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vanteguccir · 3 months

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Disgusting food roulette | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Y/N participates in the Disgusting Food Roulette video and ends up having to take care of Matt.

Warning: Feeling sick in the stomach.

Requested?: Yes, by anon.

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

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"I really need to participate?" Y/N asked as she ran her eyes over the triplets. She had her hips resting on the table, where various types of food, sweets, and drinks were displayed.

"It'll be cool! And Matt needs the emotional support." Nick joked, lightly patting Matt's right shoulder, who was looking at the food with a disgusted look.

“It’s not like you won’t do well, Y/N.” Chris scoffed, crossing his arms, before looking at the camera. "She is the only person in the world who isn't fussy about any food. Anything you give her, she will eat it."

The girl rolled her eyes, letting out a laugh while shaking her head. It was true that she wasn't fussy about food, but that didn't hold back the shiver that ran up her spine every time she looked at some of the items on the table.

Raw egg? Easy cheese? She felt sick to her stomach just thinking about the taste of them against her tongue.

"As you can see, we have four separate piles of food here. Y/N didn't buy the food of her side since we decided she would participate when we were already at the grocery store." Matt explained while gesturing to the separated piles.

"Exactly, so we bought the food for her." Nick finished with a smirk on his face, arranging the items in a row.

"They put me in a mess, guys. I didn't even know what foods they would buy, now I regret even getting out of bed." Y/N grumbled miserably, helping the boys open all the product packaging.

Nick rolled his eyes at her drama, quickly explaining about the app they would use to choose who would go in turn.

"Let's begin!"

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"Please, don't be me. Please, don't be me." Nick speaks repeatedly with a frown on his face, his right hand over his mouth while his left index finger pressed the screen of his phone.

Y/N let out a laugh at him, also pressing her finger on the screen, along with Chris and Matt. Matt's right arm was around her shoulder as he took deep breaths, trying to calm the strong, disgusting taste that was settling in his mouth.

The girl watched him momentarily from the corner of her eye, checking if he was well within the limit, feeling his hand squeezing her biceps lightly.

Chris's excited scream caught her attention abruptly, her eyes traveling to the screen. Her finger had been chosen to eat the yellow pepper.

She stared at the pepper for a few seconds, the triplets' laughter sounding like a background sound to her ears.

"Wait, isn't that the yellow pepper we use as seasoning?" Y/N asked, taking some steps away from Matt and the boys and finally picking up the food, twirling it between her fingers.

"I don't know. It doesn't matter, just eat it!" Nick pressed, looking at her expectantly.

Matt watched her closely, pressing his lips into a thin line, trying to contain his laughter, supporting his own weight against the table with his left arm.

The girl shrugged. If her theory was right, that was one of her favorite peppers. She brought her hand to her mouth and bit off a small piece, chewing carefully as she felt the taste and burn settle on her tongue.

"Um, not too strong. It's good." Y/N commented, still chewing, swallowing seconds later.

"You're crazy, entirely." Chris shook his head repeatedly, taking steps away from her as if she was mad.

Matt observed her with widened eyes, surprised by her little reaction.

"Put it there." Nick pointed to the counter next to the stove where they were piling up the food they had already eaten, his face showing a disgusting look. "Next!"

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"It's going to be Chris, I can feel it." Y/N muttered, her eyes fixed on the phone as their four index fingers pressed the screen.

The back of Matt's right shoulder was resting against her chest, while her free hand stroked his hair gently. She knew he was about to get sick, so she was trying to stay as close to him as possible.

"Oh no!" Chris shouted, bringing his right hand to his head in a sign of desperation after seeing the result.

"Yes!" Matt celebrated, turning around and hugging Y/N, jumping up and down in place. His sudden movements made her lose her balance, taking them both to the ground.

Y/N had her mouth open and eyes closed as laughter escaped her lips at her boyfriend's euphoria. She couldn't believe his happiness just because he wasn't chosen to eat the yogurt.

Matt screamed in celebration, hugging Y/N tightly. Nick told him to lower his voice due to the hour, but he was completely ignored.

"He is crazy." Chris commented, pointing to the two on the floor as he shook his head, letting out a laugh, momentarily forgetting what he had to eat.

Nick took the camera off the tripod, focusing the lens on the couple, capturing the perfect image of Y/N with her back against the cold floor and Matt with half his body over hers, his arms encircling her torso and his head buried in the curve of her neck, sounds of laughter echoing from there.

Fans would go crazy over that.

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"No!" Matt screamed, his eyes wide and his mouth open. He had been chosen to eat the red pepper.

Y/N winced, her eyes going from her boyfriend to the pepper and back again. Before she could say anything encouraging, Matt picked up the food and bit off half of it.

"Matt! Are you crazy? This is very spicy. Spit it in the trash! Don't swallow it." Y/N yelled, her eyes wide. She put her hands on Matt's shoulders, guiding him to the trash can.

"Spit it out, Matt." Chris repeated, recording his brother's steps with the camera.

Y/N pressed the pedal to the trash can, opening the lid and patting her boyfriend's shoulder as he spat. She bit her lower lip in worry as she noticed his face start to turn red, his eyes filling with tears.

"Oh, baby. Breathe." She asked calmly, guiding him to the front of the table again, her hands resting on his waist, squeezing the covered skin lightly.

"Oh my God, it's so hot." Matt agonized, fanning his face with his right hand. "My lips-"

Chris and Nick laughed at his reaction, taking their fingers to the phone again, wanting to end the video quickly.

"Come on, guys!" Nick called, pushing Y/N's hips with his own - since she was closer to him -, getting her attention.

The girl took Matt's right hand and guided it to the phone, placing him index finger on the screen and then her own, keeping her eyes fixed on her boyfriend's face. Droplets of sweat started to appear on his forehead as his cheeks burned red, and Y/N was ready to get him out of there if necessary.

Chris was chosen next to eat the jelly, and Matt took advantage of the situation to walk around a little, wanting to alleviate the burning sensation in his mouth.

Y/N quickly followed him, helping him drink the water that was still in his hands, despite knowing it wouldn't help much.

"Do you want some milk, my love?" She asked quietly so the camera wouldn't catch it. Matt shook his head, feeling his stomach churn at the thought of adding milk to the horrendous mix of all the things he had eaten.

The boy seemed disoriented, his head hurt, and his tongue burned. He walked over to the refrigerator, pulling the door open and opening his mouth, momentarily exhaling in the cold air, before closing it again.

"Come, love." Y/N pulled him closer to the phone again, intertwining their free hands and squeezing his fingers with her own lightly.

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"Are you okay?" Chris asked, approaching and touching Matt's shoulder. His words sounded worried, even though he was still laughing.

Matt nodded as he drew in puffs of air through his open mouth, a multi-layered piece of colby-jack cheese pressed to his right cheek. Y/N watched him from the side, feeling helpless.

"It's not helping." He shouted, leaning on Nick momentarily and blinking his eyes repeatedly, watching Y/N eat the second to last content.

His heart raced when it was the app's turn to choose who would eat the last item, the raw egg.

"If Matt's chosen, I'll eat for him." Y/N quickly imposed, pressing her finger on the screen and staring intently at it.

"This is not how it works." Chris muttered, bumping his shoulder against hers playfully.

"Fuck the rules." She shrugged, sighing in relief when she saw the app choose Nick.

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"Matt, what was the worst that you ate?" Chris asked, bringing the camera closer to Matt, who was opening the fridge.

The boy ignored him, leaning forward slightly and bringing his mouth under the water filter, taking long sips. Y/N let out a low laugh as she saw Chris frown at not receiving any response, rubbing her boyfriend's back softly.

Matt closed the fridge doors, taking some steps back and resting his arms on the table as he took a deep breath, feeling all the food rise up his throat. He swallowed hard, straightning up and looking at Chris behind the camera, his own eyes filling with tears.

"I'm going to bed." His voice was broken. He turned and walked quickly to his shared room with Y/N, receiving a light slap on the back from Nick.

"Okay, he's going to bed."

Y/N let out a nasal laugh, shaking her head. She quickly walked to the cupboard next to the stove, taking a glass. She opened the fridge, taking a bottle of ice cold water and pouring some milk into the glass, closing the door with her hip.

"I'll take care of him." She told the boys, blowing an air kiss to the lens before walking to their bedroom, balancing the items in her hands, Nick and Chris' voices speaking with the camera falling behind.

The girl turned the door handle with her elbow, slowly entering the room and closing it again behind her back.

Her eyes traveled around momentarily, the lights were off, making it difficult to see anything. She squinted her eyes and quickly found her boy laying on the bed in a fetal position, approaching him in slow steps.

Y/N placed the milk and water on the bedside table and squatted down, resting her arms on the mattress. She brought her right hand to Matt's hair, gently brushing the loose strands out of his eyes. Her fingers caressing his warm skin.

"Honey? What are you feeling?" She asked in a low tone, not wanting to heighten her boyfriend's senses. Her heart sank at the way Matt seemed to be in discomfort, his eyes were closed tightly and his brow was furrowed, his shoulders tense.

"Stomach pain. My tongue is still burning and I'm hot on the insides and cold on the outside." The boy explained, his voice sounding weak followed by him sniffling.

"Come here, baby. Let me help you." Y/N asked gently, standing up from her crouched position and helping Matt sit up slowly.

Her hands grabbed the hem of the black t-shirt that covered his torso, pulling it up slowly, helping him take it off his arms and head, placing it aside on the mattress to fold later.

Y/N quickly grabbed the air conditioning remote that was next to the items she brought, turning it on and setting it to 18°C. Not so cold, but refreshing.

She put the remote back in place and picked up the milk, sitting on the edge of the bed and raising the glass so Matt could see what it was, receiving a whine in response.

"I know it might seem gross to drink milk after everything you've eaten, but it will help lessen the burn from the pepper, baby." Y/N spoke calmly, bringing the glass closer to Matt's face. "You ate a large amount. If we don't alleviate it now, this burning sensation will continue for several hours, sweetheart."

The boy sighed before wrapping both of his hands around Y/N's, who was still holding the glass for fear of Matt dropping it since his hands were shaking. He took it to his lips and closed his eyes tightly, tilting the glass and taking a small sip.

Y/N encouraged him with small whispers, pushing his hair back with her free hand, freeing his forehead from the heat of his strands.

Matt put the glass down after a few sips, pushing it closer to her, showing that he didn't want any more. He removed his hands from around Y/N's, allowing her to put it down.

The girl placed it on the bedside table again, watching her boyfriend's reactions.

"Do you think you're going to throw up? Or are you okay, and it's just the burning?"

"No, I'm not going to throw up, I just want to sleep." The boy responded weakly, lowering his torso onto the bed again, feeling the duvet pressing against his back. He turned onto his side, pressing his right hand to his exposed stomach. "Come lie down with me, please."

"I will, my love. Just let me take this glass to the kitchen, and I'll be right back." Her tone was low.

She leaned her body over his, sealing his cold forehead with her warm lips for a few seconds before pulling away and rising from the bed. She took the glass again, pushing the water bottle closer to the bed before taking steps towards the exit.

"I love you." She heard Matt whisper before closing the door behind her. A huge smile decorated her face as she felt her heart race.

She would do anything to make him feel better and Matt knew that.

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Extra - comments:

"I seriously thought Matt would throw up everything 😭"

"omg Matt is CRAZY for eating half of a red pepper without a second thought 🤡"

"Y/N worrying about Matt is so cute 🥺"

"the way Y/N kept looking at Matt all the time, making sure he was okay 😔 I love them so much"

"Matt almost dying, Y/N worried sick and Chris and Nick laughing until their next generation was the best thing I saw today"

"Matt and Y/N on the floor laughing their asses off is my new romain empire 🧎‍♀️"

"Matt saying 'I'm going to bed' after a traumatic experience is totally me for real"

"can we take a minute to appreciate Y/N eating the yellow pepper like it was chocolate? WHAT A WOMAN GUYS!!!! 🤤"

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My asks are always open. Feel free to send requests or anything at all 🩷💋

And remember to treat people with kindness always!

~ taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq

(If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment here)

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stars-for-circe · 3 months

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My heartfelt apology for not posting for a while, enjoy :)

Support Palestine

cw: pure smut, that’s it

A video of you and Ellie in the car, it’s rather plain, actually. She’s holding your phone, facing her way, while you seem a little occupied. But for some reason, the point of the video seems quite unclear, because for some reason, Ellie just can’t seem to get the right words out.

