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stateofcharles · 2 years

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am I still not good enough? - CL16

pairing: Charles Leclerc x female!reader

word count: ~ 1,9k

warnings: body insecurities, self-loathing, past toxic relationship(s), hurt/comfort

summary: Your first public appearance as Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend only produces loads of nasty comments from the press, causing demons from your past to resurface. Your boyfriend then reminds you why he loves you.

a/n: title from Little Mix’s “Good Enough”, sorry for the sensitive topic but this song has been stuck in my mind lately and I had to write something about it. remember you are all beautiful, never let someone bring you down cause your body is perfect the way it is, you’re valid and you deserve to be loved for who you are <3

09:00

You woke up in the unfamiliar hotel room, Charles snoring next to you. Sunshine was entering through the curtains and hitting you on the face. You stretched your arms, carefully not to hit your boyfriend, and then picked the phone from the nightstand. You immediately noticed some messages from your cousin, but what impressed you the most were the countless notifications from all social media you had.

After thinking for a while, you decided not to worry too much about them: the previous night you had participated with Charles to a movie premiere he had been invited to, making your first appearance as a couple in doing so. You had imagined the press would go insane: Charles Leclerc had been probably the most talked-about bachelor in the previous 3 years, and the fact that he was now committed was certainly some front-page news.

You also expected a lot of new followers along with many, many messages and comments from his fans, either congratulating you or insulting you for stealing their man. You knew that, you had discussed this situation multiple times with your therapist and you thought you were ready. You couldn’t imagine what you were about to discover.

Having chosen to ignore social media, you opened your cousin’s texts and you immediately frowned at the sight of her cryptical words.

Y/N pls i beg you DON’T OPEN ANY SOCIAL TODAY

do it for yourself

love you and call me asap <3

Curiosity was eating you alive. Your cousin for sure had the best intentions, but could she really expect you not to do anything? Especially after having told you such things? You were a mere human being in the end.

You decided to start from Twitter. Your homepage seemed normal, nothing unusual. You checked what was trending then. Charles’ name was #1, and right below was “Charles Leclerc girlfriend”. You clicked, still unaware of what was waiting for you.

The first tweet you saw was from TheSun but many similar ones from other gossip websites followed, clearly riding the wave. The words hit you at 200 mph: those weren’t just insults from some obsessed fans, that was much more, it was everything you had tried not to think about.

Charles Leclerc shows off his new girlfriend at movie premiere and never reduces the grip on her hips as they pose for photos on the red carpet: was he trying to reduce those gross love handles on her hips?

Your eyes immediately filled with tears: your biggest nightmare had come back.

When you had met the stylist who dressed you for the event, you had been left a bit startled by her choice: a baby blue three-piece suit, which exposed part of your abdomen. A shining silver pair of stilettos to complete the outfit.

It was truly mesmerising, but as soon as you tried it on you were filled with doubts since the trousers, being quite tight-fitting, emphasised a lot your waist area.

Your body had always been like that: healthy and fit, but with some fullness on your hips and thighs that you had never been able to burn and that had only increased with all the stress you had to bear in that last period. You would go to the gym every week, follow a precise workout and diet, but yet no major improvements had happened.

Everything had changed when you and Charles had started dating: ever since the first day he had never commented on your figure - unlike other ex-boyfriends, who apparently never failed to remember you how fat you were - and when you had finally opened up about your insecurities, he comforted you saying that you were perfect like that, you didn’t have to listen to what some bored and stupid people had to say about it and you swore him you would try.

Though in that moment it was almost impossible for you to be faithful to that promise. You were really trying not to dwell on some shitty article written by pathetic people, but the doubts you had almost completely buried were surfacing, again.

You didn’t want to cry but it seemed your mind didn’t agree with you.

You started having flashbacks of all the slurs your exes had thrown at you and of all the times they had humiliated you, even in front of your own friends and family. You covered your ears with your palms but the voices in your head were louder and louder.

Look at you, oh my god aren’t you ashamed?

Such a horrible body, thank god we have the light down when we are in bed.

What’s this fat? What are you, a pig?

I bet I could bring you to the butchery, they’d know what to do with you.

You should be grateful I haven’t broken up with you yet.

I can’t believe your beautiful face belongs to this shitty body.

You already go to the gym? Well, PUT. MORE. EFFORT.

You didn’t realise you were crying and screaming non-stop until you saw Charles awake beside you, his face showing pure concern. Though you couldn’t stop, those insults were playing in your head over and over again. At some point you were exhausted and you screamed at the top of your lungs, “SHUT UP!”

Charles immediately lifted up, just in time to catch you as you threw yourself in his arms, your sobs only louder, more and more uncontrolled.

He held you closer trying to calm you down, but every effort he made seemed useless, so he just decided to wait. He couldn’t figure out what was going on: he had been woken up by your crying, but when he opened his eyes he realised the situation in front of him was much worse than he had thought.

Then he saw your phone, Twitter still opened on it and he caught a glimpse of what you were reading. That was when realisation hit him.

It was the first time he witnessed you crying because of this, but it wasn’t the first time he had to deal with you during a panic situation.

He carefully moved you on his lap, placed your head on his bare chest so that you could hear his heartbeat and then he lay down again but hugging you tight and bringing you down with him.

It took a while, but your sobs eventually died down. You sniffled and then looked at Charles for the first time that morning. When you saw his worried face you felt almost guilty, but the boy quickly started leaving short kisses all over your face and you couldn’t help but giggle at the tickling sensation.

He then looked proud of himself, for being the person who had managed to make you laugh after such an unpleasant crying spell.

You could read in his eyes that he wanted to ask you what had just happened, but at the same time you could see that he didn’t want to be rude or - even worse - make you cry again.

You sat up, he followed you immediately. You sighed heavily and started speaking, your voice shaky, “I’m sorry for what you’ve just witnessed but-” you threw a glare at the suit, on a coat hanger visible through the opened closet door, “I really loved yesterday, and my suit, and you were fantastic, but-” you tried to calm yourself down, not wanting to have another crisis and Charles noticed it, so he started rubbing small circles over the top of your hand.

“They made me hate myself, my horrible body and my stupid suit and I know I don’t have to give them the attention they’re seeking but it’s stronger than me.” You let some silent tears fall from your eyes.

Charles promptly wiped them away, “Do you want to tell me what they said, ange?”, his voice a bare whisper.

Reluctantly, you nodded, knowing that you somehow had to say those words out loud in order to move on. “They pointed out that… you know that yesterday you always kept your hands around my waist and hips on the red carpet? Well they said you were trying to-” you lowered your voice, ashamed of what you were going to say, “reduce my gross love handles.”

You had done it. You had said it, there was no going back.

Charles’ expression was startled. You could sense he was going to get angry and you feared you couldn’t control him.

Instead he took a deep breath and then left a long kiss on your scalp.

“You know they’re just a bunch of idiots, right? You know I love your body and I adore your love handles, there’s nothing gross or wrong with them, they’re part of you and of your unique beauty and I would never change them or ask you to do so.”

You knew it, though your insecurities didn’t leave you. “But there are so many beautiful girls out there with perfect bodies and then there’s… me. I have nothing special, I don’t even know why you still put up with me and you haven’t cheated on me yet with one of them. I’m not worthy, of you, of your love and affection.”

“Stop hurting yourself Y/N, you are worthy, you are enough. I know it’s difficult for you, but you have to believe me. There’s no one I’d want to be with more than you. I asked you to be my girlfriend and not some model, and that’s because I love you. Do you remember when we met for the first time? Your brother’s birthday party?”

You nodded, other tears menacing to come out at hearing your boyfriend’s words.

“Well,” he continued, “I loved you from the very first moment. I loved everything about you, from the way you scrunch your nose when you laugh, to the sparkle in your eyes when you see a puppy. From your beautiful hair when you collect them in that messy bun, to how you stretch in the morning when you’re still half-asleep. And I venerate your love handles,” he lowered his face to whisper in your ear, “I love holding them when we’re making love and I love leaving my fingerprints on them.”

You set those tears free, unable to control yourself. Charles hugged you again and you whispered to him ‘Je t’aime’ over and over again, while he answered every time ‘Je t’aime encore plus’.

After what felt like an eternity you untangled the hug and took a look at the alarm clock on your nightstand. 11:20.

“When do we have to leave?” You asked him. Deep down you were afraid to leave the small bubble you had just built in that hotel room, but you knew you had a flight to attend.

“Our flight is scheduled for 3pm, but it’s my private jet, I can ask them to delay it if you need to.” His loving gaze was straight in your eyes, but you realised you couldn’t ask him to do it.

“It’s fine Char, I just need some minutes to pull myself together, then we can go to have lunch in that restaurant you told me and lastly we head to the airport.”

“Are you certain? If I tell my pilots we had a mishap they’ll understand, especially if I pay them extra.” Sweet boy, he was always so caring.

“No babe, I’m fine and I have to come back to reality.” Your tone was determined this time.

“Are you sure you can face it? I understand if you need more time.” His face was still concerned, but you were ready.

“Just hold my hand Charles, and then I’ll be able to rule the world.”

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miizzllaneous7 · 2 years

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Father & Son Moment Idea

I HAD ANOTHER THOUGHT! I need sleep, it’s 2am- FFFFFUUUUUUC- WAIT, IT’S 2AM??? SHIEtT- UHHH Whatever.... I’m a lost cause.

So what if Bruce, in his civvies, meets Red Hood while Jason is out in his Red Hood alias. They're at some sort of charity or organized event at the same time entirely by accident. They both pause, blink, and kinda have that moment reminiscent of the three Spidermen in the same place meme, but they try to be as nonchalant as possible immediately after.

Now Bruce is in his Brucie persona, and he's gotta publicly keep it up. He can already tell this will explode in media coverage later; he's a little stressed and exasperated at the thought of the aftermath of this entire situation. Almost headache-inducing, so Bruce shoves it away to deal with later, focusing more on the problem at hand.

Red Hood has been improving his reputation publically at this point, being more accepted by the police and the people of Gotham. This organized event is taking place in Crime Alley. It's rarer to see someone as insanely rich and famous as Bruce Wayne in Crime Alley; it's also where Red Hood is more well received. (Bruce Wayne, as Bruce Wayne, visits Crime Alley for charities or his own institutions he's set up, like orphanages, you can't change my mind. LOL) They're forced to interact a bit more due to the nature of the event or flat-out customs with these sorts of things. —I don't know, what event is this? No idea; I'll take suggestions to make a more solidified mental image. Okay?—, and it starts to loosen each other up, just the slightest bit as the interactions and proximity goes on unbeknownst to them.

To Jason, it's eerie. In private and especially as Batman, Bruce has never been the same since he came back from the dead, probably even since his death. The grief and subsequent mourning changes a person in a lasting way. He's colder, more distant, less of a parental figure he'd been with him and Dick. Tim, maybe Damian depending on the timeline you want to put this mentally, never got to experience the softness and love Bruce had been capable of. He smiles, talks and even laughs differently. A whiff of what it once was behind closed doors. This Bruce is a ghost of the man he once was, and he'll never be the same. It causes an ache in Jason's chest at the thought because this man is his father, but also, he's decidedly not. It's a part of the source of his frustrations with him.

Sometimes, there are moments that the man he'd been formerly, his father, seeps through. It's gone as quick as it comes.

So it's eerie, seeing Bruce like this. In his Brucie persona. He may not be as close to the Bruce that had once been his Dad, but coupled with the trace of a person Jason so dearly loved— Jason continues to love—. With whom he's been slowly becoming acquainted with again after his return from death, with the haze from Lazarus Pit lifting as time goes on, Brucie, the 'mask' of Bruce Wayne, is probably the closest Jason has ever gotten to what he remembers of his Dad. The warmer man he saw as his parental figure in the best days of his life.

So seeing Bruce in this 'Brucie' mask is so heart-wrenching because even then, he can see through the cracks more intimately than anyone in the room, possibly good. The fraudulent and artificial act can so closely resemble his Dad at times; it's like he's been thrown five years in the past, and he's still that young boy who never died.

So they go on, for appearance's sake.

Brucie has moments of a more genuine Bruce seeping through, Indulging in it as smoothly as he can; whether he does it consciously or not, I don't know, up to interpretation. (I lack decision-making skills :) Life's great! Haha... Ha...) Especially given their tenacious relationship thus far, while slowly improving, it is still a process, a slow one at that. They haven't gotten there 100%. Those moments, however, are probably what Jason sees as remnants of how he remembers his own Dad. This is a small, gentle misunderstanding that hopefully comes across in this mental image. (They both see images of their old selves in one another, and it's dissociating, but they're getting there to reconcile their old and new selves.)

So then, there's a moment as Brucie, and Red Hood start to get along better and more smoothly, finding their own script and rhythm with the ruse—half ruse they've created. Brucie ruffles Red Hood's hair while chuckling a more hardy laugh that's so utterly reminiscent of the man Jason loved as his Dad; he gets lost in that moment.

Now, they're still in public, so as Jason starts to get quite emotional over this, Bruce's laughs trail off as he looks at Jason in surprise, hand still in Jason's hair as he'd been ruffling it, with Jason in a moment of weakness leans into it.

Jason's eyes get wet before he breaks from his stupor as he remembers he's in public, lost in the moment, paralleling their father-son relationship as a child. Jason closes his eyes, thinking, "Shit, this is gonna fuck up my street cred, isn't it?…" and tries to cooly brush it off and go back to what he'd been doing.

Bruce is just flat-out surprised as he realizes perhaps, with time and effort, he may be able to save more of his relationship with Jason than he'd initially thought. So he just continues to low-key Dad him for the rest of the event, taking advantage of the situation as a step forward.

Blah blah blah, I think this would be adorable. Wish I had writing skills, I’d make a one shot or something for it...

Later on, possible headlines the media could make would be "Bruce Wayne fathering the Red Hood??" Or "Batman has some competition in the serial adopting department."

A lot of the public's conspiracies and understanding of the Batfamily is mostly of not all just that, conspiracies; this feeds into the theories or, more popularly, blows up new and different theories, completely throwing out old ones- Secret identities safe, for now. Looool

#bruce and jason #Bruce Wayne #Jason Todd #Bruce Wayne & Jason Todd #Bruce Wayne and Jason Todd #Bruce Wayne headcanons #Jason Todd headcanons #Father/Son Moment #OKAY???#The slash doesn't actually mean ship #it's platonic #father and son #am I making sense?#am I clear?#I hope I am...

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yoshimonster · 9 months

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Blog #10: Wrote this yesterday, so I'll post it tomorrow

Happy 10th post! I just posted my previous blog post which I’ve actually had written up for a couple days now and decided that why not get started on the next one because I’m feeling in a creative mood (and would love to procrastinate on my assignments). Speaking of, I do have to ramp up the studying – I did actually have a 2hr tutoring session yesterday and that did not go over well, as I only wrote less than 2 lines of code for something that most likely will be over 100 lines long. The plagiarism detectors have been getting stronger especially with AI legitimately taking over the world. It came out last year which was perfect timing as I used it to answer every single academic question I had under the sun. Apparently, it’s “dangerous” and doesn’t allow us to think, which I sort of agree with by the way – I found this out the hard way when I tried to use it do multiple mini assignments last semester; it was fruitless and studying will always remain studying.

Otherwise, things have really been ramping up in terms of the group project. A bunch of us are doing a hackathon this weekend and that means I have to wake up super early to get through content/study so I can keep working on the project moving forward – I’ve been lacking these past few days because of the mental exhaustion that comes with having such shaky academic foundation vs your midterms. The routine is getting better slowly, though the casual parading around that things are fine really hasn’t. I think being more indirectly honest is helping much more, though the thing about that is the person who is receiving the information. Like the main culprits have way too much time on their hands while the other culprits are super busy and see me stressed out all the time to even care (cause we’ve been taking our subjects together lol). That’s the environment to see me get the most annoyed haha.

I’ve been feeling better since the last blog post, because signing up for these hackathons means I can skip dance class which is a different type of gymnastics. The dance classes aren’t actually aerobic in the slightest as it’s more of a traditional dance and therefore it’s not floaty like in those reality dance shows. I personally enjoy the semi-classical (as anyone would) where you get to look and feel elegant, without the rigid pure-math structure and also I really enjoy a lot of folk songs which typically get a lot of mixed responses depending on how idiotic we have to look on stage while performing them. These days, as in from August to December is festive season and essentially lots of dance groups from my city are asked to perform for various events or the dance heads volunteer their groups so that the dance schools can get more exposure at this type of prime time. I feel like that would be one of the reasons I would hate to be a real professional dancer (aside from the fact that dancing 24/7 is it’s own type of dedication) because of the seasonal nature of it. A lot of times if I’m not using a skill on the regular I will most likely forget a lot of it. Though yes festive season this year has been really up and down in terms of performances, and at an all time high in terms of family parties. Just this past month has been the quiet before the storm with invites reaching for the end of October and early November, in my case it’s mostly been end of year catchups being planned, though the family events have become insanely packed.

Otherwise, I took a mini-break to listen to my friend rant about a really horrible pushing of boundaries and it just reaffirmed the idea that subtle cues/non-cues even can give away so much. Sort of like being really conscious of yourself, what you mean and how the other person sees your intentions – and the importance of having really strong mental and physical health and overall firmness. I remember realising this a while ago, when something similar happened, though luckily I was able to get out of it by navigating really carefully and moving past most negative thoughts as fast as possible. It actually took me a while to accept things overall but the fact that I was guided into being really firm helped lessen the blow for sure and allowed me space to breathe and consider how I felt. A lot of the time, it’s so hard to be aware of your own thoughts/feelings when you fixate on others’ perceptions. I’m actually really excited to take things as they come, even though I will need to plan for things in advance for logistical and sanity purposes. It’s been much nicer dealing with things this way because it reminds me things don’t just end; they usually accumulate. Speaking of, I probably should get back to semi-cramming but still keep my head above water.

-yoshimonster-

#daily blog #dance #party #10 posts #study blog #what else #boundaries #hackathon

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secretlywritingstories · 2 years

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... and exhale. Man, doing PEDIA always takes it out of me. This year in particular, I felt like I had something to prove, since I technically didn’t complete last year’s to the specifications I’d set out with. I had a very good reason and I still did loads of writing and posting but I’m competitive and stubborn when I set myself challenges.

