, and urgently.

"If this is what you've wanted this whole time, why not jump straight to the point and be a good boy? Instead of making shit hard." you questioned Colin, before prepping your elbows on either side of the arm rests he layed betweeb, massaging his thighs delightfully, earning graceful low groans.

"W-why are you doing this..?" questioned Colin, his eyes barely being able to open due to the slight amount of pleasure he's been receiving. You completely dodged his question, your focus remaining on his clothed thighs.

"Y/N.." Colin called now, attempting to catch your attention once again, you shushing him almost immediately.

You honestly didn't bother to shift your attention towards what Colin was saying, well that was before you felt his pants dampen up under you, warm fuzzy liquids spreading all over him.

"You c-came on yourself?"

"No.."

"What's this then?" you questioned before unzipping his pants and shoving your hand in his briefs, gathering some of his cum in between your fingers and bringing it up to view. "You came on yourself from me simply touching your thighs Zable?" you affirm before he denied your claim. "I k-kinda like when you y-yell at.. me.. and call me names.." he admitted in between pants, not having the balls to look into your eyes as he spoke.

You only giggled at his lack of dominance underneath you, having fully cummed on himself when you barely even touched him and just called him pathetic little names.

"You're a fucking disappointment Colin, you know that right?"

"Y-yes I know.. Y/N.."

"You deserve nothing for being such a piece of shit."

"Y-.. more..please. more.."

You would've never thought the man who'd been bothering you for all those months to have such a hypersensitive degrading kink. It all adds up now, why he'd tense up to his boss yelling at him, why he loved annoying the shit out of you. Whole time he was waiting for you to snap at him, and well who would've known shit would've ended up his way.

Colin wanted nothing but for you to full on dominate him, for you to take control over every little bone in his body. He was willing to do anything you'd ask him to, he'd bow down and kiss your feet if you'd asked him to for god's sake. The thought of making him your literal sex puppet brough nothing but an internal flame into your core, producing an evil smirk to form on your lips onto the man you were just a few inches away from.

"god you're so beautiful when you're in pain." you announce before attaching your lips to his drooly ones, the two of you ravaging eachothers mouths immediately. Zable only melted under the kiss, slightly lifting his hand up towards your breasts, soon letting it drop onto his lap in cowardness.

"you can touch me." you break the kiss to give your consent, allowing his firmed hand grip onto your right breast as he exhilaratedtly sighed to the soft feeling. Colin gripped on you like his life depended on it, as you lifted your leg onto the left side of his thigh prepping yourself down into a straddle, him groaning to finally feeling some contact against his member.

Colin was a moaning mess already, your dripping clothed cunt aligned with his sensitve clothed tip was driving him over the edge as he grew impatient attaching his large hands onto your hips in attempt of grinding you onto him. Although you knew you had him wrapped around your finger you allowed him to grind up to you, his second releasing nearing rapidly.

"oh.. fuck.." groaned Colin as you two dry humped eachother for several minutes now, your purpose being making him suffer but letting yourself get into the pleasure also, as you animalisticly removed his dressing shirt, popping some buttons out along the way. You then manage to remove yours also whilst gripping onto his short sweaty hair.

"Is that all you can do? huh? not enough." you degrade, producing his rhythm to increase making you groan excitedly. Colin's one soft puppy but he'll for certain make sure you're needs are satisfied as well as his.

Didn't take long for you to moan along with him, feeling his bulge twitch under you, as he came yet again collapsing underneath you.

"Colin."

"..y-yes?"

"you're an amazing little slut."

taglist: @divineruler @thatspookyagent @copy-of-a-cheeto @booboomother @evanmybeloved @billyhxrgrove @sinnersblood @crssjjh

(dm to be in taglist !)

kinda wanna highkey make another part to this but we'll see how it goess

#evan peters #mare of easttown #colinzable #true detective #submission #fanfic #x dom!reader #smut writing #smut roleplay #dirty imagine #smut

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themangolorian · 3 years

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Pairing: Mandalorian x Reader

Request for @the1maddest1hatter my absolute love who has been so completely and totally patient with me and understanding and i’m so glad i was able to finally finish this and post it for you finally, and i hope it’s everything you were hoping for and more. thank you so much for not giving up on me - this was so fun to write and i’m glad i finally got it to somewhere i’m happy w/ it. i love you! 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Warnings: some slight violence.

You weren’t often in the habit of getting yourself involved in the business of others. But when you’d seen imperial guards chasing the cloaked and armored figure across the square, you figured you had no choice.

The fleeing culprit looked more than capable of taking care of himself, but the enemy of your enemy was your friend. So, interrupting the elaborate dance you’d been performing in the middle of the market, you twirled and flipped expertly until you were between the guards and whoever it was they’d been chasing. The distraction was enough. Still dancing and trying to suppress a smile, you saw the end of the figure’s cape disappearing around a corner.

The guards cursed violently your way but shouldered their way roughly past you in pursuit of the disappearing figure. What was more, your ruse had drawn the attention of the crowd of shoppers in the square, most of whom assuredly also had no love for the Empire. Before long, the cylinder you’d put in the square was full of credits.

But then-

Someone gripped your elbow painfully from behind, someone else your shoulder. Striking out to escape, you accidentally turned over the cylinder, spilling credits everywhere.

Loud shouts, haranguing from the crowd, assaulted the imperial guards who had returned empty-handed, the figure no doubt having escaped.

“What kind of dancer do you think I am?” You lilted sarcastically with more confidence than you deserved considering you were being detained.

“Keep your conniving trap shut, scum.” The trooper at your back rammed his baton into your lower back and you could hardly suppress the yelp of pain as you crumpled.

The protests from the crowd were easily deterred when the guards drew their high powered blasters and before you knew what was happening, you were being dragged away in durasteel binders. You cursed under your breath at the imperial guard who scooped up your hard-earned, now easily lost credits.

That was when the Madalorian had swooped in and, helped by the element of surprise, along with what was clearly immense skill, had taken out the guards - freeing you.

“What are you, a trooper gone good?” You’d joked, gesturing at his armor, though you knew it bore little resemblance to a trooper’s. He’d only grunted, focusing instead on freeing you from the binders.

But inevitably the guards had been almost instantly replaced with another unit who’d wasted no time in opening fire. The Mandalorian had dragged you along by the binders you were still trapped in. He managed to dart out of the way of every blaster shot aimed your way, hauling you with him as he went.

By the time you found yourself ensconced in the safety of his ship and as he blasted away from the planet you’d briefly called your home, your heart was beating too fast and you were laughing too hard, out of both panic and glee at the escapade, to question the new reality you found yourself in: on the ship of a stranger whose face you’d yet to see.

But that had been long ago enough by now that it was but a distant if happy memory. The Mandalorian, a man you’d thought so strange at first, had offered to drop you off on any planet of your choosing. And you’d truly meant to leave, but event after event had transpired, all revolving around the Empire’s chase for the child in the Mandalorian’s care, someone you’d also found strange but had now come to care for excessively.

You’d kept putting off leaving and then one day it had just stopped coming up. Though neither of you spoke of it, it now seemed a given that you were a staple in their strange little family.

“This is a good place to set up camp for the night,” the Mandalorian was saying, pulling you out of your reverie as you stared at the suns setting distantly in the sky past the horizon of the sea spread out beneath the cliff just beyond where you stood.

You turned absently and smiled at his visor. You had yet to see his face, even now, but by now he knew just how much you loved the seas, as few of them as you’d gotten to see in your lifetime. The choice of campsite was intentional, providing you with a breathtaking view of this particular planet’s suns-set.

Your heart stiffened painfully as you smiled sweetly his way. The man you’d gotten to know had been nothing like you’d thought he would be when you first met him, as intimidating as he’d seemed. He was gentle and generous to a fault, kinder than most souls you’d ever known.

The Mandalorian cleared his throat, breaking you from your stupor once more, but when he spoke, he too sounded emotional. “I’ll build the tent. Do you want to see how many rations we have left?”

You’s meant to answer but several things happened in succession. Din flinched then unholstered his blaster faster than you could blink. For one staggering moment of horror, you thought he was aiming it at you. But then the cold bite of metal was sharp at your throat, a strong arm coming around your middle firmly before you could react to any of it. A strangled cry left Din’s helmet.

“Where’s the target?” A raspy voice hissed at your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You tried to struggle, despite the idiocy of that act. Your hands shot to the man’s wrist around your neck and you threw your body back in the hopes of escape. But he was like a brick wall and did not budge, did not even react to your attempt as if you were little more than a bug beneath his shoe. It took you a long moment to process the fact that you were in danger of losing your life.

“Let her go,” Din spoke in a cold, threatening voice, “and I’ll let you live.” The blaster in his grip did not waver.

Your blood ran cold when your captor only chuckled. “Give me the location of the child, and I promise her death will be painless.” He flicked the sharp blade at your throat and you gasped involuntarily at the pain, felt a warm trickle of blood running down your neck.

You saw Din’s grip tighten around his blaster, knew he was calculating the odds of shooting your captor without harming you. But you knew Din too well now, knew what conclusion he would reach. But if you were a lost cause, you were free to do whatever it took to ensure that Din was not. To ensure both his safety and the safety of the child.

Thoughts of the craggy, rocky surface at the bottom of the cliff just behind you nearly made you shudder; your fear of heights was almost blinding, but you fought through the distress that would have paralyzed your entire body with fear. Din and the child were, after all, more than worth it.

The standoff continued as if the world had come to a standstill though the breeze continued to blow past you, the chirping of animals continued in the jungle you’d emerged from and, distantly, the breaking of waves on the rocks below did not stop.

Just as you meant to make your move, your captor was yanking your arm back and up until- a sickly crunch sounded and you screamed in pain, trying to muffle your own hurt so Din would not be goaded, but you saw only black for several seconds and your knees almost crumpled beneath you. The slight sliver of brainpower you had left in the moment told you to propel yourself backwards. Your captor, off balance from the movement of breaking your arm, staggered back with you, now just at the edge of the cliff.

“No,” Din shouted, his voice strangled, his blaster faltering now. If he shot, he ran the risk of hitting you. And the knife was still clutched at your throat.

Your captor hissed and tightened his grip around your throat in retaliation, and you struggled to breathe for a few moments. “Move one more muscle and I’ll throw you over the ledge,” he barked at you before loosening his grip. The knife had cut into your neck again, drawing more blood.

Your eyes never left Din’s visor. You could not, of course, see his eyes behind it, but you could will your thoughts and feelings into your own gaze, directed as it was at him. In the brief second you had left, you tried to express with your eyes alone everything you’d never had the courage to tell him before.

Then- you pretended to crumple in your captor’s arms, ignoring the way the knife cut at you again in your new position. He cursed, trying to straighten you. You used the moment in which he was caught off guard to propel him backwards with all the strength you had left in your body. At the same moment, you heard the sound of a blaster.

There had been the smallest part of your brain that had been sure you might be able to catapult him off the edge without going with him. But that had been a fool’s dream.

You lost your breath as you tumbled backwards off the cliff’s edge, unable even to scream.

Your captor had already lost his grip and distantly you heard his scream behind you as he fell. Though you were falling fast to the rocky depths below, you felt suspended in the air, suspended in time, trying to cherish only the last sight you’d had of Din as he’d surged forward hoping to catch you before you fell. You closed your eyes before you hit the icy surface of the unforgiving waters below.

******

Din had seen your intent the moment it had entered your eyes and had immediately been filled with nothing but pure dread. He ran through the possibilities as quickly as he could, but it hadn’t been fast enough. He’d shot the blaster only a second too late. And though the shot had found its mark in the heart of your captor, you’d gone over the edge anyway.

Another strangled, inhuman cry left Din’s lips as he leapt forward towards the cliff’s edge. He reached the peak just as your body disappeared beneath the surface below. This time he took no time to think. He dropped his blaster and dived gracefully off the cliff’s edge, trying to use his momentum to fall into the same area of choppy water where you’d disappeared, blessedly far enough away from the rocks that would have killed you instantly.

The icy temperature of the water barely registered beyond Din’s suit as he flipped his helm’s light on. Din tried not to panic when he saw nothing but empty, rough waters. Cursing within his helmet, he propelled himself further downwards, searching desperately for the sight of you. He began to breathe unevenly as water filled his helmet and knew he would soon have to surface. He could not, he knew, surface without you and expect you to live.

That was when he saw a flash of the bright skirt you almost always wore. He could have laughed with relief that you dressed so flashily. Then he was propelling himself through the water. His heart began thundering again when he saw your face blank, your eyes closed, unconscious.

His arms came around your chest and then he was battling the rough water upwards, breaking the surface and pulling you along with him. The water immediately drained from his helmet, allowing him to breathe. The weight of his armor and the strain of holding you aloft made the journey back to the rocky surface difficult, but adrenaline at the thought of the mere possibility of losing you drove Din faster.

He pulled you along with him up onto a rock above the breaking waves. He ripped his gloves off, one hand fluttering down to check your pulse, the other at your nose to see if you were breathing. When he realized you were not, he did not hesitate-

Din wrenched off his helmet and dropped it carelessly on the rock beside him. He fought the feelings of panic wrenching through him as he leaned down, pinched your nose between his fingers and put his lips to yours. He’d dreamed so many times of your lips on his, but never like this. He cursed himself distantly for never acting on his desires before, for letting his fear dictate his feelings for you, which were clear here at the possible end of it all.

Then he was pumping his clenched hands down on the center of your chest before putting his lips back to yours, trying to breathe you back to life.

“Come on,” he was saying roughly, “come on.”

***

Suddenly, you began to cough and heave, water trickling out of your mouth; your eyes fluttered open briefly. They closed again but not before you’d seen the stranger bringing you back to life. A beautiful, chiseled face. A man with plush lips, dark stubble and a mustache. Deep soulful brown eyes.

You struggled to breathe in, struggled to hack the remaining water from your lungs as you half sat up. The stranger held his arm sturdily at your back.

“The Mandalorian,” you managed to speak through racking coughs, “is he alright? Where is he?” In your panic, you had not stopped to think who the stranger might be or how you’d arrived in his care.

The man did not respond, only clapped you on the back several times, trying to help you cough the water out.

When your eyes fluttered open again briefly, they landed on the soaking cape, hanging over the stranger’s shoulder, seemed to finally see the beskar shoulder piece. You gasped, choking briefly on the water still trapped in your throat.

“What-“ But then he was fitting the helmet swiftly back over his head. But not before you had seen the anguish in his gaze.

Immediately, you berated yourself inwardly. You should have kept your eyes closed. You should have- but you could not have known.

“Din,” you tried, but you silenced yourself, knowing he must be kicking himself.

Quiet and stoic as the day you’d met him, he lifted you into his arms, letting you hitch yours around his neck. Despite what had happened, you cherished being in his arms, curling into his chest, your head pounding from the fall, from your near death.

You were weaker than you’d realized and lost consciousness in Din’s arms again barely registering that he’d activated his jetpack.

When you awoke, you were cozy and warm and wrapped up in a swathe of blankets, your wet clothes gone. You blinked at the ship’s hull above you. You were back on the Razor Crest.

“Grogu,” you managed through your drowsiness.

“He’s alright,” Din’s voice came from the alcove just to the side of his bed, which you were now laying in.

You breathed a sigh of relief, but your breath hitched when you remembered what had occurred, what you’d seen, what Din had done.

“Din,” you breathed against your will. Likely he wanted nothing more than to be left alone, as remorseful as he no doubt was. His creed for your life? What a paltry exchange.

The thought brought tears to your eyes. As well as the thought that Din could only hate you now. How could he not?

But then he was at your side, his gloved hands hovering over you. “Are you alright?” Concern so deeply evident in his voice that it only made you want to cry harder.

“I-“ you managed, your voice choked. You grasped his hand since he held it there just at your eye level, and he sunk down to one knee, tightening his grip around your own. “Din, your creed.”

For just a single moment, he stiffened, but then took a shaking breath and relaxed. His other hand came up to stroke your forehead, then your cheek. “Don’t think about it. Just rest.” His voice was more gravelly than usual.

You swallowed through the dryness in your throat, distantly noting the bandages he must have applied to the wounds you’d sustained at the hands of your captor. Your eyes fluttered closed under his touch, worried if you kept them open, he’d leave your side. But his gloved hand continued its steady stroking of your cheek.

Tears threatened to spill from behind your closed eyes anyway. At the tenderness of it all. Of Din’s ability to forgive the unforgivable. Of what your presence in his life had caused him to forsake.

“You should have let me die,” you croaked before you could stop yourself. It was far from the right thing to say, but you meant it.

His breath hitched under his helm, and his fingers froze at your jaw, his other hand clenching yours tightly. “Don’t say that,” he muttered gruffly, his voice choked.

Din was more emotional than you’d ever heard him, but you were sure it was because of the betrayal of his creed; you could not fathom that his grief might have anything to do with the fact that you’d almost died.

You spoke through the painful tightness in your throat. “I’m not worth it- You shouldn’t have- I’m sorry I caused this-“

You stopped talking when he released your hand to cup your whole face between both his hands. You opened your teary eyes in surprise but, of course, saw only your weepy reflection in his visor.

Din’s gloved thumb rubbed just beneath your lips. “I…I couldn’t- let you die.” The words seemed a struggle and he let them out haltingly - not as if he didn’t want to say them, but as if he didn’t know how. “I…” You heard him swallow beneath the helmet as your eyes darted all around his visor, wishing you could see his current expression, wishing you’d never seen his beautiful face at all. But then- “I care…about you…more than I can-“ He cut himself off, as if fearing he’d said too much.

You merely stared, hardly able to believe your ears. He couldn’t mean… Could he feel the same… The thought was too unbelievable to truly consider.

His grip on your face loosened. “I…” He sounded suddenly uncertain. “I understand you don’t- feel…the same. I just…”

But then you were gripping his wrist before he could withdraw his touch. You heard a sharp intake of breath beneath the helmet and realized your fingers had met the skin of his wrist. Your eyes fluttered sideways, drinking in the sight of his perfect skin, scars and all, just there beneath your fingers. When you brushed his wrist with your thumb, he let out a sigh and his hand tightened around your face. Your eyes darted to his helm then back and then you were leaning sideways and pressing your lips to his wrist.

You felt his pulse jump beneath your lips as you pressed another kiss to the inside of his wrist. When you looked back up at him, his helmet was tilted as he seemingly stared down at you.

“If-“ You licked your parched lips, swallowed with difficulty. “If I close my eyes, will you- Can I-…” You’d never found yourself, chatty as you tended to be, at such a loss for words. “Can I kiss you?” You managed. He froze and you opened your lips to take it back, terrified you’d said the worst thing you could have in the moment. But when he shifted to move, you lost your breath, wondering-

He went to take off his helmet without waiting for you to close your eyes.

“Wait,” you gasped, shutting your eyes tightly, just as you heard the whoosh of air that must have meant he’d acquiesced.

“You don’t have to-…”

And it was your turn to stiffen. The modulator had always been a given, and you’d never really thought twice about what his voice might have sounded like without the digital disruption.

It was husky and crackly, soothingly deep.

You found your breathing going shallow again when his hand, now ungloved, was back at your cheek.

“My creed,” he started, his voice rumbling somewhere deep within your chest, affecting you deeply. “My creed dictates that I- protect….my clan.”

Your breath hitched again, impossibly so.

“The promises I made when I received the helmet,” you heard a heavy thunk as he apparently put the item in question down. “There is more to my creed than just the helmet. A Mandalorian who cannot keep…his clan,” Those two words again; your stomach flipped of its own accord each time he said them, at the thought of what he might be implying. “A Mandalorian who cannot keep his clan safe…is not worthy of the helm he would wear.”

You startled when his bare finger ran across your lips soothingly.

“Grogu…” he began again, slowly, as if weighing the words. “Has seen my face. Do you know why?”

“He’s your son,” you breathed against his fingers, reveling in the way your lips brushed his fingers as you spoke.