And instead of words coming out of her mouth, its moans and whispered swears broken up with stifled giggles from the two of you. And oh, now it’s quite obvious, what with how her head is slowly leaning back and hitting the headrest, and the first syllables of a failed sentence tries miserably to escape Ellie’s throat.

“Say it.” You whisper, sounding as though your voice is muffled.

A silence follows, then a small slurp, then a snicker as you hear her whimper. From your point of view, it’s just so fucking funny seeing Ellie struggle like this. The camera’s out of focus now, shaking slightly and facing the wrong way, but who can blame her for not focusing on the angles? Bless her, with how she tries to lift her head and look into the camera as she speaks.

“I just….just wanted to-fuck- to say that I love my girlfriend so m-much.”

“She makes me….?” You stare up at her expectantly, wiping your lips with your tongue as you slowly trace two fingers up and down, the way she’s soaking the leather seats translating into such a wet noise that the video could pick up on it.

“…She makes me s-sooo happy, and……makes me feel so good-holyshitdon’tpleasedontstop-”

“I won’t, baby.” What you say is muffled once again, your tongue now occupied all on her puffy clit, sucking and swirling above your two fingers, thrusting in and out at just the right angle. And thank god for your other hand staying unoccupied, as you take the reins on recording (since Ellie is too fucked out to care at this point).

The new angle, showing your face as you tongue fuck her, and showing the foggy car windows behind you, just barely illuminated from that busted streetlight. As you glance up at Ellie, all your encouraging open mouthed “uh huh”s and moans at how she tastes just turn into little giggles at what the fuck you’re both doing right now - fucking your girlfriend in some residential driveway, meaning you need her to stay quiet because you both were too horny to wait until you got home.

But you couldn’t really care less, as you feel her clench harder and harder on your fingers, her tattooed arm coming down to card her fingers through your hair. And you really can’t find it in you to care about anything at all as her soft hold turns into a harsh grip and tug as you make her unravel in your tongue, using your fingers to brush against her sweet spot as you slurp and suck everything Ellie gives you.

You bite your lip and smile as her breathing finally goes from heavy, whiny pants to soft sighs, pulling yourself up from the floor and into her lap. And just as you lean down to kiss her, you make sure the camera’s got both of you in frame as you make out with Ellie. You make sure she tastes herself on you, coaxing open her mouth and slipping your tongue against hers which, to your delight, elicits another small groan from her, and then a slow, fucked out smile against your mouth - one that you reciprocate.

And it feels so good to slide your hand up and pull at her hair this time, while you start to slowly grind and swivel your hips against hers - a taste of what’s to come next. You feel her hands slowly begin to trace up, up, up your back and under your clothes, a small sign that she’s ready for another round. But before you can do anything more, the fucking porch light at the end of the driveway turns on, and fuck, did the front door just open?

“Shit!”

Followed by loud snickers from the both of you as you clamber into the passenger side and Ellie stomps down on the peddle, pants still down and all. And as she tries to navigate the unfamiliar neighbourhood, you lean over and try to help her with her pants - pulling them up and grabbing her belt. But she stops you, taking a hand off the wheel and gently pushing you off.

“We’re picking up where we left off the monent we get home. Don’t bother with that, baby.”

So you just lean back into your seat, watching the houses go by as you wait with a smile on your face. Something tells you she’s gonna do good on that promise.

#sorry for dying I just don’t have the energy to write #like this was so sporadic but I saw a TikTok of this EXACT thing and ideas followed #tlou2 #the last of us #the last of us 2 #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams the last of us 2

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falling-endlessly · 3 months

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Boomerang (part 4)

Vox x Female!Ex!Overlord!Reader

Summary: Vox is determined to win you over, no matter what. You just want your damn peace back.

Warnings: some mature themes (mention of sexual arousal)

<— Part 3 Chapter Index

Vox gripped the bathroom counter, staring at himself in the LED outlined mirror. "You've still got it," he said to himself firmly, lifting a clawed finger to point at his reflection. "Just be cool, man."

He relaxed his face into his signature grin, leaning an elbow against the counter. "Hey Y/n, how's everything? I was wondering if you wanted to go for coffee sometime?" He threw in a wink for good measure.

A second of silence passed before he shuddered violently, breaking composure. "Ugh, no, no. Focus, man. Okay," he repositioned himself, shoving his hands nonchalantly in his pockets. He cleared his throat, mustering up his best confident, devil-may-care expression. "Doll, what do you say we get out of here tonight, yeah? Just say the word and I'll get us a private room at your favorite restaurant."

His smile twitched. Shit. That wouldn’t work on you either.

This was ridiculous. He started trends on a whim, charmed the masses to hang off of his every word, and yet—here he was, rehearsing in front of a bathroom mirror like a prepubescent boy with a crush. And failing miserably too.

He shook his head to clear it, hands grasping at the sides of his monitor so tightly it displaced the pixels on his screen. "Think Vox, what did you do to make her like you the first time?"

But if he was being completely honest, it was actually you who made all of the first moves. You who captured his attention like a vice. You who reeled him in, hook, line and sinker. There was no grand courtship on his part. In fact, he couldn't even remember the exact moment he had started to fall for you. It was all so easy, natural, seamless. He didn't have to do anything except for be himself.

He pursed his lips, turning back to the mirror warily. And—whatever, fine, fuck it. Not like anyone could see him debase himself like this anyway.

Vox sighed, his smile dropping like an overused mask. The desperation and vulnerability that he hated so much creeped back into his eyes, making him tense.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm such a damn idiot and—I just..." he trailed off, before groaning, dropping his head in his hands. "Fuck, this is pathetic."

What was he doing? Wallowing in self pity like some lovesick loser? For fuck's sake, he wasn't just some spineless bottom feeder, he was Vox. CEO of Pride's largest conglomerate. People would kill to be in his position.

A shaky grin forced itself back on his face as he lifted his head. Fuck, enough of this. Nothing was going to get done if he just sat here and twiddled his thumbs all day. It was time to make a move.

With his mental armor back in place, he marched to your room like a man on a mission. He may or may not have sent a drone on your tail to find it, since everyone else in this damned hotel seemed hellbent on pretending that they had short term memory loss when he asked. It was still a prototype, unreleased to the public. A camera the size of an ant, for incognito purposes of course.

When he finally reached your door, he pasted a confident, charming smile on his face. One that he knew used to fluster you once upon a time.

"Just act natural," he chided himself quietly, taking a deep breath before knocking on your door.

There was a moment of silence, before some shuffling was heard, and then the handle was turned.

Vox froze as you opened the door, dressed in baggy sweats with your hair in a disarray. Your shirt had ridden to the side at some point, and the rumpled neckline was exposing the enticing dip of your collarbone. He felt his mouth go dry.

And suddenly it struck him how much he missed you. God, he'd missed you. Your comforting presence, your lively humor, even the small things like waking up next to you or seeing your toothbrush next to his in the bathroom. And fuck, it hurt to have you just out of reach.

Your pretty mouth pulled down into a frown when you saw him, body language changing from relaxed to guarded in an instant.

Vox forced himself out of his trance, clearing his throat. This was his moment to shine. He'd practiced for this.

"Hey—" he started cheerfully, before the door was promptly shut in his face.

Vox blinked stupidly, standing in front of your room in shocked silence. Did—did you just—?

Frowning, he raised a hand to knock again. "Y/n?" He called out in confusion.

"Go away, asshole," your muffled voice came from somewhere on the other side of the door. "I don't want to talk to you."

"But—"

"I said beat it," you growled, before a glowing barrier materialized outside of your door. Fuck, if he touched that he knew he wouldn't stop bugging until tomorrow morning.

"Fine," he hissed under his breath, turning and storming away. So that was how you wanted to play it, huh? Fine, joke’s on you. He liked a challenge.

On the way back to his room though, he felt a familiar, pleasant tightness between his legs. Vox froze, slowly looking down at the noticeable tent in his pants in horror.

"Oh, come on."

****

The next few days could only be described as an intensely aggressive game of cat and mouse. He tailed your ass like a damn police dog, determined to get even a moment alone with you—but to his absolute irritation, you kept coming up with increasingly ridiculous ways to blow him off.

He invited you to take a walk with him after dinner? You suddenly developed a spontaneous stomach bug and now you were bedridden. He held a door open for you? You pushed open the other side of the double doors and maintained unimpressed eye contact with him the entire time. He couldn't even follow you with his micro-camera anymore, because you'd promptly discovered it and stabbed it to his bedroom door with a needle as a violent warning.

Nothing was going according to plan and he was growing more frustrated by the minute. What was the point of coming here if he saw you just as often as if he had stayed in his tower?

"How am I supposed to convince her to come back," his eye twitched, one night on a rant-filled phone call with Velvette. "If I can't fucking talk to her?"

Velvette looked at him like he was a dried piss stain on the wall. "Vox, do I look like I give a singular fuck about your dumpster fire of a love life?"

Ah yes, such encouraging commentary as always. Really, he didn't even know why he bothered to call if his abused ego was just going to get attacked while it was already rolling around in a fetal position.

"You're still on the call with me," he said pointedly.

Velvette rolled her eyes, scrunching her nose up at him in irritation. "Fine, since you're so pathetic, I guess I could spare some charity," she ignored his scoff, continuing without a hitch. "You need to fucking lay off, stop trying so damn hard to get her attention. It’s giving desperate and creepy."

"I'm not—"

"Yes you are," Velvette glared. "Listen. If you don't want to end up permanently dumped, you need to compromise. Stop acting on your emotions like a toddler, you can't fucking afford that right now. And neither can we," she grumbled the last part.

Vox dug his claws into the bedding he was lying on, tearing up the soft material. The thought of giving up on you physically pained him, but...this wouldn't really be giving up, right? Velvette was suggesting a temporary ceasefire, a way to make you let your guard down, which might not be such a bad idea. It was more like...a strategic redirection of his efforts. Something that would benefit him in the long run.

He needed to build up the trust you'd lost in him. Slowly, bit by bit, until you accepted his feelings again.

The gravity of the situation was daunting. Something told him that this was his last chance, that if he fucked up one more time, you really would be gone for good.

He couldn't afford to lose you like that. It would fucking break him.

A loud crash sounded in the background on the other line, jolting him out of his thoughts.

Velvette's face drew into an aggravated sneer as she turned around. "For fuck's sake. What the fuck is it no—"

The line went dark, cutting off the call.

Vox sighed, throwing his phone blindly somewhere on the bed as he leaned back, staring at the ceiling.

Sleep evaded him that night, but in its place he started to devise a new strategy. Velvette was right, if he kept pushing, he would only drive you away. It was time to change his approach, and as much as he hated to admit it, it was...time to put his pride on the backburner.

Because he could live without his pride, but fuck—he didn't even want to think about what an eternity without you would be like. Besides, it was only until all of this was over and you came back home. He just...had to be patient.

****

After taking a few days to regroup, Vox was now more than ready to put his plan into action.

He’d rehearsed an embarrassing amount of times in the bathroom mirror, popped a breath mint, chugged an energy drink, and slapped himself in the face for good measure. Not necessarily in that order.

Now, in the late hours of the morning, he waited patiently for everyone to filter out before making his move, quietly cornering you in the kitchen.

You were sitting in the far corner, hunched over a steaming mug just like he knew you would be. It was something you'd been doing since he first met you, always reserving twenty minutes after breakfast to enjoy a second cup. He didn't even need to look at the contents to know that there was only a single cream, but enough sugar to make an elephant go into cardiac arrest.

That precious information would forever be saved to his hard drive.

For a long moment, he just stood there like a certified creep, admiring the familiar scene with painful longing. You hadn't noticed him yet, so your expression was still the vision of perfect bliss, eyes closed with a slight uptick to the corner of your mouth. And suddenly, he wasn't in this shitty hotel anymore. The retro kitchen transformed into a sleek modern design, the white walls melting to light blue. It was one of the few lazy mornings both of you were able to spend together, and—

"What do you think you're doing?" Your irritated voice shattered his fantasy like a pane of rose-tinted glass.