I had tried to make this month easier for myself, at the start of August, having as much fic written as possible and ready to just be edited and posted. It definitely helped out a whole lot and also saved me on the final day, when I couldn’t finish the chapter that I had planned.

It’s also the first year that I’m working full time and it’s still only been a few months since I started this new job and it still requires a lot of my energy. And still, I decided to be a maniac and attempt this and it freaking paid off! Watch me be an adult with an office job while also writing insane fanfiction, I love it. My very own duality.

The stories I decided to post during PEDIA always end up feeling special, especially since I always have a couple that have months if not over a year on the butt without having seen the light of day. My little half-finished projects get pulled out, planned and plotted and allowed their time to shine.

The engagement is also wonderful. Posting a chapter or one shot and going to sleep to wake up to new comments and then repeating the process the following day and the day after that. I didn’t have comments on every morning but I did on most and man, I really hope commenters know that they keep writers happy and pushing themselves in the best way.

As usual I also tried out a new fandom, Stranger Things this time, which was cool. It’s always a little daunting to play around with new characters but I like challenging myself like that. This year’s challenge also had not one but TWO gift fic. One I’d offered up for charity and one spontaneous one for a reader of mine who’d been leaving thoughtful comments on my works for near half a decade. Gifted fics are also something that scares me a little and pushes me out of my comfort zone.

It’s the task of PEDIA. To keep me writing but also to keep me pushing and exploring. It’s hard but rewarding and it’s perhaps the reason I’ve done it for five years now. I’ve modified the rules here and there, and I skipped over doing it in the year I was writing my thesis, but other than that, it’s a tradition now. One I look forward to each year. My own little writing challenge. I chat of PEDIA as if it’s a common and known thing but really it’s just me from 2017 liking acronyms and getting a sneaky little idea.

The word count on this sneaky little idea sits at 975k words, across the first five years. Here’s to five more, I guess? As long as it keeps being more fun than stressful, more challenging than frustrating and more rewarding than taxing, I’ll keep going. I can see that we’re going to break 1,000,000 words.

(This post was written on the 31st of August 2022, but scheduled to post past midnight, so it comes truly post PEDIA)

#pedia #writing about writing #spilled thoughts

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caffeineghostie · 2 years

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 - 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Summary: he's always there for you, no matter what.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 761

Warning: reader has difficulty falling asleep, other than that it's fluffy fluff!

A/N: totally not written during a sleepless night. Enjoy!

Masterlist

Join my Taglist!

Ko-Fi

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The unnerving noise coming from the clock on the wall was driving you simply insane. And it had been for the past three hours, when you and Bucky went to bed after the exhausting party Tony insisted you all attended.

Bucky had just gotten home from a mission, and he looked exhausted, so you were determined not to wake him up, in order to let him rest properly, despite his numerous reminders that you could wake him up at any time if you needed him.

He knew how stressful not being able to fall asleep was - god knows how many nightmare-plagued nights he had endured over the years - and every time, without fail, you were by his side. If he didn't want to, or couldn't, fall back asleep, the tendrils of terror still enveloping his brain, you'd simply fight back your own tiredness and stay up with him, listening to his tired voice talk about his nightmare, while playing gently with the brown locks that crowned his head. Then you'd always brew him a hot cup of chamomile and honey, to calm him down and help him fall back asleep.

Bucky was extremely grateful to have you by his side, especially in these vulnerable moments. And he was determined to repay you the favour, eventually. If only you let him.

But looking at his figure nestled next to you, softly snoring and sleeping peacefully for once, you couldn't bring yourself to wake him up.

Not only the clock was driving you mad, but also it was way too hot under the covers - thanks to the human furnace next to you - and too cold without them, and you simply couldn't stay in a position for more than two minutes. Frustrated, you decided to go brew yourself some chamomile, your last hope of getting at least a couple hours of sleep.

Just as you were getting up, you were startled by Bucky's voice.

"Can't sleep, doll?" he murmured, propping himself up on an elbow, turning on the light on his bedside table. He then turned to face you, noticing with a bit of worry the dark shadows that were already forming under your eyes.

"i-uh, yes." you admitted, looking down defeated.

"You should have woken me up baby"

"But you were sleeping so well!"

"Honey, how many times do I have to tell you. I don't mind if you wake me up, I'm always here for you just as you are for me"

He then got up, leaving the tepor of your bed.

"Where are you going?" you asked.

"I'll be back soon, get comfy" and you did, sinking in the comforter even more.

He got back a couple of minutes later, with your favourite mug in hand, from which you could smell the aroma of the chamomile,

infused with a tiny bit of honey, just as you always did for him.

"There you go. Drink it while it's still hot" he advised, plopping down on the bed next to you. "So, what'sin your pretty mind?" he asked.

"it's just that stupid clock" you pointed at it, "it's driving me mad"

He followed your gaze, grinning at you when he got up, and approached the clock, taking it down and shoving it in the dresser between your jumpers so that they would muffle the ticking sound.

"Done, no more clock." he declared, making his way back to the bed. "Now come here" he got close to you, taking your now empty mug and gently setting it on his nightstand.

You settled down beside him, admiring his beautiful eyes. He gave you a quick peck on the lips.

"Hmm you taste like chamomile" he hummed chuckling, swiping his tongue on his bottom lip, savouring the lingering taste of your beverage.

"Wait, another one" he gave you another kiss, this time making you laugh.

"Come on, get comfortable" he repeated, spreading his arms, motioning for you to get closer to him.

You nestled under his chin, comforted finally by his scent, mixed with his warmth and the melody of his heartbeat.

His fingertips started painting fluttering patterns on your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake, going unrelentlessly upwards, until they got to your head, starting then to massage your scalp and occasionally twirling some strands of hair between them.

You could finally feel yourself drift asleep, lulled by Bucky softly humming what you recognized was the lullaby his mother sang to him when he was a kid, almost a lifetime ago.

"Sleep baby, I'll be right here when you wake up".

-----

i'm soft now

Taglist:

Everything

@amelia-song-pond @millennial-teenybopper @natlovesu @brooke-supernatural16 @stressydepressyandlemonzesty

Everthing Bucky:

@bbl32 @brooke-supernatural16 @justreadingficsdontmindme @leyannrae @iwannabekilledtwice @onyourgoddamnleft @itsthemaree

@coffeeandhamlet

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes comfort #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x reader comfort #james Buchanan barnes #marvel fluff

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literaila · 4 years

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Space

spencer reid x reader

warnings: none... well angst.. and shitty writing

***

Long nights out with the rest of the team were always dreadful the next morning.

But Y/N felt like this morning was one of the worst.

She’d woken up with mascara running down her face, her joints stiff and cracking at any little movement. Her head was banging from the inside out, and if she focused enough she could feel her brain beating against her skull.

And don't even get her started on Spencer.

It had taken Y/N at least 10 minutes to get him to open his eyes. Although he wasn't an avid drinker and had only taken a couple of sips of wine, he seemed to be even more hungover than Y/N did. She cuddled up to him, leaving kisses down his cheeks and neck before he would even consider opening her eyes.

So like the dutiful girlfriend she was, Y/N got up and started a pot of coffee for both of them, and then headed into the bathroom to grab some advil, which she had to force-feed to Spencer.

And eventually, after the alarm clock started blaring for the 6th time, both of them finally started to get ready.

Their dynamic for mornings like this was simple, Y/N always got to shower first, while Spencer fought to stay awake without yawning every 10 seconds, and then Y/N went to go make breakfast for the both of them, which they would eat in the car on the way to the BAU.

And that particular morning no one seemed to be up for any sort of chit chat, barely even passing casualties back and forth before sitting down at their desks ready for a day of paperwork. They made sure to plan a night full of drinking the night before a day of paperwork. They weren't idiots all of the time.

Though their good planning all went to waste when Hotch asked them to meet him in the conference room.

Hangovers and serial killers it was.

***

“Bobby Smith, 9 years old, vanished 48 hours ago from a residential area, where his mother Marlene Smith, claims to have dropped him off.” Garcia started handing each one of the team members a folder. You could hear the drowsiness in her voice, and because everyone felt the same, they all pretended to not notice.

There was a brief silence while they all read their files before Derek startled them back to life.

“48 hours and we’re just learning about it now?”

Y/N carefully grabbed Spencer's hand under the table, rubbing up and down his forearm while reading her file. It was tough to keep it professional at work, but Y/N always managed to keep the touching as limited as she could. But the ache she felt when she wasn't touching Spencer spread through her muscles like angry wind just begging her to reach out to him. And so she touched him, she felt comforted by the little body heat she could feel from even just resting her, it was especially comforting when they were on a difficult case. It was a rare occasion when she managed to keep her hands off of him, but Y/N tried to keep it as platonic as she could, not wanting to make Spencer of their coworkers uncomfortable.

Though as she read through her file, she could see the little inconspicuous movements Spencer made. She wondered if he was trying to keep himself awake or just felt restless, either way, she kept her hand on his.

What she didn't see was the panicked almost annoyed glances Spencer was giving her hand, she didn't see the way he was leaning away from her, moving his chair slightly to the right as to distance himself from her.

JJ did though, she watched with a frown on her face listening to Gracia explain what had happened to the little boy, but not moving her eyes off of Spencer and Y/N. She tried not to notice Spencer's body language and the clear physical contact going on under the table.

“So she's not exactly on the shortlist for the mother of the year,” JJ said, still clearly looking at the couple, while neither of them noticed.

And she didn't look away, even when Spencer looked up and added a few notes of statistics, and Hotch announced it was time to go.

They all made moves to get up and go, watching Hotch walk out the door in a rush to get everything set up for them to leave. JJ grabbed Spencer before he could protest, dragging him into her office. The others watched in confusion before Derek finally said

“Guess we aren't invited to the party.” as he walked to grab his go-bag.

“It's probably something about the case, we better get going. Hotch seemed stressed.”

Y/N didn't seem confused by JJ and Spencer's scene, and let her mind run thinking about the case.

“Y/N?” She heard Hotch call.

He handed her a file and asked if she would bring it to Spencer- apparently it was something about the Mother he wanted him to look over- and because of the circles under his eyes, and the tired way his body was leaning she was quick to agree.

Walking over to JJ’s office, she was about to knock when she heard

“I love her JJ, I really really do. Sometimes though- I just- want some space- like you know I don't like touching anyone anyway, and I just-” he sighed and Y/N could feel herself holding her breath. “I just want some more space. I’m not sure how to tell her though”.

Y/N could feel the tears prick at her eyes, her stomach had fallen, taking the rest of her organs with it. At that moment it felt like the world was so silent she could hear her own heart beating. She could only think of all the times Spencer had seemed to pull away, thinking of the way she thought it was just an accident, that he was just restless, just needed to move a little.

But no.

He just didn't want her to touch him.

Y/N heard JJ sigh a soft “Spence…” before she turned away, forgetting about the file she was supposed to give him, and walking to get her bag so she could get the hell out of the office.

***

Finding Bobby's Mother dead was hard. It caused more confusion with the cause, and now the last known witness to Bobby had been murdered. The only good thing that had happened was the unsub letting one of the little boys go. But still, none of the team's questions had been answered.

Not touching Spencer was hard too.

Y/N had never been self-conscious about her affliction to touch, she’d never been afraid to hug someone, or rest her hands on their shoulders while looking at them. In fact, she couldn't remember a time in her life where she didn't like touching people, even as a kid it was clear she was a touchy-feely sort of person, but no one had ever wanted her to stop.

Spencer's germaphobic tendencies didn't go unnoticed by Y/N, when they’d first met he’d made it a point not to shake her hand, but as they got more comfortable with each other that changed. He didn't seem to mind her running her hands up and down her arms, or resting her hand on his cheek, or hugging him from behind any chance she got. She thought she was just special, that Spencer loved her so much that he didn't mind touching her, that there was nothing gross about sharing germs with someone that he was infatuated with.

Hearing that she was wrong was deafening.

Although she knew she was probably blowing things out of proportion, it felt like she’d been lied to for the last 2 years she and Spencer had been together. The guilt she felt just knowing she was making him uncomfortable by just being herself was insane.

And she couldn't help but feel like she had no option but to change it all.

So she didn't touch him, not on the plane, where usually they would share the couch while looking over the case once again with the team. She didn't touch him when he passed her in the hallway when they were sitting next to each other in a rental car when they walked to the hotel room when they had stopped to grab coffee the next morning. She didn't touch him at all.

It was killing her.

Touch was such a frequent thing for her, such a necessity and she’d never even realized it. Not touching him all the time was swallowing her whole, and filling her with doubt and insecurities that threatened to take over her mind. Anytime she wasn't working, wasn't helping out, wasn't thinking, his voice would come back, loud and clear, asking her for space. Nothing would get rid of the fear that she was too clingy, that she was just too much.

It was hard to look at him without worrying if he actually hated her love if he was starting to realize she was just too much for him. Just a couple of sentences could bring back insecurities that weren't gone apparently, just lost, insecurities that haven't been found since the beginning of their relationship when everything was still new. Y/N thought she’d moved past them.

But she hadn't. And now she was avoiding her boyfriend.

They had both noticed the distance, the wall that separated them. Spencer didn't understand it at all, he didn't know if something had happened or if he had done something, and he couldn't find the courage to ask. Y/N didn't want him to know. She didn't want him to feel guilty. She tried to ignore it, the constant barrier between them, but there was always a tension in the room.

But this was work, and a boy's life was at risk. Relationship problems were the least of anyone's worries.

Y/N and Spencer were stuck in the tiny conference room they had given the team at the police station, both of them going over files, although Spencer was obviously doing most of the work. Y/N could feel her eyes starting to fall, it wasn't technically that late, but paired with the insomnia that kept her up at night and the exhausting day she had and even 6 o’clock would seem late to anyone.

It’d been an uncomfortable hour of silence and reading when Spencer finally spoke up,

“Is something wrong?” Y/N could feel him looking at her, leaning his head down as if to make eye contact, but all she could feel was the heat coming off his body, the comfortable way his hand would feel in hers, and the hug that she so desperately needed. Eye contact wasn't enough, would never be enough, so she didn't look up.

A couple of days ago they would have been sitting almost on each other's laps, while reading, pointing out small details they noticed and helping each other. A couple of days ago Y/N wouldn't feel sad at the sound of Spencer's voice, and she would have looked up.

A couple of days ago seemed like a dream.

She could hear Spencer sigh and put down the paper he was holding. “Y/N?” He came around and put his hand on her shoulder, and her breath caught. “Is there something wrong?” He asked again quietly.

A million different answers flashed in her head “Yes Spencer I’ve found out that you don't actually like me touching you and I don't know any way to cope with that.” or “I feel so incredibly guilty that I’ve been forcing you to deal with something that you don't like, and I feel even worse that I didn't notice it.” or “I just want a hug.”

But none of those thoughts came out of her mouth, what came out instead was “Yes Spencer! A little boy is missing and none of us have any fucking clue how to find him!”, quickly she pulled away from his hand, and forcefully grabbed her bag before saying “I’m gonna go call Hotch” and left slamming the door behind her.

She didn't look back to see the sad look on Spencer's face.

***

Bobby was alive.

And so were the two other women the unsub had taken.

They were alive.

And they had the rest of their lives to live.

The unsub was off to jail, where hopefully he could get over his bitter feelings towards his mother. Where hopefully he wouldn't hurt anyone else.

Bobby had a long walk ahead of him, with his mother gone, murdered by the same man that was supposed to be helping Bobby. The grief was going to hurt, he would always have a missing piece, and a difficult story to share. For the rest of his life.

But he was alive.

***

Going home to their small apartment was a relief. For both of them.

Y/N couldn't help but hope for some sleep. Just anything that would make her feel better. She couldn't shake the devastating feeling of grief that was stuck pounding in her chest.

As much as she tried she couldn't convince her mind to get rid of the cloud of sadness covering it. She figured a good night's sleep would help remove some of that.

The clashing colors and filled to the top bookshelves in the apartment made her feel at home, and she tried to imagine them as if they were a hug that was keeping her safe and warm.

Silence filled the apartment, both of them not saying anything, and quickly moving into different rooms. Y/N went to the kitchen and put the kettle on the stove. She was going to let Spencer have as much space as she could give him before she went to bed.

They hadn't talked on the plane again, Y/N put as much distance between them on the couch as she could, and Spencer hasn't made any more moves to touch her since the scene in the conference room. Maybe he had taken the hint, or maybe he just didn't want to touch her. Y/N couldn't decide which one it was.

“Y/N?” Spencer said slowly from the other room, almost as if he was questioning if she was still there.

“Yeah?” she answered back in almost a whisper, which was fine for the acoustics of their small home.

The acoustics that couldn't mask the sigh she heard come from the man in the other room before there was the distinct question of “can you come here?”.

Y/N felt stupid being uncomfortable walking into her own room, but the tension between them had only grown in the past few days, and she really didn't want to be walking into another night of a clod bed and an unwavering feeling of doubt.

“Do you need something Spence?” Y/N could hear the wheels of her boyfriend's brain turning from across the room. She had not directly addressed him in days. It was a surprise to both of them.

“We need to talk.” The four words coming out of her boyfriend's mouth stopped her heart. Her brain was filled with what he had told JJ “I just need space.” What if he was breaking up with her? What if the space she was trying to give him wasn't enough? What if he needed so much space that even being in the same house as her was too much? What if she was still too much for him even when she was touching him?

Spencer cleared his throat and took a few steps toward her, moving closer to the door. “That sounded wrong I.. I didn't mean for it to sound like that- I just..” He stopped and she wondered why the words were so hard for him to get out? She wondered if this was really it. If the love of her life was going to leave. “What's going on with you?”

Now that, that surprised her.

“W- what?”

“Your face, I- I can see there's something wrong and I thought-'' Spencer's voice went up with his words, and Y/N could feel the emotion behind them. “ god I thought it was just the case because you seemed fine before, and that's what you told me. That's what you said!” his eyes were on her, watching her stare at the floor with such intensity clearly trying to voice the question in his voice. “I thought it was just the case? I thought it was just hard on you but you still look so.. So sad and you won't even look at me and just what is going on because there has to be something that I missed this- this didn't just happen?” His breath caught and all Y/N could do was stare at the floor and feel small.

She felt so small.

“N-” she cleared her throat trying to mask her voice into something stronger, “Nothing happened Spence.”

“Then why won't you look at me?” He demanded still trying to get her to look up, still trying to get her to just look at him.

