#the way i didn’t know how to act after watching this cause the tv buzz hasn’t been doing its thing
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A DARK AGE
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summary - it's been nine months since you watched your best friend, gwen stacy, plummet to her death; an event that ultimately caused new york's hero to abandon the city entirely. now that he's finally returned you find yourself being forced to confront the ugly truth you've been running from.
series warnings - 18+, minors DNI, will contain depictions of violence, sexual content, dark themes, and more. i will do my best to place warnings at the beginning of each chapter, but please read at your own risk.
word count - 10.3k
// a dark tasm!fan fiction // masterlist // send me your thoughts //
THE BUGLE was buzzing to life in a way it hadn’t in ages. Landlines were ringing off the hook, accentuated by a chorus of email and text notifications crying out from every cell phone in the building. As you stepped out of the elevator you found yourself staring at a sea of amateur reporters, all of them gathering on the far side of the office around a television set.
You clutched the coffee in your hand tighter to keep it from spilling as a young man accidentally bumped into you, quickly moving to join the herd of his peers. You shot him a nasty look, ignoring the swift apology he muttered out as he continued to rush past you.
Despite your intrigue at the collective panic of your coworkers, you didn’t bother moving to join them around the TV. Instead, you walked the clear opposite direction, making a beeline for the office of the only man in New York City that you trusted to know exactly what all of this fuss was about.
“What the fuck is going on?”
Workplace etiquette had flown out the window for you a long time ago. Reporters didn’t have time for benevolence.
“They’re acting like rowdy animals out there. Foswell is running around the office like he’s in a goddamn marathon! Nearly gave me a third degree burn trying to get past me.”
A vehement grunt was the first thing to leave Jameson’s mouth, which constituted a typical greeting for him. Following it was the shrill squeak of his old office chair as he spun around to face you. “Haven’t seen the news, y/l/n?”
You furrowed your brows. “We are the news.”
Another noise of discontent, followed by a hand coming up to rub viciously at his eyes. If you had learned anything during your time at the Bugle, it was that Jameson was always upset, which meant that you rarely found his vexed appearance very concerning. Yet, despite that, you couldn’t help but get the feeling that something was off.
“The Daily Globe.” The name of the Bugle’s biggest competitor slipped past his lips like a slur, Jameson’s lip curling as if it had somehow left a bad taste in his mouth. “Some jackass at the station leaked info to them before they even got the crime scene taped off. Bushkin had everything plastered on their front page this morning before most of us even had time to pour a bowl of Special fucking K!”
“What crime scene?”
His hand dropped from his face down to his lap, shooting daggers straight at you. “You’re a reporter, y/l/n! Check the fucking headlines for once in your life!”
“Sorry,” you sneered at him, “some of us actually have a life outside of work.”
Of everyone at the Bugle, you were the only one with the authority (and the audacity) to backtalk Jameson and actually live to tell the tale. It was a perk of being his top investigative reporter, one that you never let go to waste.
If anyone else dared to get snarky with him, he’d likely send a paperweight flying at their head. But, since it was you, he only responded to your comment with a dry chuckle—primarily because he was aware that you were lying through your teeth.
The Bugle was all that was left of your life, the one remaining piece after you had lost everything nine months ago. Jameson knew how fresh the wound still was, how hard you fought to ignore what you’d gone through, and so he elected not to make an actual comment on your remark; a subtle indication that the crotchety man actually did have a heart.
“Remember Aleksei Sytsevich?”
You nodded, patience already growing thin as you waited for him to finally just tell you what happened. At this point you were beginning to think you would have been better off to gather around the TV with the rookies. “Of course I remember him,” you told him, “I’m the one that wrote the story on him hijacking that Oscorp truck last year. He goes by the Rhino now, right?”
Each of you formed your own twisted expressions at the name Sytsevich had picked for himself. The name was fitting given the military grade battlesuit he’d managed to snag from Oscorp, but it was a tad too on the nose for your taste. It lacked creativity, though neither of you really expected anything better to come from the former Russian mafia leader.
“Sometime last night he was found in an alley off 102nd.” Jameson declared, following you with his eyes as you moved towards his desk, taking a seat in one of the old chairs that sat in front of it. “Beaten to a goddamn bloody pulp.”
Your nose scrunched up slightly.
If it were anyone other than Sytsevich that had been left to bleed out in the dead of the night, you might have felt a bit of sympathy for them. But, instead, you only felt hopeful that Jameson would confirm the question that already fell past your lips, “He’s dead?”
It was cruel to wish death on anyone. You should have felt guilty for the way your chest swelled with hope as you waited for Jameson to reply, but you didn’t. New York was running short on heroes these days, which meant that more and more criminals had begun to use that to their advantage, making a hobby out of terrorizing the innocent.
Sytsevich had already escaped the Vault once, the so-called impenetrable prison, which meant that sending him back to jail was all but useless. But death? Not even Sytsevich would be able to crawl back from that.
“No.”
Your heart nearly sank, and you could tell that the sentiment was shared by Jameson, who looked equally as disappointed. After all of the innocent lives Sytsevich had claimed, he deserved to be put six feet under.
“Not yet, at least.” He clarified, “As soon as they noticed a pulse they had him life-flighted to North General. Good news is that they don’t think he’s gonna make it through the weekend.”
You snorted at Jameson’s execution of the comment, as well as the childlike joy that seemed to twinkle in his eyes as he thought about the possibility of Sytsevich finally being gone for good. Still, you could tell that there was more. That he hadn’t quite told you the full story.