"Ah, Y/n!" His grin slotted back into place like a puzzle piece. Fuck, he hadn't even said a proper sentence to you, and you were already looking at him like he was a piece of shit someone forgot to flush down a public toilet. He had to act fast or you'd walk out again. "Funny running into you like this," he chuckled, hiding his fidgeting hands behind his back. Electricity crackled between them. "Actually, I was wondering if—"

"No," you said sharply, cutting him off.

"I—What?" His grin twitched.

"Whatever it is that you're going to say, no," you snapped, turning your back to him for emphasis.

Vox went silent for a moment. Tone it down, he repeated in his head. Stick to the plan.

"Look," he started, softening his tone. "I realize that I haven't exactly been," he grimaced. "Fair to you."

You laughed bitterly. "Understatement of the decade, asshole."

"I'm sorry," he sighed, watching carefully as your shoulders tensed in surprise. "I'll stop, if that's what you want. I won't ask you out anymore or bother you with stupid, meaningless shit."

"But?" You said quietly.

"But I still want to be...friends with you," the word left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he swallowed it with a smile.

He chanced a quick glance at your face, and—well you looked like you didn't really buy it, but at least you didn't look like you wanted to kill him and dispose of his body in a ditch anymore.

"Alright," you said, after a long period of skeptical silence, your eyes unreadable. "I’ll hold you to it, then."

He closed his eyes. "Please, just consider—" he froze, processing your words.

You said yes? Fuck, you said yes!

He cleared his throat. "I mean, yeah, absolutely. Totally. Makes sense."

He caught the briefest flash of amusement in your eyes, before you turned to bring your empty mug to the sink.

"So, uh," he started giddily. Fuck rein it in man, slow down. "What are you doing later?"

“I’m busy today,” you shut him down immediately, making him deflate at your sharp tone. Then you paused for a second, seeming to contemplate something. “Well actually,” you said lightly, making him perk up again. “There is something you can join me for, but it’s a little…out of your depth.”

“Oh really? Try me,” he smirked confidently. As if anything would stop him from finally spending time with you today.

A vindictive spark suddenly flared in your eyes, making him hesitate. "Group therapy and trust exercises," you said smugly, and a jumble of odd noises quickly glitched from his head, his screen flashing briefly to show a giant, red exclamation point. "But since you're too busy with that billion dollar company and all, I thought you wouldn't be interested," you smiled sweetly.

Oh. You conniving little shit. You had him cornered.

Looks like he wasn’t the only one doing his homework.

“How f-f-fun,” he forced out, the words literally tasting like ash on his tongue.

“It is,” you nodded genuinely, making him double take. “I actually quite enjoy it.”

Vox pressed his lips together into a fine line, dread steadily welling in his chest as he realized that yes, you were actually serious. Sweet fuck.

For a second, Vox contemplated making a strategic retreat and calling it a day. He eyed the door behind him longingly.

But no, he couldn’t afford to back down from your little game just yet. If this was how you wanted to raise the stakes, fine. Bring it on.

Before he could lose his nerve, Vox mustered up a pained smile. "Actually," he said, making you raise a brow. "I'd like to give it a shot."

"Really?" You said incredulously.

"Yeah?" His grin twitched. "Why not?"

****

<— Part 3 Chapter Index

Taglist: @pooplyface1423 @spookysisters @that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main @neito327 @hxzbinwrites @coleisyn @bababahannah @yellowsubiesdance @dirk-strides @justaspectatorforfandomarts @harmoira @sunnyslug @gum-iie @lady-valtieri @mit-suri @whatelsecouldgowrong @sillysimplysilky @eternalera @aoiyx @hazellight11 @hopefully-not @tsuvvy @imcryinginemo @dinorawrss @rekoloid @ayesha-eroticax3 @sle3pyh3ad2 @l0verboyxoxo1111 @lucasisstupid @lu-ferri12 @fandom-queen37 @ilunapb @skyeliteratures @shannoncosplay @da-disappointment @memospacexx @crazyforbarnes

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unfortunately-obsessed · 3 months

Text

I always loved the chaotic teenager!Bruce but I never noticed that all the troubles he got in that era can and will bite him back via his sons

Plus it can be a generational thing. Something about the Wayne name

It was clear Bruce is son of Martha and Thomas Wayne, chaos personified.

It's the precedent to his playboy persona. Martha and Thomas were strange and charismatic enough to make anyone open up and to entrance anyone in a conversation

It's the harsh Gotham accent from Thomas but the soft Russian from Martha. It's the way Bruce laughs at galas like a fire cackle and tells stories that make everyone laugh

So, the cheeky jokes and the tabloid-bright smile? Loud music and louder people? Dick genuinely enjoys and he's worse than his father

Because he's telling stories people are falling over and howling, it's the party tricks that make him end up in the chandelier or balancing champagne flutes and he is posing for cameras and buying martinis for Vicky Vale

It's the summer smile people fall in love with and the way kids naturally want to be close

And Bruce is a Gotham's child too. Jason Todd is his son and it is clear in the way he is nurturing

But it's clear in the way that, somehow, people don't expect neither of them to have five different degrees each. It's the way they don't expect Jason to be a highly competent CEO, it's the way people wouldn't expect Jason to be extremely academic

It's the way there's always plenty of food in Jason's house and snacks in his pockets. Teenager Bruce is the bleeding heart, it's the way magazines want to put his grief in the headlines, fundamentally incapable of being something but himself

It's the way people keep wanting to tell their story again and again, to point at them as beacons of tragedy

It's the way Jason is hemorrhagic and miserable but whose is gentle and loving despite despite despite

And Tim? Tim's smile is full of promises, it's the way he doesn't care in the slightest about money and sometimes he'll wake up with everything hurting, it's the way being a person doesn't come naturally for him

It's the way he'll drag his name trough mud if it's getting bad again, it's the way he doesn't care about social status

Tim is the way he spell secrets no one should know when he is mildly annoyed, it's the way he'll get serious and stare at you and be sorely disappointed at what he sees

It's the way he'll tell you if your husband is cheating and will be nothing but gentle about it. It's the way that, in front of cameras, he'll say he doesn't believe Batman exists just for the funsies

Damian is his father's son in every way. It's the way he is an heir born to command, it's the way he cries holding a knife the same way Bruce cried wielding his father's rapier

It's the way old woman pinch his cheeks, it's the way he sneers, it's the neverending guilt complex, it's the way he has his father's face, the twitch of his eyes and the way he corrects people's grammar faster that he can think of being impolite

#bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian al ghul #damian wayne #nightwing #red hood #red robin #robin #me!batfam #me!batman #me!headcanons

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byhees · 3 months

Text

when you find their baby photos.

엔하이픈 ・ female reader + word count 700 genre fluff established relationship non-idol au warnings not proof-read skinship petnames light profanity (god) mention of food — more

a/n. i really dug through my drafts n found this keke

heeseung would snatch that little picture out of your grip in an instant, cheeks lightly brushed with a pink tint; “what’re you doing, love??”, but it’d be laced with slight bashfulness and embarrassment. would hold the photograph high up in the air, arm outstretched and everything, making it exponentially harder for you to retrieve the little treasure piece. “baby picture? what do you mean, love? i don’t see any around here.” is trying his hardest to conceal the painfully obvious flush of his face…

jay would stare at your phone screen, wide-eyed; first thought to run through his mind would be ‘how did you even manage to find that??’ would awkwardly clear his throat, whilst being bombarded with heaps of compliments— “woah, you look so cute here.” the tips of his ears are reddening. “aww, look at your little cheeks!” at this point, they’re probably neon-red; given your cooing at the slightly pixelated image, he doesn’t find it that surprising that his baby picture is adorning your phone lockscreen the day after, a shy chuckle escaping his lips...

jake would simply gawk at your phone; ‘oh, no yeah, who’s that?’ would be an ample encapsulation of his expressions. would be so so embarrassed (because who wants their significant other to see a picture of their younger selves striking a questionable pose— he’s definitely not a part of that population). would try to divert your attention away from the photograph of baby jake— but would fail miserably upon seeing you swipe to another picture, his little plan crumbling in pure mortification of the photo. “oh my god, what am i even doing…” is what he’d say, face buried in the palms of his hands, cheeks heating up with every passing compliment…

sunghoon would, first, let out the tiniest of shrieks because, is that a baby picture— correction, his baby picture— being shoved into his face? is dramatically swinging his arms in the air; would raise a hand to your eyes, as though to shield his photo from your gaze. “sweetheart, this is very embarrassing, by the way,” he’d say, awkwardly coughing. would, lowkey, smile a little upon hearing your soft coos; ends up holding you close to his embrace, smile growing with every endearing comment…

sunoo would tilt his head ever so slightly, and blink rapidly in confusion; after all, you did just burst into the room, a small, precious baby picture clutched in hand. honestly wouldn’t mind too much, finding himself really cute, actually. would say things like “don’t my cheeks look as squishy as before?”; manages to, somehow, convince you to reveal a baby photo of yourself— both of you would wind up entangled in a lazy hug, hushed squeals falling from your lips at the sheer adoration of it all…

jungwon would take a brief look at the photo and pause; he had not expected to see a zoomed-up picture of his younger self, holding a little heart gesture towards the camera. would burst into immediate laughter— snorts at how ridiculous he looks, posed with his slice of pizza; unintentionally recreates the image, face twisting to the same, jubilant smile. tiny tiny screeches along the lines of “that was cringe, please forget that”. would spend the night scrolling through his chat history with you, adamant and determined to find a baby picture of you in the midst of the chaotic texts— just wants to say “my baby’s still so pretty”, to you...

riki would, initially, be flabbergasted, gobsmacked even; a very audible gasp would fall from his lips. tries to get hold of the little rectangular device— that is, your phone— but fails because of how adept you are at defence; “hoho, two can play that game,” he’d say, whipping out his phone from his pocket; you both end up shoving baby pictures of the other in each others’ faces, lips pressed into thin lines to suppress uproars of giggles and disbelieving “what am i doing, oh my god”. your wallpapers are now baby pictures of the other…

taglist open! @halcyoni-ki @wondipity @yjjungwon @shysakuno @niktwazny303 @vnsux @minhosify @haechansbbg @yeomha @stepout-09-15 @chansburgah @sona-verse01 @lilly-bubblelops @smouches @mrchweeee @luvistqrzzz @nwjws @ibsysbsfsunsbs @rikisly @amyysfics @mixtape-racha @berry-and-kkami @rikislady @gweoriz @czlluvriki @okwonyo @okwons networks! @kflixnet @enhanet @k-labels

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kiss-me-muchoo · 3 months

Text

𝐈𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 || 𝐄𝐧𝐳𝐨 𝐕𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐜 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_ have you seen the MV of wildest dreams? If not… you play the romantic interest of Enzo’s character in a movie and the sparks begin behind cameras too. But he turns you down and finally sees you years after that, realizing he missed you and now he’s jealous.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠_ age gap, angst, fluff, Enzo is a little bit of an asshole, Enzo’s ex is NOT specified, okay? Definitely not trying to imply anything by that, Spanglish, ANGST AGAIN. We have a Mexican carne asada here y soporten. BIEN CRINGE ESTA MADRE

𝐀/𝐍_ people from Uruguay and Argentina can correct me all they want about the accent, please start listening Cedar, then Widest Dreams for this… BOTH SONGS IN MY PLAYLIST FOR ENZO.

♪ ♫ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝟒 𝐄𝐧𝐳𝐨 𝐕𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐜 ✰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 (+fics here)

_________________________

Your character was close to his. They were lovers. So you had to spend a fair amount of time with him consequently. Enzo was a humble and kind man. He was so random and yet so peaceful. Which facilitated the connection.

In the beginning, you thought it was weird that the production of The Society of the Snow had decided to keep more than 50% of the cast for a short film that would promote the movie and create speculation. You didn’t say no because it meant flying to the shores of Spain and enjoying more time with the boys.

So you give in, you take the director’s advice to stick to Enzo and build a connection.

He’s older than you, more mature, more experienced in many ways, but yet you seem to be able to make him laugh.

“Tenés que estar bromeando,” he says laughing.

“No es joda, de verdad me multaron y se hizo un desmadre” you explain giggling, drinking at your water bottle.

Both of you are having a little moment on the beach. It was warm, and it was a free day. The rest of the boys decided to spend the afternoon playing video games and you were not willing to melt watching a TV.

“Recuérdame jamás salir con vos” you roll your eyes.

“Ay vete a la verga, todos saben que soy el alma de las reuniones y fiestas” he shrugged, eating from his sandwich and smiling.