“I- '' there were so many questions running through her head like how did they get there? How did any of this happen? How could she feel so miserable? Why couldn't she just look at him?

“You haven't look at me, you haven't talked to me, you haven't even brushed your arm against mine once in the past week! I know something happened, and I don't know if I did something wrong? But I just want you to talk to me!”

The emotion coming from Spencer's voice surprised Y/N, but not as much as his words. He had actually noticed all of that? She felt so overwhelmed, and she had no idea how to answer him, how to explain everything. Tears were pricking at her eyes, and all she wanted to do was run away from him, from all the problems. She just wanted to run away.

Spencer took a deep breath and moved even closer to Y/N, standing right in front of her, ducking his head down to try to meet her eyes. “Y/N...we’re supposed to talk to each other. That's what couples do, they talk. I just want you to talk to me.” The desperation in his voice was obvious, but at that moment all Y/N could hear was ridiculing, and she felt like a child again, getting told what to do. And it was too much.

She looked up.

“That's what I thought Spencer! We’re supposed to talk to each other! So why couldn't you just tell me that you ‘needed space’?!?” The mocking was clear in her voice, and even though she saw the shocked look on her boyfriend's face she couldn't stop now. She moved her hands to wipe her tears and started again, “why couldn't you just tell me that I’m too much? Why did I have to find out by you talking to JJ?! God, I’m just trying to give you space but I’m not very good at it, so excuse me if I’m acting strange!”.

Suddenly the mood in the room changed. Spencer finally understood, and Y/N felt relieved having her thoughts out in the open. Even though she was still terrified of what was going to happen, just expressing her feelings removed a big weight off of her chest.

“Y/N..”

“No! No. Its- it's fine. I’m sorry for yelling at you I’m just-” she felt small again, like all the courage she had was used when she had yelled at him. “I- maybe I’ll go see if Emily's okay with me crashing with her tonight- I just- I just have to get my stuff I’ll-” Y/N had turned around to go, ready to accept defeat when she felt the hands on her waist pulling her back. “Spence it's fine-”

“No, it's not fine.” He said harshly and insistently. He tried to get her to turn around, but she was frozen to her spot. “Will you please just look at me?”

It took a few moments but hearing the desperation in his voice, Y/N finally let him turn her around. They stared at each other for a few moments, both of them stuck on the eyes they hadn't actually seen in days. Spencer was the first to break the silence.

“I'm so so sorry.” The confusion must have been clear on his girlfriend's face because he continued, “I can't believe you could ever think I needed space from you, I can't believe I could ever believe I needed space from you.” There was guilt laced with frustration in his voice, and Y/N couldn't bring herself to speak.

Spencer was gentle while removing his hands from her waist, and instead placing them on her face, gently lifting her chin so that she couldn't look away. It was strange to be so intimate after not touching him for days. But the relief coming from Y/N’s body was clear, just a little touch removed all the ache she’d been feeling for days.

“I was wrong.” Spencer started again, the sentence unusual for someone as smart as him. “I don't need space, I just need you. I just need you Y/N.” his eyes were pleading with hers instant, and she hoped hers were telling him it was alright. “It was unbearable not touching you. I’ve felt so closed in, claustrophobic, these past couple of weeks and I thought I was because of you, but it wasn't, you touching me was the only thing holding me together honestly.”

Y/N felt more tears leave her, this time with happiness. Hearing that she could touch Spencer again flooded her body with the light she’d been missing.

“I'm so sorry you heard me talking. I’m so sorry I was talking in the first place. I never really know when to keep my mouth shut.” They both laughed at his words. The tension was gone, and instead, a bliss overcame them, the distance was so exhausting for both of them, touching each other was like caffeine that made their skin buzz.

“I love you, Spencer. I'm sorry for being so difficult.” He frowned at Y/N’s words, moving his thumbs slowly on her cheeks, and leaning down to kiss her.

It was soft and slow, almost like Spencer was trying to tell her how much he loved her, and how much he loved being with her through a kiss. And it reminded Y/N of their first kiss, so much questioning but still deeper. So she kissed him and tried to display the same feelings for him.

“You aren't going anywhere okay?” Spencer said breaking the kiss, a small smile resting on his face, a smile Y/N hadn't seen in days.

She pecked his lips and grinned at him, “just hold me okay?”.

And they were going to be okay. They hadn't talked everything out, but they were both exhausted, both barely awake. They would leave it for the night, and they would sleep peacefully in each others arms. Never again would space be included in the language they were building together.

pt. 2 here

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagines #criminal minds imagine #one shot #spencer reid oneshot #emily prentiss x reader

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angstyantoinette · 3 years

Text

Yandere! Armin Arlert Headcanons

AGED UP I REPEAT ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP-

This little blonde ball of curiosity is verrryy toxic in my Yandere version.

Armin knows how innocent he looks to other people and by playing on this, coupled with his practical and analytical genius status, boy is it so very easy for him to gain the trust of his comrades, friends and especially his Beloved.

I feel as if Armin wouldn’t be picky with a particular type, but never being attracted to an unkind or particular person he would be disgusted by in any way.

He may fall for someone who is slightly colder, or who doesn’t really know how to respond to kindness. In that scenario, Armin would be overjoyed, but very patient and giving with them; if he wasn’t Yandere.

I see him as very touch-starved and wanting, but afraid to be clingy for fear he would drive his Beloved away. In this case he would dote on you as best he could in his environment, making you fall for him even more.

You would him as endearing, and like most, innocent. Armin is smart; one might say way too smart for his own good, and being a Yandere, I feel this makes him just as dangerous as those willing to use physical violence/methods on their Beloved.

He knows that you just love his little quirks and his way of thinking. If you tell him this, he may think you only see him as valuable because of his skill for strategizing. But when you reassure him that you just love him for him, he just falls in love with you even more.

He’s worrisome about you. Every time he makes practise with your ODM gear until you’re bruised, and exhausted, ready to run into his awaiting arms. Rewarding you with cuddles and affection, Armin’s love isn’t exactly conditional; but it still isn’t normal.

But that’s if you accept his feelings, with Armin being a Yandere or not, and with your knowledge or ignorance.

If you don’t accept his feelings, whether it being for your personal reasons, or because you…um, like someone else, to put it nicely;

YOU’RE FUCKED.

He’ll smile, nod his head, maybe try a little too hard to act like he’s okay with your decision. But you understand, after all, it’s not like you haven’t been rejected before.

“We can always be friends, Armin! I’m here for you okay?”

“Yeah, Y/N, whatever you say…”

About a few weeks after his rejection, with all of the support from Eren, Mikasa and the others, Armin is slowly descending into a deep depression.

He was so sure of his feelings for you. They were his most prized possession. You made him laugh, you made him blush and god you made his pitiful life seem so much more worth living. You were the ocean, and he just wanted to drown myself in you. Like the sun he saw so rarely, you were the ray of pure light that made his body burn.

He lay awake at night, taunted and enthralled with the thoughts of you in so many different scenarios….maybe in particular, different positions.

[Yes, those kinda positions. Armin’s not always that innocent, y’all.]

He knows that the more he thinks of you in these appetizing ways, in these hurtfully satisfying scenarios, he’s never going to be able to get over you.

Rather, he’s not even going to try.

Being trapped in his fantasies, Armin is horrifically aware that these feelings are incredibly toxic, for the both of you. He just won’t let you go. Whatever it takes, Armin will commit whatever crimes he must to keep you in his life.

He sees you as being misunderstood, especially if you’re typically a colder person, hard to read, detached. Some people compare you to Levi, but Armin just knows that you, like the Corporal, have far more depth than you let on.

His intrigue doesn’t let up for a long while, as you’re constantly surprising him in new and amazing ways. You’re used to his deep interest in you after a while, but you still don’t understand him.

Armin thrives on your confusion at first, but if it drives you away from him, he’ll go into tactical mode. Staying up all night,figuring out who is calling your attention to them rather than him and what his next move should be.

With his intelligence, Armin keeps his sizzling bafflement and envy under wraps. He tells himself that maybe he had unerved you a little. He can get like that sometimes, surely you understood him well enough to know that?He obviously did find you interesting and he was willing to momentarily abandon Eren and Mikasa just to fuel his endless curiosity.

Keep in mind, this is after you reject him, and his desperation to just know you and love you is greatly overwhelming him to the highest degree. You just won’t allow him to really see you, to understand you.

Eventually, he snaps. Just not in the typical yandere way. We all know that Armin feels as though he is a nuisance, a self-proclaimed burden so he keeps most of his feelings inside, and lets them loose to either prove a point, or while under stress.

It takes a minute for him to decide what to do with you, because he knows that once he has made a choice, it has to be the right choice. He has to know and map out a detailed plan, whether it’s doable, whether he’s able to pull it off by himself, etc.

His analytical skills come into play, and he plans everything from the location, time, the equipment needed at exactly what time. By this time, he will have comepletely left you alone; abrupt and brash, and just as he planned, you were surprised. Yes, he wanted to get to know you, and you couldn’t help but feel even slightly violated and maybe even disturbed.

Your like anyone in the world, have natural curiosity and interest in just about anything. But the unfamiliar feeling of unsettlement around Armin just felt…off.

You secretly knew of his deep infatuation; people always seemed to determined to figure the silent types out, to crack them open, decipher their many secrets. In terms of this analogy, you sort of understand, maybe even sympathise with his endless novelty toward your character, but even so…just why?

Maybe it was the fact that you felt bad for him, in a sad, puppy love kinda way. Maybe you saw him as a traumatized individual, just putting his assumed coping mechanism to work, with you just in the innocent line of fire.

If he kidnaps you at all, Armin will smother you. Telling you how much you mean to him, explaining that only he can access your wonder and intrigue. Because, after all, he worked this hard to get you; why would he ever share you with anyone else?

Although he will be stern, he’ll always be nice about it, rewarding you or not.

You’re an enigma to Armin Arlert, keeping him guessing, testing his patience with all of your being. You don’t know it, but soon you’ll be in his possession.

I headcanon him as seeing your refusal, your blatant rejection as some kind of ‘disease.’ You haven’t even seen the best of him yet, why make up your mind about something that you know almost nothing of? Oh well, you’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other very soon. He’ll bare his injured soul to you, and you’ll have mo choice but to do the same for him. It’s what married couples do after all, right?

Just let him love you, Y/N. Let Armin adore you. It’s the best thing to do if you want everyone to live.

Glassy, still sapphire eyes simply stared at you in the weak light of a stolen candle. You couldn’t quite pinpoint what they were saying, those beautiful, dangerous, albeit loving eyes. But yet, they also held malice in their abyss’. Endless, bottomless, simply divine they were. That was all you knew.

“Why…do you lie to me?” he murmered. A small, rough palm came to rest against your hollowed cheek, fingertips gently tapping against the skin. Realising how close he truly was, you tried your hardest to get away, shifting in your place in the surprisingly plush, old bed, but all it took was a flash of blonde hair to whip past your face, before he succeeded in holding your arms down.

While he never did this explicitly to punish or harm you, Armin always knew just how to exert his power. Never mind the boundaries that he installed in you the day of your arrival; he didn’t care for them as much as you had to pretend to.

This Armin was unhinged. Normalcy could never be considered in this relationship. He could never understand the pain he put you through. To Armin, it was all in the name of his devotion. All of his interest had been rooted in one fact; you refused to love him.

Once he figured out that you wouldn’t couldn’t love him of your own accord, he became enamoured with something he just knew he could never have.

He had never even thought about taking you, drugging you, dragging you to a secluded spot in the woods, or an out of bounds room, derelict over many years.

“I never intended to take you like this, bunny.”

Swallowing hard, you tried to look him in the eyes, gently lifting your head higher and higher until his blue pools of mere unhinged insanity met your own pained orbs. Seeming to like this, he smiled.

His perfect teeth looked more like fangs in the dim, weak moonlight. It had felt like he had managed to suck every molecule of beauty from even the most simple of things.

His voice sounded like the devil; harsh, unforgiving lilting tones of false hope daring to stroke you face and make you think you had a good chance at happiness.

You didn’t know when he stopped being Armin and began being a monster. You didn’t know if the lines could be blurred any further.

“I never wanted this, Armin-”

“Don’t play with me, bunny,” he snapped. His slender fingers wound themselves in your clean hair, twisting and searching for a soft spot to pull. When he found it, he lightly tugged; barely, but you still winced from the thought of the last time he did this.

You still wanted to believe that he was quiet, sweet Armin who still had an unstoppable fascination with you, but he was harmless then. Or was he? Was he faking his intentions? Did he have it planned from the very beginning?

You wanted to choke yourself for believing his simple demeanour, his dedication to the cause of the Survey Corps just like everyone else. He was a liar. He was a predator in all ways, ensnaring you, his perfect prey.

Only now had Armin realized just how confused you were.

You didn’t understand his love for you. You thought he hated you!

Now that wouldn’t do.

Armin could have have kicked himself. All of his stern discipline and rules stemming from his love and protection meant that you mistook for him being cruel. He was doing this out of his devotion!

How could he assume you would understand if he never told you, if he never proved his love?

“Armin, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything, I swear-” You took a deep breath, cutting yourself off. Now was not the place or time to be losing your composure; you still were trying to get used to the fact that you were being held against your will.

“Hush”, he suddenly murmured, gently taking your chin in his fingertips, before moving them to tenderly cup your face, his eyes darting anywhere that he could lay his gaze upon.

The gestures were so tender you found your cheeks erupting with a wild blush, the burning shame hitting you moments later when your hatred and slight fear hit you like a slap to the face.

Your embarassment only got worse when you felt his soft lips kiss your throat, his warm breath flush against your skin. His hands found themselves back in your hair again, stroking it, petting it, twisting it round and round his finger. His right hand caressed your nape, spreading his fingers so that they only just covered the width of your neck, and he pulled you closer, so that your head was nuzzled into his neck, buried beneath his love and fascination.

It all clicked.

Armin wasn’t just interested in you.

He was obessed with you.

Obsessively in love with you.

You felt pathetic. You felt weak. But in a strange way, you also felt loved.

You had no choice but to resign yourself to his touch, letting your head fall limp as he cradled you to his chest.

“Good bunny.”

#yandere aot #yandere snk #yandere armin #armin arlert x reader #attack on titan #yandere #headcanons #yandere attack on titan #Headcanon #hc's #armin x reader

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awhitehead17 · 3 years

Text

Batfam Alphabet: J - Joker Junior (JJ)

Summary: When Dick is joined by his brother’s alter personality he struggles to complete his case work. JJ can be rather distracting especially when Dick has to keep a constant eye on him because he can’t be trusted to be on his own.

A/N: This story references to torture and self harm, nothing in graphic detail but please don't read if that makes you uncomfortable. This story is based where Tim had been kidnapped by the Joker and turned into Joker Junior.

Enjoy! :D

“Don’t. Put it back. Now.”

There’s a few beats of a silence and without looking he could tell his orders haven’t been followed. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

Seconds later there’s a clanging of metal which indicates he’s been finally listened too. Dick takes a deep breath in and slowly lets it out before turning his focus back onto the task at hand.

He’s currently re-reading old case files looking for any names, locations, alibies that could possibly be linked into the current case he’s working. It’s a tedious task but it needs to be done. That being said it would be a lot easier if current company wasn’t present. It was rather distracting having to split his focus two ways so he could try and work as well as keep an eye on the kid at the same time.

This time Dick’s read no more than a paragraph when the sound of moving metal could be heard yet again.

Sighing in resignation, he shuts the file and turns around to face the rest of the cave. His eyes instantly drift over to the weapons table where his companion currently is at. The kid is frozen in place, staring wide-eyed at Dick knowing he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing. It’s like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar, only in this situation the cookie is a dagger rather than an edible treat.

Opposite him the kid silently blinks owlishly, it would actually be an adorable sight if it weren’t for the creepy ass grin stretching across his face. It’s the grin that reminds Dick who he’s dealing with. It isn’t Tim who is standing in front of him but rather his alternate personality, JJ.

JJ first appeared about two years ago after Tim had been captured and tortured by the Joker. The best explanation they could come up with for his appearance is that JJ is Tim’s way of detaching himself from the traumatic experience he had. JJ is the result of the horrendous torture Tim went through.

It’s certainly taken everyone some time to adjust to this development. Even now, years later, everyone is still getting used to it. Tim is here, he’s still present and is the core identity, but JJ occasionally makes an appearance especially when Tim is feeling threatened, extremely stressed or emotionally unstable.

The whole thing has been a learning curve for everyone involved. Even Tim had to learn to deal with it. At first he understandably didn’t accept what was happening but over time he seem to concede with it and even come to some sort of agreement with JJ, apparently the two identities can communicate no matter who’s in control. Tim’s tried to explain it to him in the past but it’s pretty mind boggling so Dick simply believes what Tim is saying and doesn’t ask questions.

He can’t help but feel a little disturbed by JJ’s presence, it’s an unfair feeling because it’s not JJ’s fault – or Tim’s – but being reminded of what his little brother had to endure at the hands of an insane psychotic man is unnerving. It’s like a reminder of how he didn’t protect his little brother and how he failed him by not being good enough.

He knows the others also share similar feelings. Jason simply stays away from JJ, he doesn’t even enter the same room as him. Damian is constantly on edge when JJ is present, he often carries his katana around with him when they’re near one another. Cass happens to be the one who handles JJ the best, her calm demeanour seems to bizarrely settle JJ a little. Bruce… well Bruce has similar thoughts to him of how he failed to protect Tim, but both as a father and a mentor. He’s sat down with JJ and has had a conversation with him, they seemed to come to some sort of agreement which Dick doesn’t know the details of. Alfred, god bless him, takes it all in stride as he does with everything. Everyone else is weary of him but are civil towards him as much as they can be.

“JJ, I told you to put it down. Why did you pick it back up?” Dick questions after a long drawn out silence.

JJ plays with the dagger in his hands, twisting it this way and that with skilled precision. He blinks again and lets out a giggle. “Timmy needs to be punished.”

Dick frowns at the answer. That’s not what he had been expecting. “Why does Tim need to be punished? What has he done?”

“He failed us.”

JJ says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world but Dick has no idea what he’s on about. How has Tim failed? All Dick knows is that recently Tim’s been busy with the Titan’s and how he’s been working on his Neon Knights programme.

“What happened?”