While the impending death of a former mafia leader was quite a story, there was little chance that it had been enough to piss Jameson off so much that the Daily Globe got word of it first.
Criminals die every day, especially in a city like this. It was hardly front page material.
“So you mean to tell me that the world is in hysteria all because Sytsevich is about to kick the bucket?” You questioned him, nudging your head in the direction of his office door, encouraging him to acknowledge his frantic employees as they paced the office floor.
“It sucks that the Globe got to it first, but we should be celebrating!” As demented as it might seem, it was true. “But instead you’re in here wallowing as if we just missed out on the story of the year.”
The joy that he had felt just moments ago was now extinguished entirely, replaced with an expression that carried far more weight.
“You’re right. Sytsevich dying an excruciating death would be a fucking fit from a God I don’t believe in, y/l/n.” His forehead creased, thin lines appearing between his brows as he pressed a button on the laptop in front of him, tapping a few keys before turning the screen around to face you. “But the story isn’t just about his death—it’s about who killed him.”
A wave of shock slammed into you like a ton of bricks, hard enough that it made you lose your grip on the disposable cup in your hand, the contents of it staining the old carpet that lined Jameson’s office. Neither of you paid any mind to the mess and you became consumed by the headline on the homepage of the Daily Globes website.
SPIDER-MAN RETURNS - BRUTALLY ATTACKS ESCAPED CRIMINAL
Your eyes grew wide, air getting caught in your lungs as you worked to keep yourself from vomiting right on Jameson’s desk.
“No.” The word slipped out from under your breath without approval, a flash of pity washing over Jameson’s face as he took in your reaction. He had expected it, though, aware that of every reporter in New York, you would likely have the most intense response to the news.
But your shock quickly began to morph into something more closely resembling rage. “There’s no way, right? Spider-Man’s been awol for months, J! They really expect us to think that out of every enemy Sytsevich has made that Spider-Man would be to one to fucking kill him? It’s bullshit! They’re just trying to get eyes on their shitty paper!”
Jameson’s brows raised, clearly agreeing with the sentiment. He was never one to miss an opportunity to slam the Globe. “Normally I’d agree with you,” he mused, turning the laptop back around, “but the NYPD confirmed that Sytsevich was restrained with webs, y/l/n. It doesn’t look good.”
Your blood ran cold, turning to ice in your veins. Darkness started to take over your peripheral vision, threatening to consume the entire space around you. Images flashed through your head—asphalt painted with thick blood, bones snapping, his gruesome screams—it was a past that you had fought so hard to put behind you, only for it to now creep back up on you.
You instinctively clutched the bag at your side, half debating reaching inside for the little orange bottle you hadn’t touched in months. You restrained yourself though, terrified to feel as if you needed to rely on the pills again. Things were getting better.
“Spider-Man’s not a murderer.” Your voice was so hesitant, so uncertain, and it made it difficult to tell who the statement was meant to convince, Jameson or yourself.
Jameson’s shoulders lifted into a lazy shrug as he leaned back in the rickety chair, the plastic creaking at the shift of his weight. You were aware of his stance on Spider-Man, but even he had never considered the possibility of the vigilante committing something like this.
“No, he isn’t.” He agreed with you, evoking a bit of shock. “But he’s about to be. He’s the only one that can be linked to the crime scene. If Sytsevich dies—and it’s only a matter of time—then Spider-Man’s the one going down for it.”
Your mind was reeling, yet your body remained motionless, your gaze fixed onto the floor. Coffee still leaked from your cup, forming a sizable stain that only grew with every second that passed. You didn’t care.
It had been months since anyone had last seen Spider-Man, and during that time, New York had already begun to turn on him. Citizens hadn’t yet forgotten their debt to him, the countless times in which he’d nearly laid his life down for the city, but that didn’t mean that many hadn’t grown to resent him.
They had been abandoned by their hero, left to question if he was even still alive. And if this was how he returned? A killer?
“It’ll turn into a man-hunt.”
There was no other outcome for it, you both knew that much. Since his disappearance, an eerie sense of unrest had settled in the streets. Spider-Man’s absence had created a whole slew of problems, things that the NYPD weren’t equipped to handle. Hope had already become such a precarious thing, and if it were confirmed that their lost hero had abandoned his own code of ethics? It would destroy all that's left. It would unleash pure chaos.
It would be the dawn of a new age.
A dark age.
“Maybe.” He was being cautious with his approach, aware that this topic had the ability to turn you into little more than a ticking time bomb. “Still, there’s not any cold hard proof that he was the one to send Sytsevich to his death bed. All they know for certain is that he was at the crime scene.”
It was strange to hear those words from Jameson, crafted as a defense for the vigilante he swore to hate. If anything, that only increased your already heightened level of fear.
Of everyone in the world, you would have never imagined that Jonah J. Jameson would be willing to testify that Spider-Man was innocent in anything.
“I already told Urich to assemble a team, get out on the streets, and start finding some real proof. I’ve got a source at North General giving me hourly updates on Sytsevich, but we still don’t have much time to put together a story.”
Your eyes snapped up to meet his, your face contorting into a sour expression as you flung out of your chair, ignoring everything about his statement except for one detail.
“Fuck Urich!” You screamed loud enough that more than a few heads turned from outside Jameson’s office, a few of them now attempting to eavesdrop as the conversation became heated. “This is my story, J.”