“Yes,” his voice cracked on the syllable, but only just, and when he spoke again, he’d recovered. “My family. My clan.”

You swallowed hard again through the lump in your throat, pursing your lips to speak, to deny what you thought he might next say, not because you didn’t want it to be true, but rather because it was the only thing you wanted to be true and were too afraid that it was not to even entertain the thought. But his finger hovered just over your lips once more, silencing your attempted protest.

“You didn’t make me break my creed,” he promised. “I’ve been wanting to- I’ve wanted to see your face…for so long.”

You made a noise of protest now. “You see my face all the time.” Indignant when he got what you didn’t every single day.

“Without the helmet. Not through a visor.” His voice was heavy again, emotional.

It was not until then that you realized what he’d said. He’d wanted to see your face too. He-

“You-“

“You can open your eyes,” his voice was soothing, encouraging even.

“Are- are you sure?” You managed finally.

He let out a low chuckle that set your heart to racing faster than it did even when you were dancing nonstop in city squares. “I’m sure.” It was a promise.

You opened your eyes and your sigh was involuntary. You drank in the sight of every sharp angle and soft line of his face hungrily. His eyes were tender, but as he leaned down, there was a kind of hunger in them too.

This time, when your lips met, it was a different kind of life you felt him breathe into you.

#the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #mando x you #mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #my stories #request #the1maddest1hatter #the mandalorian #din djarin #mando #mandalorian #reader

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ynscrazylife · 3 years

Note

hii, it's again me and I wanted to ask if you can write 40 and 34 for agatha from the angst/fluff prompt list?

For You | a.h angst fic

Summary: Y/N does her best to stop Agatha before she brings chaos to Westview.

Authors Note: Thank you for requesting!

Request to be on a Taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2 | Main Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/marvelocks

"I know you’re hiding something.”

“This, again?”

“Yes! You’ve been sneaking around, always checking draws, haven’t been paying attention to me lately . . .What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Agatha, don’t do this, please. Whatever it is it’ll be fine-”

“No, it won’t. It’s nothing. The less you know the better.”

“How is that even-”

“I’m not telling you to protect you, Y/N! How many times do I have to say this?”

“You don’t get to decide what protects me and what doesn’t!”

“PLEASE just trust me! I . . . I have MAGIC okay? And I didn’t want you to be endangered by that—”

“Agatha . . . I love you!””

If a memory could get stuck in your head like a song would, that would perfectly describe what was happening. Anytime Y/N wasn’t eating or sleeping the memory was replaying over and over again, creating a little movie theater in her brain; and every time her girlfriend’s voice would have a hint more of anger, her glare would be a little sharper, would yell a little louder. But each time the memory ended the same:

Y/N would demand to know that she even meant by “magic” and Agatha would stand there in shock, rooted to the ground.

“Magic?”

“You love me? W-why did you tell me you love me?”

“It-it just came out! But . . . What do you mean by magic?”

And so Agatha explained. Told her all about her spells and the Salem Witch Trials and what was going on with Westview. She didn’t give Y/N a break, not a moment to process it, and the woman put her hands over her head as if it’s act like a block any further, ground-breaking knowledge from entering her ears.

Her vision was getting blurry. She felt lightheaded. This was too much. Too much to take in at one time. Agatha didn’t seem to notice and continued explaining through her tears, at the end even displaying her purple magic just to prove it to Y/N, and that’s when she knew she couldn’t stay here too longer.

Her mind screamed at her to say something to Agatha, that she couldn’t just leave her girlfriend, but at the same time she couldn’t bring herself to do that. “I’m sorry,” she whispered shakily, before fleeing the room and leaving Agatha there, speechless and sobbing.

It had been days since she had left the house since then, meaning it had been days since she her fight . . . Was that the right word? with Agatha. The first day Y/N slept, body and mind exhausted, and when she woke up, still in a sleepy haze, she chalked up the previous day’s events to a weird nightmare.

Then, reality hit.

This time it was a little easier to process and at first, she yearned to return to Agatha and to hug her and kiss her . . . but then she remembered what she had done the night before; had wanted to talk to Agatha but ultimately couldn’t because of everything she had learned and instead left. Y/N realized that she had to do that now. Process everything before she saw her girlfriend, no matter how much it hurt her and how hard it was to do . . . Anything other than that, she figured, wouldn’t end well since Agatha probably needed some time, too.

Now, it was the third day. Y/N had rested. She had thought. And she had come to a new realization . . . Wanda’s influence over her, it did control her but it did not hurt like how Agatha said the other Westview citizens felt . . . Did she have her girlfriend to thank? That thought made the pit in her stomach deepen, for maybe Agatha had truly been protecting her by not telling her that she had magic and of what was going on . . .

That posed another question, was Agatha working to stop Wanda?

Which was answered when Y/N heard yells outside and, after a couple moments, hopped up from her bed and crossed over to her window, only to see Wanda and Agatha fighting, blasting their powers at each other.

The sight made her gasp, partly of worry for Agatha and partly in awe of her hair, her dress, everything about her was gorgeous. Y/N knew it wouldn’t do any good to go outside with no powers so she stayed inside, internally rooting for her girlfriend. She couldn’t deny the tug st her protective nature when she saw Wanda throw Agatha to the ground, and slapped her hand against the wall.

After some agonizing seconds, Agatha rose unsteady and shaking. She looked powerless. Pale. Haunted eyes. Weak. Wanda, however, looked all the more powerful. Red was shining in her eyes, heat emitting from her lips which were pulled tight together in concentration, as she readied another red blast to hurl at Agatha.

With the only thought in her head being Agatha, Y/N ran as fast her legs could carry her, bursting outside and onto the street.

Agatha was stumbling back and when she saw her girlfriend her eyes went wide with a choked gasp. “Y/N — please don’t do this!”

Y/N didn’t listen and smiled at the brunette through her tears as she ran in front of Agatha, Wanda’s power hitting her full force instead.

“NO!” The utter scream of anguish and horror was ripped from Agatha, a loud sob following soon after. She was helpless, watching her girlfriend get thrown into the air with her own screams as redness surrounded every inch of her.

Seeing her girlfriend in such pain slowly motivated Agatha to want to heal her, to get her magic back for her, and purple began to sparkle and glow, travelling from her hands to her arms to her face and all throughout her body.

Y/N landed on the ground with a sickening thud and Agatha wasted no time in throwing all the magic she could Wanda’s way, knocking the redhead into unconsciousness.

After making sure they were safe from Wanda’s wrath, Agatha ran and collapsed beside Y/N, hesitant to touch her at first in fear of hurting her; until she finally carefully moved Y/N’s head to rest on her lap.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I loved you,” Y/N croaked out in a whisper, eyes half-closed, gripping onto Agatha’s hands.

“I love you, too,” Agatha said, some honey in her otherwise distraught voice. “Keep your eyes open, okay? You’re gonna be fine.”

Y/N gave a half nod and Agatha lifted her up into her arms, carrying her back to her house. It was there that after days and days of spelling and healing, Y/N was finally okay, and the two would then move on to be together forever.

Permanent Taglist: @natasharomanoffismywife @hehehehannahthings @paulawand @blackbat2020 @cerberus-spectre @marrymemcgrath @celestialbarnes

MCU Taglist: @stephanieromanoff @summerlovingbaby @ineffablebean @okkulta @procrastinatingsapphictrash @prettysbliss @mochamoff @sarahp-stan @thewidowsghost @basiclesbianbitch @mycosmicparadise @kidswhofightmonsters @extraordinary-fangrl @peggycarter-steverogers @username23345 @ima-gi--na-tion @hateinthemorning @hi-i-1 @mmmmokdok @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @harrypottercumslut @mads-weasley @tenaciousperfectionunknown

Agatha Harness Taglist: @nyx-aira @midnight-lestrange @thelanawinterrs @agathaharkness-simp @fallingfor-fics @emril-osvigne @aethwrs @powerfulmagicalgirl (could not tag)

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wicked-mind · 3 years

Text

Soulmates: Chapter Three

Summary: Soulmates are connected on a deeper level emotionally and physically. They can feel what the other needs and wants. As hints, the universe grants tattoos on your skin to help you find your soulmate when you’re about to meet them. When Bucky’s soulmate tattoo appears out of the blue, he knows that she is about to come into his life, but the way she does is not what he was expecting.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Swearing, little bits of violence, heavy drinking.

All Writings Masterlist

Note: Russian bits translated from google translate

*gifs not mine

Previously

Bucky took the card, examining it. It was like a pure gold credit card but the only name on it was his own- James Buchanan Barnes. His eyes flickered back to Y/N when she continued speaking.

“You should know, as soon as you guys hack that card, the buyer will know. They’ll assume I was killed trying to procure the information, but they’ll probably send someone to make sure I am, or a few someones.” Y/N said, tilting her head at him. Whoever the buyer was with the amount they offered, she knew they were powerful and would want to make sure she was compromised, “And with the amount they offered just to get the information, I’m sure they’ll be willing to track me to the ends of the earth.”

Bucky suddenly frowned at her words, realizing what she was saying. By taking this card, he was putting her in danger. But if he let Y/N give the buyer the information on the card, the buyer could be looking for a way to create more Winter Soldiers like him. He watched her carefully, “Come back with me. I’ll keep you safe.” He said walking towards her, placing his flesh hand on her cheek, “I’ll make sure nobody finds you, I’ll help you hide. I thought I would never find you, and I’m not going to lose you.” The words echoed honesty in his voice. Bucky would be whatever he needed to be to Y/N whether it was a lover or protector. And he was determined to keep his soulmate in his life.

Chapter Three -

Y/N narrowed her eyes at Bucky’s suggestion, tilting her head so all her hair fell to one side. Every cell of her being was pushing her to say yes, but that wasn’t what passed her lips, “You want me to come live at the gigantic facility full of super persons?” She smiled a little bit, “At the place where whoever that buyer is will probably come next to get information, or you? I think I’ll take my chances running.”

Bucky’s frown deepened on his lips at her words. God, she was so infuriating. He knew Y/N wanted him as much as he wanted her, he could feel it in his core how much she screamed for him but her actions and words never matched that feeling. Why couldn’t she just give into him? He spoke in a stern voice, “No running. Whatever this is, we can handle it.” He tried to sway her, but when he saw her emotions unchanged he tried something else, “Look, whoever the buyer is you say they’re powerful. You’ll be living the rest of your life on the run and that is no way to live, trust me. Stay at the facility for safety in numbers, and when we deal with whoever the buyer is, you’ll be safe to return to your life.”

Y/N considered his offer, folding her arms as she listened. She took a sigh before nodding with a twitch of her nose, “Fine.” She said, “But I’m not going back in that cell. There’s no color in there and I get antsy when stuck in one place. Plus, it’ll give me a chance to patch things over with Nat.”

Bucky took a sigh of relief and nodded, “We’ll find you a room.” He promised with a small smile. He couldn’t help but feel a small victory bubble in his chest, finally some sort of headway with Y/N. At least she would be close now so he could try to let her open up to the fact they’re meant to be. He watched Y/N pull out a small duffel bag, putting her clothes inside along with the red notebook. Then she looked at the half full bottle of whiskey as if debating to bring it, then shrugs to herself and puts it in the bag. She flipped her mattress over, revealing her hidden small arsenal. She picks up a few knives and guns, tucking them into the bag as well, “What’s the deal with you and Natasha anyway?” He asks curiously.

“Natalia and I just have some things to sort out.” Y/N said as she swung the now packed bag over her shoulder, “After you, tall, dark, and handsome.” She said, gesturing towards the door. She followed him back down the hallway and down the stairs, smiling when she saw Natasha with a foul look on her face at the sight of Y/N’s duffel bag.

“You gotta be kidding me.” Natasha said towards Bucky and Y/N, “She’s not moving in, Barnes.”

Y/N put a playful pout on her lips, “What’s the matter, Nat? Don’t want to be roomies again?”

Nat scowled at Y/N before turning to Bucky for an explanation.

Bucky was confused with Natasha’s hostility towards Y/N, there must’ve been something from their past with each other from The Red Room. Whatever it was though, the hostility mostly came from Natasha’s side, “Look, if she stays with us she’s safe. She’s my soulmate, Nat. What did you want me to do? Let her go? Run and maybe get killed?”

Nat shrugs, “Wouldn’t of been a bad start.” She said before sighing, “Fine. Let’s get back.”

Y/N smiled at Natasha breaking, knowing that even without Bucky’s words she would’ve given in eventually. The three made their way back to the facility where Bucky gave the gold card to Natasha to go decrypt while he showed Y/N to an empty guest room across from his.

Y/N looked around the room, putting the duffel bag down and immediately going and shutting the curtains. It was a force of habit plus she mostly worked throughout the night so the daytime wasn’t really her friend. She turned to see Bucky leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, smirking at her, “What?”

Bucky tilted his head at her question, “Nothing, darlin.” He said to her, “My room is right across the hall if you need anything.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him slightly, a playful smile on her lips, “Anything, huh? Thinking you might get a late night visit?”

Bucky chuckles at her comeback, nothing would delight him more than her sneaking into his bedroom at late hours, “If that’s what you want, it wouldn’t bother me.”

Y/N shrugged, “I’ll keep that in mind. Now if you don’t mind, I haven’t slept for over 24 hours on account of being locked in a cell all night and I should get a little sleep before talking to Nat.” She walks towards him, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him out of the room before shutting the door behind his godly figure. She bit her lip gently, before turning the lock on the knob and climbing into the bed. She had been sure to pull out one of her throwing knives to tuck under her pillow just in case.

Y/N awoke later that night, around nine. Darkness had taken over the sky and the stars were gleaming in the clear skies. She pulled herself out of the bed, determined to find Natasha and squash what was between them. They used to be best friends until they weren’t and Nat wasn’t a good enemy to have or to live with. She walks down the hallway until she could hear Natasha talking to Steve, Clint, and Bucky about her, pausing behind them quietly so she could listen to them.

“I feel really bad for you, Barnes.” Nat said towards Bucky who was scowling at her already, “Having her as your soulmate is nothing but bad luck.”

Steve frowned at Natasha, “What happened between you two?”

“She’s a backstabbing traitor. She’ll do anything for herself and leave anybody in the dirt that gets in her way no matter who they are to her.”

Y/N chuckles, making her presence known and the four quickly turned their heads to look at her, “C’mon, Nat. I never left you in the dirt.”

Natasha stood, walking up to Y/N glaring daggers, “Yes, you did.” She hissed out.

Y/N took a step closer to the redhead, staring her down with a smile on her lips, “Вы хотите об этом поговорить (Do you want to talk about it)? Lead the way, Natalia.”

“хотелось бы (I would like to). And it’s Natasha now.” Natasha said before turning and walking away, Y/N following behind her with a smile on her lips. Steve, Bucky, and Clint all got up to follow, curious about what was about to unfold. The two didn’t seem like the type to just ‘talk’ it out. When Natasha lead Y/N to the training room and into the boxing ring, it made a lot more sense of what they were going to do.

Y/N tilts her head, her neck cracking a little as the same smile sat on her lips as Natasha stood across from her in a fighting stance. Y/N raised her hands up, ready to fight Natasha, “Alright, you start.”

Natasha frowned and quickly moved forward, throwing punches at Y/N who was blocking them and never returning any blows, “You left me there. We were supposed to be a team after graduation and you left me there like the heartless bitch you always were! You were my person.” She said, landing one punch to Y/N’s face which caused her lip to split.

Steve shook his head at the sight, “Hey! This isn’t talking it out.” He said, climbing up in the ring to stop the two but Natasha and Y/N immediately landed a synchronized kick to his chest causing him to stumble back out of the ring, “Stay out of it!” They both yelled at their audience at the same time before turning attention towards each other again. When Y/N and Natasha were at the Red Room Academy together, this is how they would sort out problems when they were mad at each other. One person would talk while attacking and the other would simply block and listen before switching off.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at Natasha, a smile still on her lips, “Okay. My turn.” She told the redhead before advancing, throwing punches and kicks, most of them are blocked while some landed, “I didn’t leave you. I left for you, Nat.” She said, landing a kick to the chest of Natasha which made the redhead stumble back slightly, “I left the day before my graduation because it wasn’t going to be my graduation.” She said, walking towards Natasha and throwing a punch again which was caught by her opponent, “It was going to be yours. And they were going to make you kill me just to see how faithful you were to them.” Those words made Natasha pause which Y/N was able to land a punch to her face, causing Natasha to have a split lip as well, “You really think I didn’t have the balls to kill an innocent and that’s why I left?”

Natasha frowned, coming forward at Y/N and jumping at her, taking her down and holding her into an arm-bar submission, “You’re lying! All you do is lie.” Y/N twisted her body, pulling her arm away from Natasha and maneuvering behind her, wrapping one arm around Natasha’s throat in a rear-naked choke, “Well, lying is the most fun a girl can have with her clothes on.” She said with a chuckle before continuing, “I knew you wouldn’t be able to kill me, so I left. And I never stopped being your person, I even found you a new one.” She adjusted her grip so Natasha was staring at Clint, “Your name came across one of my gold cards from SHEILD and I declined it so they sent someone else. Who do you think told Legolas over there to give you a chance instead of killing you?” Y/N released Natasha, standing up and looking down at the redhead, “I was still your person even if you weren’t mine. If you weren’t, I would’ve tracked you down and killed you myself for what you know about me.”

Clint suddenly looked uncomfortable, that was information he had never shared with Natasha as to why he chose not to follow orders and assassinate her. When he saw Natasha glaring at him as if to ask the truth he slowly nodded.

Bucky and Steve stood there listening to the whole ordeal, sort of shocked this is what they meant by ‘talking it out.’ Bucky winced slightly at every punch landed to Y/N, feeling the slight pain she was feeling on his tattoo. It burned for him to go protect her, but knew he would be met with hostility from the two women for interfering as Steve had.

Natasha stood up and looked at Y/N, breathing deeply. It looked as if puzzle pieces were being put together in her head. She quickly landed a quick punch to Y/N’s face as her hands were down, “Fine. That’s for not telling me.” She hissed out before a small smile curved across her lips.

“I deserved that one.” Y/N said after the punch landed to her cheek, wincing slightly before smiling at Natasha, “So, we good?”

Nat nodded, the small smile still on her lips, “We’re good.” She told Y/N, “Let’s go.” She said, slipping through the ring ropes followed by Y/N.

“So that’s it, you two are good now?” Steve asked the two women who looked at each other and shrugged, “Maybe next time you two can have an actual talk.”

“Not likely.” They both said at the same time before walking past the three men and out of the training room.

Steve looked at Bucky and Clint, “Should we go make sure it’s really good now?”

Bucky shook his head, “Nah, I trust Y/N when she says their good. I think they need some time alone.” He said knowingly. He could feel what Y/N needed and it was time alone with Natasha.

The two made their way to the kitchen, Y/N pulling herself up to sit on the island counter while Natasha pulled out a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of vodka. Natasha passed the whiskey to Y/N who took it and untwisted the top and took a long swig of the amber alcohol, “That’s Bucky’s whiskey, probably shouldn’t drink too much of it. He likes his whiskey.” Y/N shrugs, looking at the bottle, “We’re soulmates. What’s his is mine and mine is his, that’s how it works isn’t it?” She said with a smile, “What happened to your soulmate? I saw that little green tattoo on your wrist when you punched me in the face.”

Natasha sighs, sitting next to Y/N on the counter and taking a drink from the clear bottle of vodka, “I made him mad. He went to space and hasn’t exactly found a way to forgive me.”

Y/N nods, “Space. Cool.” She said, “Well, if it makes you feel better, my soulmate was dumb enough to kiss me after seeing his paralyzed friend in the elevator. So that means you’re still my person even if I have a soulmate. You never would’ve fallen for that.”

Natasha laughed a little at the comment, “Yeah, that wasn’t his smartest moment.” She replied, “You know I never told anybody what happened to you.” She said gesturing towards Y/N’s hip where the large scar was, “Did you find him?” Y/N shook her head, “Not yet. One day I will though.” She said and looks over at Natasha, “Did you find anything from the card?”