JJ doesn’t respond and continues to play with the dagger in his hands. Seeing the sharp blade being toyed with makes Dick feel tense, he knows what kind of damage can be done with a weapon like that and he doesn’t want Tim – and by extension JJ – to get hurt.

“Timmy needs to be punished!” JJ repeats agitatedly. He stops playing with the dagger and grips it in both hands, Dick couldn’t help but wince when he sees the blade dig into the skin of his palms. “When someone fails they get punished. When they are bad they get punished! Timmy has to be punished for what he did.” JJ trails off with a high pitched giggle like the idea of punishment is hilarious.

Dick runs a hand over his face, he’s not getting anywhere here. Where’s Cass when you need her? She’s usually better at dealing with this side of JJ than he is.

“You know that physically punishing Tim also means you hurting yourself, don’t you?” Dick suggests evenly, trying a different tactic. “There are other ways than physical pain to deal with these sort of things.”

Dick has an inkling he knows what this is all about but he doesn’t want to jump to conclusions just yet.

JJ lets out an uncontrollable giggle. “Silly Big Bird, I don’t feel pain, Uncle J made sure of that. Timmy on the other hand needs to pay for what he did and physical pain is the best way to teach a lesson so he remembers not to do it again.”

As if to prove a point, that’s when a drop of blood drips from JJ’s hand and lands on the floor. JJ doesn’t even notice. Dick tries to not flinch at the sight it, he hates the idea of his little brother hurting, no matter what it is it’s always hard to witness.

“I understand that you may be frustrated JJ, but why don’t you try talking to Tim instead. Tell him how you feel about whatever it is that he did and explain why you’re upset with the situation.” Dick suggests trying to sound as reasonable as he could.

JJ violently shakes his head, he seems to be getting more riled up as the conversation continues.

“No! Talking doesn’t work! He ignores me and doesn’t listen. The mission failed and he put us in danger for no reason, we could have been killed for nothing. He needs to remember to not do that again. I’ll make sure he remembers not to.”

Dick lets out a hum in acknowledgement. Something they’ve come to notice since JJ’s appearance is how protective, and even possessive, he is of Tim. The key thing is how no one is allowed to hurt Tim in anyway whatsoever, if they do then JJ will go on a vengeful rampage against whoever was responsible for it. That includes Tim himself.

To JJ, Tim putting himself in danger is essentially Tim hurting himself and he really doesn’t like that. It’s happened a couple times in the past, so in response to Tim putting himself in danger (often during missions) JJ feels the need to punish Tim for it.

Taking a deep breath Dick stares at the kid and wonders how he should proceed. He can’t just turn around and say “no” or retaliate because JJ will only get defensive and probably go do something much worse as a result. While Dick ponders, JJ stands there opposite him still gripping the dagger tightly in his hands with a small puddle of blood forming at his feet and grins creepily at Dick. To make the scene worse JJ tilts his head to the side just a little, adding to the creepy affect even more.

Thankfully he’s saved from trying to decide what to do when another body soon joins them in the cave. Dick’s attention turns away from JJ and onto Cass who casually strolls towards them with a light bounce in her step. Dick smiles warmly at her, feeling relieved for her appearance. Then immediate guilt hits him because he really shouldn’t be thinking that, Tim is his brother and what’s happened is by no means his fault and he should try to be supportive where he can, though sometimes it can get difficult.

Cass silently comes up to them and stands next to JJ. Dick watches with amusement as JJ’s grin slowly disappears from his face and is replaced with a scowl, his eyes narrow in what he would say is a challenge as he stares at her unmoving. Cass simply raises an eyebrow, she places a hand on her side and cocks her hip while she holds out the other in silent demand.

The two stare at one another for a long time, clearly testing the other’s patience and if Dick’s being honest he has to give JJ some credit for how long he’s with standing Cass’s pointed look. However it seems like JJ can’t out last Cass because he soon drops his gaze and relaxes his grip on the dagger but doesn’t let go of it yet.

“Timmy and I just want to have some fun. Why is that wrong?” JJ pouts, actually seeming disappointed and confused for why they’re saying no to him.

Dick catches himself from saying anything at the last second. He wants to question the ‘fun’ part of punishing but thinks better of it, it’s best that he stays quiet and lets Cass handle the situation.

Still staring at JJ, Cass keeps her hand out waiting for JJ to give her the dagger. After more staring he slaps the weapon into her hand with an exaggerated huff.

“Fine.” JJ huffs with a stomp of his foot. He scowls and crosses his arms over his chest. “I guess I’ll have to find another way to punish – oops! – I mean play with Timmy.” He lets out a hysterical giggle at his own words.

Cass shakes her head and moves towards Dick. They make eyes contact and Cass sends him a soft smile, when she gets close enough with the hand not holding the bloody dagger she reaches up and cups his cheek. “Finish work and rest. I’ve got this.”

Dick places his hand over hers and sends her an appreciative look. “Thank you.”

Standing up Dick grabs the file he had abandoned earlier and makes a move to leave the desk, it’ll probably be best to head to his bedroom in the Manor where he won’t be disturbed, but when he turns around he finds JJ now over by the weapons table yet again.

“JJ!” He snaps harshly. The kid startles and looks up at Dick before a wide grin stretches across his face, he’s not even ashamed that he’s been caught with his hand hovering over another dagger. He soon retracts his hand and places them both behind his back, he sways side to side like he’s an innocent kid.

“What? I’m not doing anything.”

Dick couldn’t help but eyeroll at the blatant lie. He sends JJ a pointed look. “Behave.” JJ’s response to that was to blow him a raspberry. Sending Cass a nod he leaves the desk with his folder tucked under his arm and makes his way to the stairs.

Unfortunately it wasn’t that simple. He should have been expecting something to happen really considering that nothing is ever easy with the kid, it’s only thanks to his reflexes and instincts that he hadn’t been impaled by the dagger JJ had just been eyeing up moments ago.

The weapon is now lodged in the wall in front of him from where Dick had luckily dodged it. The situation takes a moment to process in his mind and once it does he spins back around to witness JJ giggling hysterically and a wide-eyed Cass who had a hand over her mouth in shock. She’s clearly just as caught off guard by JJ’s actions as he was. Dick takes a deep breath and steadies himself, at least it didn’t actually hit him, not that the sentiment really helps with anything.

Deciding it’s really not worth it, he continues his journey to the stairs and proceeds to climb them, but not before grabbing the dagger buried in the wall along the way. JJ is Cass’s responsibility now, one he’ll happily pass over to her.

The last thing Dick hears when he gets to the top of the stairs is JJ calling out to him in between giggles.

“Bye bye Big Bird! See you soooooon!”

#batfam alphabet #dick grayson #Tim Drake #cassandra cain #JJ #joker junior #implied torture #torture #tw: self harm #bit angsty #cass cain is the best #This is not my best work #i really struggled writing this one #I've gotten to the point where I'm done with it #here have this mess #batfam #fanfiction

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datleggy · 3 years

Note

Let’s take “birth day” literally and have pregnant Buck go into labor someplace really dumb and/or inconvenient.

It's the hormones, Buck would like to say in his defense, but honestly, the omega would have done it even if he weren't nearly nine months pregnant....

The doctor's told him some light exercise will help, even with his due date being so close now, and so after picking Christopher up from school they'd decided to take a nice stroll in the park.

And it would have been nice if some asshole hadn't put his hands on his kid on the goddamn playground of all places! One minute Buck had been struggling to get up off the bench to see why it looked as though Christopher was in a seemingly heated argument over something or the other, with another little boy around his age, and the next said boy's mother was shoving Christopher away with a sharply pointed nail, poking at his shoulder and shouting obscenities.

And Buck was there in a flash, putting himself between Christopher and the woman and telling her to back off. "You don't touch someone else's kid like that, lady. If you have a problem, you come find me."

The woman looks flustered for a moment before raising her voice again, yelling about how she had barely even touched the eight year old, and about how maybe he shouldn't bring his son around other kids if he couldn't learn to play nice. "If you taught that boy some manners we wouldn't even be here right now!"

Buck knows he should have let it go, knows they were causing a huge and unnecessary scene, and this? This next part he totally blames on the hormones. "If your parents had taught you some manners and common sense we wouldn't be here right now!"

And that had only served to escalate the situation to the point where police had actually been called and arrived on the scene--and apparently the woman had been very convincing when she'd burst into tears and told the cops that Buck had threatened her with violence.

Which is how Buck ends up in a jailcell on a sunny Friday afternoon, waiting for Eddie to come and bail him out and worrying frantically about Christopher, who last he saw, as they'd cuffed him and put him into the back of their vehicle, was currently in the custody of a child services worker.

Buck puts his head in his hands and groans, beyond stressed. Not only is this humiliating as all hell, but his alpha is probably going to kill him for letting this shit happen. He should have ignored the woman and walked away with Christopher in tow. Instead, he'd made it worse and gotten arrested for an assault he hadn't even committed. "Jesus Christ."

"Buckley? Evan Buckley?" An officer calls out; he's older, maybe mid fifties, with a faint Southern drawl.

Buck raises his head. He'd only called Eddie fifteen minutes ago, was he really here that quickly? "Uh, yeah, that's me." he says.

"You're free to go; luckily a bunch of witnesses came forward with the same story--you weren't the aggressor here, son. Now c'mon, your kid's waiting for you right outside."

"Oh thank God." he breaths out, immeasurably relieved. But when he attempts to stand up Buck lets out a hiss and doubles over, face contorting in pain.

The officers eyes go wide and he rushes to open the cell, which is nearly empty, thankfully, except for Buck and a slumbering man in the corner, arrested that morning for public intoxication. "Whoa, whoa," the man's eyes go even wider, if possible, when he realizes what's happening. "Shoot, I think your water just broke, young man."

Buck shakes his head, even though the proof is on the bench and soaking his jeans through and through. He whines as the contraction continues, huffing and puffing. "H-hospital. Please." He pleads.

There is no way he's having this baby while still technically in custody at a police station. Hell, they're in a jailcell, for shit's sake. He'd rather give birth like a total cliché and in the back of a yellow taxi!

"I'm gonna have 'em call you an ambulance, but let's get you outta here first." the officer tries to help Buck stand but another contraction hits, this one harder and more agonizing than the last and Buck cries out, his knees buckling under him.

The officer manages to hold him aloft just long enough to reposition him on the floor as Buck pants and tries not to lose it. The contractions are way too close...

The officer radios his men and calls for help. "Need help in the holding cell on floor 2B, we've got a custodial here who's gone into labor. Urgent request for help in holding cell 2B."

Buck can't help but let out a sob--it's even worse than he'd imagined--he's going to end up giving birth inside a jailcell five feet away from some guy who smells like tequila and regret. Alone.

"What the hell is going on in--Buck?!"

Buck sniffles as he turns his head towards the door, where Athena is standing, mouth agape at the chaotic scene before her. "Athena!" he cries, reaching out for her, needy as can be and not giving a damn.

Athena doesn't waste any time, dropping to her knees beside him, letting him rest his head on her lap. She sooths back his curly locks, now sweaty, and look at the officer, asking sharply, "What happened?"

"He was being released when he went into labor--must be from the stress of the situation. Tried to get him up, but that baby's comin' and soon." he informs her, grimacing when Buck whines in pain as another contraction follows his statement, as if to prove the mans words true.

"Eddie," Buck clenches his teeth, tries to stifle another groans. "Need Eddie."

"He's right outside," Athena tells him, reassuringly. She nods at the officer. "Reyes, get me Eddie Diaz, he's a medic and he should be waiting down on the first floor for us. Hurry!"

***************

Eddie's at the grocery store picking stuff up for dinner tonight when he gets the unexpected call. He almost doesn't answer it, when he sees it's from an unfamiliar number, thinking it's spam, but something nags at him to take the call.

"Hello?"

"Hey..."

It's Buck. And he sounds upset.

"Buck? What's going on? Everything alright? Who's phone are you using?"

He can hear Buck gulp from the other end of the line. "I've been arrested. I need you to come bail me out and get Christopher out of police custody." he says, all in one rushed statement, like he'd ripping off a band aid.

"Wha--I'm sorry, what? Did you say you're in jail? And Christopher's with the police? What the hell is going on?" Eddie's not proud of the way he raises his voice, especially not in the fruit aisle, where a mother with her toddler gives him a dirty look on her way past, but he's so shocked and panicked he can't stop himself from blurting out, "Buck, what the fuck happened? You were picking Christopher up from school today! Where does jail fit into this?!"

"Eddie, I'm sorry." Buck sighs. "I swear I'll explain everything when you get here, but I don't have a lot of time left on this call and I'm kind of freaking out right now. Please, can you just--"

"Of course, yeah, sorry, I'm on my way, give me like twenty minutes, ok? I'm across town."

"Thank you." the line cuts off abruptly and Eddie's left to ponder what could possibly have happened to have led up to his almost nine months pregnant husband being arrested as he abandons his cart and runs out into the parking lot.

****************

Eddie nearly gets arrested himself, with the way he's speeding down the highway before turning onto the main road and parking right in front of the station, where only police vehicles are allowed.

The alpha finds his kid with a social worker, happily munching on a donut. “Chris!?” Eddie runs over and engulfs his son in a suffocating hug. “Are you ok? What happened?”

Christopher pulls away slightly, nodding. “I’m ok. Bucky got in trouble ‘cause the lady at the park lied. Officer Reyes said he’s gonna bring him out soon.”

The social worker explains the whole story to Eddie, “Thankfully there were a lot of witnesses who corroborated the events. Your husband should be out in a few minutes; it was all just an awful misunderstanding. The woman at the park is in custody right now for giving the police a false accusation and wasting everybody’s time.”

Eddie’s shoulders slump in relief and he practically falls into a chair nearby, pulling Christopher onto his lap and holding him tight around the middle. “Is he ok? Buck is pregnant. He’s due in two weeks.”

The social worker gives him a sympathetic look. “I’m sure he’s in good hands. Officer Reyes will have him out here in a couple of minutes.”

****************

After a couple of minutes turns to five, turns to ten, Eddie starts to get angsty. Which is why it’s a good thing, when he happens to spot Athena rounding the corner and into the station. He calls over to her and she furrows her brows in concern before making her way across to them.

“Eddie? Christopher? What’s going on?”

“It’s a long story.” Eddie sighs, “But Buck is being held in a cell right now, they said an officer Reyes was supposed to bring him down here, that he was free to go, but that was forever ago,” he exaggerates. “Can you please find out what’s taking so long?”

“Of course.”

****************

Buck sobs openly when his alpha enters the room, “Eddie!” he calls out desperately.

Athena holds Buck close and looks up. “He’s in labor. Contractions are less than a minute apart. He needs to start pushing.”

Eddie doesn’t hesitate, though his brain feels like it’s about to short circuit if even one more insane thing happens within these twenty four hours. He drops between Buck’s knees and reaches out to squeeze his hand. “Hey, I’m here, I’m here, you’ve got this, ok? Cause I’ve got you.”

“I’m scared.” Buck admits, tears sliding down face, and he’s shaking like a leaf, terrified that something will go wrong. “I don’t--” he groans pitifully against another contraction. “Don’t wanna have her in here.”

“I know baby, I know, but she’s coming now, Buck. She’s not gonna wait for us to make it to a hospital. She’s impatient,” Eddie kisses his hand, squeezing again, comfortingly. “Just like you.”

Buck huffs. “No, like you. Y-you never wait for your soup to cool down.”

“My Tia’s sopa is worth the burnt tongue.” Eddie plays along, trying to distract him from the pain. “Baby, I need you to push, ok? I know this isn’t how we pictured any of this, but it’s time.”

Buck nods through the tears and steels himself.

“Good, good, now push, c’mon, you can do this. I’m right here.”

****************

“You look handsome in your mugshot.” Eddie tells Buck, staring at the photo he asked Athena to send him on his phone.

Buck glares at the alpha. “Funny.”

Eddie leans down to kiss the frown off his face. “Sorry, too soon?”

Buck turns the other way in bed with an annoyed huff. “You’re on baby night duty for the rest of the week.” he shuts the lamp light off and then the room is dim with just the moon peaking in through their blinds.

“Hey,” Eddie sits up, tilting his head. It’s been over a month since the incident, and sure, it hadn’t been pleasant, but Buck and their baby had made it through just fine, health intact, and in the hospital Buck hadn’t seemed too phased after the ordeal, mostly content with Christopher and the baby curled up against and on him. “That was a stupid joke, I’m sorry.”

Buck gulps. He’s being way too sensitive about this. Everything turned out alright and shortly after the whole thing had passed Chimney had even teased him that of course only Buck would have bad enough luck to end up giving birth in a holding cell. And Buck had laughed it off.

Mostly because he’d been relieved.

And then of course with the new baby the last month has been a whirlwind of constant activity, of making sure all her needs are met, of making sure Christopher’s not feeling neglected, of debating on when he should start thinking about going back to work and--

Eddie’s heart leaps when he hears Buck’s sharp intake of breath. “Buck?”

Buck sits up now, too, swiping miserably at the tears that suddenly won’t stop falling. “Sorry, I--ignore me. I didn’t--” he sniffles. “I haven’t really thought about that day since--everything’s been so busy with--you know?--and--” he cuts himself off with a choked off sob. “It’s the hormones.”

It’s been four weeks now and his hormones from the pregnancy are still driving him every which way and he feels ridiculous right now, crying over something he should have processed a month ago already.

Eddie wraps his arms around Buck and pulls him between his legs and against his chest. “Let it out.” he says. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Buck curls into Eddie and releases all emotion he hadn’t realized he’d been keeping all pent up inside. The fear, the anguish--Buck lets himself be held, coddled, loved.

It feels good.

After he’s cried for what feels like ages Buck rests the side of his head on Eddie’s shoulder and exhales. “You know Christopher wanted to name her Tuubee?” he murmurs.

Eddie, who’s rubbing up and down his husbands back, pauses a moment. “’Tuubee’?” he repeats.

Buck half smirks against his shoulder. “Two B. The cell where she was born.”

#911 fox #bday drabble #long post is long #thanku for the prompt! :)#buddie #mpreg #hurt/comfort

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dramaqueeenamby · 3 years

Text

𝐑𝐄𝐃 ⧼𝑏. 𝑏𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑠⧽

A/N: It’s almost a new year! Figured I’d finish this one off with a bang. Literally. Okay, I’ll shut up. Also, I’ve never written Bucky before, so I apologize in advance for the massacre and disrespect of his characterization.