“Si, tenés razón quizá”

“¿Quizá? No, no mientas, Enzo” finally, he laughs loudly.

“Bueno está bien, lo acepto”

“Así me gusta, obediente, mi niño” he blushed. And it made you blush too.

The sound of the waves swiftly colliding makes you feel at peace. It’s been great so far. Filming an action short film, playing the damsel in danger who turns out to be the villain, and having lots of fun with your workmates.

“¿No extrañas tu hogar?” he asks, and you sigh, looking at the sea.

“Trato de no pensar en eso. Dependo mucho de casa, de mi familia. Me cuesta el cambio, pero me adapto rápido” he nods, smiling, and you hate to admit you like how good he looks with his hair slightly shorter.

“Eso es bueno… adaptarse. Aunque cueste… creo que al final es bonito el cambio” you start laughing. Because you remember his Instagram captions and the pauses he always wrote. But he’s think that you are also very pretty, not only the change he mentioned before.

“Si, es bonito el cambio” You keep laughing, and he shouldn’t be smiling so much at you. But you were so funny, you always had something to share and talk about. Enzo was very close about sharing things about him. But with you, he could make an excuse.

So you also stare at him, and you feel your heart start beating faster.

You can’t fall in love with him. But you’re miserably failing.

…

You look at yourself in the mirror. Your character had a disguise moment, where she had to pretend to be a dancer to get information. So there you are in a bejeweled attire with feathers.

“No mames, qué buena me veo,” you say laughing. Loving how your waist looks and how your hair looks so fluffy. The costume department did an outstanding job of making you look hot

“Como que si… ¿eh?” The annoying twink of Juani had to be there.

“Ponme la de perdió este culo de la Bad Gyal, por favor” Juani starts cackling, already filming you for some random tweet.

“Pero si vos tuviste un ex hace siglos, ya no queda” you roll your eyes, checking on the glitter decorating your eyes.

“Ay, pero no por eso, Juani. Nomás por mamona lo digo” There’s a knock on the door and you turn to see who’s standing there.

“¿Y esa diosa?” You blush, smiling at Fran being the person who knocked at the door before.

“¿Dónde que no la veo?” Of course, Juani had to be an idiot and ruin the moment, but soon he blows you a kiss.

“No es cierto, linda” You roll your eyes and turn back to see Fran giggling. You give him a sweet smile and scratch the back of your neck. He helps you get your robe so you won’t have to cross the whole building with your exhibitionist outfit.

“Tenés escena conmigo” Fran says offering you his arm, which you gladly take.

“Adiós, naco perdedor,” you say to Juani, who starts laughing loudly. As you start walking with Fran across the hallways of the building, you start feeling your heart beat faster. You were going to have a heated scene with Enzo, which made you cringe a lot. First, you appear with Fran’s character in the club which ends with your character tangling up with Enzo.

“¿Nerviosa?” You shake your head, sighing.

“I don’t know…Digo, no lo sé” he nods, as you two walk out of the building to get going towards the set. The shores of Spain were beautiful, Cádiz was warm and it suited your overwhelmed mood.

“Va a estar bien. Que igual si no, nos vamos a dar la vuelta en la noche” that immediately makes you smile. You nod, hugging him.

“Eso me encantaría mucho, Fran” You are on set now. There’s no way back, and when you turn back, you see Enzo, and he’s already looking at you.

You blush, and offer him a little smile before turning away so rapidly. The whole action is watched by Fran and he has his own opinion.

“Has pasado mucho tiempo con Enzo…¿No crees?” You shrug, greeting the makeup staff who are going to retouch your look.

“Teníamos que conocernos a fondo para que esto resultara” he nods again.

“Creo que si se ha dado lo de la conexión” it was weird, because you knew it was true. you had developed a special connection with Enzo. Hours spent talking and having long walks across the beach. The days you decided to cook for the boys and he always was the first to arrive and try to help you set up everything.

“Si se diera la oportunidad… ¿Te quedarías con él?” His question makes you wonder. It took you aback, and while you have full trust in Fran, you don’t know what to answer.

Well, you do know what to answer… but you are afraid to admit it.

“Si… aveces siento que si es con él, Fran. Me hace muy feliz… pero, no creo que Enzo sienta lo mismo” you confess. He smiles, taking your hand.

“Tenés que decirle. Se llevan un par de años, pero… se ven tan bien juntos” he says looking at Enzo.

“De verdad… ¿Tú crees?”

“Es que ve cómo te mira, y/n” In disguise, you turn to your side, and you confirm Enzo is still looking at you.

“Decíle… anda” you smile, a warm feeling growing in your heart. You feel loved, you feel like it might be meant to be. So you plan something.

“Hay que hacer una carnita asada” Fran laughs.

“Pero vos le pones mucho al asado. Jamás había visto uno así” you laugh. Since your type of asado was a northern Mexican carne asada. They all believed it was a great change of style of cooking.

“No lo niegues, Fran. Mi asado es grandioso” he tries to deny it but at the end, he smiles nodding.

“Ey… ¿estás lista, linda?” Enzo asks, appearing with a gorgeous smile. He was wearing a dark suit, his hair looked amazing, very hot.

“Creo que si…” you let him know. After some brief exchange of words with the production, you take your position along with Fran to start filming. And you never miss the way Enzo was looking at you.

Maybe he felt the same.

…

You started the carne asada before taking a shower and getting ready. Now, everything was ready. The big patio that connected the apartment complex was decorated with a table that Juani and Matias helped you set, with chips, salsas, guacamole, beans, and agua de tamarindo that you had to mix with some alcohol.

Everyone is having fun, and you have helped to serve the food to everyone with Blas. It seemed to be going well, you have a sundress and sneakers on the feeling of the alcohol has you tipsy and you can’t wait to make yourself some tacos with the asado.

You feel someone hug you from behind, and when you turn back, you end up caged around Enzo’s arms.

“Hey… you made it!” You cheer after seeing him, trying to ignore the blush on your cheeks. You hoped nobody had seen the interaction. Or else they would start with cheesy rumors.

“No me lo perdería” you smile, offering him a glass of agua de tamarindo.

“Hice verduras asadas y queso fundido para ti” he wanted to hug you so tightly again after hearing you say that. You had thought about him and cooked specifically for him. Enzo had been in some dilemma, where he questioned if you could be the one. Although, he still had many obstacles to get to you. And he didn’t know yet that those obstacles would draw him apart from you.

“Ehh.. y/n linda, ¿hay más mas cubiertos?” Agustin asks you suddenly.

“Creo que hay servilletas y popotes en el cuarto de lavar. Voy a ver” you say laughing.

“Te acompaño…” says Enzo, which makes you blush again.

“Gracias…”

Both of you walk inside the building, and the laundry room is very near, so in less than a minute he opens the door to let you in. With the distance, you finally are able to distinguish the song playing on the patio. You hum along trátame suavemente playing in the background.

No quiero soñar mil veces las mismas cosas

Ni contemplarlas sabiamente

Quiero que me trates suavemente

Enzo can’t help but think you look so adorable. He remembers the way he had to touch you for the scene earlier. Half of him hated himself for feeling that way about you, and the other half questioned if it could possibly be correct.

“Enzo… no alcanzo las servilletas” When he turns back, he sees you trying to climb the washing machine to open the drawers.

“Así no, chiquita.” He laughs and stops you, making you sit on top of the washing machine while he grabs the bag with napkins and straws inside.

“Ay, si… humillame pues” you complain crossing your arms. He drops de bag beside you, and then gives you a silly smirk, which makes you laugh.

“Nada de eso, sis vos sos bien linda así” You cross your arms, avoiding his eyes. This was the closest you’d been around him. It feels alright like having him close to you was normal. Making you realize, you could get used to his aura being so damn close to you.

I like him…

“¿Tú crees?” You let yourself play a little dumb, pretending innocence. And you have the excuse of being under the effects of alcohol.

Te comportas de acuerdo

Con lo que te dicta, cada momento

Y esta inconstancia, no es algo heroico

Es más bien algo enfermo…

you keep humming the song as you try to keep the conversation normal with the man.

“Si… muy linda vos” The outrageous side of you let your arms get tangled around his neck. And it caught him by surprise but he let himself feel the moment. He shyly placed his hands on your hips, and you squirmed.

“¿Qué estamos haciendo?” He asks, accepting that he was getting lost in your eyes.

“No sé” you admit, feeling how his chest was touching yours.

“Bésame, Enzo…” you close your eyes, and seconds later, you know he’s kissing you. Your fingers trace his hair and it’s so soft that it makes him groan in pleasure.

You let his hands caress the plush skin of your hips and legs as you keep pushing him towards you.

This is it, you are falling in love with him.

…

It’s one of the last days of filming, but for the past two weeks, you have been spending a sickening time with Enzo. He spent two nights with you, he even agreed to go out to the city just for you. You could say the feeling of falling in love was growing very rapidly.

He made you feel safe and every smile he offered was enough relief for your days. He held your hand once while walking through the crowded streets to not lose you and it felt right.

And you hadn’t seen him in two days because he had different scenes to film.

Until now, where your character holds hands with him as she confesses she’s the villain. You feel the air shift, you feel the distance he’s making and you wonder if it was because of the scene or if he was actually being cold to you. The setting is on one hill with a gorgeous sunset in the background, making the scene very dramatic and tragic for the romantic partners.

“Dime que me amas y me entregaré. Por favor…” your character says. Enzo looks at you, and the look he exchanges with you is sad, making you confused on camera.

“Yo te amo, pero sabes que no podemos estar juntos” his character had to say. And for some reason, you felt like Enzo was actually saying that to you.

“CORTE!” The director said. Everything keeps going on. But for you time stops. You look at him, hoping to find some sense of tranquility. That nothing had changed.

Slowly, Enzo dropped your hand and after a brief look… he walked away.

…

You spend the afternoon collecting shells. You are confused and slightly sad because filming is coming to an end. You don’t know if Enzo actually wanted to give it a try on distance. Because after the kiss on the carne asada, none of you had given status to the relationship.

But it’s not necessary to keep thinking about it, because you see him walking towards you, and your immediate reaction is to offer him a smile.

“Ey.. te perdiste todo el día” you try to sound calm.

“Estaba ocupado.” He says with both hands inside his hoodie. His hair looks disheveled and he seems tired.

“Entiendo…”

“Volví a hablar con ella” There’s no need to address it, you know who he meant, his ex-girlfriend. You don’t say a word, opting for hearing him before talking.

“Hablamos mucho. Quedamos de vernos cuando vuelva a Uruguay” you gulp, each word hurting you more.

“¿Entendés, verdad? Vos sos más joven que yo, somos de lados muy distintos… no iba a funcionar” your eyes get watered immediately. Rage invading you and sadness flooding you.

“Decí algo, por favor. No quiero lastimarte…” you laugh, shaking your head. There are some seconds of silence. You need to choose the right words.

“Alguna vez me miraste, sonreíste y pensaste que… tal vez, ¿tal vez pudo haber sido conmigo?” He sighs, looking away, at the sea.

The longer he remains quiet, the more you have the answer. He never felt the same as you, but he never tried to stop you either. He played along.

You just start walking away, hand on an extremely tight grip, the shells and sand irritating the skin on your palm.

“Nunca quise hacerte daño” he yells as you have walked a fair amount of steps away.

“Si nunca sentiste algo por mi, nunca debiste haberme dejado encariñarme contigo.” He lowers his gaze and you feel even more enraged.

“No puedes ni levantar la cabeza. Fucking shame on you…” you spit with disappointment.

“Y jamás debí haber aceptado conocerte tanto” you finally say. Walking away at once and fighting the tears as you try to pass the boys who are playing video games again.

“Ey… ¿estás bien?” Juani asks and you nod, but he follows and once his hand touches yours, you can’t help but collide on his chest, letting the tears fly away silently. Juani doesn’t say anything, not yet, he just hugs you tightly.

…

The next afternoon, Enzo goes to find you in your room, but he’s surprised by the fact that you’re gone.

“Filmó su última escena y se ha ido a casa” Santi told him.

“¿Cómo?” Enzo is in shock, he just sighs, closing his eyes.

“Se quiso ir antes…”

“Le dijo… muchas cosas a Juani y a Fran” Santi adds, and Enzo can tell what had happened. And of course, he accepted being guilty.