“It’s still decrypting, should be done in the morning.” Nat informed with another swig from the vodka bottle.

The two sat and talked about all the things they missed from each other’s lives like old friends, taking shots after every story until both of them passed out in the kitchen. Natasha had at some point fallen asleep against the refrigerator with the half empty bottle of vodka next to her while Y/N fell asleep on the island counter top, snuggling the bottle of almost empty whiskey. Bucky awoke in the early morning hours to walk out and see the two, chuckling slightly as he saw Y/N snuggling his whiskey passed out on the counter. He walks over and touched her arm gently, trying to wake her.

As soon as Bucky touched Y/N, instinct took over, her eyes snapping open and she pulled a knife out from a hidden strap under her shirt, holding the knife against Bucky’s throat. As she blinked at Bucky, her drunk vision focusing on him, she lowers the knife, “God, you should know better than to sneak up on someone, lover boy.” She muttered out, sitting up so her legs swung off the counter and narrowing her eyes to focus on him.

Bucky looked at her, not feeling threatened at all. He looked at his almost empty whiskey bottle, “Wow, you almost drank all my whiskey.” He said with a chuckle, watching her trying to focus on him with narrowed eyes.

“I lived above a bar.” Y/N said with a small smile, “I’m practically an olympian when it comes to drinking. We are definitely going to need a lot more whiskey though.”

Bucky took the bottle from Y/N, twisting the top-off and chugging the rest before discarding the empty bottle in the trash, “Yeah, a lot more.” He said with a smile towards her. He walked over to her, positioning himself between her legs and setting his palms on the counter on either side of her thighs. He smiled at her drunk face, he had never seen anybody so adorable yet dangerous looking when completely hammered. He leans closer to her face, “How about you let me help get you to bed?” He purrs out to her.

Y/N smiled at his warm, whiskey smelling breath so close to her face. It sent a shiver up her spine and once again she could feel her body leaning forward towards his. She quickly looks over to Natasha asleep against the fridge, “Help her first. She’ll be mad if I leave her in the kitchen alone.”

“Nah.. I got it.. I’m good.” Natasha said suddenly awakened from their talking, slowly stammering to her feet. She holds her hands out to balance herself for a bit, “I haven’t drank that much in a while.” She mumbles out, staggering down the hallway.

“Get used to it! I missed it!” Y/N yelled after Natasha before watching her disappear through a door. She looks back at Bucky, another smile creeping across her lips, “So bed… your room or mine?” She said with a soft bite of her bottom lip following and a raised eyebrow. The fire her tattoo felt was undeniable, it was reaching, screaming for him to touch her and to be with her.

Bucky kept his palms on the counter on either side of her legs, a crooked grin appearing on his features once they were alone. Being this close to her felt right, making his heart jump slightly. Everything about her in his eyes was perfect, even the infuriating bits where she pushed away their bond. It just made it more of a cat and mouse game for Bucky and he was determined to win. He didn’t need to respond to her words, he quickly placed his hands on her hips and swooped her up from the counter, leading her legs to wrap around his waist, “I think there’s more whiskey in my room.” He breathed into her neck while carrying her down the hall towards his room. The way her skin felt on his caused fire to corse through his body and he knew he was making Y/N feel the same way. He could feel everything she was feeling, all the desire and dare he say love?

Bucky steadied Y/N as she ripped off her jeans once they made it back to his room. He helped her slip on one of his t-shirts before pulling her into his bed. He didn’t want their first time to be when she was piss-drunk, even if she was teasingly kissing his shoulder non-stop once he removed his shirt. Bucky pulled her back against his chest, nuzzling his face into her soft hair. He could feel her breathing slow, slipping back into sleep. This was something Bucky never thought he would have, and even if the way she was around him wasn’t what he expected of a soulmate, he loved all the parts that made her Y/N. Even the ones that resisted him.

_____________________________________________________________________

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Taglist: @vibraniumqueen @thatoneperson5000 @dude-whatawave

#bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #winter soldier x y/n #winter soldier x you #winter soldier x reader

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hansolmates · 3 years

Text

cherry contact |🍒

summary: jihoon has access to all versions of you - your credit score, shopping habits, work emails, even your terrible tinder history. pairing; fbi agent!jihoon x civilian!reader (f) genre/warnings; fluff, crack, it’s really just that “your fbi agent” meme that caused everyone 8 years ago to put tape over their webcams, questionable viewing habits for an fbi agent, language, dick talk, mentions of sex, jihoon has feelings and is confused, he is a PINER, tw—sexual harassment w/c; 3.3k a/n; i can’t believe i finished this😭😭 part of meraki’s job collaboration and i’ve been dying to do a svt collab since the dawn of time and finally today’s the day! it’s been a hot moment since i’ve written for jihoon, glad i managed to get those svt writing muscles going! a huge thank you to @merakiiverse and @woozisnoots for putting this together. readers pls definitely check back on the masterlist linked above to see more of the other talented cwc writers and their rendition of the job prompt!

if you like this fic please consider giving it a like n’share!🤓🖥🤓🖥

“Kevin, 32, works at Kodak,” you scroll further to the description, “I love being tied up and need a dominatrix, have swing at home—no.” Swipe right.

“Lisa, 24, works at Infinity Dance Studio,” you definitely are weak for athletic ladies, “My hobbies include cuticle care and online shopping! Looking for a sugar daddy or mommy that can spoil me rotten—definitely can’t afford that kind of relationship.” Swipe right.

“Hansol, 26, works in an art museum,” sounds promising, you love art, “wait, why are all his pictures of him holding fish? Is he inside a fish? Who the heck finds that attractive?” Swipe right.

“Billiam, 31, works in finance. Needs a bratty baby girl who can triangle,” you grimace, “what is with these guys and stating their kinks from the get-go? Gotta take a girl out to dinner first, and the fuck is a triangle?”

You swore off Tinder since the dark ages, also known as senior year of college. However you’re in a particular slump, thirst-trapped between needing some serious dick and a committed relationship. You’d prefer the latter, but after a stressful day at work and the fact that it’s the ass crack o’dawn, you’ll take what you can get.

“Bye Billiam,” you sing-song into your phone, moving to swipe right.

Except you accidentally drop your phone between your sheets, and when you pick it up you accidentally swipe left.

“Fuck fuck fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget!” you cry out into oblivion. You’re so glad you live alone at the very least, it stops you from looking like a crazy person when you talk your potential sexipades out.

Billiam has Super-liked you!

“No. Nononono—” you bludgeon your head against your pillow, frowning when your phone opens up a chat for you and Billiam.

Billiam: hi can u check if my dick is too small

You: please, don’t send me a picture of your dick.

Billiam is typing…

You: for fuck’s sake—

“—that’s disgusting,” Jihoon curses, and immediately sends out the screenshot for sexual harassment.

“What’s disgusting?” Mingyu chimes, swiveling in his spinny chair from his side of the room.

“Don’t look,” Jihoon gags, reaching for a bottle of Coca-Cola from the mini-fridge. “You’ll throw up your fried chicken.”

“My person is a twenty-one year old nympho who also happens to be a incel,” Mingyu chastises to his screen, closing up the eighth tab of BBC porn he’s seen this week, “he doesn’t know how well he’s avoiding the FBI’s eyes,” Mingyu shakes his head, “so I’ve seen some pretty bad shit, but I’ll take your word for it.”

“No,” he echoes your name like you’ve done the most heinous thing in the world, “no, no! Why would you swipe left on Jackson? You’re way out of his league! He literally looks like he has a pea-sized brain!”

“He does look like he has half a brain cell,” your voice reverberates through his noise-cancelling headphones, unknowingly agreeing to Jihoon’s passionate throw of anger, “but I’m deprived and desperate, so!”

It’s like you can hear his sentiments exactly.

“Literally, you could have any person you want,” Jihoon chastises through his desktop, glaring heavily at your bedroom camera, “you’re wasting your time with these losers!”

Oblivious, you let yourself dangle across the bed. The camera isn’t the best quality, but Jihoon watches intently at the rise and fall of your chest as you attempt to fall into a fitful sleep.

“Some yell at screens for soccer,” Minghao says to the air from his cubicle, “some yell for Starcraft, but Jihoon yells for Tinder like it’s an Olympic sport.”

“Jihoonie,” Mingyu rolls around his chair, resting a long arm over the backrest, “do you have a crush on your civilian?”

Jihoon immediately swivels around his hair, meeting the amused eyes of Mingyu. “No,” he says sharply, whipping around to glare at his screen.

He glares harder the longer Mingyu’s simple question sinks in. He doesn’t have a crush on you, he likes you. Jihoon swallows his sigh, wondering why you would want to go as low as Tinder to look for a potential tryst. From your profile, you’re absolutely beautiful and intelligent. You have simple pleasures that match his—a hot cup of tea right after dark, snuggling under a weighted blanket while watching anime, and sleeping in on Sundays.

Unlike him, you don’t see the world through half a dozen lenses and a plethora of information right at your fingertips. No, you’re lucky.

“Hey can you grab me my water bottle?” Mingyu asks over his shoulder.

Jihoon thinks nothing of it, leaving his post for the thirty seconds it takes to get to the mini-fridge and grab Mingyu’s Hydroflask.

“You got a call,” Mingyu says when he plops the bottle on his desk, indicating to the red blinker on Jihoon’s computer.

It isn’t until he puts on his headphones does he take care to see why his blinker is going off.

He’s getting an incoming call. From you.

You’ve been waiting on the line for about two minutes. He lets two additional minutes breeze by because Jihoon is internally screaming. You’re calling again. There’s a fire blazing in his brain, his fingers hot as he twitches against the spacebar of his keyboard.

From the monitor he can see that you’ve given up on sleep, hands pawing through your drawer so you can take a final swipe at your magenta-tinted lip balm before nesting yourself in the sheets. You’re kicking around as if you don’t have work at 9AM, smacking your lips to apply the shiny salve while you wait for your call to be picked up.

“Why is my civilian calling me,” it isn’t a question, it’s a thinly veiled indication that Jihoon is ready to fight whoever compromised him like this.

Mingyu and Minghao fail to answer. That’s okay, he isn’t opposed to killing both if neither fess up.

It would be so easy for him to ignore the call, or redirect it to another part of the office. Yet he aches to talk to you, for real talk to you. As if you’re just two regular plain-old human beings with normal lives, and as if he didn’t know every nook and cranny about your daily routine and your favorite breakfast foods.

Call it pride, call it confidence, but Jihoon’s been pretty good at games and he hopes prior experience helps him get over this hurdle. Slipping on his headset, he accepts the call and answers in a controlled voice, “This is the local hotline for sexual harassment reports, are you here to report a case?”

Okay, so this is the closest thing he can get to having a full-fledged conversation with you, so he’ll take it.

“Hi,” you mumble your name into the phone, and he nearly disintegrates right then and there. It’s different when he can hear your voice directly in his ears, definitively reaching out to him as opposed to being a fly on the wall, “I received an email that a report was sent out for my previous chat as sexual harassment, but I didn’t send out a report.”

“Yes,” Jihoon replies smoothly, tapping his nails against his thighs, “it’s a new update.”

“Oh, well thank you,” you reply, and Jihoon sees from the camera that you’re staring at your phone in curiosity.

“It’s my job,” he says, and the words hold more weight than you think, “are you okay?”

“Is it also your job to ask how I’m doing?”

He smiles wryly, and he looks up at the monitor to see how you’ve considerably relaxed on your bed. Your legs dangle in the air, and you’re hugging a mango plushie with all the love in the world. “Not really, but I figured I’d ask. I don’t think I’d be able to recover from a dick that looks like an unhinged toenail.”

Your laugh flutters in his ears, and his stomach is flip-flopping with more than just his shitty ramen lunch. Your face curls and wrinkles into happiness at the lewd joke, and you rest your chin on your stuffed fruit.

“I’m okay,” you finally answer, “it’s not the first time I’ve seen subpar dick. But thank you… what’s your name?”

“Uji,” he says, a codename that he considers as precious as his actual name, “feel free to call or text this number if you’re ever feeling uncomfortable and in distress.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, good night Uji.”

“Good night.”

That wasn’t so bad, Jihoon thinks as he hangs up the phone. He dims the monitors to let you freshen up and get ready for bed, as per your schedule. After tonight, he hopes he can be sated with his curiosity of you. Maybe he needs to follow your plans and open up a dating account or something, he feels that he’s starting to get a little too engrossed in your presence.

The waning starts today.

You: help, i’m feeling uncomfortable and in distress

Uji: what is it this time?

You: i can’t decide which weighted blanket i should get. Will more weight make me feel more comforted or will i accidentally suffocate myself in my sleep?

The waning of you did not start that night, in fact it never began. Jihoon’s been on edge for weeks, simultaneously teetering between what he calls the high-school equivalent of the talking stage and an absolute catastrophe.

It started as an accident, you meant to call your friend’s number for cooking help but since the last call before your friends was his, you called Jihoon instead. To your surprise, he knew how to roll out homemade pasta without a pasta machine. You kept him on the call for the entirety of dinner preparation, and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride when your pasta turned out perfect and you were happy and full for the entire night.

Weeks later, and you’ve been texting each other for shits and giggles. At first you chalk up your insistence that he’s basically Human Google and has the answers to seemingly anything and everything, but over time it seems that you enjoy your daily interactions with him. Whether it be a simple phone call asking how to unclog your drain or a screenshot comparing two different KitchenAids, he’s at your disposal.

The burner phone he’s been holding as of late is on silent, but he’s able to pick it up immediately. It’s almost intuition, coupled with the way he notices whenever you seem in a pickle and you need to contact him. However he does not have a chance to formulate a reply, as you’re now calling him.

“Couldn’t wait?” he speaks as if you’re familiar with each other, as if you’re friends. Jihoon longs for that so much, he would love to be upgraded to someone other than the IT guy you text for funsies.

“Yes,” you say, voice laced with determination, “I’m deciding on whether to just like or Super-Like this guy on Light a Flame.”

Jihoon deflates a little, but steels himself. You’d never want to go on a date with the IT guy, it seems that you enjoy the anonymity of your recent communications. Your conversations are definitely meme-worthy.

“Who is it?”

“His name’s Lee Jihoon, 25, works in the FBI.”

He chokes on his coffee, precious beans from Argentina, and the liquid is flying across his keyboard.

Pulling up your phone view, it confirms the worst. In a moment of Weakness with a capital W, Jihoon had caved and made a Light a Flame profile the other night. It’s an app reserved for more serious relationships, which means you’ve finally graduated from Tinder.

“Are you okay?” he wants to cry when he hears you on the other line, genuinely panicked. “Do you need me to send you his profile?”

“N-no,” he sputters, rubbing a rough napkin from McDonalds over his dripping chin. He thought he privated his profile last week after he realized there was nothing he could do to let loose of you. Turns out that isn’t the case, because you’re currently pursuing his profile and actually kinda-sorta considering him for a potentially serious relationship.

“C’mon, Uji,” you tease lightly, “you always seem to know what to do. This is your area of expertise after all, since you work for that kind of department.”

What should he do, scratch that, what can he do? It’s a complete violation of policy to be fraternizing with his civilian life. Sure, there has been episodes of civilians and agents meeting each other, but only minor violations that both parties forgot about shortly after. He’s so far deep at this point, he can risk being relocated or losing his civilian—losing you.

“Do you think he really works in the FBI?” you say when he doesn’t reply immediately, “he’s really cute, though. Totally looks like my style, and he likes My Hero as well! C’mon, I just need for you to check as to whether he’s a homicidal maniac or a compulsive liar.”

Liar. He’s a liar.

That self-accusation prompts him to slump in defeat, and he mumbles in the phone, “I don’t think he’s worth it. I’d say pass.”

“Hey, Coups has seniority,” Soonyoung pats Jihoon thoughtfully on the back with one hand, and grilling meat with the other. Barbeque always lifted up Jihoon’s spirits. “Why don’t you give it a chance and meet her for real? And then he can give me your super cute civilian and then he can give my shitty civilian to some newbie.”

“And if it doesn’t work out, I just lose her,” Jihoon’s eyes are watering, most likely from the excess smoke around their grill, but it does align with his current state of sadness. It was the right thing to do, he thinks over and over as he replays that phonecall from last night. “Hoshi, if you were in my situation, would you have done the same?”

“Like I said–” Soonyoung—codename Hoshi, waves his tongs around like a magic wand, “your civilian is super cute, so I would be making a beeline to her house and—”

“Okay, don’t finish that sentence,” you’re his civilian, not Soonyoung’s.

“Cheer up, c’mon,” Soonyoung’s filling his bowl with all sorts of delicious things, charred vegetables, mixed rice, and pork belly. Jihoon’s favorite is pork belly, so eventually he relents with a timid smile, taking out his chopsticks to appease his friend, “there it is, Uji. Food always makes things better—”

“Uji?”

Both off-duty agents freeze, hearing the familiar ting of your voice as it glares holes into Jihoon’s back. It’s you. Since they’re off the clock, he would have no idea you’d be here. Usually that’s fine, it’s early morning and it’s pretty unlikely that you’d run into your civilian considering you’re supposed to know every second of their schedule. It seems that tonight you’ve varied from the norm.

“Uh, hey?”

His back is still facing you, and he’s side eying Soonyoung in a panic. He’s wearing a cap and a nondescript hoodie, feeling like a shlub as your familiar voice pings back at him with excitement.

“I knew I recognized your voice!” you’re unfazed, definitely not realizing the distress the two men are currently going through. “What a small world, I didn’t think we’d ever actually run into each other!”

“Talk to her, you ass!” Soonyoung hisses, and immediately swivels his chair so he has no choice but to face you.

You’re so, so pretty. Prettier in person, prettier than any crappy 480p screen can give him. You’re definitely not dressed for barbeque, in fact you look like you’re just passing by to pick up a to-go order after a night out. You’re dressed in a silky looking velvet off-the-shoulder top, the cherry red color practically melting onto your skin. The black skirt paired with it has Jihoon salivating for more than just barbeque, and he has no idea how to look away.

The smile is wiped clean off your face however, and you recognize him almost immediately. “Jihoon?”

This should be a moment of joy for him, after all it’s far too late to go back at this point. You look a little hurt, your face twisted in confusion as you put two and two together.

Soonyoung excuses himself to go to the bathroom, although neither party seems to care. The lame, over-distended EDM music that plays over the cacophony of the barbeque place seems to melt in the atmosphere, much like how the smoke hits the fan, and it’s just you two in the room. Jihoon gestures a pale hand to Soonyoung’s seat, and you take a beat to reluctantly sit yourself down.

You clutch your skirt with both hands, thumbs ringing against the pleats and ironing them out. “So, you’re also Jihoon?” your voice is tiny, small and sad. Jihoon feels liquid guilt inject in his veins, and he wishes he could reach out and pat your shoulder, hold your hand, something. However no matter how much he knows you, he’s a stranger to you. “Why did you lie to me?”

“It’s… complicated,” you shake your head at his pathetic reply, and Jihoon hates this. He feels like he’s drowning in smoke and mirrors and the cloying scent of pork belly is now sticking to all his senses, immobilizing him.

With a cross of your arms, you scoff, “It’s always complicated.”

“Please don’t think I said those things the other night because I don’t want to date you,” Jihoon tumbles the words out like a hamster wheel, wanting to speed up to your pace as fast as he can, “I want to, I really do, but it’s—”

“Complicated.”

“Yeah.”

The two of you sit in silence, letting the noise back into your little bubble. Jihoon feels his stare on you, akin to how a teacher looks over your shoulder during an exam. He robotically eats rice, grain after grain as he lets you have your look.

The slope of his nose, the cotton smooth skin, the lean yet strong stature. You can’t believe he matches the Light a Flame profile perfectly. Other than the frumpy clothes, he matches the man on your phone, a simple picture in a black suit that reminds you strangely of the movie Kingsman. You mentally roll through what you remember from his profile, his hobbies, his likes and dislikes, his occupation—

“Wait,” you pause, your brows knitting together, “so the FBI thing on your profile… is not a joke?”