Summary: ❝You still remember the first time he walked in, the baseball cap and glasses told a story you knew all too well.❞

Warnings: Smut with a bit of plot. Sorta. Mostly, just smut. Vaginal penetration. Oral (female receiving). Light Dom themes (specifically, choking). Blink and you miss it cockwarming.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 3K

RED

You don’t even know his name.

Don’t know where he’s from, who his people are, where he lays his head at night. None of it. Actually, the last one is a lie. You know it’s not here, in this town of less than 1,000 where the only people of color, including yourself, can be counted on one hand.

It’s not ideal, but when wanting to become consumed by a blanket of invisibility and needing to erase your existence from the greater world, you do what you have to do.

You still remember the first time he walked in, the baseball cap and glasses told a story you knew all too well.

Privacy. It was all he wanted, and you’d give him that, along with any alcoholic beverage he wanted. And, he wanted a lot.

You’d once commented that his liver had to be nonexistent and asked just how long he’d been drinking, because no matter how much he consumed, he remained coherent enough to leave a kind tip and close his tab. He said nothing.

He was a man of few words, when in public, at least.

You liked that as well. Maybe it was because he recognized that you had a job to do, or perhaps he detected that look in your eyes. It was that same look that he had, that plea for solitude.

You had a feeling that you weren’t the only one who could be in a room full of people and still feel all alone. You lived by that. So did he.

Interactions and meetings outside of the shabby bar commenced through the most generic of circumstance. It was a copy and paste situation. A rowdy, drunk customer became too intoxicated to remain inside the establishment. You calmly asked him to leave, security was preoccupied with another violent drunk, and next thing you knew, he’d grabbed you by your forearm. His grip was relentless but so was your dedication to break free. Unfortunately, mental fortitude didn’t outweigh physical capability.

He’d shoved you into the a nearby table, sending you onto the floor, your head and side loud with its throbbing. Your eyes shut as the pain coursed. However, seconds later, your attacker was outside, flat on his ass, unconscious.

That was the first time he saved you, and it was all it took for you two to progress into something more. You couldn’t say intimacy. For you, intimacy meant feelings, and feelings were nonexistent here.

This was an arrangement, a source of release.

It was mutually beneficial.

You both received something from the other, an ironic arrangement considering you had a feeling he, like you, had little else to give.

The first time occurred in your car, in the back seat. He was big—in more ways than one—so it wasn’t ideal, but he’d stated that he received a ride, so he had nowhere to offer. You certainly weren’t bringing him back to your apartment. Stranger danger and the fact that it was rundown.

So, that left your vehicle, which again, wasn’t the best place, but it wasn’t the worst. And at least you got to be on top, one of your favorite positions

The time after that, despite your initial protest, happened in the storage closet in the back of the bar. He’d shifted an old keg to block the door before he promptly placed you up and ate you out.

You’d received head before, but this was something different. You’d never had a man leave you as delirious and feeble with just his mouth alone. Hell, most of the time, you had to instruct more than a professor.

The more you thought about it, the more you regretted not charging tuition.

Especially considering most failed every time.

Not him. No, it was as though he knew exactly what you wanted, and he gave off the impression that he wanted it too.

You’d allowed him to lower you to the ground, hands on your hips as he kept you upright and stabilized. For good reason, your legs were bowling balls, and you needed time to find your equilibrium.

However, when you finally came to and attempted to fall to your knees, he stopped you.

You looked up, not saying a word, your furrowed eyes conveying confusion. What man refused head?

You waited for an explanation. He offered none, bringing you back to your feet as he moved the keg and left you alone, confused and still very much on a high from your orgasm.

And sure, at first, you berated yourself for letting a stranger go down on you. You didn’t know his sexual history, but to be fair, he didn’t know yours either. You were both reckless, but with the mind-blowing pleasure he caused you, you weren’t exactly stressing over longterm implications.

You didn’t see him for a few weeks after that, and as much as you hated to admit that you missed him, you did. Mostly because the sex was addictive, but also because every time he came around, you could just see that something was off.

Something ate at him, but whatever it was, you’d never know. And it was better that way. Converging demons never ended well for anyone. Two fucked up people doing more than just fucking and leaving would benefit no one and harm everything.

That sexual tryst also occurred in your vehicle, but the two of you were more creative that time around. You played around with different positions, testing your both your flexibility and comfortability.

You finally told him your name.

He was mid-stroke when you blurted it out, his pace slowing as his eyes met yours. You swallowed and repeated it, louder. On the second round, he used it, quietly mumbling it into the sheen of sweat on your neck, but you heard it, and he knew it. That was all that mattered.

He didn’t tell you his.

That was a few weeks ago, and no matter how busy you get, your head still turns every time the welcome bell chimes. You know better than to eagerly await for a stranger who you’ve fucked on several occasions and know nothing else about. It’s stupid, but in the litany of stupid decisions you’ve made over the years, this ranks pretty low.

And that’s saying something.

Exactly one month since your last sexual tryst, as you dig in your purse for your keys while walking to your car, you look up, key between your index and middle finger when you jump upon hearing your name.

Spinning around with the key lifted high, ready to be used in a defensive manner, your heart rate settles when you see it’s him. He’s leaning back against the brick, arms tucked in his pocket.

Closing your eyes, you place your hand over your chest and scold him. “Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me—“

“Your place.”

A couple of things cross your mind in that moment, the main one being that this bastard is insane. You don’t know shit about him, except for the fact that his stroke game is impeccable and his tongue is the 8th world wonder. Other than that, he is a complete stranger.

Him knowing where you work is one thing, him knowing and visiting where you lay your head at night is another.

There are some lines that you just cannot cross, and this one is bolded, italicized, underlined, and in red.

You can’t.

—

The door shuts, forcing the cheap wall key holder that you’d picked up from the local goodwill to shudder against the peeling wallpaper. In the distance, you can hear something else fall, no doubt breaking, but none of that pulls you off of him.

You moan into his mouth as he pushes you against the wall, his tongue dancing with yours. His hands move to your ass, tugging you into his crotch. You moan again, eyes fluttering sporadically.

How the hell you went from telling him to fuck off to having him minutes away from fucking you is beyond you. It’s also above you now.

Just how he’ll be in five minutes.

“Bedroom,” you murmur against his lip, waiting for him to loosen his grip. His shirt is scrunched in your hand as you lead him to your bedroom. It doesn’t take long, your one bedroom, one bathroom apartment can be explored in its entirety in less than five minutes.

You’re thankful that evening approaches and the light dims by the minute. Just as shining a light into your life would ward off any buyers, so would the light into your apartment.

He tosses you on the bed, and in seconds, you’re on your knees, helping him to pull his shirt off. Naturally, your hands roam his chest. As lighting has technically never been in abundance during the sex, you’re only able to feel areas of his skin that are raised. Scars. They tell a story. His story.

One you’ll never be told.

His hands are against your shoulders before you’re flat on your bed. He pulls your legs from underneath you and spreads them. Your fingers grasp at the button of your jeans as you unbutton them. Lifting your hips, you move quickly to slide them off, but he’s already ahead of you. They’re already tossed to the floor.

You sit up and remove your shirt when he once again shoves you back.

Looking down your body, you realize he’s already nude, dick rigid and leaking precum. Stomach coiling with anticipation, you lick your lips and close your eyes when he grabs you by your hips and tugs you down the bed.

“Fuck.” Your back once again arched off the full sized mattress as he grabbed your thighs, holding you against his mouth. Your hands grasped at the wall behind you, nails scraping as his tongue danced against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Once thing you’d learned was that he was a man of limited patience, when he wanted something, he wanted it now. Immediate gratification was his dominant preference, and you had zero complaints, because right about now, you wanted the same thing.

Your body wormed as a natural reaction towards his tongue exploring every bit of your pussy. Your clit attracted him the most, but he was generous in the regards that nothing was left untouched. He sucked with skill and hunger and something else you couldn’t pinpoint.

Eyes rolling in the back of your head, however, there wasn’t much you could focus on expect for the man between your legs, even if you tried.

At times, you became too frisky for him, and he’d move one hand to your core, holding you steady. His strength was inhuman. You hated when he did that, though, because your stomach would cave as your insides twisted. It was impossible not to shift away from him, especially when he expertly circled his tongue around your nub.

You could have sworn you felt him spelling something, perhaps your name, maybe even his.

Again, questions you’d never receive answers to.

You weren’t certain, but you got the feeling that he was motivated to continue to push you based on how your body responded to him. And every tryst had shown that you responded almost perfectly to the slightest of his touches. Everything he did wound you up, he got off to that. Maybe that’s why he never wanted you to reciprocate what you did for him, no matter how badly you wanted to.

He preferred to please, not be pleased.

Stars filtered the vision of your ceiling, and even those became blurred and grainy as that familiar feeling bubbled from the deepest part of you and exploded in a majestic display of pants, moans, and breathy profanities.

You were barely coherent as he trailed sticky kisses up your body, past your pupa, over your tummy, both breast, and finally, your mouth. Tasting yourself and him, you brought your hands to his cheeks holding him. You wanted to savor every second of this. He returned your passion, never breaking the kiss as he lined himself at your slick entrance.

You knew the question of readiness was nearing, and quite frankly, you weren’t for it. You wanted him, and you wanted him now.

Lifting your hips to speed up his entry, you nearly screamed when he slammed into you. You weren’t expecting it, but holy fuck, you loved it. You weren’t prepared for the rapid and consistent snapping of his hips into yours or the way his hands pinned yours down above your head, but you cherished it.

You felt every inch of him, every ridge of his dick, his balls slapping against the bottom of your ass. All of it. And you loved every second of this. You missed this. You missed him.

The latter realization took you for surprise as your eyes opened, where you were again surprised to find that he was looking directly at you. He was studying you, searching your face for any sign of pain, discomfort, or even dissatisfaction. He would find none.

He never would.

Your thighs tightened around him, and you saw him grit his teeth, his eyes momentarily shutting as he lowered over you. You tugged against his hold on your wrists, thankful when he released you. Your hands immediately went to his back, pulling him against you, your breast against his broad and muscular chest. Every inch of him was chiseled and defined, and you always felt the strength he possessed barely reaching its peak when you two fucked.

This time was no different.

You waited for the moment where his thrusts slowed just enough for you to switch positions, and when it arose, you wasted no time. He was suddenly under you, with you on top of him. Your hands planted on his chest as you rode him. Unlike his rapid pace, you settled for a slow and meticulous pace, gradually working your way up.

You were confident there was no way that you could match his speed, but that didn’t deter you from trying.

Selfishly, you didn’t bother to search his face for any sign of pleasure, too consumed in your own fantasy. Your hands moved from his chest to the wall as you moved to your toes to access a better angle, one that emitted a prolonged mixture of a moan and a groan.

While he was vocal only in the form of occasional profanities and infrequent breathing patterns, you were determined to let the whole building know that you were getting fucked, and you were getting fucked thoroughly.

A letter from your landlord would surely be awaiting for you in the next couple days.

None of that mattered, though.

You’re not sure how long you go at it, but you recognize what’s coming. And so does he. You’re briefly caught off guard when he sits up and holds you against his chest. Both of your mouth are parted, and he never tears his eyes away from you, even as bliss overcompensates will, and your eyes shut. Your teeth bite into your bottom lip, and you close your mouth to quiet your scream when you reach your climax, as you both reach your release.

As his warm seed spreads insides you and yours coats his bottom half, along with your bedding, your heavy breathing and sluggish body alerts you to just how fast and how hard you two were at it. Completely spent and unwilling to move, you fall on top of him, uncaring of the mess that coats you.

Besides, you expect him to carefully peel you off of him. Instead, you receive the opposite, he brings him arms around you, holding you against him.

Your eyes shut. A few minutes of silence fill the void until he fills it with a proclamation.

“I’m not what you need.”

For some reason, his statement causes you to smile. This is the most verbal he’s ever been with you, and you recognize that. You appreciate it.

You appreciate his honesty.

“And I’m not what you need,” you speak into his slick chest while he rubs circles on the small of your back. “But this is what we need.”

He says nothing.

A few minutes go by when you finally gather the courage to ask what you wanted to ask from the minute you saw him standing outside the bar. “You staying the night?”

He takes a few moments to answer, but it’s long enough for you to regret even asking. And then, he speaks.

“I can.”

His answer takes you by surprise. It’s not a no, and it’s technically not a yes, either. However, you recognize the optional aspect in his voice.

You don’t provide a verbal answer. You simply cradle your face into his neck, sighing at the calming feeling of him still being inside you.

You know he won’t be there when you open your eyes, and that’s okay. He’s here now, and while you don’t know for certain, but you’re confident that he’ll be back.

And that is what allows you to peacefully close your eyes and succumb to slumber.

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes oneshot #winter soldier #marvel fanfiction #fic: red

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watevermelon · 4 years

Text

Cheater!Akaashi x Reader

✧ Summary: (Continuation) Akaashi goes yandere over the reader dismissing him.

➳ A/N: Hi hi!! SO many people in my dm’s about this Akaashi cheating scenario! I don’t mind writing about it more at all, if anything please feed my imagination because I dont know what to write! ヽ(ಠ_ಠ)ノ Checkout my updated Masterlist to see what continuations are in the works!! :) ➳ Warning: Not a Happy Ending; IM GONNA BE UP-FRONT, THIS ONE IS FUCKED UP - do not read this if any of your triggers involve yandere-like behavior: violence, kidnapping - you have been warned. ➳ Masterlist ➳ Part One ➳ Part Three (NSFW)

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There was nothing, absolutely nothing, that Akaashi could ever say that would let you bring him back into your life. But the setter was intent on getting your attention, often waiting outside your classroom after school or pursuing you during your free period.

Any rumors about the relationship were quelled when Akaashi set the record straight. He would not allow anyone to sully your name, basically telling the nosy president of his fan-club that he was the one who fucked up the relationship. Akaashi told them to never bother you again, he was the cause of it all and he would do anything to regain your forgiveness.

Akaashi would never beg, but he urged you on multiple occasions to hear him out and possibly explain what he wanted. Why he thought he even had the right to ask that of you - just that fact alone flamed up your anger. He was being selfish and you wanted no part of his life anymore.

But there was also something… majorly different about Akaashi.

He was still quiet, still the ever mannered pretty setter of the volleyball team. People still fawned over his good looks and the quiet genius that he had. But there was something off about him these days, not that you could really explain it. His gaze lingered on you too long and he just so happened to be around you even outside of school hours.

There was one time you went out to eat with your friends on the weekend, going from vendor to vendor along the busy streets of Kichijoji. At some point, you felt the telltale pinpricks at the back of your neck, turning to see his familiar blue eyes staring back at you in the distance. You swore you saw Akaashi that day, but after not seeing it again for the rest of the night, you wondered if you were truly just going insane.

He never outright said the reason why it was over to other people, but at least most knew that Akaashi was at fault. But seeing him so earnestly pleading to have a part of your life again, it made many people sympathize with the setter. They had no idea what he had done wrong, but those ignorant students were so quick to jump on his side.

You tried your best to ignore him, your best friends having your back when it came to his advances. You were rarely ever alone, friends walking with you to and from class. Konoha was your one friendship from the volleyball team that was preserved and he had mentioned once that to even him, something felt off. And so he suddenly started sitting with your group during lunch.

To your knowledge, Akaashi was still pursuing Bokuto romantically as well. The two were often engaged in public displays of affection and so you were curious as to why and how the wing-spiker was okay with Akaashi so actively chasing you. There was something off about the two of them, they were a couple, but not in the traditional sense. They had yet to confirm their relationship publicly, but had no qualms about sharing a quick peck for everyone to see.

You remembered passing the both of them as you exited home, taking the main entrance this time. They were standing there, just waiting by the stairs. You watched as their eyes scanned the crowd quickly before they latched onto you, Bokuto’s owl-like eyes, which usually held a loud innocence, were scarily following you with each step. Akaashi was no better, his blue-eyes that always mystified you, for some reason brought an uncomfortable crawl up your spine.

You only let out a breath when you turned the corner, neither volleyball member able to see you from this distance anymore. But when Bokuto turned the same corner, you felt your pace suddenly hesitate. Akaashi was nowhere to be found, the wing-spiker hot on your trail as you took out your phone. You called the first person you thought of.

“Hey, (L/N)! What’s up?” Konoha’s voice rang through the other end.

“Hey!” You hesitated, not wanting to give anything away as Bokuto’s presence loomed over you, “Um. Are you free?”

“Yeah, but I actually took the train home already.”

“No worries, I’ll go to you!” You urged.

Konoha hesitated, before asking. “Is something wrong? I can tell from your voice something’s off.”

“Um, how about we talk about it over dinner instead?”

“Sure. Where are you now?”

“I’m still by the school.”

“Ah, okay. Go back to the gates where the teachers are, I’ll go to you.”

“Thank you so much!!” You exclaimed, immediately turning around as the phone call ended.

Bokuto was right behind you.

“Hi, (L/N).”

“Bokuto-san.” You greeted, unsure why the upward drag of his gaze was lighting up every nerve in your body.

All the signs in your head were screaming danger!

“Was that Konoha?”

“I don’t see how that concerns you.” You bit out.

“Not yet, at least.”

You swallowed in fear before angling your head proudly, “Stay away from me.”

Bokuto put a hand on your shoulder, “I know you’re mad at me and Akaashi, but we never meant to hurt you.”

You shook out of his grasp easily, saying nothing to him as you passed. When you returned to the school grounds, Akaashi was still standing where you last saw him. You rushed over to the teacher waiting by the schoolgate, your heart leaping up again when Bokuto turned the corner back to where you were and waited, eyes still trained on you. You busied yourself with your phone, texting your friends and scrolling through social media in the meantime.

It was only when Konoha showed up, this time in casual attire, did you feel like you could breath. Their eyes stayed trained on you and you swore you heard Bokuto snarl when Konoha laid a lazy arm over your shoulders.

You explained it all to Konoha, how the two were freaking you the fuck out these past few days. They kept you on edge, not in the way that should have made you mad for their relationship. But rather like they were too focusing too intently on you to be considered normal, especially with the given circumstances. If Akaashi was truly begging for forgiveness, you would have thrown hands with him long ago. But now, it felt like he was truly stalking you, his eyes following you at every open opportunity.