“Necesito hablar con ellos” and with that he lefts.

But the talk didn’t help a lot. He just realized you were gone by the time he was able to be alone in his room again. Enzo was confused and tired and he also just wanted to go home. But as he understands you’re gone and he won’t see you in a long time, he feels a little lost. And empty…

…

A lot of things change. You grow, you forget, you change. You go back to your normal life, college goes great, and everything is normal until it’s time to give a promotion to the movie and the short film. You kept a lot of contact with Fran, Juani, and Matias, but it won't be the same as if you didn't end up on good terms with Enzo.

About him, you learned he didn't make it with his ex-girlfriend. He was single and apparently good. You don’t hate him, but there’s a lot of resentment. And as the premiere was around the corner, rumors had appeared on the surface of social media. Rumors of you and Enzo, and all the drama. You didn't pay attention to those, but you were expecting at least one question regarding the issue in the upcoming interviews.

You were offered to be dressed by some perfect designer who had similar ideas to you. He made a silk dress in a champagne color for you. With tiny crystal beats and a gorgeous skirt. You loved the dress, it suited you so well too.

So at the beginning of the night, you don’t think about anything but making a good impression on the cameras. All that mattered was the promotion of the movie.

As soon as you arrive at the gala, you start shivering because of your nervousness about seeing your friends again. You were the last one to arrive so you weren’t able to greet them.

And that’s when you see Enzo. He seems fine, in a completely dark suit and his stupid perfect hair. When he finds your sweet eyes, his heart beats faster, you look so perfect. Your hair, your brows, your eyes, the pink lips, everything seemed to make you look so perfect. And he can tell you look older, your childish and plush cheeks are gone, and your short hair too. He remembers all the good memories he made with you and he feels sadness taking over. He missed you so bad after going back home. And he wasn’t able to hear anything from you because he didn’t dare to ask Juani or Fran for example.

“Te ves preciosa,” says Agustin hugging you. You smile at him and thank him. All the boys want to greet you and all is being recorded. The only one you don’t greet is Enzo, who stays afar posing for the cameras. Until most of the photographers keep asking to take a picture of you and the man who broke your heart.

“No te acerques si no querés” Juani advises you, whispering in your eye. You sigh, looking at how Enzo is getting closer.

“Creo que ya no tengo de otra…” you whisper back, pretending to have a big and honest smile on your face.

Enzo exchanged looks with you, and he was able to sense how awkward you were feeling, which didn’t soothe him. So he pretended to place his hand on your back but he never touched you, and you didn’t even glare at him a second the flash hit your face. You ignore the growing pain of having him so close but being so far away at the same time.

They want you to do a little interview with him. So you get close to the cameras to answer some questions.

“Entonces y/n… ¿qué crees que fue lo mejor de grabar el largometraje?” You giggle, easy question.

“Definitivamente que pude volver a estar con los chicos. Fue mas sencillo y podíamos divertirnos con mayor libertad” the woman nods, assuring that she was recording your answer.

“Y Enzo… ¿fue difícil grabar estando en una relación?” You know he didn’t like the question, and you suddenly felt worse or awkward.

“Eh… no. La verdad es que llevo rato soltero.”

“¿Hay alguien que podría llevarte a dejar de estarlo?” He laughs and you just want to run away. You really don’t care, and you don’t want to know the answer.

“Hubo una chica con la que estuve en Cádiz hace casi dos años. Nos la pasamos muy bien y las cosas no se dieron, mi culpa. Me gustaría hacer las cosas bien por ella…” it must be you, and it can’t be. You don’t believe him, you just turn around and look for any of your friends. So when you see Matias making you a sign to join im, you take the opportunity.

“Me llaman por acá. Un gusto, y gracias…” you thank the woman with a smile and leave quickly, knowing Enzo has eyes set on your back.

You won’t cry, but you can’t help but feel so weird about everything. You had been great without him. Seeing him back made you go back to that summer in Cadiz and how great it was your life at the time. But that is gone, and so are the memories you made with him.

…

Everyone knows you disappeared after the projection of the movie and the short film. You don’t like feeling his eyes across the dark room. You can’t rest knowing the party that followed the projections was going to be very painful. By showing clips of the behind-the-scenes, everyone saying words to each other. You are not in the mood for that. And it’s all because of him. Because he had to be an asshole and not think clearly. You couldn’t even call yourself stupid because he gave all the green lights that actually looked like green flags.

And as you question everything in pajamas, looking at the open balcony of your hotel room with red swollen eyes when there’s a knock.

You drag your feet to the door, and once you open it, he’s there.

The suit is still on, but he has a specific gesture on his face.

People often said looks said more than words, and Enzo was the perfect example.

You tilt your head, reading his face. His face says that he’s sorry, he feels sad, and he’s desperate to have you back. And he frowns after seeing your sad face. Your red eyes and look that said how confused and hurt you were.

So both of you stare for a little longer, literally glorifying each other faces. Remembering the soft touches, all the things you talked together. How happy you made each other.

“Podemos arreglarlo…” he finally says.

And slowly both of you smile, sad and broken smiles.

You open your arms and he immediately goes to hug you. His hands find their way to your waist, his face hidden in the warmth of your neck.

“Tú recuerdo jamás me dejó” and you smile again, closing your eyes, letting your face get comfortable on his chest, letting more tears fall.

“Si es contigo…Siempre fue contigo” he admits, knowing he’ll never let you go again.

____________________________________________________________________________

Antes de que me digan que que pendeja esta la y/n por perdonarlo tan fácil, pues en mi cabeza cuando Enzo la fue a ver a su cuarto fue como muy fuerte. De esos momentos donde la tension es mas fuerte y no se necesitan tantas palabras para saber que la persona está literalmente a tus rodillas suplicando so…

I already have an idea for a new fic with Enzo that it’s going to be AHHHHH. hint? Everyone loves you, that’s it

#enzo vogrincic x reader #enzo vogrincic #si no etiqueto la movie como hago que esto lo vean duh #la sociedad de la nieve #the society of the snow

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dyeher · 5 months

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“We should get married.”

The sun is too hot. You’re too sweaty and dehydrated and horny and miserable to even entertain Mikey’s lackluster proposal. It’s not even a question. It’s a statement.

He looks serious too, and hot and sweaty and delicious. You want to lick the stray beads of sweat that have collected at the base of his throat.

But you can’t because it’d be unprofessional. So, you ignore him. Adjusting the lens on your camera to snap a few more pictures of him in the natural light.

There’s a giant hibiscus tucked behind his right ear and his head is tilted up to face the sky. He’s glowing. Between him and the orange hibiscus you’re not sure who the sun is loving more.

“Did you hear me?”

“Don’t move,” you instruct, ignoring him again. He’s turned to you for acknowledgment and the light catches in the strands of his hair. It frames him in a halo of light, and in this position the hibiscus pales in comparison to him. Him and his entirely too beautiful face. His upper body flexes lightly with the movement, exposing his tattoos for the camera and when he lifts a brow at you, your mouth goes dry.

“Don’t ignore me.”

“It’s too hot Mikey,” you complain. You’re still snapping away because Mikey is moving and every shift in the muscles of his arms as he turns toward you fully, the clenching of his abdominal muscles, you aim to capture them all.

“This was your idea,” he points out.

He’s right. It was your idea and you don’t regret it. Not when you get to see him like this (because there are very few people who can see him like this and you’re truly honored to be one of them).

He sits back, pressing his hands into the soft grass behind him and elongating his torso. His jacket falls open wider and more of the small tattoos scattered across his torso are revealed. You snap a few quick shots of him from the neck done.

“I know,” you smile as you sink onto the grass next to him to click through the last five pictures you’d snapped. They’re your favorite so far.

The first is a body shot that highlights the golden pendant that’s nestled in the hollow of his throat. There’s a small butterfly tattoo on his left collar bone and Roman numerals on his right. The tattoo above his Adam’s apple matches the wording in the pendant. ‘Monster’ printed in typewriter font.

The second is a torso shot. His skin is damp from a thin layer of sweat and the sun casts his normally pale skin in a golden glow. You’d managed to capture a bead of sweat as it trickled down between his abs.

The third makes you freeze.

“Delete that,” Mikey says from over your shoulder. The heat from his body seeps into your thin shirt as he plasters himself to your back.

He’s smiling in the picture. His head tilted downward as he looks at you through his lashes, a secretive smile playing on his lips. It’s breathtaking. You’d captured his entire top half. The flexing muscles in his arms, the bunching of the muscles in his shoulders.

“Nope!” you giggle, holding the camera out of his reach. Mikey glares playfully at you.

“The only way—” he lunges, eyes locked on your own, and snatches the camera from you, ignoring your indignant yelp“—you’re keeping this is if you say yes to marrying me.”

You squint, folding your arms in front of you. “You’re not serious.”

Mikey places the camera down carefully and turns his attention to you. “I am.”

He reaches for your hands and drags you into his lap, guiding them to his shoulders and settling his own on your waist. Your eyes narrow further as he pulls you closer to him. “I’m very serious.”

You’re a little taller than him like this and when he tilts his head up to look into your eyes the hibiscus falls free from behind his ear.

“I want to marry you,” he continues. “And then you can take as many pictures of me as you want.”

You swallow, your heart suddenly thundering as Mikey continues to stare at you. “As many pictures as I want? Do you promise?”

Mikey chuckles. “I promise.”

You eye him skeptically.

He presses a soft kiss to your chin. “I’ll even let you post some of them.”

Your eyes widen. “Really?!”

He presses a kiss lower to your throat, his hair tickling your chin as he nods.

“You’re not trying to trick me into saying yes right?”

Mikey lifts his head to level a blank look at you. “Would I need to trick you?”

“Fair point,” you acquiesce.

He leaves a kiss on your right cheek and then the corner of your mouth and when his tongue comes out to lick along the seam of your lips you sigh.

He takes advantage of that and kisses you deeply. When he pulls away you blink dazedly at him.

“Ask me to marry you again after I’ve had a shower,” you blurt.

Mikey’s brows furrow. “What?”

“I’m too sticky and sweaty and hot to think straight and your cock is right—” you roll your hips, dragging your clothed sex along his erection “—there! I’m not thinking straight.”

Mikey chuckles. “How about after I’ve fucked you ?”

You pause. “In the shower?”

Mikey groans, head falling against your shoulder. “Sure, I’ll ask you again after I’ve fucked you in the shower.”

“And I’ll say yes.”

“You fucking better,” he says. “I’d hate it if you forced my hand.”

You pretend you don’t hear the threat in those words.

#mikey x y/n #mikey x reader #mikey x you #manjiro sano x you #manjiro sano x reader #mikey fluff #manjiro sano fluff #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev fluff #tokyo rev x y/n #tr: beyablade.

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midmourn · 5 months

Text

like the movies

♡ nct dream ﹒ gender neutral!reader genre fluff, slice of life, angst, suggestive warnings language, suggestive on jeno’s, brief death joke on haechan’s note if yall have any requests let me know 🫶 here’s the tropes if you can’t tell: mark: best friends to lovers. renjun: enemies to lovers. jeno: fwb. haechan: fake dating. jaemin: second chance. chenle: arranged marriage. jisung: brother’s best friend. i cant remember who inspired this but i do know it was for enhypen lol ( masterlist )

resting on his elbow on your bed, mark’s mouth is agape as he stares at you, blinking furiously. was he dreaming? you, who stood in front of the floor length mirror, smooth down your clothes for non-existent dust and smile to yourself, “okay, how about this outfit?” you wait a few seconds before frowning, “mark? hello— mark?” you wave a hand in front of him and he jolts, “wha—? oh, um, yeah, it’s great. you look really good— … dude.” he winces inwardly at the name, but you don’t bat an eye at it and frown at his seemingly insincere words. “you’re right, it’s bad. i’m going to change.” mark catches your hand with a laugh, “dude, no! seriously, you look really— …” he trails off, looking hesitant to say the next word, even though he’s said it so many times before so easily. what was different now? “— pretty. gorgeous,” he says it without even thinking, realizing it the moment you smile bashfully, ducking your head to your chest to try and hide it but failing miserably. he studies your face for a second, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. and— oh. he wants to kiss you so bad. you, his best friend. oh. oh shit.

renjun doesn’t know when the lines blurred from enemies to frenemies to … lovers? crushes? all he knows is that the burning rage that used to fill him every time your mouth opened was now replaced with warmth spreading over his chest and the urge to kick his feet while giggling. words neither of you would dare to speak around your mothers, intended to hurt, were replaced with teasing, playful words with no hint of malice. your head turns swiftly, knocking him out of his daydream as you raise an eyebrow at him, “take a picture, maybe it’ll last longer.” cheeks flushing a subtle red, his eyes narrow at you, “you might break my camera.” but his pinky creeping towards yours and lips curling up at the ends says how he really thinks. you smile, flipping your hand over and making the first move to intertwine your fingers. his heart stuttered in his chest, “i— you—” you laugh, squeezing his hand once before going back to your textbook. and, yeah, he was certain he’s never felt this before.