Jihoon forgets to chew his last bite, and he swallows a whole two centimeters of meat down his throat. Ouch.

“It’s—”

“Complicated.”

The adjective has a whole new meaning now. It’s crazy how in so little words, so much is exchanged between you two. You might not be realizing it, but Jihoon’s so attuned to you he feels like the pick to your guitar, strumming and humming along your chords like it’s second nature. It really isn’t fair, but anticipating your reactions helps greatly.

“There’s things you’re not telling me.”

“Right.”

“And things you can’t tell me,” you add.

“Yes.”

“Then what are some things you can tell me?”

“I’d… rather not here,” Jihoon’s eyes dart around the room, looking for all the pinholes and micro cams attached to the restaurant. By the bonsai, under the table, in the koi tank, “I need to work out some paperwork before anything.”

“Paperwork?”

Jihoon nods mutely, but he looks at you with a litany of emotions in his eyes you’re reeling back in your stool. Why do you feel like this man knows you from a simple five-minute interaction? And why do you feel like you can trust this man with your life?

“Okay,” you finally say.

“Really? Okay?” you think he’s cute, the way his eyes perk up and his back straightens.

“Really.”

Silence fills the space once more. This time however, it feels more at ease.

“The only reason why I’m saying yes,” you pretend to nonchalantly play with your fingertips, a manicure reserved for a date you’ve long abandoned for this evening in favor of a new flame, “is because I think FBI agents are kinda hot.”

A flush blooms on Jihoon’s cheeks, and you can’t help but giggle.

#jihoon x reader #woozi x reader #caratwritersclub #kwritersworldnet #svtcreations #jihoon fic #woozi fic #seventeen fic #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #jihoon scenarios #woozi scenarios

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littletrash1027 · 3 years

Photo

It was cold and dark, but it never gave any chills or gave the feeling like you were just in a black, empty room. It was just nothing, like a void, where no sounds or matter existed. However, there was one thing that made the emptiness feel like it was a separate, darker room. There was a faint light, glowing a far distance away from view, flickering as if it was soon to go out. It wasn’t overwhelming, but just there, waiting to be reached. It was strange, this weird limbo state of being between two worlds, like being between life and death. Was that what this is? Is this what death, or the aftermath of death, is? You hear about how, when you die, you see and eventually go into the light, seemingly a gateway to heaven. But shouldn’t you move towards it? It becomes more faint rather than lighter over time, and the feeling of sinking, or falling, surfaces. It’s almost as if...it feels like you don’t want to...die?

Lewis gasped and bolted upright, taking in long, shaky breaths, like he had never taken a breath in a long time. The air was cold and damp, which didn’t help ease the burning tightness in his chest. Adrenaline overwhelmed Lewis’ senses, making everything blur and create a dizzying confusion. He ran his fingers through his hair and shut his eyes tightly, trying to relax and regain his thoughts. It felt like he just had a nightmare, altough a part of him wasn’t so sure. Lewis opened his eyes, and was surprised to see him at the bottom of some cavern drenched in a thick, green fog. It took him a second to remember that him and the others were exploring this cave, but that was all he could recall so far. It was strange that Lewis didn’t feel that cold, or how the air didn’t feel that heavy, but he shrugged it off. He didn’t see any signs of anyone else being in the cave with him, which was weird considering that him and others weren’t that far away from each other. And wasn’t there a path leading down to where he was right now? If Lewis fell asleep down here, for some reason, wouldn’t the others have helped him to the van or been right there with him? “G...guys? Vivi? Are you still here?” Lewis called, his voice hoarse and echoed throughout the cavern. He held his arm to his side, and slowly stood up with shaky legs. His head turned and searched for any sign of any voice or familiar figure, but he saw nothing. He tried to call again. “Where are you?! This...this isn’t funny! Hello?” Lewis cried out, his slow pace quickening as he frantically searched around the cavern. Yet no reply came. Lewis suddenly felt his body freeze and jolt with a rush of energy. He stumbled back, placing a hand on his chest from the shock, but then paused. He couldn’t feel his heartbeat, or it was like it wasn’t there. Lewis looked down and saw a small, golden heart that flashed with light from every beat. Upon closer inspection, it looked like a locket than a normal heart. It was confusing, with it being in such pristine condition and how Lewis couldn’t feel his own heartbeat, like there was an empty hole in his chest. “What the heck is going on?” Lewis whispered to himself, as he kneeled down and went to reach the locket. However, right before he was inches away from it, he noticed how his hand was black and had strange white “plates” on it. “W-what-?” Lewis gasped, taking a second look at his hands, even more confusion and anxiety welling up in his chest. He looked down his body, and saw a large hole on the left side of his chest, where his heart should be. It didn’t take him long to connect the pieces, yet there was still one last piece missing. Lewis reached for the locket and once he grabbed it, he saw his reflection in it’s golden brilliance. His face...his eyes were blacked out and tips of his hair were glowing and flickering lightly, like they were on fire. Lewis was surprised and his reaction was delayed. His head slowly lift on it’s own, like being pulled by a string, and what he saw confirmed his fears. He saw his old, cold body, stained by large amounts of crimson, and impaled with one of the cave’s spikes. Lewis broke with a mortified scream of horror that echoed throughout the cavern and dropped the heart from his hand. It made a piercing tink, like clanging a glass with a fork, and clattered on the ground. Tears poured from Lewis’ eyes, and didn’t even notice how they were not their normal color, but were instead black. His screams slowly died down into sobs, his emotions spiraling within him like a hurricane, and buried his face into his hands. Lewis noticed that his face was changing, being burned away by a light pink fire, and leaving just his skull. There was no pain, and that frightened him. He continued to cry, however, and felt his missing memories return, as if this sickening realization was what he needed. Lewis remembered him going with Arthur down one of the paths of the cave from the entrance. Arthur was anxious and almost everything frightened him, but Lewis at one point gave him encouragement, so they pressed on. They stopped at a ledge, Lewis taking a closer look at it’s deepness. He barely heard Arthur gasp, and before he knew it, Arthur pushed him down into the cavern with a malicious look in his eye. Lewis could barely hear anything else at that point from the ringing in his ears and the flooding sensation of suffocating pain and...and... “Wait...Arthur..what?” Everything freezed, almost as if time stood still at that sudden revelation. Lewis’ eyes were wide and tears continued to stream down, but every other part of his body was frozen. A few minutes passed before the shock passed and only questions festered afterwards. Why? Why would Arthur do that? Did Lewis do something wrong? They were friends, weren’t they? He didn’t understand any of this and he felt like sobbing all over again. That was, until a thought came to Lewis, a devilish voice said with malicious certainty. Arthur did this and left him here to rot, not even caring to let Vivi or anybody help his body out. He made them leave, and for Lewis to be forgotten. “N-no he wouldn’t...that...that BASTARD!” Lewis murmured, then slowly turned into a growl of rage. Lewis felt the fire return, forming on his skull, as if to mirror his burning anger. His hands moved away from his head, shaking from the shock and adrenaline, and his fingers curled into fists. Two pink pinpricks lit from his eyesockets, and seeped with a newfound hatred. “Arthur...you tried to kill me, but...” Lewis paused, but softly chuckled to himself, “You failed. And now, when I find you, I’m going to show you something to be FUCKING AFRAID OF!!” Lewis yelled in rage, the seeds of vengence fully planted. Lewis’ attention shifted to the heart locket, still beating yet even brighter somehow. He picked it up and touched a finger on it’s surface, checking for any damage caused to it. However, it opened like any other locket, and showed a faint picture of Lewis and Vivi, him holding her close, and both smiling brightly. It was then that another thought occured to Lewis: What if Arthur tries to hurt Vivi? Or, what if he did this just to be with her? The thought frightened Lewis, yet it also fueled his desire for revenge. He would find them, and protect her from Arthur. He wasn’t selfish, not anymore, for he has a true reason why he is still here. Lewis placed the heart locket near the now newly closed hole, and walked down the path to leave the cavern. What he didn’t know was that something else was there, satified with the outcome of this ordeal. It’s eye glinted with malicious glee, now content to patiently wait until the perfect time that this misconstrued demise would fufill it’s full potential.

This took a while for me to do, cause I wasn’t sure if I wanted to do this piece or move on to the next. But I did it! Parts of this were inspired by a small headcanon and comic, so credit to those awesome ideas!

(This is a continuation of a previous drawing I made with another short story along with it: Part 1 , Part 2)

#mystery skulls #mystery skulls animated #msa #lewis pepper #lewis pepper msa #mystery skulls lewis #arthur kingsmen #mystery skulls arthur #msa Arthur #Vivi Yukino #Mystery Skulls Vivi #msa vivi #msa ???#digital art #art #storytelling

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blitzturtles · 3 years

Text

Title: Freezing

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: DCU / DC Comics

Pairing(s): JayTim w/ Batfam

Summary: “He’s in DKA.”

“He’s what?”

“Diabetic ketoacidosis. It’s-”

“I know what it is,” Jason says a little too quickly, but he doesn’t understand. Can’t wrap his head around what it means in this particular situation. “He has a pump. You got him a pump.”

Notes: For my 100th fic on Ao3, I thought I'd go back to the beginning. What got me back into writing: DC Comics and the Batfam.

Also, full credit to my wife (@sexyvanillatiger) for not only beta reading this thing, but also helping me with the information on DKA and rewriting several bits of the story to make it work.

For the record, this is an extremely unlikely scenario that most people with an insulin pump won't have to worry about. It has more to do with Tim's particular style of pump originally being one with an external catheter, as well as his being a) underdressed for the weather and b) out for far too long in said weather.

I will say that, though it is unlikely, pump failure due to freezing temperatures has happened, so please be mindful when you're out and about!

It’s three in the morning and freezing, and the last thing Jason expects is to hear Dick’s voice ring through the comm in his ear while he’s midair, between the end of one building and the beginning of the next. He’s busy, very nearly disconnects on the spot given the mood he’s in, but Dick seems to sense the impending end of the conversation.

“Wait!”

“What do you want, Nightwing?” He grinds the name out with far too much disdain. It’s not Dick’s fault that he’s in a bad mood.

“It’s Tim. He’s-”

Truth be told, Jason hears nothing after that. After ‘Tim’. Not Red Robin, not Red, not even Babybird. No, just Tim.

“Shit!” He very nearly goes careening off the side of the next building with the abrupt shift in his momentum and the loss of focus. There’s ice clinging to every other surface, which wouldn’t be a problem if he weren’t distracted. He can hear Dick’s frantic voice on the other end of the comm, but he can’t bring himself to care enough to explain.

“Where is he?” Jason demands once he’s regained his footing and has a moment to school his tone into something near neutral.

“That’s the thing. We don’t know. He-”

“What do you mean, ‘We don’t know’? What the fuc-”

“He missed his last check-in,” Dick finishes, unphased by the interruption.

“How long?” Jason asks, barely noticing how his voice shakes.

“Only twenty minutes, but-”

“But he’s working on a goddamn human trafficking ring, and it’s fucking freezing,” Jason finishes. He doesn’t need Dick to explain to him why twenty minutes is suddenly a big deal and not Tim losing track of time. “What about his tracker?”

“He turned it off after his last contact. We’re not sure why, but Oracle is working on pinning down possible locations based on his last. Look, B’s- Anyway, he doesn’t know I’m getting you involved, but you know that side of Gotham better than any of us,” at least on practical experience. Jason has spent months blending into the crowds in the past, as much as he hated every second of it.

“That’s just great, Dickie,” to hell with codenames. And to hell with his helmet. He tugs it off his head and tosses it at the nearest surface. The damn thing doesn’t so much as crack from the impact, but he can breathe again.

For a moment, he forgets that he has a secondary comm in his ear, which is why he flinches when Dick speaks again, “You also know Babybird better than any of us. I was just- hoping, I guess, that you would have a better idea once Oracle came up with her list.”

“Yeah, yeah, send it my way, will you? And his last location. Whatever files the computer has. I want all of it.”

“Done.”

Jason scoops his helmet off the ground and secures it in place again. No time to waste now. He starts shifting through the information the moment Dick sends it over. There are names that he recognizes. Places that he’s been too. Clubs that he’s spent the wee hours of the morning pretending to get plastered in, while flirting with the sort of men he’d happily put a bullet in any other time (for several of them, he had). But none of it tells him where Tim might be now, or why he thought going AWOL was some brilliant idea.

And here’s the thing, Jason’s in the mood he’s in because of this whole human trafficking bullshit. He knows Tim’s been working on it for the last few weeks, though Jason only found out about it in the last couple of days. Probably because Tim’s smart enough to know that Jason doesn’t want any of them so directly involved in that shit, least of all Tim. But there’s no stopping his-- he still doesn’t know when Tim went from ‘the’ to ‘his’-- Replacement when he gets an idea in his head.

It brings Jason no comfort to know that the temperature outside is frigid. He can feel it sink into his bones, despite the warmth of his suit. Technology can only get them so far without impacting agility, and Tim is a lot like Dick in that he likes to fly through the air, unhindered.

Dick passes Oracle’s findings over a few minutes later, when Jason’s already halfway to Tim’s last location. He’s on his bike. Going on foot would take too long, and they’ve already lost-- fuck-shit, thirty-two minutes now.

He tears through all the clubs in the area. Takes out more kneecaps than he has in months, but it doesn’t get him anywhere. The rooftops don’t help either. The advantage is lost when tracking a fellow Bat. Tim moves with purpose, and he does it without leaving a trace.

At least until Jason stumbles into an alley by sheer luck. One that could be in disarray for any reason, but he catches sight of a Batarang. It’s surface glints off the streetlight behind him. There’s no blood. No fibers stuck to it. It looks like it’s been dropped more than thrown, and he doesn’t know what to make of that, but his stomach is turning painfully.

Something is definitely wrong; he just doesn’t know what.

Dick chirps updates in his ear. Brief lines of information; none of it useful. The rest of them are having as much (or less) luck as he is, though he doesn’t immediately report his findings. It could be something; then again, it could be nothing, and they don’t need to all bunge together just to step on each others’ toes with no chance of finding Tim before someone or something gets to him.

The next three alleys look similar to the first in that they could all but in the state that they are because they’re part of the seedier night scene of Gotham, but something about them rings wrong in Jason’s head. There’s a garbage bag that’s strewn across the asphalt, like someone knocked it over rather than it having been pushed or thrown, and eerie signs of a scuffle that don’t look right either. There’s no blood and no sign of reciprocation. Only the snowy remains of a chaotic waltz littered throughout.

And that’s when he all but stumbles into a body. Curled and small with lips that are too close to blue and a face that’s ashen white.

Jason’s on his knees in an instant, calling Tim’s name-- Red? Robin? Drake, he hisses the last one in barely a whisper, but none of them yield results. Tim stays there, unmoving. His chest barely moves, but the bizarre part is how there doesn’t seem to be any injuries besides a trickle of blood that might be coming from Tim’s temple. His suit is otherwise intact, and who would leave a Bat incapacitated without finishing the job? Around here, not a single bastard.

He’s lifting Tim up before he can think to call for help. He carries him back to his bike and manages to maneuver them both onto the seat. He keeps Tim in front of him, awkward as it is, with one arm hooked around the limp body. The only saving grace in the moment is how goddamn small Tim is.

“Nightwing,” he calls as he starts the bike. “Cave, now.” He severs the connection before Dick has a chance to respond.

By the time he gets to the Cave, his heart is pounding away in his chest. Tim still hasn’t woken up. Still hasn’t so much as shifted in his unconscious state, and Jason is getting frantic. More and more terrified with each passing second, and it’s all he can do to keep one foot in front of the other when he pulls to a stop and gets Tim in his arms once again.

The face that greets him isn’t Dick’s, but Bruce’s, and Jason’s too afraid to give a shit. Too out of his depth. He can stitch wounds and even remove bullets, but he doesn’t know what’s wrong with Tim or how to fix it. He’s completely at Bruce’s mercy, and that would ordinarily piss him off, but, right now? He can feel wetness build in his eyes and his voice shakes as he looks at Bruce with desperation.

“Please,” he begs, knowing that he doesn’t have to, but unable to stop himself anyways.

Bruce doesn’t miss a beat. He’s already reaching for Tim, and it feels like someone pulling the rug from underneath Jason’s feet the moment his arms are empty again. There’s nothing keeping him steady, keeping him moving forward. At least not until Bruce glances back over his shoulder and calls,

“Jason.”

Jason scrambles forward, falling in after Bruce, and he feels all of about twelve years old again, following behind the Bat’s massive silhouette without question.

Alfred meets him in the infirmary, and the two make quick work of stripping Tim out of his suit. It would be impressive, considering the security measures, if Jason were able to take the time to appreciate anything, but he’s too wrapped up in his ever growing anxiety. The more skin that becomes visible, the more alarmed they all become. There’s no bruising, no blood. No explanation.

They start him on fluids for lack of anything else to do, and there is a minor contusion on the side of Tim’s head that indicates that he must have hit it at some point, but it's apparent to Jason-- the way it is to Bruce and Alfred-- that the trauma happened as Tim hit the ground and not as the result of someone getting the better of him.

“Oh,” Alfred breathes, and two pairs of blue eyes snap in his direction. He’s holding a strip of paper-- the results of his blood test-- with a frown etched into his features.

Bruce reaches out, and Alfred passes them over wordlessly. He moves around the infirmary in a flurry, gathering supplies with renewed purpose. For some reason, it only makes Jason’s heart beat that much harder in his chest.

“What is it?”

“He’s in DKA.”

“He’s what?”

“Diabetic ketoacidosis. It’s-”

“He does, and I did,” Bruce agrees with a grunt. It’s clear that he’s just as lost as Jason, but he doesn’t have the chance to say anything else before Alfred is calling him over, leaving Jason to stew on the information and watch from the sidelines because diabetic complications are definitely outside of his scope of practice.

He feels useless. Beyond, even, and he can’t stop looping back to the pump. That’s the whole reason Tim has it. So he can patrol without complications. He remembers the excitement when Tim first got it. All the information he had to absorb as part of being approved in the first place. He’s been stable on the damn thing for months. So why is his blood sugar through the roof?

It feels like hours until Alfred lets them know that Tim’s responding to treatment-- which includes a complicated setup of three different bags of fluids that Jason couldn’t identify for the life of him-- and beginning to improve. Jason doesn’t know how much time has actually passed, but he’s been in his head the whole of it, replaying the same questions and spiralling down the same, horrific scenarios. His cheeks itch with the feeling of dried tears, though he doesn’t know when he started crying (or when he stopped, for that matter).

He sits beside Tim diligently, despite his exhaustion, and holds his smaller hand in both of his own. It’s the only thing keeping him grounded, especially as everyone else comes and goes. Alfred never goes far, though Bruce disappears entirely to do god knows what. Dick hugs him, but he’s smart enough to keep his thoughts to himself. Damian’s about as comforting as he never is, but the worry is apparent in his eyes, even as he insists that Tim’s situation is more of a nuisance than anything else.

Cass stops by before Stephanie. A quiet presence that actually soothes Jason’s nerves, only to be followed by a quiet that sets them alight. Stephanie is rarely so subdued, but she disappears quickly, evidently unable to handle just standing there. She mutters something about finishing the job. It would concern Jason more if he weren’t already certain that none of them were going to be able to fly under Bruce’s radar for a bit.

Speaking of, Bruce announces his return by not-so-gently placing something on the little metal cart by Tim’s bed. It takes Jason a moment to recognize it as Tim’s pump, though it’s been pulled apart and now sits in multiple pieces.

“What-”

“It froze,” Bruce says before Jason can continue.

“What?” Jason repeats.

They can freeze? Is that something they knew? Why the hell hadn’t Tim taken precautions going out into sub-zero temperatures?