He sucked in a deep breath, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He’d anticipated this reaction too.
“No, y/l/n, it’s not!” Jameson’s own voice boomed, easily rivaling yours in volume. You didn’t so much as flinch. “Last time you chased a story with that Spider-fuck you nearly died! You’re staying away, got it?”
You gritted your teeth, taking another step towards his desk, closing in on him. “You said it yourself J, we’re running out of time, right? You need someone that knows what they’re dealing with. Urich doesn’t have any connections to Spider-Man! I do!”
Somehow you believed that preaching these facts to Jameson would change his mind, as if he didn’t already know about your past encounters with the hero, like he wasn’t the one that published the stories you had done on him.
“I’m one of the last people to even see him alive, J!” You reminded him, finally letting your tone drop back to a normal volume as you continued, “Urich might be able to snoop around a crime scene, but I’m the only one with a chance of getting an actual statement from him.”
Both of you knew that your claim was a bit far-fetched. If this were last year, getting a statement from Spider-Man would have been a piece of cake for you. But now?
It was different.
Either way, Jameson didn’t seem willing to budge. “A statement isn’t worth losing my best reporter.”
If the circumstances were different you likely would’ve teased him for the comment, for making it so obvious that you were one of the only things to matter more to Jonah J. Jameson than a story.
“Fine.” You snapped, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth as you challenged him. “Then I quit.”
His face blanched. “You what?”
“I’ll pursue the story on my own. Get a detailed fucking statement from Spider-Man—a few pictures, too.” You crossed your arms over your chest, entirely unwavering as you held his gaze. “Then I’ll sell it to the Globe.”
Jameson’s face turned beet red, his eyes narrowing at your threat. “Don’t be stupid. You’d need an entire team to go after a story this big.”
You mocked the lazy shrug he had offered just moments ago. “No, Urich needs a team. All I need is a few hours and some phone calls.”
Ben Urich would need access to several of the Bugle’s best reporters in order to conduct enough research to even know where to begin. Aside from that, you and Jameson both knew that one of the best potential sources for this story layed beyond the gates of Ravencroft—and Jameson would have a hell of a time trying to get authorization for an interview with any of their prisoners.
But you?
You could get in with a simple phone call.
“This isn’t a game, y/l/n.” Jameson cautioned. “The night Spider-Man disappeared—when I got that call from the hospital—I thought you were gonna be dead, y/ln.”
A pang of guilt shot through your chest and he reminded you of that night. When you arrived in the emergency room they had tried to call your emergency contacts—but you knew they wouldn’t answer, that they were the reason you were even there. Jameson was the only one that answered, the only one to show up.
You knew how much guilt he still faced for pushing you to chase another Spider-Man story, for encouraging you to get closer to the vigilante, only for it to land you in a hospital bed with several broken bones and a grade three concussion.
Sometimes you wished that you could tell him it wasn’t his fault. That you were already in too deep, long before you had started chasing another story, even if you didn’t realize it at the time. But you couldn’t.
“If you take this story then you’re putting yourself at risk. Again. You’ll be destroying everything you’ve worked for.”
Blood pooling, bones snapping, his screams echoing.
You bit your cheek until you tasted crimson, shoving the hellish thoughts from your mind. “Are you gonna take Urich off the story or not?”
Jameson’s shoulders immediately slouched, his disappointment evident as the corners of his mouth turned downwards. But he knew you—too well, which meant he knew that nothing would stop you from following this story.
So, against his better judgment, he straightened his posture and tried to mask his own emotions, but you could still tell how much it had hurt him to mutter out the word—“Fine.”
You didn’t plan on waiting around long enough to hear anything else he might have to say, already turning on your heel and aiming for the door, knowing that it was best to leave before he changed his mind altogether. Still, just before the door slammed closed behind you, you heard him speak.
“Your funeral.”
His snide comment left a bad taste in your mouth, pungent and unpalatable, but you did your best to ignore it. There wasn’t any time to comprehend the gravity of his statement, to consider just how close you had come to death last time.
If Jameson was right about anything, it was that time was of the essence. The sooner Spider-Man could be proven innocent the better.
So instead of dwelling on it and risking uprooting your past trauma, you shoved your way through the crammed newsroom, coming to a halt only when you could plant yourself at the edge of Urich’s desk. He looked up at you through his thickly-rimmed glasses, brows knitting together.
“This your team?” You asked him, an idle finger pointing to the crew of unfamiliar faces that surrounded the desk.
Urich gave a stiff nod.
“Great.” The smile you gave was sickening, filled with misplaced animosity. You scanned over the group, your gaze ultimately settling on the figure directly to his left, a somewhat tall woman with neatly bobbed hair. Out of everyone, she was the only one armed with a pencil and notepad, having taken note of his every word. “What’s your name?”
The women seemed stunned, her voice shaking the tiniest bit as she responded. “Betty. Betty Brant.”
“Nice to meet you Ms. Brant.” Your tone was much milder when speaking to Brant, though it quickly turned harsh again as you shifted your attention back to Urich. “I’m taking over the story. Jameson already gave me clearance, so please, if you plan on whining about it, keep it between the two of you, mkay?”
Urich’s usually squinty eyes suddenly widened behind his lenses, thin lines settling into his forehead. He didn’t even have time to open his mouth in protest before you had already cut him off.
“Anyone who isn’t Brant can get out of my face. I don’t have a use for you.” A dismissive hand was waved at the small crowd, although none of them bothered to move more than a few feet away, too interested in eavesdropping to venture any further.