“if you squeeze any harder, i think you’ll break the glass,” mark attempts at a joke to diffuse the tension radiating off jeno. jeno’s lips barely twitched up as he glanced down at the glass in his hand before setting it to the side, done drinking for the night. he didn’t feel like it anymore when he saw how closely some guy holds you to his side, hand on your waist. he didn’t like the funny feeling it gave him and he could only imagine how it’d feel when alcohol was added into the equation. “jeno, dude, when are you gonna make a move? you guys have been—” he glances around, checking for eavesdroppers even though the music was far too loud for anyone to hear, “—messing around for months, basically a couple without the label. and you know there’s more people interested in y/n than just him.” the two look back to the opposite side of the room where the guy was whispering something in your ear, a smirk on his face. “you need to tell them you want something more than just fuck buddies. or else you’ll lose them forever.”

“you— WHAT?” haechan winces as your voice grows louder in his ear, casting a quick look around to see if anyone could hear you through the phone. “hyuck! what the fuck?” “don’t act like it wouldn’t be a privilege to date me,” haechan scoffs playfully, hiding his nervousness behind humor; as he always did with his emotions. “i’d rather die.” “okay, well, please! my mom’s already told everyone in my family that i’m bringing someone, including my sisters!” the mention of his sisters have you going quiet, and he hopes you’re thinking about it on the other end. “god, haechan— i—” you sigh in frustration, “how was my name the first name to pop up in that tiny brain of yours?” he ignores the jab, thinking back to that moment. truthfully, he already knew why you were the first name to pop up in his head when his mom mentioned bringing a date to his family reunion. but you didn’t need to know that. not right now, at least. “you weren’t, you were actually my last choice but all my other choices would’ve said no,” he teases, hearing you scoff in disbelief and he grins. “whatever. you’re lucky i love your sisters and hate letting them down.” “and me?” he raises an eyebrow, maybe a hint of hope in his voice. “you wish.” he does.

jaemin swears he’s dreaming when he looks up and sees you. never in a million years did he think you would come back home. not when you tried so hard to leave, anyway. you’re across the aisle, switching your gaze between two spices in your hands when you feel the back of your neck prickling. your head lifts, making eye contact with jaemin immediately. your breath catches, the world freezing around you as the two of you stared at one another. jaemin had only seen glimpses of you through social media the last four years, living your life in some prestigious university with your dream job and dream life in america. he watched your life through pictures like he used to watch you sleep. you break first, raising a hand to wave shyly at him, attempting a weak smile as you didn’t know how he’d react. jaemin abandoned his cart, walking closer to you as you set the spices into your cart. “hi,” you breathe out once he stands in front of you. for years, it seemed like you could never catch your breath, always missing just one thing. and now, it seemed like a breath of fresh air, standing in front of him. his lips turned up into a soft smile, eyes shining as he said softly, “hi.”

the hotel room is silent as chenle unlocks the door with the cardkey, letting you in first and doing a quick check of his surroundings before following in. he listens to the click of the lock, eyes following your movements as you grab a change of clothes and your skincare items from your suitcase. he loosens the tie around his neck, kicking his dress shoes off and turning his back towards you. he doesn’t intend on saying anything, knowing that this situation is definitely not your favorite thing in the world. while he wished it was on his own terms, he liked that it was you. it was only ever you for him. you just didn’t know that. “chenle?” he hums in reply, shrugging off his suit jacket and throwing it on the loveseat. “you don’t … hate me, do you?” his head snaps up, brows furrowing, “what?” the word comes out incredulous and you bite your lip, embarrassment sinking in as your cheeks begin to feel warm. “i … i know this isn’t ideal, but for me, i know it’s not the worst thing in the world.” he blinks at you. you smile slightly at his dumbfounded expression, “i was angry at first, and i was so … betrayed. but, i’m glad it’s you.” you don’t expect a response, heading into the bathroom quietly. he smiles to himself once he fully registers what you just said. i’m glad it’s you. he was, too.

from your spot on the armchair, you watch as jisung rises from his seat on the couch, next to your brother. “i’m getting a drink, anyone want anything?” the rest of your friends and your brother’s friends chime in with their answers, and you wait a second for anyone to get up and follow after him. but no one does. you smile to yourself before standing, “i’m going to help him, since you assholes won’t.” your brother waves you off, too far into the video game to give a better reply. you sneak up behind jisung, sliding your cold hands up under his t-shirt and he jumps, neck twisting to look at you. “ah!” he says a little too loudly, and you shush him. you stay silent before you hear shouts of excitement and disappointment from the living room, turning back to him. “what if—” he starts to say. “as far as they know, i’m helping you with the drinks and snacks,” you poke him in his ribs and he jumps, making you snicker. you stare into each other’s eyes for a few seconds, enjoying the small moment you’ve rarely got since you all came home from college for the summer. at the thought, your face falls and jisung frowns, brushing a stray hair away from your eyes, “what’s wrong?” you shake your head, not wanting to ruin the moment but he insists. “i … i really want to tell him, ji.” you frown, watching his face carefully. “the longer we keep this a secret, the more he’ll be mad. i think we should just rip the bandaid off.” at his hesitation, you sigh and step away from him, making him take a step forward to close the distance again. “jisung, if we’re really serious about this, we have to tell him at some time.” you hesitate, “… are you serious about me?” his eyes widen, “what? yeah, i am. i’ve been serious about you since we were seventeen. i…” he looks shy, “you’re it for me. you’ve always been.” your cheeks heat up, eyes darting away shyly at his words as you allow him to close more distance between you two and press a meaningful kiss to your lips. “we’ll tell him … after everyone leaves, okay? i don’t want to hide anymore. i didn’t like it in the first place.”

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trashcigs · 6 months

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watching their girlfriend perform ・ 보이넥스트도어 idol!female reader + word count 0.7k genre est relationship fluff idol au cw not proof-read — more 🍀

jaehyun

literally a die-hard fan of your group! the loudest and most dedicated fanboy to ever exist???? watches on the big screen to observe every cute and pretty expression you make. jaehyun can't stay in one place, he's practically jumping in his seat, mouthing lyrics while doing small movements of your choreography (cutie). smiles too wide his cheeks start to hurt :(( gives up halfway and stands up from his seat to dance with you, knowing your part by heart but does end up doing the adlibs ( other groups around him find him so cute ).

the camera has caught him so many times he doesn't even care at this point, looking at the camera while pointing to the stage where your group is and giving it a double thumbs up ( don't be surprised when he's going viral again for his obvious adoration for you ). so many videos of him eyes tearing up with a loverboy grin on his face when your singing on stage goes viral cause the boy is just so clearly whipped

sungho

you cannot tear sungho's attention away from the stage. eyes always following you, whoever you may be, with a proud smile on his face. he's just so amazed! i mean imagine not having a super-talented idol s/o!?!? the camera literally catches him at the worst moments bc tell me why he's on-screen with his jaw agaped, hand over mouth, laughing, giggling kicking his feet. always staring at you with a stunned expression, hand over mouth, slapping jaehyun's arm ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

whenever you do something cute, his ears turn red. whenever you do something even remotely amazing he'd just gasp! ( celebration afterward ) notes to buy you a gift after the performance and treat you to an amazing dinner because you deserve it.

riwoo

tries not to make it too obvious or draw attention from your performance, but you can tell how happy he is. riwoo is literally losing his composure almost immediately after youre on the stage. his facial expressions range from 'damn that's good' to eyes widening to a very warm grin when you appear on the big screen. would subtly sing along, some parts (yours specifically) of the song he'll mouth. every once in a while you'd see him clapping along to the beat -- from the instruments to the stage, the dance break, and you-- all so captivating. ( /// ○ _ ○)

smile would grow twice in size once it's your part. stares are you with an 'o' shaped mouth and eyes filled with admiration. already knows your choreo by heart, would find himself on the big screen dancing along to the song then gets a bit shy and sits down. loverboy fr

taesan

will try to keep his reactions to a minimum but can't. I mean how could he? when someone as beautiful as you are belting their heart out onstage, who looks fabulous I might add, who wouldn't want to dance along with you? dongmin's eyes would follow your movements in complete awe, eyes never tearing away from the stage. <(■-■)>

trying to maintain his composure pt2 but FAILS MISERABLY AND is caught on camera literally melting to your stunning smile, finds himself smiling back. dancing to your parts and mirroring your moves in like tiny (?). he is completely whipped, having been told by woonhak that the camera is on him. hiding behind his hands while the others laugh at the way the blush creeps up. ( he's such a cutie)

leehan

always staring at you with so much adoration and love. donghyun loves hearing your voice and at times he'd just close his eyes and sway from side to side and give you such a love-sick smile it's insane. his dimples are so visible from a mile away. eyes glowing at you, when you hit that high note he's so mesmerized, like damn my baby can do that?? you’re the most gorgeous, breathtakingly beautiful idol to him. you have the looks matched with the voice gifted by angels. and he tells you this every day but it's so evident with the way he looks at you. ~(^ ▫ ^)~

you have him wrapped around your finger whether you like it or not. when the camera focuses on you after the end for the performance for the ending fairy, he's on his feet clapping for you. you can hear him cheering so loud from the crowd, so blow a kiss to the camera, and watch him giggle like a school girl. (he'll blow a kiss back and the audience goes wild )

woonhak

is smiling dancing singing -- just everything! woonhak is so excited to see you perform. thinks you look absolutely gorgeous. can't stay in his seat pt2. fighting the urge to dance along and of course, he loses when he finds himself dancing with jaehyun during the chorus. staff members from the side are telling him to calm down, which he does, but not really. has way too much energy (^⸝⸝> ·̫ <⸝⸝ ^)

does your fanchant and fans are literally recording him doing it, calling him ( your group ) best boy, best fanboy. jaw drops to the floor when you wink at the camera and the boy freezes in place. it's like he's falling in love all over again. turns to his hyungs to show them that he knows your choreography, he's adorable. gosh he loves you so much.

taglist open ⁉️ @in2fly @leehanist

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pretty-red-garnet · 5 months

Text

Brothers Part 2

Daryl Dixon x fem! Reader • Quarry/CDC • Fluff/Angst

Part one can be read here! I hope you all enjoy part two. Oh, and surprise! There will be another part. I went a little overboard so there will be a third and maybe forth(?) part, haven’t decided yet.

✭TW✭ This chapter takes place during the episode where Shane does that to Lori and this chapter puts some emphasis on it. If SA is a subject that bothers you to read about, maybe check out something else I’ve written. My Masterlist can be found here. :)

The drive to the CDC is long. It's filled with some light conversation, but after Jim decided he wanted to be left on the side of the rode, unable to take the pain anymore, you and Daryl quieted. Even then, it was a mostly comfortable silence. Daryl was never very talkative, so quiet wasn't unusual even normally.

Once you and the group arrive at the compound, it's almost dark. It's surrounded by a few walkers, but mostly dead military people, there's even a tank sitting in front. It seemed they tried to fight them off, but failed miserably.

You follow Daryl out of the truck and meet up with the rest of the group. The group is careful to stick together, Shane tells them to keep quiet and close and they do. Carol and Lori keep their kids held tightly to them, muttering encouragements.

Shane and Rick try banging on the large, metal doors of the building. No answer.

"There's nobody here," T-Dog says.

"Then why are the shutters closed?" Rick asks, looking quizzically at the doors.

"Walkers!" Daryl calls out. He sticks an arm out to bring you behind him, blocking you from the dead. He raises his crossbow and shoots the walker.

"You led us to a graveyard!" He shouts, angrily. He pushes you further behind him.

"He made a call," Shane tries to reason, although he himself sounds frustrated.