“Not the whole pump. This,” Bruce traces the remains of the clear tubing that typically goes from the pump to the injection point that sits under Tim’s skin. The line, itself, usually sits on Tim’s hip. “The catheter. The vial has enough insulin in it that it would have been fine, if not for this and the weather.”

“Why-?” Jason can’t finish the question. Doesn’t know what he means to ask in the first place, but Bruce doesn’t hesitate to answer,

“He didn’t know. Neither did I, for that matter. It never occurred to any of us.”

Oh.

Jesus.

Tim could have died, and not one of them would have realized why until it was too late.

“From what I can find, it’s not typically a concern,” Bruce goes on, though Jason’s only half listening. He supposes that makes sense, though, considering most people aren’t spending hours in the cold. He wonders how long Tim had been struggling. Alone and dazed and stumbling over his feet. That explains the condition of the alley. There really hadn’t been any fights. Just Tim, grabbing at anything and everything.

“If I had to guess,” and Bruce doesn’t look happy with the idea of not knowing, “He turned his tracker off in confusion.” Possibly while trying to call for help, he doesn’t say, and it makes Jason sick to think about.

“That shouldn’t fucking happen,” Jason snaps, less at Bruce and more at the universe.

“I know,” Bruce answers when the universe remains as silent as ever, “Lucius is working on it now. We’ve already discussed the possibility of adding a second, remotely activated tracker.” All of their trackers can be remotely activated, unless they’re turned off. Having a second just means that they would have a backup should anything happen to the original.

“Good,” Jason says, for lack of anything else to say. He finds some comfort in the idea, but it doesn’t exactly make him feel better now. Particularly not when Tim is without a pump entirely, which means they’re back to constant checks and needle drawn injections, both of which he knows Tim hates. Both of which interfere with Tim’s ability to patrol for any extended period of time.

“Tim will be alright,” Bruce tells him in a tone that’s entirely too gentle to be coming out of his mouth, “Alfred says his numbers are looking better.”

“Yeah,” Jason’s mouth feels dry, and he feels his eyes burning. He works his jaw a few times to try to regain control. He doesn’t need to cry a second time, not when everything’s fine now. Tim will wake up in a bit, probably feeling like shit, but he’ll be alive.

“He’s alright,” Bruce reiterates as he crouches in front of Jason and tugs him forward. Jason doesn’t resist, allows himself to be maneuvered until his head is pressed into Bruce’s shoulder.

Neither move for what seems like an eternity, but Jason finally breaks the contact and wipes as subtly as he can at his eyes while looking Tim over. “He’s going to hate using needles again.”

“He should have a new pump before the end of the day tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Jason breathes, “He’ll- thanks.”

It doesn’t fix the current problem with the cold, but there are measures they can take against that. Measures that Tim won’t like, but it will be better for him to have his pump so that he doesn’t have to draw up his insulin, which, from what Jason understands, is less accurate than the pump anyways.

Bruce hums his response before opening his mouth to add, “You should go get washed up. Or changed, at least.”

Says the man still wearing his giant Bat suit, but Jason doesn’t feel like starting an argument for no reason when he’s still on edge. “You gonna stay here?”

“Of course. I’ll be here until you get back.”

“Okay,” thank you.

“Take your time,” you’re welcome.

______

By the time Jason showers, changes into some of the clothes kept in the dresser of his old room, and makes it back down to the Cave, Tim is still out, though there’s finally some color in his cheeks. A nice little dusting of pink that makes him look alive, and his lips are slowly beginning to regain some color, too.

“Alfred just came by,” Bruce says when he sees Jason, “He says that Tim should wake up soon.”

“Good,” Jason says, voicing the most subdued version of what’s going on in his head.

After too long, or maybe too short of a pause, Bruce says, “I need to get to work on a few things. Will you be alright?”

Jason has to brush away his immediate irritation (of course Bruce needs to do shit while another one of his kids is recovering from a near death experience; what else would he be doing?) and remind himself that Bruce has spent the better part of the last forty minutes sitting with Tim. That might as well be a lifetime in Bat years. Jason rarely sees Bruce sit still that long without a computer screen reflecting in his eyes.

“Yeah, fine.”

“Call me if you need me.”

“Will do, B,” he probably wouldn’t, but word would get to Bruce eventually.

______

The first time Tim opens his eyes, Jason’s excitement and relief are crushed almost immediately. Tim’s far from his usual self. He’s more out of it than Jason’s ever seen him, with his head lolling back and eyes flickering. What comes out of his mouth is mostly babbled nonsense in between groans.

Jason calls for Alfred immediately, and he’s just this side of his anxiety getting the better of him when Alfred reassures him that the state that Tim is in is to be expected after what his body went through. Besides, his carbon dioxide levels are still low and his blood sugar hasn’t come down very far yet. It’s going to take time for Tim to fully recover, but it’s a lot for Jason to take in all at once.

“Turn ‘ff the lights,” Tim grumbles, startling Jason from his thoughts.

“What?”

“Fuckin’ lights, turn ‘em off.”

Under any other circumstances, the uncharacteristically grumpy demand would have Jason laughing. Right now, it just makes his chest ache.

Alfred dims the lights before speaking, “He may be a bit grouchy.”

Jason lets out a small snort, “Thanks, Alf.”

Alfred offers him a small smile. Evidently pleased that he’s managed to lighten Jason’s mood, even if only a little bit.

“Stop,” Tim groans, causing the two to turn back toward him.

“Sorry,” Jason mutters at the same time that Alfred says, “Apologies, Master Tim.”

Tim huffs at both of them before seemingly drifting off once more.

______

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll call you next time,” Jason grumbles at Bruce’s retreating back. The man is being even more stoic over not being told about Tim’s wake-up, which, to be fair, hadn’t been that remarkable, beyond the amount of stress that it had caused Jason. Besides, if Bruce weren’t so damned busy with whatever it is he’s doing, he might have known that Tim had woken up briefly.

Bruce says nothing as the door closes behind him, apparently aware that Jason is more irritable than usual and unwilling to get into a fight over it.

Jason huffs and sits back in his seat. Part of him wishes Bruce would start something. He’s getting antsy sitting in the Cave this long. Hell, he’s just tired of sitting, but there’s only so much pacing he can do.

“You should be nice,” Tim croaks from his spot in bed, effectively startling the shit out of Jason in the process.

“That was nice, and fuck you,” Jason answers easily, but his heart is bounding away in his chest.

“For which part?”

“All of it, Replacement,” the part where Tim scared the shit out of him and the part where he has the audacity to comment on Jason’s shitty people skills first upon waking up after nearly dying.

“Ouch, I’m back to the Replacement, huh?”

Jason snorts, “You’re damn right. Only a Replacement would pull something like that.”

Tim winces, “Sorry.”

Oh. That’s not fair. The sad look in Tim’s eyes and the pained expression. That’s just plain cheating. “It’s okay,” Jason sighs, “I’m just glad we found you in time.” He doesn’t mention the part where he had been the one to find Tim. Unresponsive and blue in the face. Looking more dead than alive.

“Who?”

“Dickiebird, obviously.” Blue enough.

Tim huffs a small, would-be laugh. It quickly turns into a cough and a groan. “Feels like I got hit by a train.”

“You kinda look like it, too, but I hear that’s just your face.”

Tim blinks at him, slow and owlish, but the joke seems to register after a moment and he shoots Jason a nasty look. “You can leave whenever you want.”

“You’d like that.”

“I really would.”

“Too bad.”

“What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“Something fucking stellar: me.”

Tim snorts, but his expression sobers after a moment, “I’m sorry. Really. I- I didn’t know what was happening. I still- did my blood sugar drop?”

“No, the opposite actually.”

“Wait, what?” Tim’s frown deepens and his brows come together, “But-”

“The insulin in the outside part of your pump froze.”

Tim’s hand suddenly reaches for where the pump typically sits. A frantic effort in a tangle of IV tubing that comes up empty. “Where-?”

“Bruce took it. He says you’ll have another one by tomorrow, but I think that one’s pretty shot. He took it apart.”

“Oh,” Tim deflates slightly.

“It almost killed you, Tim.”

“I know,” Tim breathes out. “I know, it’s stupid. Just… Sucks, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Jason answers, for lack of anything else to say. He reaches for one of Tim’s hands and squeezes scarred fingers with his own, calloused pads. “No more patrolling when it’s this cold, I guess.”

“I guess,” Tim echoes, a sign that he doesn’t actually want to agree, but knows that Jason’s right.

Jason squeezes his hand again. This time he gets a gentle squeeze back, which is something of a reassurance. “At least not alone,” he offers after a moment of hesitation. He’s not sure he should give Tim that hope, but he wouldn’t mind company every so often, and the human trafficking shit is something Jason works with on the regular. He can always put aside his more… lethal habits for a bit. There’s nothing stopping him from hunting down names in the future and taking care of business when Tim’s not looking. It’s not as if Tim doesn’t already know what Jason gets up to in his spare time.

“You- really?”

“Really. I’ve worked with a team before.”

“Doesn’t mean that you’d want to now,” Tim points out with a frown.

“It’s you,” it’s different. Maybe Jason will learn how to say half the things he means aloud, but he finds he doesn’t usually have to. Not with Tim, the little deductive prodigy that he is.

“Okay,” Tim smiles at him. A weak, shaky thing, but it’s there, and Jason smiles back.

______

Bruce steps into the infirmary with that usual, severe expression on his face that doesn’t give much away. He’s holding a small box with absolutely no markings on it, and he passes it to Tim wordlessly.

“What’s this?” Tim asks with his brows knitted together, but he doesn’t actually expect an answer. Instead, he opens the box up carefully and finds a new pump sitting inside.

“Freezing won’t be an issue,” Bruce explains before Tim can ask about the lack of a visible catheter. “It’s a single unit. No external catheter, and there’s a warming component that automatically runs under certain conditions to keep the insulin at the ideal temperature.”

“Oh,” Tim breathes, eyes widening as he processes the words. “You-”

“Lucius helped,” Bruce answers with a half shrug and eyes that stay focused on the thing in Tim’s hands rather than the wonder in his son’s eyes.

“Thank you.”

The corners of Bruce’s mouth tug upward before he can stop them, “We just want you safe.”

“Still, thank you.”

Bruce is quiet for a moment, before he says, “Anytime, Tim.”

#dc comics #jaytim #jason todd #tim drake #dick grayson #batfam #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #batfamily #dcu #blitzwrites #blitz

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blue-fidelity · 3 years

Text

~ “Smile In The Face of Tragedy”

Chapter One: Beer Run

Pairings: Billy Hargrove x Henderson!reader, Steve Harrington x best friend! reader

Chapter Summary:

(Y/N) reminisces the events of the summer before senior year. It’s her last year of High School, and she wants to start fresh, the pretty newcomer with shiny blue eyes is willing to help with that.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, abuse (could be trigger warning, reader has a hard past)

The year of 1984 had come into full swing, and (Y/N) had tried to make the rest of her junior year somewhat enjoyable. After the incident with the demogorgon around Christmas, she wanted to focus on the lighter side of life. Which was mainly dicking around with her best friend, and crush, Steve Harrington. Things were going great, till the summer.

‘Summer of ‘84. She dubbed it, “The Summer of Steve & Nancy”. Months usually consisted of Steve and Nancy trying to fix the shattered fragment of what their relationship was, whilst (Y/N) and Jonathan watched on the sidelines. Steve would come to (Y/N)’s house at ungodly hours of the night, usually sneaking through her window.

She’s just been so distant, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong- he’d whimper, laying his head on her lap. She tried to contain her tears, for him. If only she could tell Steve that there was someone better for him, someone that could make him happy. There was one problem with that, though. Steve loved Nancy. It’s not like (Y/N) could change that, and it killed her. Seeing her best friend in this state though, it was another level. She wanted to scream at Nancy, scream at her for stringing Steve on a loose thread that she could’ve easily cut. Instead Nancy hid her feelings for Jonathan and carried on this dance with Steve.

It just wasn’t fair, though, nothing really seemed fair at this point. Everything would eventually come crashing down and it’d leave a trail of broken hearts in the process, but atlast, (Y/N) would keep her head up high. She’d try her best not to fall into the deep end of emotions she wasn’t able to handle. If anything turned down hill, she knew she’d have one thing. Her brother, Dustin.

Dustin was the ray of happiness that (Y/N) projected off of, to his charismatic personality and bright smile, she was like him in many ways. Moments spent with her brother we’re always great, they had a surprisingly better relationship then most siblings did. It was probably because (Y/N) was secretly a nerd, and even though she wouldn’t admit it, she probably liked D&D even more than her brother did. That’s why she absolutely loved joining Dustin and his friends on their sessions.

This made the party worship her in a way, and she couldn’t help but find it adorable. It’s not everyday you get a bunch of middle schoolers fawn after you. So despite the never ending months of trying to mend Steve’s broken heart, the summer wasn’t a total bust. In fact, she loved the days she spent with those boys (even though it was a little hard to carpool when she drove a Harley Davidson, Mike was always willing to lend his family’s station wagon).

Now, she was nearly two months into her senior year, and she decided to make it count. After all, it was her last year of high school before college. It was the day before Halloween, and she couldn’t be more excited. Dustin and the rest of the party were pretty hyped about spending their first night trick or treating unchaperoned, if (Y/N) remembered correctly he stated, “(Y/N)! We are 13, practically men! As men we fetch our own candy”. To this she giggled, ruffling her brother’s curls, “Well young man, you must save your sister some Kit-Kats”.

(Y/N) knew Tina, the only popular girl that really tolerated her was going to throw a party at her place. She had called her last night all excited about her, “Halloween Bash”, and how she wanted (Y/N) to help plan it. “The guys at the liquor store won’t say no to a hot chic on a motorcycle!”, of course Tina wanted her to get the beer. (Y/N) didn’t even drink that much! Only on occasions, but Tina was her friend. So after school today, she was going to head to ‘Hawkins local liquor store, and PRAY TO GOD she could hide the kegs from her mother. It was moments like these she wished she had a car to stash things in.

She pulled up into Hawkins High’s parking lot, “Toys in The Attic” by Aerosmith playing loudly on her stereo. Spending a whole summer with middle schooler’s kind of made her forget about her social status. If it made sense, (Y/N) wasn’t in the “popular clique”, being Steve’s best friend just gave her a title. Those who didn’t like her called her, “Steve’s Wannabe Queen”, which was partially true, whilst others who liked her didn’t name her anything. She was just, “(Y/N) Henderson”. A face that simply stood out in the crowd because of sheer confidence, kindness, and a vibe that screamed cool. Guys wanted to fuck her, girls wanted to be her. It was a classic High School cliché.

Tina waved at her as she parked her ‘Harley beside her car. She was with Carol and another girl who she couldn’t name. “Hey (Y/N/N), I was just telling the ladies you’ll be supplying the beer for tomorrow?”, she said, to which (Y/N) rolled her eyes. “Only because you know the creeps down there won’t turn me down, come on Tina I feel used”, she fake pouted. The girls all laughed, continuing to talk about the party.

As the girls continued their conversation, (Y/N)’s Aerosmith seemed to be drowned out by the familiar sound of The Scorpions, “Rock You Like A Hurricane”. A fellow metal head such as herself in Hawkins Indiana? ‘This couldn’t be possible. About everyone in this town had shitty taste in music, besides her and Jonathan. She turned down her stereo and directed her view to the sound, eyes being met with an ocean blue Camaro, with a California license plate. How fitting. Whoever the driver was, had sped into the parking spot beside hers.

The group of girls behind her stared eagerly to see who this suspicious newcomer was, and if (Y/N) was being honest, she was kind of curious as well. The driver door swung open, and the driver’s combat boots grounded him to the concrete. That’s when she saw him, and he saw her, too.

Something radiated off him, almost a confidence higher than hers. It was cockiness, and at first glance, she could see right through him. Denim jacket, cuffed jeans, and a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. That was her first impression, and damn was he definitely good looking. For a moment, Steve had been wiped from her brain. Replaced with blonde curls and pretty blue eyes that bore into hers. “Whatcha looking at, princess?”, he smirked- eyeing her up and down like an animal staring down its prey. (Y/N) tried to contain herself, she wasn’t about to be wooed by the new playboy.

“I’m simply looking at your car, 1979 Chevrolet Camaro Z/28, right?”, her car knowledge would get her out of this one. “Right you are sweetheart, pleasure to see one of the girls in this town has common sense”, he grinned, showing his pearly whites. “Well if you're ‘lookin for that trait in the rest of the girls here, I think you’d sadly be disappointed”, she smiled, gesturing to her “friends”. Tina and the other’s let out gasps. The newcomer shook his head, plucking his cigarette from his lips. “Well I guess I’ll see you and your senseless friends around then, huh?”, “I guess so”. He strutted to the school.

“You whore! Way to throw us under the bus like that”, Tina scowled, slapping (Y/N) on the shoulder. She only laughed, “Well, couldn’t lie to the guy now could I?”. Well wasn’t (Y/N) feeling pretty proud about herself right now? She could really be a sarcastic fuck sometimes, huh?

In a way, (Y/N) loved school. Her place made her feel validated, and she got pretty good grades. What was there not to love? As she was at her locker, her peachy attitude soon turned to discomfort. The happy squeals of Nancy could be heard from a few lockers away as Steve spun her around. She smiled at the couple, yet it still made her heart ache. (Y/N) couldn’t help but notice Jonathan awkwardly walking away from them, passing by her. Steve looked at his girlfriend with sparkles in his eyes. He genuinely seemed joyful, and in a way she was happy for him. Still, that aching feeling was there, and at this point it seemed nothing could replace it.

Later that day, during art class (which was last period), she found out the new guy's name was Billy Hargrove. Fresh out from sunny California a week ago. She questioned why someone like him would choose art out of all things for his creative credit, but, maybe he’d surprise her. The class was filled with a very “out of the box”, group of people. They might’ve been (Y/N)’s favorite out of the student body. The art room was a space for open opinions, and creativity. Everyone was interesting in their own individual way, but somehow, Billy managed to stand out.

When he entered the class, everyone was already working on their current pieces. Mr. Axworthy, who insisted everyone called him “Mr. Ax”, had assigned a new project about a week ago. Every year he gave students an assignment to represent themselves, this year it was painting your favorite album cover. Though (Y/N) had many favorites, she chose The Clash’s “London Calling”, and was currently working on the shading. She was calmly sitting at her easel when she heard the teacher speak, “Mr. Hargrove! Pleasure to have you in our art class, there’s a free spot beside Mrs. Henderson, she’ll explain the current project to you!”. (Y/N) gave “Mr. Hargrove” a slight smile as he walked towards her.

“So, Henderson, huh? Got a first name?”, he questioned, showing that cocky smirk. “It’s, (Y/N), yours?”, “Billy. Billy Hargrove”. Now she knew his name- and it somehow added to his intoxicating aura. Call it fascination- but, Billy’s presence overwhelmed her in a way, and she didn’t even know him that well! It’s not like her feelings for Steve disappeared, just anytime those shimmering blue eyes glanced her way, her heart raced. Maybe Billy was the void waiting to fill that aching feeling, and she just hadn’t realized it yet. Everyone was telling her to move on, that it wasn’t worth it, but- to her, Steve was worth it. The one thing that wasn’t worth it though, was chasing a dream that wasn’t going to come true.

As (Y/N) was explaining the project to Billy, she was surprised by how attentive he was. If he could get excited about one thing, it was music. “So how are your art skills?”, she asked, “A little rusty, but nothing you can’t show me”, he grinned, taking one of his paint brushes and dipping it into some red paint. (Y/N) thought he’d go for the canvas, but he surprisingly smeared the paint onto her cheeks. She stared at him in shock- “Wha-what the hell did you do that for?!”, she exclaimed. “Just thought I could add to the flush on your cheeks!”, he laughed, of course he’d notice her blushing. Two could play at this game. “Well, you know what I think your face could use?”, “Oh yeah? What’s that?”, “Some green!”, she shouted, painting a big green line on his face. Before their paint war could continue, Mr. Axworthy had noticed.