“And, um, what is it that you’d like me to do?” Betty Brant was quite the apprehensive woman, her lack of confidence shining through in quite literally everything she did. She was new to this, that much was obvious, but you still found yourself with some sort of intuitive faith in the girl.
“I need you to track down some information for me.”
A pit suddenly grew in your stomach as it dawned on you that this would be the first time you had so much as uttered his name since that night. He had essentially become a ghost to you, capable of haunting every corner of your mind without ever reentering your life. It was easier that way, though. Avoiding him had been the best way to recover from him; even if that meant treating his name like a curse.
You took a deep breath, garnering every ounce of strength you had left to ensure your voice wouldn’t crack. “I need a way to get into contact with Peter Parker. He used to work here, but the number we have on file isn’t in service anymore.”
Once.
In the nine months since it happened, you had only tried to call him once. With the phone pressed to your face you had already prepared yourself to hear the dial tone go on for ages, fully aware that he’d just let it go to voicemail. He didn’t want to talk to you—he didn’t want to talk to anyone. But, instead, you were greeted by a prerecorded message saying the number had been disconnected.
And that was the closest you ever got to a goodbye from Peter.
“Parker?” Urich finally got a word out. “What’s he gotta do with this?”
You didn’t have any intention of offering him a detailed explanation, your back already turned to him as you spoke over your shoulder. “He’s the only one to ever get a clear shot of Spider-Man. If everything goes as planned, I’m gonna need his skillset.”
It wasn’t a complete lie, but it also wasn’t the full truth. Regardless, it was the best defense you had for needing a way to contact Peter; one that wouldn’t raise any suspicions. If anything, you would have preferred to start your hunt for information with Peter, because then you would’ve been able to avoid Ravencroft altogether. But, unfortunately, Peter was little more than a dead end right now.
“Jameson has my number–get it from him and text me as soon as you have a lead!”
It was the last order you barked before disappearing into the elevator, quick to rush off to the first destination on your list. You had to get moving, at least until you could find a way to talk to Peter, which meant you needed to start gathering the names of anyone who might’ve actually wanted Sytsevich dead.
Unfortunately, that meant hailing a taxi to Westchester County and digging up another ghost from your past.
You hastily pressed the button for the ground floor, your other hand already delving into your bag, grabbing your phone and dialing the number that had called you many times over the past months; a number you rarely answered.
“Hi, this is y/n y/l/n calling,” a weight settled deep within your stomach, accompanied by a shiver running down your spine as you forced yourself to speak, “could I speak with Leonard Samson? I would like to take him up on his visitation offer. Please tell him that I want to speak with Harry Osborn as soon as possible.”
The Ravencroft Institute for the Criminally Insane was not for the faint of heart.
At first glance, most would consider it a fine establishment. The ornate iron gates lining the property seek to paint a picture of elegance, while the impenetrable stone walls offer those on the outside a sense of security—serving as a silent oath that those on the other side can’t get out.
While technically labeled a prison, Ravencroft always insists that they place treatment above punishment for those incarcerated here. They pushed this motto, staff members regularly appearing on the local news to preach of mercy and remission; despite the fact that no one committed to the facility had ever made it out alive.
Ravencroft’s prisoners weren’t always as willing to keep up the facility's pristine public image though, well known for spitting in the face of that ‘guise of elegance they’d worked to build. It was because of their sharp tongues that Ravencroft rarely let reporters past the front gates, petrified of what they might learn from those on the inside, worried that someone might get the chance to uncover their true nature; or worse, expose their unlawful ways of curing the prisoners.
You were the only reporter to ever be invited onto the property, even if it was under special circumstances.
“Truth be told, I was shocked to hear you called!” Director Samson confessed. His tone always rubbed you the wrong way, always coming off as far too exuberant for a man in charge of a psychiatric facility for criminals. “What’s it been, five months? Six, perhaps, since we last spoke?”
“Seven.” You noted, sporting a rather sardonic smile. He didn’t seem to notice your ill-intent.
“Well, either way, it had been far too long!” He chortled to himself, a chorus of keys clanking against his hip as he led you down another winding hallway.
Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, illuminating the immaculate white linoleum beneath your feet. The smell of bleach was incredibly pungent, burning your nostrils with every breath you took. You did your best not to breathe at all.
“You’ve been checking your email, yes?” Director Samson was a few long strides ahead of you, moving at a pace you couldn’t manage to keep up with. “When you stopped answering your cell, I decided to have my secretary begin forwarding you all of our notes from his treatment sessions. It’s pivotal that you’ve stayed up-to-date on his progress, especially if you finally plan on becoming an active role in his recovery!”
You braced yourself for the tainted oxygen that would fill your lungs as you lied, “Of course. Even gave them a quick review on the ride over.”
In the seven months that you had been dodging Samson’s calls, you had never once opened any of the emails from his secretary. You always saw them come through though, and you always found yourself staring at the subject line for just a moment too long.
Patient #121394 - Progress Report
It made you sick sometimes, the way he had been reduced to a number. Other times, you were thankful for it. It helped to create a divide in your head, allowing you to create some sort of separation between who he was and who he is. Harry Osborn was your friend. Patient #121394 stabbed you in the back.
Regardless, you could never actually make yourself read them. But you also couldn’t bring yourself to delete them, stashing one-hundred and eighty-four daily progress reports from Ravencroft into a separate folder, out of sight but kept on hand, just in case you ever needed them.