Konoha listened to your worries and genuinely tried to alleviate your stress. He moved to sit next to you instead of across, hugging you to his body and saying he would do his best to make sure you were okay on school grounds. You didn’t cry, just leaning a head on his shoulder as he caressed lazy circles on your back.

He walked you home that night, your hands held together and a genuine smile on your face.

And true to his word, the next day, Konoha was outside your classroom door after lunch. He even beat Akaashi to it, the setter’s annoyance obvious on his face as he watched you take Konoha’s hand.

Your best friend commended his tenacity, “Konoha is the only one with rights in this house.”

You laughed eagerly then, happy to finally have a feeling of normality setting in again. And for a while, the one who broke your heart was pushed to the side. You had more real problems at the forefront, his blue-eyes were the least of your worries when you had exams and homework due in the next couple of days.

Akaashi’s quiet gaze and Bokuto’s bold eyes were far from you now - your friends were by your side.

Or at least, that’s what you thought.

Konoha made sure to walk you home whenever he could. And, as per usual, he was waiting at the gate until he saw you safely enter the abode. Only then did he walk away, heading in the opposite direction toward his own family home.

You meandered through the kitchen, grabbing an after-school snack and blasting music in one ear as you walked up to your room. Shaking off your backpack, which hung on one-shoulder to begin with, you threw it onto your bed before taking out some of your books. You wanted a jump-start on this homework and you knew that if you mentally wandered off now, there was no doing it at all.

You dragged the textbook out and plopped it on your desk, notebook following as you sat down and mentally prepared yourself. The last few lessons in chemistry were confusing, but not impossible. With the right amount of concentration, it would be done easily with time to spare for a nap within the hour.

Leaning down and angling your head down towards the table, your focus was completely on the task at hand.

You weren’t expecting a completely separate hand to slam the textbook close and latch a firm grip around your neck.

“Finally, we’re alone.”

You struggled against his hold, the striking blue-eyes that you got to know over the past year now reflecting back at you. Akaashi had your neck between his fingers, the usually docile setter lifting you to your tippy-toes. Panic set in just as quickly as you were losing your strength, air circulation cutting off as your ex-boyfriend assaulted your person.

Trying your best to push him off, you punched at both his chest and the arm holding you, but he deflected it easily and simply continued to watch you fail to heave in air in his fist. Only when you felt your eyes rolling backward, barely on the brink of consciousness, did he drop you to the ground.

“I’m sorry, my love.” Akaashi stated, affectionate pet-name a complete contrast to his monotone voice. This was nothing like the boyfriend you had for the past year. His loving eyes screamed of danger and you wanted nothing more than to leave immediately.

You were down on your hands and knees, gasping in air in both shock and disbelief. Had Akaashi really choked you within the safety of your own home? You rubbed at your neck, as if the action would help you fill back-up your lungs.

You had to get out of here, now.

Glancing over to your door, Akaashi immediately entered your line of sight and kicked you in the abdomen.

“Now how is that fair?” Akaashi asked, “I went through all this trouble to make sure we would have this moment alone.”

You heaved out, “Why are you doing this?”

“You weren’t willing to listen to me back at school.” Akaashi spat out, as if this was your fault. “And I couldn’t wait any longer - who knows how far that bastard Konoha would have gone if I waited?”

Desperate to put any distance between you and this monster, you crawled back toward your bed, only for Akaashi to close it with paces of his own.

“Shut up.” You boldly stated, struggling to stand but doing so anyway. “You are the one who ruined everything.”

“Baby, I said I’m sorry a hundred times and I’ll do it again if I have to.” Akaashi whined before his face took on a darker look, “Why don’t you understand? What do I have to do to make you understand?”

Not wanting to take another kick to the middle or worse, you tried to talk it out before you could think of a plan to escape. “Understand what?”

“Understand how much I love you.”

You reaction was instantaneous, not even your dumb fuck mind could read the danger in the room.

“What a fucking lie.” Akaashi recoiled, ready to challenge you before you continued. “You don’t cheat on the people you love! And you don’t physically hurt them and break into the homes your victims!”

“Yes, I do.”

“Are you fucking phsychotic?!” You yelled back.

Mental reminder: don’t yell that at someone who is clearly off their rockers.

Akaashi laughed loudly, at what exactly, you were not sure. But it was not the right question since it elicited that type of response. He just cracked a half-broken smile, one that felt wrong and yet genuine.

“Get out of my house!”

The look he shot you back - a quirked brow and a small smirk, none of which was the usually calm Akaashi you were used to - basically told you how dumb your statement was.

Instead you asked, “Why are you doing this?”

“To claim the one I love.” He guestered out to you, out-stretching a hand for you to take.

There were two options here: take the hand and get sucked into the immediate space with him. Or don’t take it and risk losing a fight with the nationally-competing athlete in a matter of seconds. Or worse, anger him to the point of extreme violence like before.

There was no convincing yourself this was normal, your shaky hand hesitantly reaching out to Akaashi’s open palm. He smiled gently at you, almost slipping on the usual mask of the perfect boyfriend that you had originally fallen for. But when he tightly gripped your hand and pulled you to him, you knew that was all a farce for this much more violent persona.

“I knew you would understand. We’re meant to be together, I know it.” He murmured against your ear, holding you at the waist against his body. You almost verbally gagged at the thought of him grinding against you, but if you wanted out of his house you would have to take the first opening you got. You had to play it smart.

Akaashi leaned down to kiss you and not even your survival instincts were enough to hide your true feelings. He must not have liked what he was seeing, since he forcibly grabbed at your chin to angle up towards you. You pulled at the feeling, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck to get him to think you were playing into it.

His eyes fluttered closed, relishing in the feel of you steadying yourself, of you giving, against his body.

And you kneed him in the groin as hard as you could.

Akaashi doubled over immediately and his grasp on you crumbled. You took the chance and ran out the door, slamming it behind you as you ran down the hallway and towards the stairs. The danger looming behind you was extraordinary, the loud scream of anger coming from the setter was enough indication that he was hot on your heels.

You scrambled toward your front door, throwing it open and screaming out into the neighborhood for anyone in the near vicinity to help. There was a woman walking her dog and another person on their phone and you pleaded with them with rabid yells for their attention.

But before they even tried to help you, a hand clasped over your mouth and dragged you back into the house.

This person, you could not fight off, his strength more than even you and Akaashi combined. Bokuto pulled you back into your living room, tossing you on the ground with no regard to how much power was behind his movements.

That was when you realized how much they truly planned this out. You always felt their eyes on you for a reason - they were memorizing your schedule.

From the route you took home, to when you had off-days, to the one time in weeks that both your parents would not be home tonight - Akaashi and Bokuto had planned it all.

And now you were trapped in your own home with two violent volleyball members.

Bokuto looked at you expectedly while Akaashi trudged down your banister, his gaze harsh and predatory as it scanned your figure on the ground. You were sandwiched between the two, nowhere to run and if you were to scream, then the wing-spiker would just hold you down like before or worse, the setter would choke you until you had no voice.

“Let me go.” You stated, voice promulgating the silent air.

Bokuto crossed his arms and walked to your kitchen, expression on his face stating that he wasn’t willing to listen to you beg. His presence alone was a silent warning, run and he will catch you.

You backed away from Akaashi but he rushed forward to grab you by the hair, pulling you to a standing position and forcing your lips together. The force was bruising, not at all romantic or gentle like you had done so in the past. He was nipping harshly, surely swollen lips under his teeth as he continued to assault your person.

“You are mine, forever.” He muttered against your lips, locking in your future least you face the consequences of disobeying.

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Come checkout some of the other ending’s for the Cheater!Akaashi scenario:

➳ Masterlist ➳ Part One ➳ Part Three (nsfw)

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i-like-writing-stuff · 4 years

Text

seconds [five hargreeves x reader]

request: Hello, I saw that we could send in requests. I was wondering if u could do a 5 fic (with Same AU about them having worked in commission)Five realizing he has been/is in love with reader and decides to tell them but everything goes sideways. It can be around S2 remembering the times they spent together with the “One could fall in love in seconds” talk that he and Hargreeves had, or them physically older in commission in a case. U decide what goes, there r just ideas incase it was too general ☺️

a/n: sooo i tried my best to follow the request and i hope this turned out alright! it may not be my best work, but i guess i am pretty pleased with the way it turned out?? i suck at angst, btw- i am a sucker for fluff sorry >:(

summary: five realizes it is time to be honest about his feelings... but, it may not be the best time

“So much can change in a matter of seconds.” Reginald said, watching the boy before him carefully, “One could overthrow an empire.” He paused, reading into his next gestures, “One could fall in love.”

Five shifted into his seat, letting the advice sink in. He knew the old man was not that far off, he might have had a point, especially after his last example. I mean, he did fall in love with Y/N in just a matter of seconds the first time he saw her, didn’t he?

It always plays in the back of his head the moment he first laid eyes on you all those years ago on his first day working with the Commission. You had just returned from one of your missions, exhausted and overall a mess, but not once you dared to drop the small reassuring smile on your lips- you didn’t want your co-workers to know what was going on through your soul, you wanted to seem tough. You wanted to show them you still got it at your age.

Even now Five could recall that day perfectly. He was in the Handler’s office, waiting to be assigned his first official task, when you stumbled in, holding a small briefcase which, unbeknownst to him, contained the hand of your unfortunate victim- it was a personal business your boss had sent you on to take care of for her.

“Sorry to barge in like this, but you told me to hurry.” You told the Handler, putting on a small smile as you lifted the briefcase.

“Ah, Y/N!” The Handler grinned, taking a soft drag out of her cigarette, “You’re a doll, did you know that?”

“Well, I’ve been told before.” You answered her proudly, slightly shrugging your shoulders as she motioned you to leave the briefcase by the door.

Not even now he could not understand what was it about you. Maybe it was the way you spoke nonchalantly to the woman with the biggest power in your organization, or maybe the way you had a smile on your face, even if the collar of your white shirt had been stained with specks of blood.

Within a matter of seconds from just seeing you, he forgot he had lived a long life, he felt like a kid again. Your eyes gave away reassurance and life experience- he found them comforting. Spending all that time in solitude, that’s all he wanted to see from a person- comfort.

It was a matter of time until the Handler trusted you to show him around and take him under your wing, trusting you as one of her best agents. For the first few missions, you and Five were partners, you always treated him like an equal, even if you had more experience.

Spending all that time with you, he definitely fell deeper in love. He knew there was no way out, but he also knew there was no way in hell he could act on those feelings. He still wanted to go home to his siblings, back in time, to save the world.

So... he took you with him.

At first you thought he was insane- you didn’t have a reason to betray the Commission, it never wronged you.

However, you disagreed with Doomsday.

“Did I say something wrong?” Reginald asked Five, noticing it had been a few seconds since he last spoke, having his look fixated on his drink.

“Uh, no- I was just thinking.” Five quickly said, looking back at the man, “The acorn, right?”

Five had been through a lot of shit these past two weeks. He returned back to his siblings with the person he secretly loved, tried to stop the apocalypse in 2019, only to fail and have to go back in time to 1963, where another apocalypse was waiting on him as well.

He needed a break.

Really, all he wanted was to go home with the people he cared about and have everything be alright. Deep down, he yearned to be held in your arms, while his brothers and sisters were all safely scattered around their big house. He needed peace and quiet, just for once in his life.

After the light supper 1963 Reginald Hargreeves invited you and his... future-adoptive-children, things did not entirely go as planned... He was your only hope, but he was not much help, as he managed to break Diego with a psychology lesson, ignore Luther after he showed him his body, and quickly dismiss you, Allison and Vanya- well, you tried to behave yourselves as well as you could after Klaus had a literal convulsion at the table.

Reggie only told Five to stay a while, seeing that he was the only sane one. The rest of the Hargreeves just left in their business, but you decided to wait by the elevator, knowing that he might not be in the best state of mind after having spent time with his maniac of a father.

“Y/N?” Five raised a brow, as he was making his way towards the elevator with his hands casually rested in his pockets, “You... waited?”

“Of course.” You smiled, folding your arms over your chest, “I figured you shouldn’t be alone after... that... dinner.” You frowned, unsure of what to call the disastrous meeting.

Five fought back a smile, pressing the elevator button. He never understood how you, of all people, became an assassin. You were just too good, too sweet. He never thought you actually had it in you to take lives and be an agent of the Commission, not with that gentle smile and adorable spark in your eyes.

Well, he never understood either how he could fall in love that easily, but that was besides the point. What mattered to him was that the world was still gonna end in a couple of days, and now the only solution he had left was the deal with the Handler- big surprise, his father was not that much help.

“Hey, Y/N?” Five spoke up, as the two of you entered the elevator, “Thank you.”

“For... what?” You knitted your brows in confusion, pressing the button as the doors closed, taking you two down.

“For being there, I guess.” He shrugged- Five never was the sentimental guy, but he felt like you deserved some praise. You followed him, you trusted him, you left your job at the Commission.

But it never occurred to him why. He never spent much time thinking why in the world would you trust him? Sure, you’ve known each other a while and he knew you saw him as a dear friend... unless, you saw him as more.

Five widened his eyes in realization, as you let out a small chuckle at his sudden gratitude, not looking at him.

Holy shit, Five thought, as his mouth hung open, slowly looking to his right, watching as you smiled softly, looking at nothing in particular, This is a far fetch, but... could she actually...?

All this time, he buried his feelings deep within him. He figured you didn’t need that kind of thing on your mind- it never seemed to be the time for him to be honest about what he felt. But now that he thought about it...

All those missions the two of you have been on, how could he not see it earlier?

The way you blindly trusted your life in his hands, or the way you worried for him, cared for him. You always scolded him for not being to careful and letting himself get injured, but he never read into it too much. Or the way you accepted all his schemes and shenanigans and respected all his weird peeves.

“Are you okay?” You frowned, turning to Five once the elevator doors opened, noticing the shocked look on his face and the silence surrounding the two of you, “You look like you’ve seen Ben.”

Five quickly shook his head, stepping out of the elevator with you, trying to regain his train of thought. Maybe he was thinking too much into this... but what if he wasn’t? What if, for once in his life, something could actually go right?

Without another word, Five cupped your cheeks, pulling your face softly closer to his, capturing your lips into a kiss. You were taken aback in the beginning, freezing in your place with your eyes wide opened, trying to make sense of what was going on, but you realized you shouldn’t be wasting this opportunity.

It was about time, you thought, melting into his touch, finally responding to the kiss.

Pulling away after a couple of moments, Five looked at your face, trying to read your emotions. However, he was pleasantly surprised, watching as your lips curved into a smirk, taking his hands in yours, slowly swaying them as you looked at him;

“Took ya long enough.”

Five scoffed amused, shaking his head in disbelief, “Better late than never, right?”

“Are there any words to come with that gesture?” You perched a brow curiously, “Or am I supposed to try and deduce...?”

Before Five could properly confess his feelings, his face fell once he laid eyes on the round clock displayed on the wall behind you. Shit, he thought, reading the time.

“I gotta go.” He suddenly declared, making your frown, “Shit, I gotta go right now!”

“What?” You wondered, as Five took his hands away, running his fingers through his hair stressed out.

He completely forgot about his meeting with the Handler- his only option still standing to save the world and go back to your timeline.

“Y/N, I am so sorry.” He genuinely apologized, as you were still trying to make sense of what was going on, “I gotta go!”

“Five!” You yelled, watching as he ran out of the building, “Get your butt back he- and, he’s gone...”

What the fuck just happened?

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy imagines #the umbrella academy x reader #number five #number five x reader #five hargreeves #five hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves imagines #five hargreeves x reader #number five imagine #number five imagines

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pascalscenarios · 3 years

Text

THE ONE (Frankie Morales x Reader)

THE ONE

Frankie Morales x Reader

Summary: Years ago with Santiago. Present day you go to visit your cousin, only to find out Frankies there. Three of you take a trip down memory lane.

Warning: Swearing // Alcohol Consumption

Words: 2877

Authors Note: So for the sake of the story, I changed the amount of years between the last time Frankie and Reader saw each other. Frankie and Reader haven't seen each other in 10 years. Frankie left the reader in 2011. Sorry for the change, but it will make sense later… hopefully. Also not sure how old Frankie is, So I’m saying he’s born in 1979, making him 41. - k

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3

Chapter 3

“Santiago!” You sat on the floor, your back against a wall as you hysterically cried through the phone.

“Whoa Whoa, Smiles what’s wrong?” Santiago was concerned, sacred, hearing you so emotional. Never in his life has he heard you cry this hard.

“Frankie- he -I-I don’t know where he- -” you stumble over your words as you try to retell your cousin what has happened. You were hyperventilating, in a panic, not knowing what to do.

“Smiles, I need you to slow down. Take deep breaths for me okay.”

You listen to Santiago’s directions and try your best to calm yourself down. You take deep breaths as you clutched the phone tightly. Your lips tremble as you silently cry.

“Alright, can you tell me what’s wrong? Most importantly, are you hurt?”

“It’s Frankie-” You breathed out.

“Frankie?!” Santiago begins to jump to conclusions. His tone became protective and stern. “Did he hurt you? I swear to god if he-“

You knew what he was implying. “N-no of course not! He would never- You and I both know that...”

“What is it then? What’s wrong?”

You close your eyes, tears falling rapidly, your lips trembling again.

“He’s gone! H-he just up and left with no explanation. He walked out on me. Santi, he left me!” you wailed through the phone. “I-I don't even know what I did wrong! I begged him to stay and talk to me but he took off in his truck with bags packed in the back.” You wiped your tears and runny nose with your hoodie.

“I’m coming over. I’ll be there in a few minutes okay? Just hang tight” You heard the jingle of his keys and the sound of his car's engine starting up.

“Can you stay on the phone with me… please” you whispered.

“Of course.”

…

Santiago came over and held you until you had no more tears left to cry. That night your cousin promised you that he will figure out what was going on with his best friend and knock some sense into him. Santiago was just as confused as you were. He had no idea why Frankie would up and leave like that, especially if it was you. Frankie was head over heels in love with you. You were his whole world. His life revolved around you. Frankie better have a good reason for leaving.

Santiago tried getting a hold of Frankie for several days until one day Frankie finally answered. The two of them agreed to meet at a park not too far from you and Frankie's apartment. Santiago promised Frankie not to bring you along.

“Dude, What the fuck?! Seriously what is with you?! I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for DAYS. Smiles have been worrying sick about you! They’re a fucking mess man, a complete wreck. They’re so broken. You need to go back and make things right. You need to fix this.” Santiago yells as he approaches Frankie who was sitting on a park bench.