“I hate to interrupt, but shouldn’t the paint go on your canvas?”, he motioned to our easels. “Well of course Mr. Ax, but when it comes to the concept of art, isn’t everything a canvas?” she giggled, leaving Mr. Axworthy speechless. “Well, yes- but I’d prefer you’d not interrupt the class and actually help Billy start his project”, he states. “Definitely, he had just finished telling me he wanted to do Metallica’s ‘Kill ‘em All, isn’t that correct, Mr. Hargrove?”, “Yes that is correct!”. “Well then, carry on, you can wash the paint off your faces at the end of class”.

By the time class finished, Billy had at least finished the base coat of his painting whilst (Y/N) had time to finish her shading. Now, they needed to step into the halls with paint all over their faces-how embarrassing. It was as if Mr. Axworthy wanted them to be publicly humiliated! In a way, (Y/N) didn’t blame him, it was a good form of punishment. When the pair walked the halls, they received awkward glances. Billy simply rolled his eyes, who were they to judge him? He wrapped an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders, giving her a reassuring smile, “Let them stare, I know you got rep around this joint, they have no reason to give you dirty looks, aight?”. It was nice to have reassurance from Billy, but from getting to know him, he generally had that ‘don’t give a fuck attitude’. She wasn’t worried about the paint. She was worried what people would think if they saw her, the girl who had been pining for Steve forever, under another guy's arms. The new hotshot nonetheless.

Luckily Billy was called over by Tommy, of course he had already been recruited by that group. Despite her very much fun art class with him, she was feeling uneasy with all the looks she was getting from people, and to make matters worse, Steve was standing at her locker. He waved her over with a smile, to which she headed over to him.

“Hey Stevie”, she beamed at him. Damn she still couldn’t resist that adorable face. “Hiya (Y/N/N), saw you walking with ‘Hargrove”, he smirked. “Oh yeah, that- we just have art together, nothing big”, she blushed, I guess Billy really was getting to her. “That explains the paint on your cheeks?”, he pointed at the red coated on her face. “Just a small mishap I guess”, she chuckled. “So what brings Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington to my locker?” she inquired. “Just wanted to see my bestie, it’s been a while”, he smiled softly, poking her side. It really had been a while, (Y/N) really couldn’t remember the last time Steve looked at her happily. It gave her a sense of comfort to see him so cheerful. “It really has- I’d hate to cut this short, but I really have to get some errands done, but I’ll see you at the party tomorrow?”, “Definitely! I’ll see you then”, he bid her goodbye, kissing her on the cheek. Her hands grazed her cheek, touching where he just kissed. “Oh and Henderson! Let’s hangout sometime, yeah?”, he shouted to her, “That’d be great!”.

Before heading to the parking lot, she stopped at the bathroom to wash the paint off. She checked to see if anyone was there, luckily there wasn’t. The girl really didn’t need anymore dirty looks. She grabbed some paper towels, running them under warm water. While she whipped the paper towel over her face, she took the time to look at herself. What was she doing? Was she really going to let Steve slip away that easily? Billy had just entered her life, and had obviously taken an interest in her. What was the risk of jumping into things too quickly? She couldn’t wait forever. That’s when she decided. (Y/N) was going to allow herself to get lost in the new overwhelming feeling of Billy Hargrove.

(Y/N) drove down the quiet back roads of Hawkins, making her way to the liquor store. If the town wasn’t sketchy enough, having the liquor store away from civilization made it even sketchier. She really didn’t like coming here, the last time (Y/N) came here was for another one of Tina’s parties. It was for the end of the summer, at Lover’s Lake. It was quite the blowout, till Hopper came to shut it down. Fortunately she didn’t get caught that night, her mother would’ve killed her, and she wasn’t about to spend the night in jail.

Now, (Y/N) wanted to give the cashier an offer he couldn’t refuse. The process was simple, bat her eyelashes, show plenty of cleavage, talk innocently, and then figure out how to put two fucking kegs in the side car of her motorcycle! She glanced down at the outfit she was wearing, a simple low-cut red t-shirt with some high rise acid wash jeans, and a leather jacket. The leather jacket could go. She strutted to the counter of the store, knowing they held the kegs in the back storage, it was time to turn on the charm. Borris, the regular cashier, was in his late 60’s, and she absolutely hated the way he looked at her. It made her feel grose, but she wasn’t about to let Tina down.

Boris contentedly stared her down, obviously checking her out. On the inside, she shivered, but she kept on a smile. “Anything I can do for you pretty lady?”, he asked, grinning. “Yes, I was wondering if you can hook me up with a few kegs? ‘You see I got this party tomorrow, up in Indianapolis! It’s a big college thing, ‘can’t have a good time without alcohol”, that oughta convince him. “Sure thing sweets, I’ll grab some for you, how many shall it be?”. He didn’t even ask her for her ID! “Two will be just fine! Thank you so much!”. He brought them up to the counter, shit those look heavy, she thought. “How much does it come to?”, (Y/N) asked. “Oh, on the house, anything for a pretty girl looking to have a good time”, score! He almost offered to help bring them out- till a familiar voice cut in.

“It’s no problem Boris, I’ll help her out, just grab me a pack of cigs mhm?”, Billy Hargrove, of course. “Your usual William?”, questioned Boris. “That’ll be just fine”. (Y/N) was stunned. Did it just happen to be a coincidence that he walked through the door? More like a sign. He took hold of one of the kegs, while she grabbed the other. They both headed outside.

“Stalking me, Hargrove?”, she smirked. “Absolutely not! I just happened to need more cigarettes, and I noticed a familiar Harley Davidson, don’t flatter yourself”, he placed the keg down, lighting a cigarette. “Sure...and you deliberately wanted to help me with the kegs?”, “The guys a creep! I’m sure you didn’t want to be around him any longer”, he huffed, blowing smoke from his lips. “Aww, you protecting me Hargrove? That’s cute!”, she giggled.

Even though Billy hated to admit it, he loved when she laughed. She ignited this glow that was hard to describe- though, it made him feel warm. It made him feel good. When he arrived here, his goal was to sleep with nearly every girl who made eyes at him, he’d make a list, and then he’d check it off one by one. That all changed when he saw her. She was different, she had this spark that came with her quick wit that left him wanting more. Was he going to tell her that? No, not yet, but it seems his “friendship” with her was growing quicker than he expected.

“I’m not protecting you..just-shut up”, why was he getting so flustered? This was so unlike him. “Whatever Hargrove, just help me load these into my sidecar will yah?”, she struggled to hold the keg. “Sweetheart, are you sure those will fit in there?’, he questions, looking at her struggling. “You got any better ideas?”, she groaned impatiently. In fact- Hargrove did have an idea, whether she’d agree, he really didn’t know.

“Here me out- you and I both know those aren’t going to hold in there, and I know why you need them, so why don’t I stash them in the Camaro, and you and I can go to the party together?”, he offered, waiting eagerly for her response. She hesitantly looked down at the kegs, and then back up at him. “Billy- are you sure? I don’t want you going through all that trouble, what if your parent’s found them?”, she questioned worriedly, biting her lip. “My parents won’t notice a damn thing, if they even touch my car- it’s their dead body on my hands”, he laughed, though she could see his shoulders tense up, the question had obviously bothered him. “Well alright then...let’s load them into your trunk”.

Once the kegs were in, Billy closed his car trunk tightly. Smiling at (Y/N) he took another puff of his cigarette, leaning against the back of his car. “So what are you going as?”, he wondered, staring at her. (Y/N) had spaced out, not really getting what he meant. “What do you mean?”, she asked. “For the Halloween party, what’s your costume?”, “Oh! I'm going as Sarah Connor from the new Terminator movie?”, she explained, wondering if he’d heard of it. “Nice, I was told that movie was supposed to be good”. Why did this conversation feel so awkward? “It really was, I went to go see it with my little brother”, she grinned.

“You got a little sibling- me too, well step sister, but that doesn’t matter”, he muttered the last bit, inhaling more of his cigarette. “Do you two get along?”, she questioned, “No-not really-just, can we change the subject?!”, he raised his voice slightly, startling her a bit. He really didn’t want to talk about his family. ‘I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to pry- I should go-”, she whispered, heading back to her motorcycle. (Y/N) turned on her heel, flinching when she felt Billy take a slight hold on her wrist. “Wait- I didn’t mean- I didn’t mean to startle you”, his words were shaky, as he kept his grip on her wrist. She slipped his hand off her wrist, staring at him blankly. (Y/N) wasn’t exactly sure what she was supposed to say at this moment. “It’s just- when I moved here, I wanted to start fresh and the idea of my family just-it makes it hard”, he says sharply. “I just don’t like talking about it”.

(Y/N) nodded her head slightly, she didn’t really know what Billy went through when he moved to Hawkins, and whatever it was, seemed to trigger him. In a way, (Y/N) knew what it felt like. She and her family moved to Indiana in 1979, when she just started middle school. It was hard to adjust, and Hawkins was a lot different from her last home. They left because her father had walked out on them. Though it was traumatic, it wasn’t like he was a very good dad. He’d come home late from work, usually drunk and angry. (Y/N) still had scars from when he beat her. It made her insides twitch, shivering at the thought of the still present stitches on her back. The night she got them, her father had been particularly cheesed off, luckily her mom and Dustin weren’t home. Her mother was having a well deserved ‘ladies night’ while her brother was at a sleepover.

The night started off calmly, (Y/N) had been contently listening to records in her room while her father was watching football down the hall. She knew he had been drinking, she never saw him without alcohol in his hands. That’s why she didn’t drink that much, she’d hate to turn out like him. Her door was locked, to make sure he wouldn’t come in. She cringed when she heard glass shatter in the other room, footsteps slowly approaching her door. She hopped out of her bed, muttering ‘fuck-fuck-fuck’, under her breath. At this point she had gotten scared. Her dad knocked harshly on her door, “(Y/N), you better fucking open this door, or I’ll knock it down myself”- he yelled, voice booming. That’s when she realized. I’ll go out the window. (Y/N) quietly opened the window latch, slipping through the frame. Luckily her house was only one story, so there was no risk of falling.

She thought she had been safe, till her father noticed she escaped from the window. (Y/N) barely had a chance to leave the driveway till her father spotted her, tackling her to the ground. Her chest hit the cold pavement, groaning in pain as her father pinned her wrists to the asphalt. Not getting a chance to notice the kitchen knife in his left hand, he unexpectedly slashed the blade against her back. She wailed as the knife dented her skin, begging for her dad to stop as tears filled her eyes. By chance her mother had entered the driveway before her father could do anymore damage. (Y/N) never understood why her mom didn’t call 9-1-1, just simply drove her to the hospital to get stitches. It was probably out of fear, and it was only a few nights after the incident that he disappeared. When Dustin found out what happened, even with only being eight years old at the time, she swore he was ready to kill him.

When she stared back at him, she had a sympathetic look in her eyes. “It’s okay B, just- if you ever need anyone to talk to, I’m here”. He smiled slightly at the small nickname, looking at her softly, “Thanks, no one’s really offered that before”. He scratched his neck nervously, lighting out his cigarette. “Hug it out?”, she extended her arms out cheekily. Hug it out? Billy Hargrove didn’t hug it out- but she seemed so sincere- he pulled her into his arms, kissing her forehead. He couldn’t resist smelling her hair, it smelled almost tropical- like the salty scent of the ocean breeze that reminded him of home. For the first time, Billy felt at peace in this new town. He knew that if she stocked around, he could bring himself to be happy, and as luck would have it, she was planning to.

Next Chapter: smile-in-the-face-of-tragedy

Authors Note: The time has come and the first chapter is here! I hope you guys enjoyed, feedback is greatly appreciated 😊! If anyone else wants to be in the tag-list, feel free to comment below!

Tag-list: @holychocopie

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thatshiscigar · 4 years

Text

Now We’re Even

JJ Maybank x Reader

Requested by @maybebanks : Can you do one where y/n spends the night at John B’s and she wakes up on top of him, jj is also there but he slept on the couch. JJ has a crush on y/n but doesn’t want to admit it so he sleeps with a bunch of tourons. One of the tourons is rude to y/n that morning and JJ defends her. Later Y/n asks why JJ sleeps w so many girls and they get into an agrumeny and he asks why she sleeps with John b . She didn’t have sex with him just woke up lying on top of him.

Warnings: mention of vomit, swearing, mention of underaged drinking

Word Count: 2.3k

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[GIF CREDIT TO OWNER]

“Alright big boy, lets get you ready for bed,” you said as you flung open the door to the Chateau, John B hanging off your body. The poor boy could barely stand, let alone get himself ready for bed, so you decided to do it for him. You and John B have been friends since the fifth grade, and he trusted you with everything he had, and it’s not like you hadn’t taken care of him before when he’s blown past his limit. When you saw him doubled over by a log, vomiting up his stomach, you took the liberty of cutting his night short.

You plopped John B down on the toilet seat lid, emitting a groan from him. He passed his stage of giddy, happy drunk, and was now in the everything in the world is dark and horrible and my head feels like it’s about to explode stage, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he vomited again. You picked up the trash can off the floor and put it in his lap, just in case. He rested his chin on the rim, the weight on his head being lifted off his neck. You grabbed his toothbrush, ran water over it, squeezed some toothpaste on it, and ran water over it again.

“Open,” you commanded as you bent down to his level. John B complied, allowing you to brush his teeth. He closed his eyes, the light in the bathroom getting to be too much for his state.

“Yo! Y/N?” JJ arrived home from the party, his voice booming through the house, which made John B groan through the toothpaste foaming in his mouth.

“In here,” you said, your voice much softer than JJ’s. But it wasn’t soft enough, as John B slapped your upper arm, groaning again. You heard JJ’s boots against the wood floor, making their way to the bathroom.

“Now why does he get special treatment,” JJ whined as he took in the scene in front of him. He leaned up against the door frame, relieving his legs of his weight.

“Hmm, because he’s better looking than you,” you joked, causing a chuckle to come from both boys.

“Whatever, I’ll see y’all in the morning.” JJ yawned, his arms stretching over his head. You heard him flop onto the pullout, and his snores came soon after.

“Spit,” you instructed once you were done brushing John B’s teeth. He did, and you filled up a dixie cup for him to rinse his mouth out with. Once he was done, you picked the trash can from his lap and placed it back on the floor.

“Alright, c’mon bubba,” you soothed. John B slowly stood up, his legs almost immediately giving out on him. Your grip on his waist tightened, as did his on your shoulders. You guys slowly made your way to his room, careful not to wake the sleeping boy on the pullout. Once you made it to John B’s room, he practically flung himself out of your grasp and onto his bed. You closed his door after him, applying opposing pressure in order to ensure it wouldn’t make any noise. John B was having no trouble snuggling into bed, his eyes already closed, his breathing even. You smiled a little bit at your handy work.

“Alright, good night, bub,” you whispered as your headed for the door.

“Nooo,” you heard from the lump of blankets and pillows.

“Stay,” John B pouted as he made grabby hands towards you. You raised your brows in question before ultimately deciding to hop into bed next to him.

“Good night, Y/N,” John B whispered, cuddling into your side.

“Whatever. Get some sleep,” you said, slightly annoyed with his drunken antics. John B was out like a light once he really got settled in. The alcohol in his body was winding down to nothing, and he just wanted the night to end. You finally found your peace when you heard John B’s light snores, lulling you to sleep for the night.

“Hey! Wake up! We’re meeting Pope and Kie at The Wreck!” JJ trumpeted through the shack, and when he didn’t get the usual early morning grunt or groan in response, he became nervous.

“Y/N? John B?” he tried one more time. He went to check the spare room, where he thought he would find you, and when he didn’t, he practically busted the door down to John B’s room.

“JJ, what the hell?” you questioned as you woke, John B waking beside you, groaning at the bothersome wakeup call.

JJ was frozen in the doorframe, his eyes and mouth wide open at the sight. He didn’t want to process the scene in front of him, but he knew what he saw. He saw you, a pretty girl, in John B’s bed, which could only mean one thing.

“Um,” he stammered, trying to get his brain the formulate his longer-than-gone thoughts.

“Breakfast at The Wreck, get ready.” He hastily turned on his heel and slammed the door shut, leaving you and John B confused at your friend’s abnormal behavior. JJ stormed out of the house and made his way to the hammock.

He expected this day come, the day the girl he loved would chose his best friend over him, but he never expected it would hurt this much. He’d always been used to John B getting almost everything compared to JJ. John B got the good rep, the loving father, and now, the girl, while JJ got shit handed to him. He was sick of it all, but there wasn’t much he could really do about it, except block it all out with drugs, alcohol, and sex. They numbed his feelings, and it was easier to feel nothing than to feel everything, at least according to JJ’s book. He knew what he was doing wasn’t healthy, but honestly, he didn’t give a shit. And now that he had for sure lost you, he saw no point in stopping.

“Hey,” you yelled as you walked out the door. Your voice pulled JJ out of his head.

“Let’s go.” He got up from the hammock and followed you and John B to the van, the slight of you two together again hurting him more.

JJ was sat quietly in the back, while you and John B shared glances, silently asking each other what was up with your usually talkative friend. You figured it was the usual stuff, one of his many odd jobs had skimped out on a paycheck, or he had run out of weed, so you decided not to press. He’ll get over it soon, you thought. Nothing to worry about.

“Hey guys!” Kie welcomed from the table you guys had claimed as yours. Pope was with her, sitting by her side. You sat down next to her, John B across from you and JJ next to him.

After many friendly banters and enough food eaten to keep your bellies full for a lifetime, JJ’s face was still long. You thought good friends and good food would lift JJ’s spirits, but he still felt down. You weren’t the only one to notice though, as Pope reached around Kie to lightly flick your arm, and nodded his head in JJ’s direction. You shrugged your shoulders, telling him that you didn’t know what was up with the out-of-sorts boy.

“So, JJ,” Pope started.

“I saw you talking to that touron last night. That go anywhere?” JJ chuckled at his question, the drunken memories coming back to him. The girl threw her drink in his face and stormed off when he said something raunchy.

“Uh, yeah actually,” he said with a smirk.

“Took me back to her condo, heated toilet seats and all.” Your friends groaned at the added detail, throwing their napkins at him. You on the other hand, were twiddling your thumbs in your lap, your chest heavy with heartache. JJ looked to you to see if his plan had worked, and he saw the results he was hoping for, but he wasn’t satisfied with himself. His stomach dropped when he realized he’d hurt you, but he decided to brush it off. You’d just hurt him earlier this morning, so now you were even.

You shouldn’t have been this hurt by JJ’s words. You knew he hooked up with girls all the time, and each time he brought it up it delivered a little pang to your heart. It hurt knowing that JJ chose every other girl on the island over you, so you decided to shelter your feelings from him. You decided you were never going to tell JJ about how you felt, because it was obvious he didn’t feel the same way, because if he did, he wouldn’t be wasting his time with tourists he’ll never see again.

JJ’s attention was diverted from you to the group of tourons that walked through the door. He recognized them, they were at the party last night. He remembered you talking to one of them last night. From what he could tell, you were getting pretty comfortable. He could see them looking at you, talking and laughing to themselves. JJ’s fuse was already pretty short on the day-to-day, and when he was in a bad mood, it was practically non-existent. Everyone’s eyes followed JJ as he shot up from the table and stomped up to the group of boys.

“Hey man,” one of the boys said nervously, judging JJ by his demeanor.

“What’s so funny,” JJ spat out. They didn’t respond.

“Huh!” He yelled, aching for an explanation. His fists were hard by his sides.

“Maybe you should teach your little girl how to handle her liquor, big guy,” one of them stepped forward, inviting JJ’s anger.

“Unless you want her going home with one of us. She was pretty close to it last night.” JJ lunged forward, not wanting to hear another word from his bitch mouth. He shoved the tourist to the ground, getting ready to beat the shit out of him in the middle of the restaurant. The altercation didn’t last very long, as John B and Pope pulled JJ off and the other tourists pulled off their friend. The tourists hurried out of the restaurant.