"It was the wrong damn call!" Daryl yells. Shane shouts at him to shut up, frustrating you even more at his ill-directed anger.

"Rick, this is a dead end." The women begin to panic, and Shane brings up Fort Benning again.

"Fort Benning is too far, Shane. We have no gas, no food," you say. He doesn't say anything, but he sneers slightly in your direction.

The group is about to head back to the vehicles, get out of the open to figure out the next move, before Rick sees movement from the camera sat above the door.

"The camera, it moved," he says, staring up at it. You look up, glaring at it intensely to try and will it to move again. It doesn't.

Your brother argues with him, denies that it moved, trying desperately to get him back to the cars. Rick refuses, adamant that he saw it move, and begins to slam on the shutters.

"Rick, there's nobody there!" Lori yells at him. Rick continues to yell and bang on the doors, resulting in Lori and Shane trying to drag him away. Shane orders everyone to get back to the cars. You step out from behind Daryl.

"Rick, they're right. We have to get out of here," you say, a desperate attempt to reason with him. He ignores you, yells and slams on the door, pleading with whoever's in there to open the shutters.

The group is just about to leave, Rick finally beginning to follow, before the doors open. It's bright and blinding, you cover your eyes to shield them. Everyone hesitates, but slowly begin to trickle in the open doors. It's dark inside the lobby of the building, empty and cold.

"Hello?" Rick calls. There's a man there, gripping a rifle. You slowly move your hand to rest on your gun holster, your cop instinct kicking in.

"Anybody infected?" The stranger asks.

"One of our group was," Rick answers. "He didn't make it." The man seems to nod slightly.

"Why are you here? What do you want?" He asks. Rick takes a breath before answering.

"A chance."

A blood test was the price of admission, the man's way of being positive no one was infected. The man, who's name you learned to be Dr. Jenner, takes you all down an elevator and into another, larger room.

"Vi, being up the lights in the big room. Welcome to zone 5." You look around warily as the lights kick on.

"Where is everybody? The other doctors? The staff?" Rick asks. Jenner looks hesitant to answer.

"I'm it. It's just me," he says. Your heart drops to your stomach and your steps falter. As it turns out, Vi was just a computer. There's nobody, no doctors, no cure, no answers.

"You ok?" Daryl asks. He's been sticking close to you the entire time.

"Yeah, I'm good," you say. He nods unsurely and places a hand on your upper arm.

"Come on, keep up."

Everyone takes their blood tests. Andrea is last, and almost passes out afterwards. Jacqui explains how no one was eaten in days, and so Jenner leads everyone to the dining hall.

Your group and Jenner all sit around a large round table. You eat and drink, the wine slightly numbs the feeling of doom you have in your chest. It doesn't completely rid it, however.

But everyone laughs and jokes. Carl tries a sip of wine and everyone cracks up when he's disgusted by the taste. The boy you considered a nephew's smile helps you to feel something good. That, and Daryl.

"Keep drinking little man. I wanna see how red your face can get," Daryl pokes fun at Glenn, and you giggle. Daryl catches your smile and gives you a little half-smile of his own. He sits down on the chair next to you, tipping— and almost emptying— a wine bottle into your glass.

"You trying to get me drunk?" You ask, teasingly. He just shrugs and gives you one last little pour into your cup. You elbow him and he grins. Daryl looks especially handsome. Maybe it's the wine, or maybe it's the feelings you've tried to keep buried making themself known. Whatever it is, it makes you stare and admire him.

Rick taps his glass and makes a toast to Jenner, and everyone follows. It breaks you from your trance and you glance at Shane, who's sitting across from you. He has a grim expression, and he's staring at you and Daryl with a look of detest. You roll your eyes.

"Here's to you doc," Daryl says, popping open another bottle. "Booyah!" T-Dog and Dale copy his cheer and you laugh, leaning back and taking a large sip of your drink.

Shane brings down the celebratory mood with his questioning, asking Jenner what happened with all the other doctors. Jenner's answer is just as much depressing, as he explains many other doctors decided to 'opt out,' as he put it. Everyone gets quiet after, and so dinner is finished off quickly.

When everybody is done, the doctor leads your group to the living area where there's room for everyone to sleep. Jenner is talking but you're mostly tuning him out.

"Hot water?" Glenn's excited tone brings you back to reality.

"That's what the man said," T-Dog says, both of them sharing matching grins. You let your own slip at the thought of a nice, scorching hot shower. It seems everyone thinks the same, they all rush to their own room.

"Enjoy your shower Dixon, you need one," you tease. He grunts, turning away and heading into the nearest empty room with a bottle of booze dangling from his fingers. You can see the slightest smile on his face right before he closes the door.

You take the best shower of your life. The steam fills the small bathroom as you stand still, letting the hot water spray on you. You sigh happily, trying to forget the horrors of the world for just a minute.

You eventually turn it off, step out, and wrap yourself in a fuzzy towel. You get dressed quickly and decide to take a trip to the rec room. You had spotted a bookshelf when walking by, and you used to enjoy reading a lot.

You hear voices as you get close. You furrow your brows when you make out the voice, a panicked Lori. You rush to the door and push it open quickly.

"Get your hands off of me!" She yelps. Shane has her pressed against the table, his hand between her legs as she desperately tries to push him away.

"Shane!" You screech. You slam the door behind you, making your way to him in three quick steps. You grab the back of his shirt and yank him as hard as you can, using all the night you can muster to throw him to the wall.

He stands there against the wall, in a stupor with a hand to his scratched neck. It seems Lori took a chunk out of it, three long scratches are present there. She still leans on the table for support, shaking and terrified.

"What the fuck?" You say in a rage. The man in front of you was once your brother, but now it's like he's a stranger. His eyes are dark, his nostrils are flaring as he breathes heavily. You don't recognize him. He tries to leave but you stop him.

"Y/N, just let him go," Lori pleads, her voice sounds teary. You glance back at her, and the distraction was enough for Shane to sidestep you and get to the door. He opens it swiftly and bumps into the doorframe on his way out, right before shutting it closed in a bang.

"Lori..." you say, walking up to her. She's still half-sitting on the table, tears in her eyes.

"Please don't tell Rick," she says. You sigh.

"He should know." She shakes her head vehemently.

"You don't understand, me and Shane were—"

"I know," you cut her off. "But that's not an excuse for what just happened." Lori puts a hand over her mouth. You walk over and grab her in a hug. She returns it, squeezing you tightly.

"He was just drunk," she says. You rub her back. "Thank you."

"Of course," you say. She pulls away and wipes her tears, taking a breath to compose herself.

"Please, Y/N, don't tell Rick," she repeats. You just nod. She nods back and leaves you alone, standing in the middle of the room.

Your head spins and you feel like you're in a nightmare. Like what just happened couldn't possibly be reality.

What would've happened if I didn't come in? Would he have raped her? No, of course not. It's Shane. He's my big brother, he would never do that to somebody.

You're reeling, struggling to comprehend the events that just took place. You're sure they'll be burned into your memory forever. You take Lori's spot, leaning against the table and rubbing your eyes. Hoping— praying— that this is just some awful nightmares cooked up from stress and anxiety. That you'll wake up, warm and comfortable and next to Daryl and—

Daryl.

That's who you need. Your best friend who despite being icy and snappy to everyone, always had a small soft spot for you. Who wasn't good with words, but always tried his best to comfort you. Who let you sleep in his tent when you were scared, even though you and everyone else knows how much he values his space.

The one who lately made your head fuzzy and heart skip beats.

You get up from the table and speed towards his room. You knock quickly, wrapping your arms around themselves. The air around you is cold, although your certain it's just the shock. Daryl answers quickly, a confused twinge to his brow and a liquor bottle hanging from his hand. You're quick to snatch it and take a sip.

"Want some company?" You ask. He shrugs but nods, moving aside to let you in.

You sit on the small couch, waving Daryl to sit next to you. He doesn't, instead preferring to sit on the floor, leaning his back on the couch. He sits slightly to the side of you. If you move your left leg, it'll just barely brush against his shoulder.

You take a big swig of the stolen booze, handing it off to Daryl once you had enough. He mumbles his thanks and takes his own drink of it before placing it on the ground. He leans his head back against the cushion, letting out a sigh.

"I saw something I wasn't supposed to see," you say quietly. You don't want to think about it, but your mind is still whirling.

"What did you see?" He asks. He tips his head back slightly more to look at you. You sigh and shake your head.

"Nothing— I don't want to talk about it now." Daryl nods, slowly. He was never the one to prod, you appreciate it. You just want to forget, at least for now. Maybe deal with it in the morning, or maybe even the one after that. Just not now. You pluck the bottle from the ground and take a long drink before letting it hit the floor again with a thunk.

The next moments pass in a comfortable silence. Daryl's eyes have slipped shut. He looks so content, comfortable, maybe the most you've ever seen the man. It seemed like he always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, but not right now.

You're tipsy, maybe even more that tipsy. Almost drunk would be more appropriate. You feel the familiar heat under your cheeks, your brain slightly foggy.

Even in your state, you can't help but admire the sleepy Dixon in front of you. You've always known he was handsome, but it seems over the course of the day, the realization of how handsome he is hit you like a freight train. But handsome wouldn't be the word to describe him in this moment; cute would be. Maybe even adorable, even if you'd never imagined the words 'Daryl' and 'adorable' would ever be in the same sentence.

The temptation to touch him swam around in your sluggish head, and you can't deny it. You carefully, slowly pick up your hand, moving it forward until it meets his hair. You caress him softly, hoping that he's sleeping and won't feel it.

Luck isn't on your side. Daryl opens his eyes and picks his head up, turning to look at you, confused and surprised. Your mouth parts but words refuse to come out. You think he's going to leave, maybe curse at you, get angry. He doesn't do any.

He just stares at you. He looks startled, almost scared. Puzzled as to why you would touch him so softly. Like a loving touch was completely foreign to him.

He doesn't move, and so you bring your hand up again. You move your hand towards him deliberately, slowly, although your fingers tremble slightly. Daryl looks like a cornered animal, fearful and confused. His eyes jump from your hand to your face.

And then, your hand makes contact. Your shaking fingers card their way into his hair, smoothing down the ruffled strands. He relaxes after a few seconds, his eyes flutter and a serene look overtakes his face.

Abruptly, Daryl put a hand on the couch cushion, pushing himself up swiftly. He comes in close to you, his face barely an inch from yours. He stays that way, his teeth bite into his cheek, a nervous tick.

One hand stays rested in his hair, the other rises to his jaw. Your fingers stroke the scruff there. You bite your lip, nervous and anxious at what's to come.

It's like you're both in a trance. You stare into his eyes and it's like you have tunnel vision. The whole world falls away, the only thing that matters is Daryl and his baby blue eyes and the way he's looking at you. It's intense and intimate, terrifying.

Daryl moves impossibly closer to you, and suddenly his lips are on yours. You gasp in surprise against his mouth, but take no time to return the passionate kiss. Your hands find purchase interlocked on the back of his neck.

Daryl's hands find their way to rest on your shoulders. They tremble and nervously skirt from your shoulders to the back of your neck, unsurely. His knee nudges between yours, resting on the couch.

You lean back, pulling Daryl forward to the point he's nearly on top of you, but not quite. His kisses become more feverish, his hand tousles your hair.

Your hands slide from the back of his neck to his chest, further down until they're fiddling with the hem of his shirt. One hand sneaks under his shirt, making contact with the skin on his upper hip, fingertips just barely grazing his back.

And then he flinches.

He pulls away from you like you'd burned him with a hot iron. His lips unlatch from yours and leave you reeling and confused. He takes quick steps backwards, breathing heavily.

"What's wrong?" You ask, standing slowly and shakily. "Daryl—"

"Go," he says, face turned down.

"Daryl, I-I'm sorry, please—"

"I said go!" He yells, making you flinch. "Just fuckin' go."

"Daryl, please, just tell me what I did wrong." He looks up at you, an expression you've never seen on him before marks his face. He looks like a scared kid, conflicted and confused. A mix of emotions in his eyes you can't even begin to understand.

"Just fuckin' go," he repeats, lower, before turning his back on you and pacing. You nod jerkily, even though he can't see it, and swiftly make your exit.

You slam the door to the room you had claimed. Your hands run anxiously through your hair before coming down and rubbing a streak down your face. You pace around, breathing heavily. Tears burn at the back of your eyes, your throat tightens and bobs.