You weren’t sure why you ever would.
“Good, good!” He chirped loudly, both of you now approaching a large armored door. It didn’t match the rest of the hallway, the rusted surface polluting the otherwise pure white space.
Your attention was pulled away from it as Director Samson spun on his toe, index finger suddenly wagging in your face, your eyes growing wide as you tried to lean back a few inches. His nails were a touch overgrown, caked with a substance you didn’t recognize. Describing him as eccentric would be kind, although disconcerting fit him better.
“You must promise me something before you speak with him!” He sputtered out. You did your best not to flinch as his saliva spewed onto your face. “I understand you may have felt a need to…” his head bobbed side to side, squinting as he considered his wording, “distance yourself from Mr Osborn. That is why I did my best to respect your need for space the past several months-”
Ah yes–you thought to yourself, fighting the urge to laugh in his face–calling bi-weekly and sending daily emails is clearly a sign of respecting someone’s wish to be uninvolved.
“But!” He shouted out, his rotten nails now close enough that you could smell whatever laid beneath them. “If you cross this threshold,” his hand moved to the large door behind him, offering you a chance to swallow back the bile building in your throat, “you cannot abandon him again, Ms. y/l/n. Progress is a volatile thing, especially for the damaged souls that call Ravencroft home. I need to know that you’re prepared to devote yourself to Mr. Osborn’s treatment.”
Abandon him—the claim was enough to make your blood boil. You wanted to scream at him, remind him of what had happened that night, remind him that you were the one who had been abandoned. You wanted to turn around, to leave and never step foot in this cursed building ever again.
If you did that, then maybe you could keep lying to yourself. Harry Osborn could remain your former friend, one of the few crumbs you had left of the life you so desperately wanted back. He could be innocent, and Patient #121394 could be the murderer.
“Well Director Samson, I can assure you that I have absolutely no intentions to abandon him!” The mask you put on was sickly sweet, more than palatable enough to hide the animosity behind it.
His bug-eyed stare remained locked onto you, unnerving and wild. “You must promise.”
“Okay,” A sigh managed to slip out, quickly covered by your response, “I promise.”
He instantly relaxed at the vow, easily returning to the childish ebullience he’d displayed previously. You wondered how he would react if he had noticed the hand behind your back, if he knew your fingers were crossed as you spoke.
Abandonment was a much kinder fate than Harry Osborn deserved, so you were certain that if a higher power existed, they would forgive you for breaking your promise to Director Samson.
Metal jingled about as he removed the keys from his belt loop, somehow knowing exactly which one to grab from the couple dozen crowded the thick ring they hung on.
“Now, please, do your best to remember the rules!” He began unlocking the various deadbolts on the door. “All patients in the visitation area will be secured to his or her station, for your safety as well as theirs. Under no circumstances should you touch any of the patients. Should you notice a patient is acting out of sorts, please remain calm and notify the warden-”
You already knew the do’s and don’ts of visiting prisoners, having interviewed several of the inhabitants at Ryker’s Island for the Bugle, and so you found yourself droning him out entirely, watching as he moved from one lock to another, until he finally reached the last one.
“Most importantly, do not forget that this time is meant to inspire and encourage your loved ones to continue on their new path towards righteousness!” He displayed a toothy grin, cavity filled and displeasing. In return you offered a much less prominent smile. “And please, when you’re done with your chitter-chatter, come by my office. I would love to discuss next steps with you!”
You gave a curt nod, aware that you would not be doing that. Interacting with Samson was enough to drain even the most extroverted people, which was one of the many reasons you’d stopped returning his calls only two months into Harry’s sentence.
He viewed you as a valuable tool for curing Harry—mentally, at least. His actual disease was of little interest to Samson, his physical health naught in comparison to his damaged mind. Harry had no next of kin, which meant all of Samson’s hopes had been placed onto you. He believed in order to cure Harry’s mind, he needed the assistance of someone who was dear to him, someone to act as a tether to his sanity.
Director Samson also believed that the venom Harry injected into his veins was the cause for his self-proclaimed insanity. This told you all you needed to know about the Director; he was clueless.
You knew the truth. After all, you were the one that had fed his lawyers the story and loaded them up with all the evidence they’d need in order to paint a picture for the jury, illustrating Harry Osborn’s mental descent. It was you that had convinced them to make him swallow his pride and take the insanity plea—your final act of kindness towards Harry.
The clunky metal door groaned profusely as Director Samson pushed it open, heavy enough that it required him to use both hands and the majority of his body weight. Once it was open, he bowed in a particularly odd manner, motioning you into the room with a dramatic flair that made you nauseous. More than anything in the world, you couldn’t wait to never see him again.
The small space you walked into had distracted you from Samon’s bizarre attitude, immediately taking note of them in case you ever felt like breaching Samson’s trust and writing a story on Ravencroft.
First–it didn’t share the same suffocating scent as the hallway, the smell of chemical cleaners having completely vanished. You took advantage of this, letting your chest expand with several deep breaths. Your nostrils no longer burned, however this came with a price, this room much grimier than the rest of the facility. It didn’t shock you.
Second–there was nothing white in here, a stark contrast from the unsoiled appearance of the never ending hallway you took to get here. This room truly felt like a prison, despite Ravencroft’s insistence that they were far from that. Muted shades of chipped paint coated the walls, the floors nothing more than poured cement.