“I-I can’t go back there, Santi. I can’t face, Smiles.” His head hung low, his arms resting on his knees.

“Did you mean all those things you told Smiles?” Santiago says sitting next to Frankie on the bench.

“Of course not! I love them, I do. You know that. I love them more than anything, but I did this for Smiles’ good. It’s better off this way. Smiles will get over me. They don’t need me.”

“Frankie, what's going on?”

“I couldn’t bring myself to tell Smiles, so I decided to leave.” He looks up at Santiago with tears in his eyes.

“What did you do?”

…

You laid on your couch, flipping through the TV stations. You were in your pj’s, snuggled up in a blanket. You watched tv to distract yourself from your reality. You heard the front door open, You sit up, thinking maybe Frankie came back, but it was just Santiago.

“Hey.” you give him a small smile.

“How are you feeling?” Santiago says standing in front of the TV.

You click the TV off with the remote, sitting up on the couch.

“I’m alright.”

“Smiles… I went and saw Frankie.”

“What?!” You jump up from the couch, your whole mood changes. “Where is he?! Is he here?! Is he okay?!” You grab Stantiagos shoulders, desperate for an answer.

“He doesn’t want to see you. He’s not coming back, Smiles.”

“What do you mean he doesn't want to see- not coming back?”

“I tried, Smiles. I tried to get him to come to talk things out with you, but he doesn’t want to. I can’t force him to do something he doesn’t want to do. It’s up to him.”

“So you know why he left me?… Tell me!” you begged.

“You need to hear it from him, not me.”

“Santiago! I��m your cousin, your flesh and blood and you’re not going to tell me why he left? Are you fucking kidding me?! You’re just going to keep it from me because he’s your best friend. After all, you promised him not to say anything huh! Wow! You’re going to put your best friend before your own family!” You were fuming, angry that your cousin couldn’t tell you the truth, the reason why Frankies gone.

“Smiles, It’s not like that!” Santiago gets defensive.

“That’s EXACTLY what it sounds like! You’re covering his ass by not telling me!” You yell.

“I don’t agree with how he left you. That was wrong with him and he could have gone about it another way, but I’m not telling you because he needs to do it himself. This is his situation, he needs to man up and tell you himself. He will do so when he’s ready to tell you.” Santiago.

“Get out, Santi.” you stare at him deadpan.

“Smiles-”

“GET OUT!” You grab him by his shirt dragging him to the door. Swinging the door open, you shoved your cousin out the door. Before you could say anything, you slam the door on his face.

“Smiles! Open up!” He pounded against the door.

You leaned against the door as you let your body slide to the floor. Santiago's words rang in your head. ‘He doesn't want to see you, He’s not coming back.’

“He’ll come back.” You say to yourself. “He’ll come around. He’ll be back in a few days.”

You waited days, weeks, months, and years. He never came back.

…

“Santiago!” You smiled as you greeted him at his front door. He embraced you tightly, slightly lifting you off the ground.

“Hey, cousin!” he sets you down on the ground.

Santiago was more like your brother than he was your cousin. The two of you were always close. You had your moments when you couldn’t stand each other. When you and Frankie broke up, you cut off Santiago after he wasn’t willing to tell you. The two of you didn’t talk to each other for a couple of years until you eventually came to terms that Frankie wasn’t ever coming back.

“How are you doing?” he moves out of the way letting you walk into his house. You kick off your shoes, setting your bag on the coffee table, and flopping yourself down onto his couch.

“I’m alright. Just a little stressed from the wedding.”

Santiago shuts the door, walking over to his kitchen off to the right.

“How’s Alex doing?” he asks, opening the fridge grabbing two beers, and popping the caps off with a bottle opener magnet that was mounted on the fridge.

“He’s doing great, he finally got the promotion he wanted.” you smiled.

“Good for him. Alex is such a whiz.” He chuckles as he hands you a beer. You thank him for holding it in your hands.

Santiago sat on the opposite side of the coffee table, sitting across from you.

“I saw him you know.”

“Saw who?” He chugs his beer.

“Frankie.”

Santiago chokes on his beer, leaning forward. Beer spilled out the sides of his mouth, using the back of his hands to whip his lips. He coughs a bit, his eyes widening.

“You saw him?!” he couldn't believe what you just said.

“Yeah, I saw him. I ran into him when I was leaving the bridal store and I ran into him when Alex and I went to lunch a couple of days ago. Alex invited Frankie along.`` You roll your eyes, putting the beer bottle to your lips and taking a swig.

“You need to tell your best friend to lay off.”

“Why what did he do?”

“Santi, he shows up in my life out of nowhere! I was so shocked by seeing him, I invited him to the damn wedding! It’s been a decade since the last time I saw him, and he expects he can just waltz in and act as nothing happened? It took me forever to get over him and here he is making best friends with my finance? Like what type of ex-boyfriend does that? Especially one that's been M.I.A for ten years.”

“So he didn’t tell you about-”

“Tell me about what? The reason why he left? No! He still hasn't told me jack shit, and he owns me that much! He’s been living in my head for the past couple of days and I thought I’ve moved past him and not ever truly knowing his reason for leaving, but it’s like I'm getting sucked back into the early months and years of when he first left. I’m always wondering, questioning, thinking. It’s driving me INSANE.”

You chug down the rest of your beer, setting it down on the table.

“He didn’t even tell me he saw you.” He leans back into the couch.

“Yeah, I thought you would have told him I was getting married. I saw that look on his face when he realized the dress from the bridal shower was mine. I felt bad, why the hell am I the one feeling bad? I had every right to move on! He’s the one that left me! Ugh, I need another beer.” you say as you fall over to the side, your face laying in the cushion.

“I feel like I shouldn't even be telling you this.”

“What why?”

“Because you might go and report it back to Frankie. Telling him he’s been living in my mind rent-free for the past several days.”

“I never talk about you with Frankie, unless he brings you up.”

“Brings me up?”

“It’s like how over the years, you ask me to see how he’s doing, it's the same thing. He would ask me how you’re were doing.”

You groan.

The sliding glass door opens, making you sit up. What the hell?!

“Hey, Santi, you got more caracol?” Frankie says the sticking part of his body inside, holding a beer in his hand. His eyes landing on you. “Oh...hi.”

You didn’t say anything and just gave him a slight smile.

“There should be in the shed, man!”

“Alright,” Frankie says shutting the glass door.

Of course, he was fucking here. You turn to glare at Santiago.

“What the HELL Santi!” you chuck a pillow in his direction.

“Woah Hey!” he says as the pillow lands on him.

“I can’t BELIEVE he's over here! What is he doing over here? Also, he could have heard all the shit I was saying!” You were angry.

“I’m Barbecuing! I didn’t know you were gonna dump all your Frankie drama out on me!”

“Oh god, I can’t with you! You could have told me he was outside!”

“I didn’t think I would have to?! I thought you came to talk about quick sit down chat wedding stuff for a bit then leave!”

You pick up another pillow, shoving it your face and groaning.

“I mean since you’re here you might as well stay,” he suggested.

“No! I already dealt with him at lunch with Alex, I don't need another awkward interaction.”

“Come on, for old time sake?”

“What are we going to do to drive down Memory Lane?”

…

That’s exactly what the three of you did. You ended up staying. Most of the night, you stayed guarded. Your walls were up around Frankie. You didn’t want to let him in easily but failed after the familiarity set in, the atmosphere felt like how things used to be. It felt like nothing had ever happened. You missed the times it was the three of you. You, Santiago, and Frankie sat on the back patio, laughing your asses off. You guys laughed until you cried about the shit you did when you were all younger.

“And remember that one time when we dragged Frankie and his inflatable mattress out of the tent and put him on the lake when he was sleeping!” You laughed

“I remember that!” Frankie threw his head back laughing. “You guys were such assholes, I woke up half away across the lake!”

“You deserved it! You scared me shitless when I thought a damn bear was outside of my tent!”

“I can’t believe you fell for that, yet again you were pretty gullible growing up, Smiles.” Santi laughs.

“Was not!”

“Are too!” Santiago and Frankie.

A phone began to ring. Frankie reaches in his pocket grabbing his phone and answering it.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” he says as he stands up, walking over to the wooden railing.

‘Sweetheart’ a pang of jealousy washed over you. He was with someone. You wished that was you. After all these years he found someone. You began to wonder how he met them and how long they had been together. You began to think again where you went wrong. What did you do to make him leave? What did his new partner have that you lacked all those years ago. What were you thinking? You were getting married to Alex soon, none of this should even matter. You try to shake your feelings and shove them down.

“Alright, I’ll see you in a little bit. I love you too.” He hangs up the phone.

You needed to leave. “I’m gonna head home.” You look over to Santiago.

“Okay. Thanks for staying.” Santi smiled.

“Yeah. Thanks for having me over.” You giggle standing up to hug him as he sits in his chair.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you too.”

“Hey, It’s late. I’ll walk you to your car.” Frankie buds in.

“O-okay.”

You headed back inside with Frankie, You slip on your shoes, grab your bag and head out the door.

The two of you remained quiet as you walked the sidewalk. Your car was parked at the curb several houses down from Santiagos.

“Tonight was...fun,” he said breaking the silence.

“Yeah.”

“It felt like old times. I miss and think about those days constantly.” He chuckled slightly.

“Yeah...but the past is the past.”

You and Frankie stopped at your White Camry. You put your key into the lock but stop. You turn around.

“What do you want from me?”

“Honestly…” He signed. “I just wanna make things right with you.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“It’s not that simple Smiles..”

“Not that simple?! Frankie, I waited for you, YEARS even to come back and to just explain to me. Whatever it was, I would have worked it through with you. I didn’t care what it was, as long as I had you.” you confessed.

“I-look it’s complicated and long-”

“Explain it to me then. Tell me why you left. I’m all ears...” You say taking your hand in his.

“Smiles, Not here. Not now- ” he lets go of your hand.

“Not ever huh?”

“Smiles-”

“You know what? Forget it.” You get in your car, slamming the door shut. You start the engine and drive off, leaving him standing there on the sidewalk.

“You should have told them.” Santiago's voice calls out from behind. He comes to stand next to Frankie, the both of them watching your car drive off down the road. “You kept it from Smiles for so long, they deserve the right to know. Hell, smiles deserved to know from the very beginning. You just iced her out for a decade. I’m surprised she made it this long without finding out on their own.”

“I did what I thought was right.”

“I know you were scared, you had every right to be but you heard smiles, she would have stayed if you just would have opened up. I told you countless times to get-go talk to them, Frankie”

“It was easier just to push Smiles away. I did what I had to do.”

“And both of your face repercussions because of that.”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“All you can do is just tell smiles about what happened and why you made the choices you did. From there, things will fall in place. Everything is going to turn and be the way it is supposed to be.” Santiago places a hand on Frankie's shoulder before turning and walking back home.

He was still scared like he was a decade ago, but it was time for him to face the music. No running away this time. He had to tell you. He had to tell you about Lilah.

#triple frontier #Frankie Morales x Reader #francisco morales #frankie morales #Frankie #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal #pedro

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goopyartiste · 4 years

Text

Love Lost

Prompt: loosely inspired by “just a boy” by Alaina Castillo

Pairing: Bakugo x Reader

Warnings: 15+, swearing, drinking and alcohol, implied sexual acts

Word Count: 2.1k words

A/N: this one was super fun to make actually! this was the first time i had properly written for Bakugo, so hopefully it turned out well! i really just thought of this while listening to my angsty playlist, so it just grew from there! thanks to @peach-pops and @sugas-sweetheart both for beta reading this and helping me actually finish this in time. now on to the story! enjoy <3

You were never supposed to find out, especially not through Denki. Spending the evening with Sero and Denki at his house was supposed to be your escape from the reality that was your failing relationship with Bakugo. Tonight was not supposed to bring you more stress.

“I’m telling you Y/N,” Denki slurred, clearly inebriated, “he told us that at that bar, you know, the one he always goes to, he met a girl and hooked up with her!”

Sero, also drunk, took this opportunity to jump in, “Dude! You’re right! I completely forgot he told us!”

While the two continued their conversation, you remained seated on the couch, absolutely at a loss for words. Of course you were no idiot. You were painfully aware of the struggles you and your partner were facing. You just never expected him to cheat on you, especially since he had promised to begin to fix your relationship. Now you were wondering, how long has he been keeping this from you?

And thus, thanks to Kaminari, your mind fell into a downward emotional spiral. Where did they go? Was it in your shared bed? In hers? Were you just not good enough? Did he continue to see her? Was it a one night stand? Thoughts like these circled your mind for at least a week after Kaminari’s slip up, and as much as you wanted to tell someone, anyone, about what was going on through your mind, you were stuck. Finally, you decided to not stoop down to Bakugo’s level and give him the opportunity to confess. Surely, he would, right?

Unfortunately, Bakugo just had to prove you wrong once again. Even with your constant hints to confess, he remained stoic to your advances. You carefully tried to incite a conversation with him about anything, but you were always shut down. Either he still didn’t understand that you knew, or he frankly didn’t want to talk about it with you. All this back and forth, tip toeing around an invisible line, drove you absolutely insane.

So, you did something about it.

One day, you managed to both be in the house at the same time. Seeing this you snatched the opportunity fate had thrown your way. You had just about enough of his stubbornness. Walking to the kitchen, you found him sitting on the couch. Quickly, you approached him.

“Bakugo, I have a question for you.”

The usually loud and abrasive man only stared you down with a twinge of fear in his crimson eyes. He was aware that you knew, that much as obvious solely by the fact that you addressed him by his last name. Although he knew what he did, the man in front of you only wished to delay the inevitable. Of course, Bakugo still had to put up a front.

Glaring at you, he took his time responding to you, “Go ahead dumbass, I’m listening.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at the nickname. Whether it was from anger or embarrassment, you were unsure. Deciding to ignore the searing warmth present, you continued.

“Do you trust me?”

Bakugo tensed slightly at your question, already knowing where this conversation could go. It was time to face the problem at hand.

“Yeah, I do,” he responded, anticipating the end of your inquiries.

“Well, that’s good to know. Now tell me, would you like it if i held secrets from you? Some potentially shocking news?”

“Well, no-”

You cut him off, “Ah! That’s good to know. You don’t mind if I ask another question do you?”

The atmosphere around the both of you was heavy with tension and anger, both of you wanting to say something, but repressing it in hopes of escalating the simmering situation.

Bakugo begins, clearly holding back his anger, “Go ahead smartass, you already asked two anyways.”

This ticked you off. How did he have the gall to call you a smartass when he was sitting there so nonchalantly answering your questions as if this wasn’t serious. Thus, you had had just about enough of him and his attitude.

“So, Bakugo,” you spat out lacing your voice with as much venom as you could while feigning innocence, “you know I trust you whenever you’re with me. That’s just obvious. But when you leave, I don't know what to think. I mean, what if let's say some girl come up to you and suddenly you lose all control?”

You stared at him once more, “How could I trust you then?”

“What are you implying, Y/N? Are you sure this shit isn’t you mind at work again or are you trying to make me mad?” Bakugo answered, clearly trying to avoid answering the question. You were right after all.

You couldn’t trust him then.

“Oh I’m sure I'm not crazy. I also know that this isn’t all in my head.”

“Really?” He looked at you dubiously. “And how would you know that?”

You took a step towards him, looking at his enchanting vermillion eyes. God how you wished the relationship with him didn’t have to end like this. As soon as you were close enough, you slowly began to sneer at him as you spat out your answer.

“Denki told me.” He stopped glaring, fear flashed in his carnelian eyes before it vanished. You continued, “yeah it’s funny, he told me you hooked up with a girl at a bar at least a month ago.”

“So, dunce face spilled huh? Doesn't matter anyway its in the past,” Bakugo retorted quickly, hoping that this would be the end of this conversation. But his attempt to change the conversation failed.

For you, this was the final straw. His constant ignorance towards your plight and his attempts to change the subject pissed you off.

“I thought you were over this from high school,” you spat. “Don't insult one of your friends! The only reason he even told me was because he was drunk! And, if you don't mind, I would very much like to discuss this ‘past event’ since, ya’ know it impacts me too.”

You stared at him, taking a shaky breath before continuing, “be honest with me, were you ever gonna tell me?”

“y/n-”

“No! I need you to be honest. Were you ever gonna tell me?” You shouted, trying to get him to listen to you for once.

Bakugo tensed. His response would either diffuse or inflame the situation. Sadly, he knew where his next words would take him.

“No, I wasn’t gonna tell you. Are you happy now?”

You scoffed. “So I'm not good enough to be told when my boyfriend fucks someone else?” Tears began to well up in your eyes.

No, you refused to let him see you cry.

“I can't believe you were going to let me love a lie.”

Bakugo felt himself start to become riled up. He felt his breathing rapidly increase. To him, you weren’t understanding. This moment marked the tipping of the scale, frustration and anger overtaking tension.

“Oh please! Quit exaggerating will you?! What were you gonna do if I told you? Were you gonna yell? Scream? Cry? Were you gonna question me or just pack your bags and leave? What would you have done?”

You flinched at his gruff tone, clearly caught off guard. In a silent defeat, you responded, “I don't know..”

“What was that? Speak louder.”

“I said I DON'T KNOW WHAT I WOULD HAVE DONE!” You knew you shouldn’t have let your feelings overtake you, but his brash pestering began to whittle you down. “I don't know if we could have worked things out or not but all I know is that we are here now and it's up to you to explain to me why and how.”

Bakugo was startled at this. He never expected for you to ask for his own side of the story. His whole body was begging for him to just let go, tell you everything and be vulnerable. But his own inhibitions stopped him. “Explain what to you? What is there to explain?”

“I don't know! How about you start with the whole situation and why you thought it best to cheat in the first place!”

“Well then picture this, hm?” Bakugo began, gesturing with his pointer finger. “We got into one of our usual fights. I left here like always and went to a bar. There, a woman took me to her place while I was drunk. But I wasn’t going to leave you for her, but because of all of our fights until you decided to try to work things out!”

You and Bakugo looked into each other’s eyes, and indescribable emptiness and brokenness being the only emotions you both saw. He had said too much, and you heard the one thing you didn't want to hear. He was planning on leaving you from the start.