“What the hell was that!” You yelled, your previous feelings of remorse being overpowered by anger and concern. JJ looked to the rest of the group, deciding he didn’t want to do this in front of the rest of them. He grabbed your arm and lead you outside. It was still early in the morning, so nobody was around.

“I’m not your fucking responsibility, Y/N, so why do you even care!?” JJ yelled, matching your tone. You stayed silent for a moment, all your emotions catching up to you at once. Anger, hurt, frustration, longing, love, all of it taking over.

“Why do you sleep with them?” You asked, your voice subdued, afraid that if you talked any louder that your voice would crack and reveal all that you felt.

“What?” He snapped, still resentful. You looked up at him, letting him see the tears pricking at your eyes. You weren’t afraid to show him anymore.

“Why do you waste your time on stuck up little tourists, when I’m right here! When I love you!” You were taken aback by your own words, and so was JJ.

“No you don’t,” he said, letting out a small angry laugh. He looked down and wiped his eyes. There was no going back now.

“What are you talking about? Yes I do, JJ.” You reached up to put your hand on his shoulder, but he moved away from you. He looked back up to you, tears moving steady down his face, with no signs of stopping.

“Then why did you sleep with him, huh? My best friend, Y/N!” He was back to yelling. Anger seemed to be the only way he knew how to feel in emotional situations. He was pacing now.

JJ’s words confused you. You didn’t sleep with his best friend, you didn’t sleep with anyone.

“What are you talking about?” Your voice was much softer than his.

“Oh don’t play fucking stupid, Y/N! You were in his bed this morning,” he pointed his finger at you, and you had to fight everything in your head telling you to smack it away.

It finally clicked, your eyes widening at the realization.

“JJ,” you said as softly as you could, trying to calm him down.

“No,” he cut you off.

“Don’t try to apologize, Y/N. I know what I saw.” His voice was quieter now, his body tired of the fighting.

“I didn’t sleep with him, JJ,” you said sharply. He looked at you quizzically. You softened when you took in his tender expression.

“He was drunk, and you know how he gets when he’s drunk. He gets all dependent and needy. I was just taking care of him.” You reached out for his hands, and he didn’t move away from you this time. He couldn’t meet your gaze.

“Promise?” He whispered.

“Yes, JJ, I promise. Nothing else happened.”

“No,” he looked up to you, his face wet with tears.

“Promise that you love me?” His eyes were pleading, begging that what you said was true.

“Yes,” you nodded frantically.

“I love you, JJ.”

Everything he had ever hopped for was now his, and he couldn’t wait any longer. He took your face in his hands, wiping away your tears, before he smashed his lips onto yours. The kiss was full of everything you and JJ had been missing out on. Passion, excitement, love. You didn’t want to let go.

“I love you, too” JJ whispered as he broke away for air, a smile spreading across his face. You rested your foreheads together, holding each other close.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I was being a dick,” he muttered.

“It’s okay,” you gave him a small smile before pressing your lips together again.

You made a promise to JJ. You promised to love him and care for him, and he did you. You both had been yearning for each other for so long, and now you finally had each other, fears, doubts, and everything else stopping you out of the way.

Taglist: @supremestarkey @lovelymaybankk @blueeyedbesson @whormotional @classywaves @sexytholland @danaerekat @em753 @babyhoneystvles @angelic-boca @milked-down-coffee @dolanfivsosxox @sunwardsss @leekah

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marvelsswansong · 4 years

Note

Could you please do 48 with Sugar daddy!Bucky, please? Thank you!

48: “Why do you keep this picture of me in your wallet?”

word count: 2.3K

a/n: includes mention of sexy times (obviously, it’s a sugar daddy AU). I changed the quote slightly to fit the blurb better, sorry about that x blurb requests are still open, check my bio for more info :)

NOTE: above gif is simply used for aesthetic. not to indicate the reader is imagined to be white and skinny.

regular taglist: @wantyoubackpeter @platonic-plots @superwholockwannabe @xxmizzlexx @xdsockmonkey @princess-unicorn124 @not-jay-c @therealmrshale @caswinchester2000 @heartbeats-wildly @mostlylyricedits @musiclover1263 @angel-spidey @delicately-important-trash @theimpossiblehologramtree @sweetstilesofmine @valentinevirgo @barnes-heaven @paintingbellarke @cherryblossowm @sailorcrescentpotter1 @tomshufflepuff

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

“No feelings, just business.”

That’s what he had told you, the first time he had bought you that far too expensive champagne at the bar at a roof party in Milan. You had been dragged there by Natasha after turning down her offer to let you stay in her penthouse for a few weeks while you could find another place to live in after your landlord had decided to kick you out for a wealthier renter. As a university student, you needed to find a new place to live, and fast, near the university. Unfortunately, your university was in the smack middle of the city- making any possible accommodation extremely expensive.

“Just two drinks and you can leave.” Natasha argued, grabbing your hand and dragging you into the party. You already regretted entering as you felt so out of place- Natasha had been born into wealth, her father being an oil baron and her mother being one of the most famous actresses in Russia’s history. The other people at the party were those in her circle, other rich, successful and attractive people far above your caliber.

“I don’t belong here, Nat.” you complained, frantically pulling at your dress. She had insisted on buying it for you, going as far as pretending to go to the bathroom before paying the bill at the cashier of the designer store, but it was far too tight and short. The black little number clung to every crevice of your skin and matched with the velvet heels you were wearing, making you feel slightly self conscious with every step you took.

“Nonsense, babe. You look fucking gorgeous, you’ve been stressing too much lately and you need to blow off some steam tonight! Besides-” she leaned in closer to your ear to whisper. “I’m pretty sure half of the men here want to jump into your pants tonight.”

You didn’t even want to glance at the direction she was pointing at and scowled, pushing her off with a playful glare.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend.”

“No I’m not, I-”

Someone near the pool called Natasha’s name and she gave you a brief apology and a hug before scurrying off, greeting the other person with a loud scream. She was definitely a social butterfly, whilst you took a bit of time to warm up to people- especially in situations where you felt out of place. And now you were left.

Alone.

“Could I keep you company instead?” a deep voice rung out from behind you. His tall stature dwarfed yours in comparison as he extended his hand towards you, the cuff links of his Armani suit rolled back slightly to expose his skin. The designer suit was nothing compared to his gorgeous face, a hint of stubble on his chin and a jawline that could cut crystal glass.4

“S-sure.”

He ordered the two of you a cocktail you’d never heard the name of, but you didn’t question it, still mesmerized by his presence. He chuckled at your obvious stare, causing you to look away in embarrassment.

“Are you fond of Oscar de la Renta?” he asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

“W-who?”

He chuckled at your frantic response, sipping on his glass slowly as he eyed you up and down.

“Your dress. It’s an Oscar de la Renta piece.... You’re not a part of this usual crowd, are you?”

You shook your head sideways, confirming his suspicion.

“How’d you know Natasha?”

“We go to the same university. She invited me to this party because I’ve been pretty stressed in between studying and finding a new place to stay... Money’s really tight right now and places in the city are expensive...” you rambled on, not noticing the shift in his eyes as he listened to your predicament.

“I could help you, you know.” he proposed. You chuckled nervously, toying with the hem of your dress.

“I don’t even know who you are.”

“The name’s Bucky. Bucky Barnes.”

Three glasses of wine later and he’d lured you in, trading details of your life with his. You found out that he was a self-made billionaire who co-owned a private equity firm with his business partner, Steve Rogers. With hundreds of companies under his palm, he had it all- the money, the fame in the business world, the admiration and loyalty. But he wanted more than a “quick fuck”, as he put it.

“So what exactly are you proposing?” you’d pressed, leaning in closer. He smirked, flexing his rolex watch in the dim bar light.

“I could be your sugar daddy, in the bluntest terms.”

“Do I look like the type of girl who’d be a sugar baby?”

He raised his eyebrow.

“I don’t know, doll, but... you’re fucking gorgeous. And out of money. I know you’re busy with school and all, but all I’m asking is that when you’re not at school to accompany me. I’ll give you everything else- money, gifts, trips to exotic places, connections.... All you need to give me is affection and physical company.”

You bit your lip, mulling this over. The thought of being a sugar baby had never entered your mind, but here you were, being offered the world and more by an insanely attractive man. And all you had to do was keep him company- emotionally and sexually. His hand traveled over to your lap, his clean cologne warming your senses as he awaited your answer.

"No feelings, just business, right?” you asked quietly. He nodded.

“No feelings, just business.”

That solidified your decision.

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

For the first few months, you followed him everywhere.

Fiji. London. Paris. French Rivieras.

You’d let him pin you against the wall and fuck you senseless at the hotel room in exchange for an unlimited access to his platinum credit card the next day. He spoiled you with designer dresses from brands you couldn’t even pronounce and gifts that could single-handedly pay off student loans.

With your schedule as a full time student and his hectic lifestyle as a billionaire CEO, you both agreed on having spaced out interactions. If he was in the city, you’d meet him twice a week, maybe even more if he was offering extra. If he was travelling, you could take a week off, week and a half off, maximum, to see him. On the days where you couldn’t physically see him, lots of sexts and calls were exchanged, all from the new phone Bucky had bought you.

It was as business as it could get, or so you thought.

You’d gotten a call from Bucky in the middle of the night, whilst you were cramming for a final, even though you’d both agreed at the beginning that meeting up during finals would be extremely limited.

“Hello?”

“I need you to fly with me to Boston tomorrow night.”

You sighed, rubbing your eyes.

“Bucky, I can’t. I’m swamped with finals and-”

“Doll, I’m literally begging you, I-”

That caught your attention, causing you to sit straight up. Bucky never begged for anything. Let alone, to you.

“My family’s been bugging me about meeting my new ‘girlfriend’ and me ‘settling down’ or whatever. I already told them I was bringing you, please, doll? I’ll double, even triple your pay.”

“Buck... It’s not about the money right now, I really need to do well on my finals. It’s in two weeks.”

“And we’ll be back in a day or so, it’s just a quick stop by. Please... do this for me? A-at least as a friend, we’re at least friends, right?”

And for some reason, perhaps it was because he sounded unusually desperate, you said yes. He picked you up in his limo the next day, exactly at 6pm, and you flew with him in his private jet to his childhood home in Boston.

“It’s a little small.” he’d warned on the plane, as he helped you step down the metal stairs.

Small your fucking ass.

You were astounded by the sheer amount of ground the mansion covered, as a maid scurried towards you and took your bags into the house. The steep marble arches and the high pane windows made you feel small, as you felt Bucky slip his arm around your waist and guide you towards the entrance.

Bucky’s mother was waiting for you at the door, pulling you into a tight hug and gushing about how pretty and polite you were to Bucky. You felt your heart skip a beat when Bucky referred to you as his “girlfriend”, but you forced yourself to breathe and smile.

No feelings, just business, you had to remind yourself.

Bucky was dragged off to the side by his sister and father, meaning that you were dragged to the kitchen to keep his mother company. She was a very lovely woman, which was why you felt quite guilty lying to her about dating her son.

“I’m so happy you’re dating my son, (Y/n).” she cooed, opening the stove. “I’ve never seen him stare at a woman so madly in love.”

Signing if off as good acting on Bucky’s part, you smiled, waving off her compliment.

“I’m the lucky one, miss. That said, I’m pretty sure I’m the romantic in the relationship.” you joked, eliciting a laugh from her.

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that, you know. I’ve seen that picture of you in his wallet.”

Picture?

Bucky never told you he kept physical pictures of you. You’d spend him pictures and you two took pictures on dates and outings, sure, but it was all digitalized and kept away in your phones....

Right?

Before you could question her further, she announced that dinner was ready, forcing you to sit next to Bucky. He pulled out a chair for you, causing his sister to outwardly “aww”, and making you let out a shaky sigh. His hand found his way down the table to rest in yours, his thumb grazing your hand repeatedly in a soothing manner.

That was new.

Bucky was an affectionate man, but he usually kept it brief, unless in bed.

“So (Y/n), tell us more about how you met Bucky.” Rebecca pressed, sipping on her glass of wine with a teasing smile. The conversation flowed easily from there, jokes and embarrassing childhood memories being thrown around as time passed by. Four cups of wine and a mortifying story about Bucky falling on his face during a dance recital at his boarding school, you and Bucky clambered up to bed, your face still red from laughter.

“It’s not that funny.” Bucky grumbled underneath his breath as you clung onto him for support.

“Sorry, I just... I never would’ve thought you’d be a dancer. Let alone a clumsy dancer.” you teased, opening the door to the bedroom.

“Well I guess there’s more of me for you to discover.”

The drunken haze lifted from your consciousness at his response, the sudden soft tone catching you off guard. The entire night, you drank away your fears, the fear that maybe he liked you back. You’d realized you had caught feelings for him, hard, about two months into it, but you’d talked yourself out of acting on it.

No feelings, just business. That is what he had said.

But the whole night he went out of his way to touch you, holding your hand and kissing the back of your neck. Calling you “doll” and “sweetheart.” Telling his family stories about you with an adoring gaze in his eyes. And according to his mother, that picture of you in his wallet...

“Shit, I left my phone downstairs. I’ll be right back.” he said, interrupting your train of thought. He conveniently left his wallet behind, and when you flipped it open, there indeed was a picture of you inside.

And not just any picture.

It was one of you, passed out on his lap after a particularly grueling and boring conference call, in which Bucky was working from his home. You weren’t dressed up, hell, you didn’t even have any makeup on. Just an old t-shirt he owned and short pajama shorts, and a pair of penguin socks. It was oddly domestic and simple.

And he had it printed and stuck in between the leather bindings of his wallet.

“Why do you keep this picture of me in your wallet?”

Bucky’s smile dropped off his face as his eyes shifted to the picture he’d been hiding away in your hand, dread seeping across his chest. He swore under his breath, he knew he should’ve kept it somewhere more secretive, but he just couldn’t help himself.

“Can I be honest?”

You nodded as he took in a deep breath.

“I.... I know I said ‘no feelings, just business’, and really, at the beginning, I thought that was all it was going to be. But... somewhere down the line, I realized, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re wicked smart. You’re so kind. You’re not afraid to crack a joke at my expense. You’re... the perfect girl for me, except I was paying for it. I was paying for this... fantasy. Before you say anything, I know you don’t feel the same. I know this is all business for you, so uh, if you want to end the relationship now, since I’ve gotten attached, I’ll under-”

He’s cut off by your body crashing into his, your arms wrapping around his shoulders and he can taste the cherry wine on your lips as you press into him. He eagerly returns the kiss but is left dazed when you pull back, a wide smile on your face.

“I love you, you idiot.”

He smiles back, a smile so bright and sweet that makes your heart flutter, before he pulls you onto his lap on the bed. His hand is already underneath your blouse as he pulls out his phone, his lips tracing your neck.

“So... what’d you say I get a new picture for my wallet?”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x you #bucky barnes fluff #sugar daddy!bucky #sugar daddy!bucky x reader #sugar daddy!bucky barnes #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel blurbs #marvel imagine #marvel reader insert #i actually really like the way it turned out

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chuckbass-love · 3 years

Note

hi! i wanted to request a smutty fic w prompt 100 with ransom and reader. maybe they were at a party and someone was hitting on reader and touching her and ransom got mad. 🤗

Hi love! Again, to everyone (including you) that has sent in a request, i’m sorry it’s taken so long. I feel bad for making people wait but i never wanna upload work that’s anything short of great in my eyes. I always want to be at my best. This didn’t quite go the way i wanted it to but i really hope it’s still good. Everyone reading, please feel free to leave feedback. It helps and is very appropriated.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Prompt #100: “Call me selfish, but i don’t ever want anyone else touch you”

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Jealousy, swearing, smut, sex, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, slight ownership kink (if you squint) and daddy kink. 18+

Word Count: 3,563

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @kylosrehn go check them out💜

Over My Dead Body

When making plans for the weekend with Ransom, going to a party full of stuck up rich people wasn’t exactly on your agenda. But, seeing it’s part of his lifestyle, you made an exception and besides it was yet another party hosted by his grandfather Harlan.

You never used to attend these parties since Ransom never invited you. He preferred to keep your interactions strictly bedroom related, nothing more, nothing less. It was beginning to confuse the hell out of you because sometimes on a rare occasion, he’d let you meet his friends and family.

But as previously stated, it’s rare.

When the two of you first met, sparks flew instantly. Your friend had introduced you, she was on a date with her boyfriend, her boyfriend brought him along just like she brought you along.

Their way of setting you two up. And it worked.

A solid 2 hours after meeting the man, he was balls deep inside of you making you forget your own name and turning you into a moaning mess underneath him. Since then you’ve been hooked. Whenever either of you are horny, you fuck.

But like any other fuck buddy relationships, there’s a catch. You two have a clear love for each other, one that neither of you will ever be brave enough to admit. Mostly because Ransom is a huge commitment phobe. The thought of only being with one girl for the rest of his life scares him and you just don’t admit your feelings because the thought of being rejected weighs heavier than the optimism of it working out in your favour.

Although he’s scared of settling down, Ransom sure did seem keen to bring you along with him to this party tonight which now you come to think of it, he’s been like that the last few times he’s taken you out.

Maybe he’s changing his mind.

“Red wine?” you hear, turning your head to see the man himself holding a wine glass for you and a tumbler glass for himself, no doubt filled with whiskey on the rocks. He does love his whiskey after all.

“Thank you, so tell me again. Why am i here?” you ask before taking a rather large sip of your wine, you certainly need liquid courage if you’re going to talk to these people.

“Who else would i have brought?” he responds, voice monotone, almost as if he’s bored and very uninterested. So all this time you thought there was a possibility of him changing his mind when in reality, he’s just been bringing you along to all of these lavish parties to keep up appearances.

No doubt to keep that controlling mother off of his back.

You shrug, continuing to look around as Ransom greets some of his grandfathers guests. One of them looks at you before looking at Ransom who eventually introduces you two, attempting to strike up some small talk until he’s being dragged away to talk to a group of men who no doubt are a lot older than him. Leaving you stood all alone.

That’s when you spot a guy across the room. He looks around Ransoms age. Tall, expensive suit, blonde hair and blue eyes. Plus he seems friendly. He raises his hand to wave and you reluctantly strut over, greeting him with a shy smile which he reciprocates.

“So, what’s a beautiful woman like yourself doing stood all alone?” his compliment has you flustered and unsure how to respond but still, you find the words “thank you and i’m not alone, i came here with Ra-”

“Ransom Drysdale, yeah i saw you with him, where did he disappear to?”

“I have no idea, off talking to random strangers” you chuckle nervously, feeling slightly embarrassed about his absence. Little do you know, Ransom can see you with this mystery man, gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw at the sight of you laughing.

Surely he can’t be that funny, he thinks to himself. But he is. He’s hilarious.

“So what do you think drew her to him then?” you giggle, gesturing to the couple next to you, a woman who’s dressed up to the nines with her husband who looks a lot older than her “oh obviously his looks, what makes you question her intentions?” he smirks and you shove him playfully.

“Oh of course. What was i thinking? Silly me” you wink, downing the rest of your drink in seconds before he takes another flute of champagne off of the waitresses tray for you.

“If i didn’t know any better i’d say you’re trying to get me drunk sir” you say using your best posh voice. Unbeknownst to you though, Ransom can hear your whole conversation, every single thing you’re saying to this man.

But can he really be mad? You’re only talking to, right? Besides he’s not exactly your boyfriend so you’re free to talk to whoever you want. Not that you want anyone else.

What he won’t admit now though is how jealous he is right now, he’s had just about enough of another man making you laugh the way that he’s supposed to make you laugh and now the only way this man is taking you home is over his dead body. But for now, he’s gonna make use of his best poker face, side eyeing the two of you on the sly as anger starts to build.

You start to look around the room yourself, trying to find Ransom and as you do, you spot him heading over to the drinks table so you decide to take that as your opportunity to excuse yourself, joining your date.