And, finally, third–no one, and you truly meant absolutely no one, appeared as if they were on the road to recovery.
To your left there was a red-headed girl chained to a metal bar fastened to the wall. A bit of drool dribbled down her chin, her eyelids drooping as if she had been drugged. On your right was a boy no older than nineteen, handcuffed to his chair and left with nothing to do except stare at the floor beneath his feet.
They looked miserable, and you almost felt bad for sticking Harry in a place like this.
Almost.
Behind you the door shut with a crash, the symphony of locks clicking back into place. Your heart rate spiked as you realized you were now trapped in here with them, taking a glance at the warden. He was a burly man, yet the only weapon he had on him was a baton, lazily stuffed into his waistband. It only added to your growing apprehension.
Anxiety, you reminded yourself through gritted teeth, is another thing reporters don’t have time for.
Each second brought you closer to Sytsevich’s impending death, which meant you didn’t have time to waste on fear. But knowing that didn’t make it any easier, still feeling as if you were frozen in place, wishing that they hadn’t made you leave your bag in the main office.
If Brant had managed to find a number for Peter then you could just skip this whole mess, go straight to the source and get hard proof that he was innocent… but it was too late to turn around now.
You were already here.
In the furthest corner of the room you saw a steel table, placed directly in front of the patient’s only source of natural light—an incredibly small window, armed with thick black bars. Your heart lurched as your gaze settled on the table's only occupant. Even with his back turned, you could still recognize him.
Lifting just one foot had been the hardest part, terror pricking your bones as the single step caused one of the patients to whip their head around towards you.
He was an enormous man, standing several inches over six feet with muscles that rivaled the Hulk. Fortunately, you didn’t hold his attention for long, hesitantly watching as he went back to staring at the old-style television set that had been stuffed in the corner. Static painted the screen, and every once in a while the large man would give a swift hit to its side, making the other patients flinch. The warden didn’t stop him.
Each step after that was rushed, an attempt to get out of his line of sight. He was restrained, as were all of them, but he still filled you with a sense of unease. When you finally reached the table and quickly slipped into one of the metal chairs, eyes still darting about prudently, you heard the patient sitting across from you laugh.
You had thought the terror seeping into your veins had been intolerable, but it was no match for the misplaced grief that fought to consume you at the sound of his voice. It simultaneously sent chills down your spine and relaxed every muscle in your body, a paradox of a reaction that only the living dead could possibly provide.
“Aw, what’s wrong?” He drawled, leaving you hanging onto every syllable. “My new friends scare you?”
A bit.
“Hardly.” You snapped back a bit faster than intended. Beneath the table you clenched your fists, fingernails prodding into the soft flesh of your palms.
Stay calm. Hide your weaknesses.
You were disappointed with yourself, your inability to mask your discomfort, especially here. A penitentiary wasn’t the best place to rollover, and you knew that the moment you fucked up and showed your underbelly you’d be as good as dead. You needed to be better. You needed to be incomprehensible.
“You look well.” You spoke again before he’d have the chance to beat you to it, determined to be the one holding the reins in this conversation. “I’m shocked.”
It truly wasn’t meant as a slight though the scoff you received in response made it clear that he’d taken it as one. It was God’s honest truth though; you hadn’t expected him to look as good as he did.
Last time you saw Harry Osborn was when the venom had already invaded his bloodstream, transforming him into something near unrecognizable. That was the Harry Osborn you had been expecting to see today. A nightmare, a killer, a monster.
Instead, you found yourself looking directly into the cerulean gaze of a boy you had mourned for nearly a year. There were subtle differences; the natural dark pigment of his hair still hadn’t returned, leaving it a dusty shade of brown, and the disease that fought relentlessly to claim his life had spread, a scaly patch of skin taking over his cheek bone.
But, for the most part, he looked like himself. He looked like Harry.
And that simple fact was almost enough to break you.
“Wow, less than a minute in and you’re already spitting out back-handed compliments.” Harry's mouth twitched into a smirk. “You sure know how to greet an old friend.”
Was he antagonizing you on purpose? Or was he simply delusional? Either way, you only offered him a tight smile, “We’re not friends.”
You had no way of knowing if your words actually had any effect on him. Having been raised in the limelight meant that Harry had years of practice in maintaining his composure, always working to maintain the Osborn image. You had never been good at reading Harry, and that’s how he liked it. Like most powerful men, he enjoyed keeping secrets.
“Aren’t we though?” He countered, a swift tug at the reins, an effort to regain some semblance of control.
Your jaw clenched. “Not anymore.”
Harry leaned forward a touch, those menacing eyes glistening as his palms remained flat against the cold steel, secured there by thick cuffs. “You think I don’t know what you did? That I don’t know who fed my lawyers all that bullshit about childhood abuse and disease warping my mind?”
That bullshit had saved his life. Forced the jury to see him as more than another twisted villain, coerced them into feeling some sort of sympathy for Harry. By no means was Ravencroft comparable the the fucking Four Seasons, but it was far better than the alternative. Without the insanity plea, Harry was on a quick path to Ryker’s Island—a place you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy.
“You’re right. I gave them everything they needed to build your case.” There was no use in denying it. The recounts of the trauma his father had inflicted on him were too detailed, too intimate, and Harry knew only three people in this world had access to that information. Himself, you, and Norman; and the latter was already dead. “But not because we’re friends.”
He cocked a brow at you, once again leaning back into the uncomfortable metal chair. “Then why bother?”