What the hell just happened?

If your mind was spinning before, it’s absolutely whirling a million miles a second now. It seems your entire world was just flipped upside down. First Shane, now Daryl? Did you just lose your brother and best friend all in the same hour?

And what was Daryl’s problem anyway, he kissed you. Did you do something to make him uncomfortable? Was your hand sliding under his shirt too much?

Whatever it was, you’re sure yours and his relationship will never be the same. You’ll never look at your brother the same. Everything was crashing and burning. Maybe to everyone else, the world had ended when the dead began to rise, but yours had just ended tonight.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #twd #twd daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x you #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl imagines #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon fluff

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shurisneakers · 3 months

Text

unsolved (iii)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky at his little shit supreme, obnoxious reader, cryptids, graveyards

A/N: good evening. i am fighting demons (tummy ache). comments and feedback are always appreciated thank u for the love on the series so far i adore u guys sm <;33

Previous part || Series masterlist

A few days after the first video goes up, Bucky returns from his run to a SHIELD file taped to his door.

He opens to a black and white photo of him from back in the day, and a page full of his details. Full name, blood group, previous addresses, aliases, best colours to match his undertone, favourite Gilmore Girl boyfriend.

He flips the page to the section on his known connections, only for a sheet of paper to fall out. Sharpie sprawled haphazardly across it, in big red letters.

NO AUNT.

BITCH.

He bites back a grin.

The video does reasonably well. Not record breaking numbers or anything, but for once there aren’t TikToks of people counting how many times he blinks to make sure he’s an actual human.

Always a man of his word, though he has regretted it every single time, he agrees to a second video. It follows after a disgraceful bout of bitching and even pleading, but a few hours later, he resigns himself to his fate silently.

That is until the schedule for the next video shoot is posted to the server, and he sees it’s at night.

The night he uses to sleep. The night.

Before he can even type out his rejection, his door receives four sharp knocks. He doesn’t even need to open it to know who it was.

It’s like you could read his thoughts. Probably could. He doesn’t know the extent of your telekinesis.

In your hands is a large cardboard box and on your face is a stupidly big grin.

“Good evening,” you greet.

“Tell me the show’s getting cancelled,” he says.

“Nope. We–” you announce, reaching into the box and shoving something onto his chest, “--are going on a trip. Demon hunting.”

“Demon hunting?”

“To Westley Cemetery,” you add, letting the box tumble onto the floor as you grip its contents. “To catch the Westley Cemetery Cryptid.”

“What the hell is the Westley Cemetery Cryptid?” Bucky demands.

“Creature that lives in the cemetery, watches people from the trees and runs after you if you’re there too long. No known kills, but a couple of scratches and spooks,” you list off.

His face twists. “That’s not a real thing.”

“Uh, yes it is.” You rest a hand on your hip. “My sources told me so.”

“Who are your sources?”

“Twitter.”

Bucky stares at you without a word.

“It’s totally real. It’s got a Wikia page and everything,” you argue against his complete silence. “I believe in it.”

“That means nothing.”

“Rude.” You glare pointedly. “Anyway, point is, we’re going out tonight to the cemetery and we’re gonna catch this thing on tape.”

Bucky tracks your gaze to finally look down at what you’ve shoved into his hands. It’s a headband, with two cameras attached to it, one facing your face and the other outward. Night vision, he guesses.

He sighs. “How long? An hour?”

“Was Hamlet written in an hour? Was Sharknado filmed in an hour?” you exclaim. “Great art takes time. We’re staying out there as long as we need to. So help me, we will emerge victorious.”

Bucky stares at you. “Two hours.”

“Seven.”

“Thirty minutes.”

“Your will is weak and your spirit is cowardly.” You return his fixed look with equal intensity, if not more, which he didn't think was possible. “Three hours.”

“Deal.”

“Great.” You stick your hand out, and he grabs on firmly. “See you at 1am.”

“1am?!”

It is 1am, it is cold and Bucky is miserable.

But he’s there. In the cemetery. With the stupid camera rig on his head.

You offer him whiskey to warm him up, and he agrees.

You then tell him you don’t actually have any because you didn’t think he’d accept.

He hates it here.

The wind whistles around the both of you. The eerie silence is only compounded by the fact that he can’t see anything beyond a certain point. The night is especially dark and there is no moonlight.

He trudges through the patchy grass, dry leaves crunching under his boots.

The camera being so close to his face along with the fact that you wouldn’t stop singing the same three fucking lines of the song over and over again, makes him want to tear his hair out.

“That thing’s not gonna get near us if you don’t shut up,” he grumbles.

“Nonsense,” you hum. “I’m a goddamn delight. He’s gonna be trippin’ over himself to get to me.”

“He doesn’t exist.”

“He definitely does, and you know what? I bet your shit vibes are gonna attract him. Moth to flame and all that. Karmic justice.”

Bucky stares straight ahead, swerving to avoid running into cracked tombstones.

You go back to singing, but worse this time.

“What if we don’t get anything?” he interrupts, to protect his sanity. “No one wants to watch a bunch of people just walk around the dark for 20 minutes.”

There’s no response.

It takes a second for Bucky to realise the singing’s stopped too.

He stops in his tracks, head swivelling to look for you.

“The fuck…” he mutters.

In the cemetery, he is truly alone for a moment. Silent, other than wrought iron gates creaking in the far distance.

The leaves of the tree above him rustle.

Bucky looks up, squinting against the darkness.

Against the stillness of the night, he sees it. A figure stands tall on the branches of the tree, silhouette obscured by the leaves.

It leers down at him, unmoving.

Bucky doesn’t even flinch.

“Very funny,” he says. “Hilarious.”

“We’ll fake it,” the figure calls from above. “If we don’t get any footage, I’ll just get on up there and fuck around and you record.”

“Get down,” he demands. “We’re not faking footage.”

If this show had to die this way, so be it.

“Bore,” you boo, lowering yourself to the ground with ease. “If I didn't know any better, I’d say you don’t want to be a part of this series.”

“I don’t.”

“Anyway,” you say obnoxiously, “we won’t have to. There is definitely a cryptid here. I can feel it in my bones.”

“We’re halfway through the graveyard and there’s nothing here,” he shoots back. “We should call it quits.”

“You’re right,” you say, to his surprise. “We need to cover more ground. Let’s split up.”

That is most definitely not what he was saying.

But you start singing again and so Bucky agrees faster than you finish the same stupid third line for the hundredth time that hour.

Bucky is a man of dignity.

Less than five minutes later, he gives up.

He takes a seat against the trunk of a tall tree, in a relatively open clearing.

He figures if he just takes a nap then the two hours would pass by quicker.

Bucky has no idea where you’ve gone. The lack of light doesn’t help, even with his advanced vision.

He crosses his arms behind his head and settles back, eyes closing.

Not even a second later, he wants to rip his hair out when the stupid song you were singing reintroduces itself in his head.

“For fuck’s sake,” he groans.

The tree he’s leaning against shifts ever so slightly.

His eyes fly open, but he doesn’t move an inch.

Instinctually, his breathing slows and his ears tune in to pick up even the faintest sounds.

The draft whispers, and he knows for a fact that something is above him.

A branch cracks.

“Go away,” Bucky says loudly.

A second passes.

And then another.

“You’re supposed to be looking for the thing,” you shout.

“It’ll find me if it wants to.” He shifts to make himself more comfortable. “I’m givin’ him a real shot here.”

“You didn’t even look up.”

“Didn’t have to.”

“He could have been above you.”

“But he wasn’t.” Bucky’s eyes close again.

“You’re terrible.” It comes back muffled, and branches shift. “I’m headin’ that way. One of us has to put some effort into this.”

“Joy. Knock yourself out.”

The trunk moves under his muscles again and Bucky lets out a small exhale, settling back into the position he was in.

Until he hears you singing in the distance. Same three lines, same off-key tune.

Bucky drags his palm across his face.

An hour passes.

Unlike his original plan, he does not sleep.

He instead recounts every element he remembers from the periodic table.

Replays every Dodgers game from his childhood, and then gets mad at their shift.

Then he tries to recollect every fact he knows about you so far. Mutant, captured and experimented on, broke free several years before him. Met Nat along the way and befriended her. Telekinesis, slowed aging. Escape artist. Wedding videographer. Allegedly.

He just doesn’t get how you’re so goddamn chirpy all the time, given that he’d been through something similar and come out the way he had.

It had taken him a month to say anything to anyone other than Steve. You went out for brunch with Sam the same weekend you showed up at the compound.

He doesn’t get you.

Speaking of which, he hasn’t actually seen you in a while.

He checks the time on his watch. Nearly 3am.

He had a fucking workout in the morning and no lizard-man was going to be the cause for Steve outrunning him.

He pushes himself off the ground with a groan, and stretches out his sore limbs. Definitely too old for lying around a cemetery beyond midnight.

He calls out your name loudly, and then again, before waiting.

He hears bells ringing in the distance.

Bucky looks up.

In the shadows of the trees, he comes face to face with the same sight as before. A figure, standing on the branches.

“There’s nothing here,” he calls out, sighing. “Can we just leave?”

The twigs creek, and for a second he thinks you’re going to fall.

“Already told you I’m not faking footage, get down from there,” he repeats. “I’m leaving. I’ll see you at the gate.”

The leaves shuffle around before he hears branches break.

Something you say gets obscured by your movement, but you disappear again. He thinks that maybe you were cursing him out, and deservedly so. He just couldn’t find it in himself to care.

He rolls his eyes, but starts making his way to the entrance of the graveyard.

The walk back is faster, and he holds back a yawn as the gates start creeping up on the horizon.

There’s no sign of you. He half thinks you ditched him here and went back to the compound. Or fell off the tree and were just laying there.

But he decides to wait, leaning against the exposed concrete wall.

Eyes closed, he rubs his temples and decides that if you’re not here in the next thirty seconds, he’ll just–

“Hey,” you greeet from right in front of him.

“Where the hell did you go?” he demands.

You blink at him, before holding up a wrapper.

“Got a sandwich. I was hungry. The diner was real nice too, I spent like half an hour talkin’ to the owner.”

He stares at you. “You just left to get a sandwich?”

“Yeah, and I got you one, too,” you reply, tossing him a paper bag. “You’re welcome. God bless that man, but those things aren’t cheap.”

“You’ve not been here for the last half hour?”

“I mean, I spent like ten minutes looking.” You shrug, taking another bite. “All I got was a bunch of grass.”

Ten minutes. Bucky had sat under the stupid tree for an hour.

“So you just left,” he says dryly.

“Yes,” you reply like it’s not even worth debating. “Besides, if anyone could find a cryptid it’d be you. A fellow cryptid.”

Bucky spins on his heel to leave.

“You’re welcome for dinner,” you call out, and he can hear you laugh.

He flips you the finger, and regrets it a second later when your singing resumes.

The sandwich is good. He appreciates it.

He even manages to keep pace with Steve the next morning.

What he doesn’t appreciate is coming back to fifteen missed calls and four video calls from you.

From: co-host (TGS)

can you pick up

From: co-host (TGS)

i know you have nothing going on in your life you are bitchless

Bucky switches off his phone for the next three hours.

Finally, it’s a threat that you will show up at his door again and Bucky finally video calls you back that evening.

“What,” he states.

“Took you long enough,” you huff, sitting up to adjust the camera. In the middle of the ordeal, Bucky sees your laptop open.

“What do you want?” he repeats.

“The team sent over the videos from last night,” you tell him. “At some point in the video you said ‘we’re not faking footage, get down from there.”

“Yeah.”

He hears you play the footage faintly in the background, almost to substantiate your point. He cringes at the sound of his own voice.

“Who were you talking to?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Heard you in the trees. Figured you climbed up there again.”

“Ah.” You click your tongue. “Interesting.”

“What.”

You hum. “See, that wasn’t me.”

Bucky’s eyes narrow. “Yes, it was.”

“No, it wasn’t,” you say calmly. “I’d left to get dinner way before all that.”

“Right.”

“I’m serious. Got the timestamp on my video to prove it.” You look up at him through the camera finally. “So who were you actually talking to, Barnes?”

Bucky’s nose twitches.

“Bye,” he says shortly.

“Dude,” he hears you laugh loudly through the phone. “I fuckin’ told you you’d attract these things, you–”

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#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #unsolved fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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