“Hey you” you bump him, a cheesy grin plastered across your face, one that fades as quickly as it appeared thanks to Ransoms straight and unimpressed expression.

You stand in front of him, blocking his access to the drinks “is everything okay?” but instead of an answer, you get silence. No response whatsoever. Why is he ignoring you?

“Ransom?”

“What?” he mutters, evidently agitated “what’s wrong?”

He chuckles in response, shoving past you to get his drink and lifting the tumbler to his plump pink lips, practically gulping it down without even so much as a flinch “oh don’t worry, everything is fine. Hey why don’t you go back to your little conversation with Mr Perfect will you” and just like that, he’s storming away from you and up the stairs to the second floor, instantly regretting sending you back to that man.

What could have gotten him so wound up?

If seeing you with that guy is the problem then maybe he shouldn’t have left you.

And without a second more to overthink and fester over his random outburst, you return to the other gentleman. One who knows how to treat you with respect as opposed to shutting you out.

“Hello again” he beams “i was about to say your name but then i remembered we never exchanged those”

“I’m Y/N”

“Jack”

“Nice to meet you Jack”

“Likewise”

The two of you shake hands as another conversation sparks up, pushing all Ransom related thoughts to the back of your already full brain.

Whilst Ransom is sat in the bathroom. Flustered, angry and ready to blow his lid at something so small. A situation that means nothing. That man means nothing to you, surely. You’re just being friendly, after all he did leave you to go and socialise. What did he expect you to do? Stand in the corner away from everyone?

You don’t want this guy though. Jack is just a friend you’ve made here. You want Ransom and he wants you too but his pride is in the way.

God what is wrong with him?

Evidently a lot.

One minute he’s all over you, taking you to parties and the next he’s giving you the silent treatment and acting like you’ve done something wrong.

And the only reason for his odd behaviour is because of the plan he made for tonight. Anyone who knows Ransom knows very well about his thoughts on relationships but with you, things are different and they always have been. You force him out of his comfort zone, you challenge him and you make him better. He was so nervous for tonight that the second the two of you arrived at the party he was drinking and acting strange.

As much as the thought of settling down scares him, he knows that it’s much better to tell you than watch you leave and find someone new. Seeing you with that guy only confirmed that.

After spending who knows how long in the bathroom trying to talk himself out of kicking up a fuss, he heads back down to the party, maybe he should go and spend more time with you but as he walks down the stairs, he instantly spots you and that same guy again. His hand is on your arm and you’re way too close for his liking. Close enough to make his skin crawl and his jaw clench even tighter.

He storms over, hearing his voice as he does so.

“So i know you came here with Ransom but i was wondering if i could maybe get your number?” he asks, scratching the back of his head as he anxiously awaits your reply.

Jacks nerves are abundantly clear until Ransom cuts you off, stopping you from opening your mouth to respond. He tugs on your arm, pulling you back “the answers no, prick” he snaps, dragging you through the crowd and out into the cold night air, barely giving you a chance to say goodbye to anyone and causing goosebumps to form all over your bare arms and legs.

“Ransom what the fuck?” you yell, trying your best to yank your arm from his tight grip “just get in the fucking car” he demands, opening the door for you. How chivalrous of him. His raised voice made you jump a little, cowering slightly and leaving you with no choice but to do as you’re told.

The second he gets in too, he’s shoving the key in the ignition and speeding off away from the party. Jack and all of the crowd long forgotten not just out of sight but out of mind too. Now all you can think about is Ransom and what’s got him so angry all of a sudden as he was pretty happy on the journey here.

You daren’t speak though, god forbid. Your words will only wind him up further.

Knuckles start to turn white as he grips the steering wheel like never before, his fingers tapping frantically which is an obvious indication of his need to get home as soon as physically possible.

You honestly can’t remember if you’ve ever seen him this angry in the whole time you’ve known him and that’s quite literally the scariest thing about this.

Eventually you reach his house, or should you say bachelor pad and he barely waits a second for you to exit the car before he’s storming off into the house without you.

Once you get inside he’s nowhere to be seen until you hear a loud slam of a door coming from upstairs. You head up and into the master bedroom instantly to find him undressing and discarding his clothes across the room.

“Ransom” you approach him with caution, worry filling your soft and caring voice but the moment you’re a few inches away and about to touch him, he shoots around, scaring you.

“Would you have given him your number?” he questions, his blue eyes looking deep into yours almost like he’s looking into your soul.

“Who? Jack? No, of course not. Why’re you even asking me that?” you protest, hoping he’ll believe you but now you come to think of it, you probably looked way too close for comfort.

“Lies”

“Why are you being like this?”

“Because it sure seemed like the two of you were getting awfully cosy tonight, laughing, drinking, touching each other” he explains, closing the space between you and making you gulp.

“Well maybe if you hadn’t of treated me like i was invisible all night then i wouldn’t have needed to make friends with him. You forget that you barely said a word the whole time” now you’re the one that’s angry as you step back after your outburst, watching him carefully. His next actions shock you though as he just laughs, turning away and speed walking across the bedroom to the en suite. But before you can even follow him, he slams the door, making you flinch and then as you thought he would, he locked it.

Why can’t he ever be mature enough to talk about things. All he ever does is avoid confrontation. You don’t really like it either but at least you’re trying to sort whatever issue has him all in his feelings and angry.

Rather than sitting and waiting for him to leave the bathroom, you decide to go and get ready for bed in the other one, showering before getting dressed into whatever you can find. Which just so happen to be a shirt of his.

He dries off, wrapping a towel around his waist before unlocking the door and walking out to find you sat on the bed.

“The answer is no and that’s the truth”

“Oh yeah? Then why was his hands all over you like you were there with him tonight?”

“That was nothing, we were just laughing. What about you though huh? Snapping at me all night, leaving me and then deciding at the very last second that you want to spend time with me. Felt a lot like just another one of your games” it doesn’t look like he believes you and now you’re over trying to prove yourself.

“I left to talk to people and i was acting funny because going to those parties never end well, i wasn’t playing games with you” he stalks towards you, closing the gap.

Okay, now that makes sense. It explains all about how his behaviour changed when the two of you entered the actual party.

“You know, seeing you with that guy wasn’t easy. I got angry. All this time i thought you knew that you belonged to me, clearly i was wrong” his fingers graze your arm before settling underneath your chin and tilting it up, forcing you to look directly into his eyes.

“Maybe you need a reminder” he’s so close to you now, his hands are all over your waist, moving down agonisingly slow towards your ass. He smacks the backs of both thighs as a signal for you to jump and you do. How can you resist?

His lips attack yours in a brief and passionate kiss before he throws you down to the bed “i’m gonna make you forget all about him” he then removes the towel.

You furrow your brows watching as he lifts your (his) shirt up, revealing your laced panties. His favourite on you. He spreads your legs with his hands as he tugs you to the edge of the bed, kneeling down to press a firm kiss to the inside of both your thighs.

That’s when he does what he always does, turns you into a moaning mess by devouring your pussy like a man starved. Sucking, slurping and flicking his tongue all over your sex effortlessly like your body was made for him. Just how you felt the first time he ever touched and tasted you.

“Mhmm, just like that” you run your fingers through his styled locks, messing them up without a care. “I’m the only one for you" he mumbles and it vibrates onto your clit making you giggle.

“You’ve always been the only one” you whisper and he looks up at you with lustful eyes but also a look of love. One you’ve not seen before or maybe you’ve never noticed.

The way he looks at you isn’t new but all this time you’ve assumed it’s because of his attraction to you, that he’s only looking at you that way because of his uncontrollable lust.

“Only i am allowed to touch you like this, taste you” his lips wrap around your clit, sucking like his life depends on it as his thick digits tease your dripping entrance “s’wet sweetness”

You tug a little harder as you lift your bum off of the bed, grinding yourself on his face with a burning desire for that sweet release, the one only he has been able to give you “that’s it sweetness, cum all over my face, cum for daddy” his low and raspy voice spurring you on and talking dirty sends you over that edge as you cum with a loud moan. Quicker than usual.

You try to push him off as you scrunch your eyes closed, seeing stars. All you can focus on is how sensitive you are but he’s cleaning you up with his tongue, clearly can’t get enough of how you taste.

“Always so sweet” he gets back up, moving you further up the bed and parting your legs as he hovers above you with his fingers making quick work to slip your panties to the side. The tip of his cock rests at your entrance as he dips his head to capture your lips with his tongue pushing past them and into your mouth to battle with your tongue.

You can taste yourself on him and that alone arouses you leading you to wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his torso “i need you, now” you plead, urging him to give you what you want, which he does. He pushes in slowly at first, seating himself deep inside before really moving.

His pace gets going, rocking his hips back and forth, making sure to fill you up all the way as you claw at his back, your mouth hanging open in the perfect O shape “fuck, daddy it feels so good” you groan moving with him in his thrusts.

“Feel good baby?” he pants, resting his head in the crook of your neck, placing open mouthed kisses to your weak spot “tell daddy how good it feels sweetness. Use your words” he growls and you lift his head up so you can kiss him, cupping his face with one hand “it feels incredible, please don’t stop”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Wanna feel that pussy cream all over my cock. Give it to me sweetness” he licks his index and middle fingers before pressing them down on your clit hard, rubbing aggressively as his pace turns animalistic.

He’s ramming into you with such vigor, his breath fanning your shoulder and the noises he’s making are a far cry from just moaning. No he’s not moaning, he’s upset too or at least bothered by something.

“Can feel you squeezing me sweetness, you close?” he kisses your shoulder but this time he’s more gentle, almost as if he’s afraid of breaking you.

“Yes, oh my god i’m gonna cum. Please, keep going”

The two of you move more frantically. Desperately chasing a joint release.

Grunts, growls and the sound of skin slapping together fills the room, the sound bouncing off of the walls as you both near closer. That’s when you turn the tables around, kissing his neck this time, biting too.

“I’m gonna cum daddy”

“God i love you so much, cum with me”

3.2.1

And you’re legs are shaking in the air, his cock starts to twitch before he coats your walls with his hot seed.

“I love you too”

As he looks back into your eyes, you see it, the tears brimming and threatening to spill but he quickly kisses you, knowing full well that it’ll distract you but not this time. You pull back to look again but he only moves.

“You know i don’t think i was ever angry at you” he starts, standing up to retrieve the towel “it was him. Seeing him flirting with you only made me realise what i wanted” you get off of the bed now, approaching him “call me selfish, but i don’t ever want anyone else to touch you” he rests his forehead to yours, his hands resting on your waist “you’re mine, plain and simple”

“You never were one to do things the easy way” the two of you laugh before he kisses you “the easy way is boring”

Although you’re shocked about his confession, you daren’t pry more right now on his feelings. For now you just want to enjoy this moment. The two of you feel the same and that’s enough for you.

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

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blessedboo · 4 years

Text

F&MU | Angel Reyes.

Angel Reyes x Reader

GIF Credit: To the original creator - (I think @angels-reyes)

Summary: A situationship w/ Angel based on the lyrics of F&MU by Kehlani.

Requested: No.

Warnings: Swearing/Language. TOXIC. Mutual pining. Angsty. Smut (18+ NSFW Content) - on the rougher side, hate-fucking, light choking etc.

Word Count: 1.7K - Got a lil’ carried away, hehe.

A/N: I want to emphasize that I do not condone nor romanticize this relationship! It was a perspective I wanted to explore, to try something new and get out of my comfort zone a little. This was a BITCH to write, I don’t deal with angst well + it’s my first songfic. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy reading it!

We both know it's never really goodbye I swear it's like we do this all the time, yeah That shit be turnin' me on, I cannot lie, lie

“Say the words, and I’ll fucking leave,” Angel spat, his face inches away from yours.

Accompanying his dominating presence, ragged breaths furiously beat down on you. Maybe it was the way his dark eyes bore into yours with such intensity, maybe it was the gruffness of his post-sex voice; whatever it was, it turned you on.

“Get the fuck out, Angel.”

In other words: stay. But, he didn’t have to know that.

Angel’s eyes widened whilst his nostrils flared. You knew he wouldn’t like that answer, yet you gave it to him anyway. When Angel didn’t get what he wanted, it made it all the more fun when he did. With you, he took what he needed whenever he needed it, and you willingly gave yourself up for reciprocal pleasure. He wasn’t going to leave, he never could, and neither could you.

A couple of hours? A few days? Sure.

But, you always wound up in each other’s arms soon enough. Someone had to fuck the misery out of you, and it was always Angel.

In reality, the sex could only suffice for so long - it just made the emotional toll that much worse. The more you used each other, the greater the storm grew.

As his jaw tightened, a darkness loomed over him. It was a shadow of pent-up frustration, weariness … and lust. He hated himself for giving into you, chasing you. Angel’s entire being was wholly infatuated. No, addicted.

The damage was bad, but it hurt so good.

Angel grunted as he spun you around and shoved you against the wall. His hard chest pushed closely against you from behind. Shaky breaths escaped your lips before you bit down on your bottom one.

“Fuck,” you whimpered.

Angel buried his face into your neck, his lips sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin. His thick, ringed fingers slowly skimmed from the back of your bare thighs to the curve of your ass. The hem of your shirt rode up under his salacious touch, and stopped just above the lacy, red thong — his favorite.

Two fingers slithered through the slit of your clothed center, pushing upwards ever so slightly. As you gasped, you felt him smirk at the feel of your arousal before hooking onto the fabric and pulling them down the length of your legs.

“If you want this back,” Angel’s lips grazed your ear, his hushed, low tone sending shivers along your spine.

“Come get it, baby.”

Angel stuffed your panties into the inside of his kutte. The sound of his boots walking away resonated within the cold room, leaving you to your own devices.

And can't nobody else do that for me Know I make it hard to ignore me Got the attitude, then put it on me Put it on me, yeah

The situationship you had with Angel was one that no former partner could compare to. Angel ignited a wildfire within you, an overwhelming flame that set your body, mind and soul ablaze.

Playing with fire, you were bound to get burned.

This back and forth was draining, but the need for each other was insatiable. If you two were going to go down, you were going to do it together. Especially if it meant him “going down” on you.

You had each other in an unspoken claim, but neither of you were willing to commit. You two treaded the fine line between hot and cold, love and hate.

Was it the fear of getting too intimate, too attached? Was it the impenetrable walls that had guarded both of your broken hearts? These were the questions you often asked yourself, but never long enough to consider being something real with Angel, something … fulfilling.

Sex was just a means to an end - the end of being anything more.

It was the other’s attention that you both craved. This was the fuel to the fire, a root to all of your fights more often than not. Selfishly and heartlessly, he did whatever he could to get yours, and vice versa.

Whether it was Angel making out with a chick on his lap, or some dude grinding on you as you sat on the bar top, it was always a heated competition. There was no interest in either counterparts, but nothing riled Angel up more than another man’s hands all over what was his, and his only.

By the end of night, a tipsy Angel was moody and broody, and that’s exactly what you wanted. Angel fucking you was at its best when he took his anger out, where aggression met fervour in a sensual dance of two naked, sweaty bodies.

Angel’s primal instincts kicked in as he stormed over to you in full stride. His eyes never left yours, even while he yanked the guy away from you. Angel roughly grabbed onto your knees before spreading them apart and stepping in between. He had a possessive grip on your chin, tilting it upwards in an uncomfortable angle.

“Traviesa,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “Mouth. Open.”

Angel’s thumb dragged across your bottom lip, and you did as you were told. He held your face in both hands as he sloppily tongued you down. He groaned while sucking on your tongue, pulling it in between his teeth until he finally let go.

“If I ever catch you doing that shit again, I’ll be fucking her instead,” Angel pointed to the inebriated blonde he had left behind. “Got it?”

You nodded hastily, your lips slightly quivering at Angel’s behavior. Angel caught a glimpse of your actions, being one to notice everything about you. He sighed as his overpowering demeanor faded into an expression of hurt, a certain sadness hidden behind those brown eyes.

Angel cupped your cheek before placing a soft, chaste kiss on your forehead. You leaned into the warmth of his palm, which was quickly replaced with a feeling of nothingness.

“EZ will take you home tonight,” he said coldly.

As your eyes shot open, you saw Angel had made his way back to her.

"I hate you", turns into "I love you", in the bedroom We fuck and make up like it's Maybelline We do petty things Then mess up the sheets, yeah Can't lie, the sex fire when you in your feels (woo) Spice it up a little (ooh) Yeah, you know the drill (know the drill)

You were straddled on top of Angel, buttons flying off of his flannel as you tore it off. Angel chuckled darkly as he thrusted his hard, clothed dick onto your panty-covered pussy. You moaned out his name, your nails dragging across his bare chest. Angel palmed your ass and groaned as he rolled his hips against yours, impatiently grinding into you from below.

“Still hate me, mami?”

Angel’s fingers roughly shifted your panties to the side, plunging two of them deep inside your cunt. His hand rubbed tight circles on your throbbing clit as he watched his rings dive deeper into your wet pussy.

“Ah, yes!” You cried out as you finger-fucked yourself onto him.

“Mm-hm. Then fuck me like you mean that shit,” Angel rasped against your lips, catching your moans in his mouth in a long, steamy kiss. His hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing gently as he pulled you closer.

“I want you to ride me. Take that cock. Your cock, mami.”

You made quick work of freeing his thick, curved length, gasping as you finally slid onto him. Angel dangerously whispered a litany of filthy thoughts into your ear, thrusting himself as his cock helplessly twitched inside you.

You whimpered, his thickness filling you to the brim over and over again. He drove his dick into you mercilessly, panting wildly with every brutal snap of his hips.

“Fuck. Fuuuck. My fucking pussy. I own it,” he growled. “Tell me it’s mine!”

Angel’s heavy hands groped the swells of your breasts, feverishly massaging and pinching your nipples with crazed purpose. Bringing one into his mouth, his tongue swirled seamlessly around it, providing a sensation of pain and pleasure as he tugged it in between his teeth.

You shrieked in response. “It’s y-yours. All yours, baby. Ahh!”

Your pace quickened as you bounced up and down whilst fucking yourself onto him. Your walls clenched around him, squeezing him of his ability to hold on any longer. Angel hissed as he slapped your ass, lewdly spreading your ample cheeks apart, grunting as he saw his fat cock sinking into you, swallowing him whole.

“What is? What’s mine? Oh shit, oh fuck.”

Slap!

“It’s this tight little pussy, right? Dripping onto me. Creaming my fucking cock. That’s what’s mine.”

Your sobs and whines made Angel throw his head back as he indulged in his euphoria, animalistically slamming himself into your needy cunt whilst chasing his release.

“You’re gonna make me come, mi dulce. Make me come, that’s it. Just like that, fuck!”

—

It had been a couple of minutes since you had collapsed into each other’s arms. Both of your backs rested against the headboard, the blanket loosely wrapped around your torsos.

Angel sleepily took a drag off of his cigarette, a billow of smoke exhaled through his nose. He ran a frustrated hand over his face as he sighed deeply.

“Who did you go out with tonight?”

“Why does it matter, Angel?”

“It fucking does. I want an answer.”

“Fuck off.”

“Fuck you,” Angel agitatedly shifted onto his side, putting out the cigarette before switching the lamp off.

This was nothing out of the ordinary. Simply how most days started, and most nights ended.

I make you mad, mad, mad Why I gotta fuck you up to make you fuck like that? Pickin' fights so you can put it down like that

With every kiss, poison lingered on your tongues as they clashed together. The mutual agony fed off of one another in meaningless throes of passion, your intricately woven bodies latching onto the delicious hurt of it all.

As a consequence of trust issues and insecurities, neither of you felt worthy of the other, nor deserved a chance at true love. Not after treating each other the way you had been; it was too late - Angel was in too deep, and so were you.

Because to you, having a warm body was better than having nobody.

It destroyed him to be around you, but it killed him to be away. It was a vicious cycle, an unforgiving cyclone of toxicity.

However, all is fair in love and war. And what a war it was.

____________________________________________

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