“Because I’m not like you.”
And you wholeheartedly believed that. Caring about him had nothing to do with your choice to try and spare his life, your decision to aid Gwen’s murderer.
“A rich boy like you wouldn’t last a single day in Ryker’s. Those guys would’ve eaten you alive.” You asserted, the only physical sign of the anger coursing through you being your flared pupils. You were in control. “I had an opportunity to save your life, so I took it. Not because of friendship,” the word tasted acidic, burning as it rolled off your tongue, “but because I’m a good person—better than you ever were.”
It wasn’t until you were done talking that you realized how desperate you had been for the declaration to cut him. You only recognized it afterwards, irritation flooding you as he remained perfectly still, seeming entirely unphased.
Then after a moment of nothing, he sighed. Not out of annoyance, not out of sadness. Instead, it seemed to be out of pure boredom, which only made your irritation towards him grow.
“Guess that means you’re not here to help with my treatment, huh?” He said it like a joke, as if he too thought he was incapable of redemption and found this whole thing to be a waste of time. “Samson’s gonna be so disappointed when he finds out.”
“You’re right, I’m not here to help you.” you confirmed, sucking in a deep breath and biting back at your pride, “But you’re gonna help me.”
His brows snapped up—a reaction, subtle, but there nonetheless. “And why would I do that? I mean, you already made it clear that we’re not friends. So why should I do anything for you?”
“I’ll keep coming here. Participating in whatever stupid shit Samson has planned, keep acting like I wanna help you get better.” You sneered, eyes rolling. People like Harry Osborn were incapable of better. “There’s gotta be something for you to gain in all of that, right? Some sort of reward for making progress. If you’re lucky then maybe they’ll give you more playtime with your little buddies or something.”
Your gaze flicked over his shoulder, once again landing on the enormous man that had noticed you earlier. He was still beating against the side of the television, the thumping of his palm against thick plastic echoing through the room. No one seemed to mind the noise.
“Besides,” you continued while shifting your focus back to Harry, “you owe me.”
He did owe you—him and Peter both—but pulling that card made you sound desperate, like you had truly run out of options and were now using everything left in your arsenal to sway him.
But that was the point.
It was a calculated move, entirely deliberate, right down to the doe-eyed glance you shamelessly flashed at him, feigning a moment of vulnerability. You hadn’t rolled over, hadn’t exposed your weak points, but you wanted him to believe you did.
There were certain benefits that came with knowing Harry—who he used to be. You knew about his insatiable desire to be needed by someone, to feel wanted. There had been a time in which you wouldn’t have dared to exploit the trauma that desire stemmed from, but things were different now.
Even when armed with his stoic mask, you could tell that you had hit your mark perfectly. He remained silent, considering your words. A rational part of him was likely screaming to tell you no, to send you out of Ravencroft without so much as a second glance. Odds were that he knew this was an attempt to manipulate him, to play at the side of his that ached to be essential to another.
But Harry Osborn wasn’t known for making rational decisions. He was rarely driven to act by his near-genius level IQ, instead always finding himself a victim to the gnawing pain in his chest; and you were banking on that.
Then, it happened.
For a moment—mere seconds, at most—the mask slipped. A single muscle twitched in his jaw, his nose wrinkling the slightest touch. The shift in his demeanor was so subtle, yet so apparent to you. Having once been so close to him, you’d all but trained yourself to detect the moments in which his arrogance would melt into something far more innocent. You used to crave those moments; live for them, even. It felt like an honor to witness the side of Harry in which he fought to keep locked away, a side he tried to ignore.
Now, though, you felt almost nothing.
Harry finally let out a gruff sound, his tongue darting along his chapped bottom lip. “You’re here about Peter, aren’t you?”
You were careful not to outwardly react. “You’ve seen the news?”
“Of course.” He rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner. “Not everyday the city hails Spider-Man a murderer.”
He said the vigilante’s name like a curse, as if it were the dirtiest word he’s ever spoken. It was laced with a bone-chilling sense of contempt, one that only deepened your resentment towards Harry. You didn’t like it—the way he spoke as if he had a right to hate Peter. After everything Harry had done, after everything he’d taken—your nails dug deeper into your palms as you fought to keep your eyes peeled. terrified that if you so much as blinked you’d catch a glimpse of Harry’s sins. That you’d catch a glimpse of her.
“Are you gonna help or not?” You struggled to stay composed, his brows raised in amusement at the snipped statement.
An unfortunate oversight in your plan had been in failing to acknowledge that Harry knew you just as well as you’d known him. It didn’t matter if you rolled over, because you were already exposed. He knew that Peter was a soft spot for you, that he had always been a soft spot, and all he had to do in order to push you over the edge was jab a little harder at that unhealed wound.
Surprisingly, he chose to leave it alone.
“You’ll come four times a week. Minimum.”
You fought the urge to grin at his demands, aware that it meant the rational side of him had lost.
“Twice a week.” You countered.
“Make it three.” He almost sounded pitiful, coming off more like he was begging than demanding. It caught you off guard to hear him sound so desperate, and for a moment you wondered if he had turned the tables; if he was now manipulating you, playing on your emotions and trying to make you feel bad for the loneliness Ravencroft had inflicted upon him.
But there was something about the look in his eyes, how transparent they suddenly seemed, that made you feel like this hadn’t been done with nefarious intent. His desperation was genuine, and you weren’t sure how to feel about that.