The tears that had threatened to fall earlier now trailed down from your eyes as you slowly made your own feelings known. “You know what Bakugo, I’ve had just about enough of you. All my life I thought we could actually be together. You know one of those cute couples that love each other. Ever since our first year at U.A. I’ve pined after you, but now? I live in constant fear that I’m not good enough. I live in a state of mind where I fear that one day you’ll wake up and leave me. And now? You tell me you wouldn't even tell me if you've been loyal or not. Hell! You don’t even want to be with me!”

Bakugo froze, pain evident in his eyes. He knew he had gone too far.

“Y/N-”

“Don't,” you took a step back, “come near me please. The only thing I know right now is that I can't be near you. I don’t want to be near you. I thought we could work this out or maybe find a solution, but I can't. At least not now.”

Bakugo started at your cowering figure. He had done this to you, the person he had finally learned to love. How could you just ask him to let you go now?

“Y/N, please. You've shown me how much you love me. I’m not the same person I was a few months ago. That woman was in the past. You are my now,” Bakugo was practically begging at this point, his walls crumbling down too late to change your mind.

You managed to look up, finding his eyes. Both of you were hurt, too much to continue this conversation. You carefully took a step towards him, almost as if floating on air.

Gently caressing his cheek, you struck one final blow to his heart, “I’m sorry Katsuki, but I don't think we were the right fit together. We didn’t work and that's okay. Right now, I need some space.”

Bakugo watched as you gracefully turned from his view. It took him too long for your words to finally sink in, leaving him frozen. No, you couldn’t leave him. Not with the way you tenderly said his name. Not after you softly held his cheek after he spent months ignoring your touch. Your figure drifted across the room, grabbing a small bag and filling it with some of your belongings while making your way over to the entrance to the abode that you both shared.

“I'll be back in a few days once I've cleared my head and come up with a decision. You turned to face him, making sure to lock eyes with him as you said your final goodbyes. “I love you, Katsuki, I really do.”

These were your final words as you left your apartment. With the sound of the door closing, Bakugo felt his knees collapse as he hit the floor with a thud. He felt as if he had just been dropped into the arctic, frozen from shock, almost dumbfounded by what he had just done. He slowly felt a tear roll down his face, followed by another. It wasn't long until sobs wracked his body as he knelt on the floor. The hot and heavy tears flowed endlessly until he felt his lungs ache. His breathing became erratic, no clear pattern or rhythm as he struggled to catch his breath. His whole body was shaking as he sobbed hunched over, holding his body to keep himself grounded.

Katsuki Bakugo has just lost the best thing in his life, and there was no getting them back.

Taglist (OPEN!)

@peach-pops @kirislut @deephasoceanmagic @katsushimaa @hannahalanib1 @estridries @art0saurus @yee-harr @shoutamajiki @spookykiri @animatedarchives @meliorist-midoriya @sugas-sweetheart @suggiebabe @justamultifandomfan16 @ohno-grapes

#bakugo x reader #mha katsuki #mha bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo fanfiction #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo angst #bakugo angst #Stories from the Galaxy; — 🌌

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madaras-housewife · 3 years

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Nighthawk

I’ve had this idea in my head for like 2 days and I wanted to put it on paper really badly so I wrote it on a whim. It’s poorly edited too so forgive me if there are any grammatical erorrs. 3 am vibes babyyyyy

pairing: Madara Uchiha x reader

length: 1.8k

tw: none

It wouldn’t be too contrived to compare Madara to the weather outside. He was a storm; majestic, grandiose and powerful. And yet, there he slept next to you, in the same bed you had been sharing for a while now. Had it been two years already? Your mind was too foggy to think about something even as simple as that; or maybe the pouring rain was at fault. It was almost too loud for you to hear your own thoughts, but you still heard them, nonetheless.

Somehow, you wished the rain could drown them out, the way you knew your newly planted crops would be soggy by morning. What a shame. Madara was going to be so disappointed after pestering you about planting a garden and having worked so hard on it. He had several skills, ranging from diplomacy to combat, but gardening was not one of them. Nevertheless, he insisted that it would be healthy for your growing family.

Even though your husband was near you, the abrasive feeling of loneliness filled your bones. It was always this way when it stormed, wasn’t it? Especially that night.

You turned your head to the side, squinting your eyes, but the room was too dark to see the clock. Carefully enough, you stood straight so as not to bother your man and rubbed your dry cheek. The thought of sleeping was way past you and, if you weren’t already certain about that, you definitely were when a billowing thunder roared so closely to you, you felt it rock your body with intensity. Before realising it, you recoiled and stubbornly balled your fists.

That night marked five years since Izuna had died. You only met him a few times, before you and Madara had become a couple. It often felt like the Uchiha compound was empty, as if it was missing something. Would it have been odd to say that you were missing someone you barely even knew? That was not quite right. In fact, you knew a great deal about the younger brother from Madara’s stories about their childhood, their squabbles and frequent conflicts regarding war. At one point, it started consuming Izuna’s consciousness, warping it into something dangerous, something that not even his elder brother possessed at the time; desire for conflict.

Whereas you counted years, Madara counted every day, even though he would never tell you that. It was obvious when he called that name in his sleep, almost every night, in a meek, broken voice that sounded nothing like the man you knew. If anything, he sounded like a scared child who wandered alone in the darkness. Even when you hurriedly draped your arms over him and clung onto him, his brows never fully unfurrowed.

Not even when he slept was he at peace.

Without realising, you turned your body to his side of the bed. Madara was sleeping on his back, soundly, as small snores parted his lips. He hated snoring and he swore he would never sleep in that position again, saying that shinobi must have control over themselves at all times. You smiled and promised yourself you wouldn’t mention it when morning came. All you wanted was to bend down to give him a small peck, but instead, you settled for brushing the hair out of his face, caressing his face so gently that you barely touched his skin. Your husband would usually wake up at the smallest touch, since you knew him as a light sleeper, but on that night, he seemed to be more tired than usual. Even in the darkness, you could make out that the creases below his eyes were a tad more prominent than usual. Peace was… exhausting sometimes, to say the least.

A flash of lightning cracked the midnight sky into two, brightening the room enough for you to see that he had a slight frown on his face. Your hand pressed itself against his forehead until you felt the tension slowly disperse. Now he looked rather calm and stress-free, as if a burden had been lifted from him. He seemed to have many of those these days and they piled up, almost forming a wall between the two of you. Deep within your heart, you wondered if that wall would become impenetrable, if you wouldn’t be able to reach him anymore.

You truly wished Izuna had been there instead. Though it was nothing more than an oversimplified solution to the numerous problems you and Madara faced(when, in fact, it wouldn’t even be that anymore, now that his little brother had been gone for so long), you liked to think that he could make your husband happy, happier than you made him. The comparison felt silly, unfair and unwarranted. You even felt selfish for thinking such a thing. Despite rarely ever showing it, his stares had grown a little fonder and his hugs a bit tighter since he received the news, and it was your candle of hope during the grim days, when he chose solidarity over comfort, working all night long, going on missions only to separate himself from the village and the clan which had caused him so much pain.

There would soon be another source of joy in his life and you wondered if you were up to the task. It was something that you had been ruminating over for months, but couldn’t quite put into words until now, though not exactly sure why. Maybe the chaotic life of inhabiting a shinobi clan had made it more difficult for you to truly look at yourself, to see what was inside. So instead, you chose to lash out at your husband again and again, until your anger poisoned him and all the patience he mustered for both of your sakes. But you were blessed with a headstrong man, who, in all that vast sea of insecurities and responsibilities, rarely ever mistreated your heart. Especially lately, when Madara had been sharing the same fears as you did.

On the other hand, Madara didn’t take out his anger on you the way you did. He lets all his fury simmer, lets all his misgivings haunt him, until everything builds up to a tempestuous wrath which befalls him out of thin air. That was how he was taught, and it was one of the few lessons from his father, Tajima, which he didn’t reject. It was what his father had left him with, besides agonizing memories of war. However, when his last sibling passed away, it seemed as if all of Izuna’s own burdens were passed down, leaving him with double, maybe even triple the cargo(or maybe, you couldn’t really quantify suffering in mere numbers, the same way you couldn’t with words).

Madara’s shoulders were heavier. You felt it every day, when you gave him the regular massage in the evening. What was it that you promised him on your wedding day? (It was hard to remember, now that so much had happened.) You promised him you would always be his pillar, so that he wouldn’t tumble when it was too dim to see what was ahead of him, (in reality, no one could ever see what was ahead of them; one can only row the boat facing backwards), but marriage wasn’t as simple as that. If love is controlling, then wedlock is a dictator. It demands a home, sex, patience, shared meals, babies, empathy and eternity.

Another thunder roared mercilessly, making the earth quake below you. Sucking in a sharp breath, you wrapped your arms around yourself, cradling your stomach. The disagreements had become too frequent, the scowls too obstinate and the distance between you too lengthy. How long would it be until you completely failed, until you wouldn’t be an adequate wife for Madara Uchiha anymore? Until you weren’t fit to carry his children?

The rain now hammered the ground, like a deafening fusillade of bullets and, in a moment of insanity, you thought it was taunting you, mocking you. It was so loud that you didn’t even hear the raspy groan next to you, until you felt a hand on your forearm.

“Can’t rest?”. His dozy voice seemed to have pulled you out of your disquiet pitfall of thoughts. Without facing him, you shook your head. The lump in your throat was too thick to even open your mouth.

Your husband then grabbed your shoulder and gently pulled you down, until your back hit the now-cold sheets. For a split second, you glanced at his face and noticed that his half-lidded eyes were locked on your belly, but as soon as he felt you looking at him, he stared back. When Madara noticed your pursed lips and glimmering eyes, he sluggishly crawled closer to you, turning you on your side until his chest was pressed against your back. Wrapping his arm around you, you heard him inhaling deeply into your messy hair.

You eased into your man’s embrace. “Did I wake you up?”

“No. Now come sleep.”, Madara said.

You meekly nodded, pushing yourself against his warm body, the worries gradually dissolving into nothing more than what looked like particles of dust, ready to be washed away by the rain. But when he didn’t hear you reply, he placed a deep kiss on your soft spot, the crevasse between your neck and shoulder.

“You’re going to be a great mother, you know. I love you.”

Could he have read your mind? You didn’t know, but you also didn’t care about the answer. You were at home, exactly where you needed to be, with the person you needed. In that moment, you realised that Madara was going to be a great father, too.

“I love you too.”

Your husband always knew the right words to say; it was as if he could hear you even when you didn’t speak, mainly when you didn’t even want to. It might be that he just understood you that well. After all, he had a knack for reading people. Sometimes you would curse that talent of his, but it was in rare moments such as those when you were infinitely thankful for it, for it all.

It wouldn’t be too contrived to compare Madara to a storm. He was a majestic thunder in the sky, capricious, striking fear and admiration into your heart; a grandiose ocean which didn’t fall from the sky, but was driven, torrential, carving mountains and earth to his own pleasure, omniscient, poised; the powerful wind, howling loudly, as if yearning for a melody to sing his tune, bending trees and tearing houses in his way, almost seeking to outrun everyone else, until he felt forlorn. The floods were promised, the might of nature had already been unleashed, but there would be sunshine and warmth by morning.

#madara uchiha #madara uchiha x reader #madara one shot #naruto #naruto imagines #founders era #konoha #tobirama senju #hashirama senju #madara

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ingek73 · 3 years

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Why Meghan Markle Is a Champion for All Women

By Brittany Alexandra Sulc, updated on May 1, 2021

March is women’s history month, and the women of decades past deserve our celebration. Without them, we wouldn’t have the right to vote, own property or have a say in our own reproductive rights. The thing is, if that’s our bar for women’s liberation, it’s really low. The life of Meghan Markle is a perfect example.

This woman, who’s as close to a real-life, modern-day princess as a person can get, has been harassed, scrutinized and picked apart by the media and the royal family alike. In celebration of International Women’s Day, Meghan Markle’s bold moves are proof of how far we’ve come. Our treatment of her is proof of how far we have to go.

Meghan Markle is a new kind of royal, and not everyone’s a fan.

Let’s roll the tapes, shall we? Meghan Markle was born and raised in Los Angeles, California, and identifies as mixed-race. At age 11, Meghan confronted Procter & Gamble about a national dish soap campaign that she believed was sexist. A few months later, the company changed its ads.

She excelled in school, graduating from Northwestern in 2003 with a double major in theater and international studies. She went on to become an actress but met initial resistance because of her "ethnically ambiguous" looks. While she waited for her acting career to take off, she supported herself by teaching bookbinding and working as a freelance calligrapher. In 2011, she landed a lead role in USA’s "Suits," which she continued for several seasons through 2017.

She met Prince Harry in 2016, and the couple hit it off instantly. Less than two years later, they were married, and the following year, they welcomed their first child. At first glance, that sounds like every American girl’s dream. After growing up with Disney, "Princess Diaries" and the "Prince and Me," we all secretly loved the idea of being a princess. Meghan Markle lived out our dreams, but as it turns out, they weren’t as idyllic as we imagined.

In the five years since Meghan Markle met her prince, she has:

Struggled to gain acceptance from the royal family.

Been the target of harsh criticism and constant rumors from the British press and numerous tabloids. It got so bad that Prince Harry filed a defamation suit against one of them, which he recently won.

Had every detail of her past and personal life examined under a magnifying glass and exploited.

Faced significant backlash over her supposed choice to break with royal tradition.

Essentially, she dared to be American, middle-class, mixed-race, feminist and human. And she was punished for it.

Meghan Markle’s split from royal life was a symptom of a society stuck in the past. During Meghan’s time as an active member of the royal family, she faced a markedly different response from the media than her sister-in-law Kate Middleton. Meghan Markle’s previous divorce was picked apart, despite the fact that it happened years earlier. Something as innocuous as rubbing her pregnant belly, a pretty universal expecting-mom habit, was called "vain," while Kate was praised for doing the exact same thing.

Tabloids constantly portrayed Meghan as a rebellious villain set on breaking from tradition. In an 84-minute interview with Oprah, which was a scandal in and of itself, Meghan insists that couldn’t be further from the truth. She did her best to support the royal family, but they failed to return the favor.

When they had the opportunity to go on public record and deny slanderous rumors about her, they declined. In the interview, Meghan Markle stated, "They were willing to lie to protect other members of the family, but they weren’t willing to tell the truth to protect me and my husband."

When she appeared on the cover of almost every British tabloid, the royal institution asked her to lay low, despite the fact that she had left the house only twice in the previous months. It was all about appearances. Speaking of appearances, there was also a discussion about how her son would look when he was born. Specifically, whether his skin would be dark. Between blatant racist and sexist remarks to controlling isolation and a lack of support from "the firm," Meghan Markle’s mental health suffered. Whose wouldn’t?

In the 21st century, we’re still prioritizing appearances over mental health and human welfare. It needs to stop.

Meghan Markle endured all of this while pregnant, breastfeeding and adapting to motherhood. She went on to experience a miscarriage as well. Miscarriages are quite common, and they often happen without any apparent cause. Still, pregnancy is a physically taxing feat, and it’s possible for stress to impact a woman’s ability to sustain a healthy pregnancy. It’s insane that in 2021 we have cause to wonder whether the world stressed a so-called princess into a miscarriage.

How we treat people has a profound effect on their well-being. A modern-day "princess" felt so alone, so mistreated, that she didn’t want to be alive anymore. This is in her own words. She was so miserable that she didn’t feel like herself, experiencing terrifying, concrete thoughts about ending her own life. She felt trapped in a very similar way many of us felt during 2020’s lockdown, isolated and out of options. She sought help and was told no repeatedly because of how it might look, even when her life was at risk.

She attended an event in a beautiful, sparkling blue gown, because she did not trust herself to stay home alone. Harry clung to his wife’s hands in love and fear, while she cried every time the cameras turned away. The pictures show only her smiles.

Meghan Markle is the kind of princess we should all support.

To say that the situation was unacceptable was an understatement. It could easily be said that it was abusive. The dark, controlling nature of royal life was thick with racist overtones. The accusation that the couple abruptly left the royal family was, according to their interview with Oprah, entirely false. And we believe them. They left because, after two years of asking for help, they received none. Harry feared that he would lose his wife due to the toxic treatment by Britain’s oldest institution — much as he lost his mother Diana. The institution was more afraid of losing the favor of the tabloids than of losing the first person of color in their family to depression.

When the couple relocated to Canada, protections for them and their son Archie were cut off. Their location was already public knowledge, so they relied on Tyler Perry’s generous support to stay safe. When death threats are a common occurrence, safety is a pretty big consideration. They later moved to California, where they’ve spent the last year restarting their lives almost from scratch.

Meghan Markle entered the royal family with the intention of being a devoted part of it. There was no sinister plan to steal a prince from his royal lifestyle. Meghan and Harry left out of necessity. In many ways, it was an escape. Leaving simply wasn’t done, but they bravely did it anyway.

Love her or hate her, Meghan Markle deserves your respect.

She had no obligation to live the life Queen Elizabeth, the media, or anyone else expected of her.

In Markle's interview, she stated that during the wedding, her wedding, it didn’t feel like her day. It was a day for the world. The expectation was that she married a centuries-long institution, but she chose to, very simply, marry the man she loved instead. She’s now raising a beautiful family with him, passing on values they truly believe in. That’s a happily ever after we should support.

Whether or not Meghan Markle is a perfectly poised picture of royalty is irrelevant. She’s human, and it’s time we treat her like it. She elected to do what was right for her and her family despite scrutiny from the media and the royal family. Despite opposition from the literal queen.

It should not need to be said in 2021 that all women deserve respect, but apparently, it does. All women deserve respect, especially women like Meghan Markle. Meghan Markle represents us all. She represents the woman who wants privacy in the days after giving birth to her first child. The woman who gets upset with her sister-in-law, then has to defend herself against a twisted version of the story making national news. She represents the women whose health and happiness came second because of damaging stigmas. She represents the woman of color who doesn’t ever get a fair shot, no matter how hard they try to do everything "right."

Like her or not, every woman can see a part of herself in Meghan Markle. That’s why it’s so important to support each other. While the royal family didn’t speak out in support of Meghan Markle, 72 female members of British parliament did. We can only hope that the next time a beautiful, strong, intelligent woman of color joins Britain’s royal family, they think twice about how they treat her. Then, they treat her right.

#meghan markle #duchess of sussex #royals #brf #british royal family #prince harry #duke of sussex

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