“Fine.” You agreed, aware that you didn’t have time to negotiate with him all day. You had a story to write, and in order to create a solid defense for Spider-Man—for Peter, you’d need help. You’d need a culprit, someone that had a motive to kill Sytsevich. “Deal?”
Harry grinned, that same arrogant and flashy sort of grin you’d seen him give heiresses and models. You always wanted to be on the receiving end of that smile, to be the one he was trying to win over, but now it only made your stomach sink. “How can I be of service?”
“Do you know anyone who might want Sytsevich dead?” You decided to be blunt with the question, keeping your voice low.
“Uh, yeah. Try the entire Soviet Union. From what I’ve heard, it sounds like he made a real fucking mess of things when he left Russia.” Harry noted.
“O-kay,” you drawled, “what about locally? People talk in prison, yeah? If somebody was planning something you would’ve heard about it.”
His nose scrunched up. “What do you think happens in prison? That we all just get together like it’s a slumber party and swap hit lists?”
You didn’t bother responding, not verbally, at least. Instead, you opted for shooting him a sharp glare. It didn’t phase him.
“Look,” he glanced towards the warden, scooting forwards a touch once he noticed the negligent guard had become distracted by his phone, “a guy like Sytsevich doesn’t go down without a good fight, alright? I saw the blueprints for that armor he wears, right before the board locked me out of Oscorp’s systems. I know what it’s capable of. Most people wouldn’t even have a chance to get a hit in, let alone send him to the hospital.”
“Perfect,” you snapped, his eyes widening slightly, “if you know what his armor is capable of then you should know who would be strong enough to take him on.”
Harry scoffed at the simplicity of your deduction, “Yeah, I’ve got a pretty good idea, actually.”
You gritted your teeth, aware of where he was heading. “It wasn’t Peter.”
“How’re you so sure?” He asked you, a thin crease settling between his brows as he glowered at you. “I know you like to fixate on my fuck-ups in favor of avoiding his but you were there that night, y/n!”
The banging sound of the prisoner’s palm colliding against the side of the thick television kept the guard from hearing Harry’s raised voice.
“He wouldn’t kill Sytsevich.” You held firm in your beliefs, even as your gaze faltered and fell away from Harry’s, settling on the surface of the table.
Bang.
“He almost killed me!” His voice was consumed with bitterness, with pain.
“And you killed her.”
Was that truly a good defense? Had Harry’s sins somehow absolved Peter’s? A life for a life—the logic behind the sentiment was skewed and you didn’t want to think about it. You didn’t want to venture into the memories you’d fought so hard to block out. Your stomach suddenly became taut, unwilling to face the question you didn’t want answered.
“You know what he’s capable of.” He pressed further, still leaned in close, as if trying to close the gap between you both, the shackles securing him to the table preventing him from doing just that. “Sytsevich was restrained with webs, y/n. Don’t be dense-”
Bang.
“Peter isn’t a murderer, Har!” You hissed through your teeth—too overstimulated to notice the pet name slip from your mouth and too livid to care.
He went to argue the statement when another bang sounded out against the side of the television, this one finally powerful enough to knock some life back into the formerly deceased device. Your eyes darted in it’s direction, Harry’s neck snapping around to do the same as you both listened to the hum of the static clear, a female voice breaking through.
“-just moments ago we received word from the NYPD that former Russian mafia member Aleksei “the Rhino” Sytsevich passed away less than an hour ago. Sources from North General hospital confirmed that Sytsevich’s condition began to rapidly worsen, until he eventually gave in to the fatal wounds sustained in last night's mysterious assault.”
The tautness in your stomach grew stronger, a wave of nausea settling over you as the organ began to tie itself in knots.
“Chief Davis with the NYPD will be holding a press conference this afternoon, however officials have already confirmed that there is now an active warrant out calling for Spider-Man’s arrest. Individuals with any information on New York’s fallen hero are being asked to call the number displayed on the bottom of the screen, and police advise citizens to avoid their Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man at all costs-”
Harry twisted back around to face you, cautious and uncertain as he met your stare. He almost appeared concerned—not about the news, not about Peter, but about you. The corner of his mouth twitched downward, forced to watch as your face blanched, mind reeling.
It’s not too late. There’s still a chance. He can still be proven innocent. A warrant doesn’t mean jackshit.
The metal legs of your chair screeched against the ground as you pushed yourself back from the table, “I need to go.”
Harry’s wrists pulled against the shackles that held him in place, instinctively reaching towards you, as if he’d nearly forgotten they were even there. “Wait!”
Against your better judgment, you listened to him, though you weren’t entirely sure why. You needed to go. You need to contact the Bugle, needed to see if Brant had found a number for Peter. As much as you hated to admit it, Ravencroft had wound up being a deadend, and you needed to keep moving—but you just didn’t. You stayed, staring back at a boy you once knew, waiting for him.
You always waited for them—Harry and Peter both.
“You’re not-...” he hesitated, blinking and shaking his head as he debated whether or not he should even continue, if it would even make a difference. “You’re not going to see him, are you?”
“Of course I am!” You ignored the groan that escaped his parted lips. “You’ve been fucking useless, so Peter is all I’ve got left. He didn’t kill Sytsevich, alright? But he was at the scene. He’s gotta have some idea as to who did this.”
It was obvious that the offhand insult had stung, evident by the way he winced as you launched it at him. You nearly found yourself apologizing for it, but decided against it as you watched him quickly stiffen back up, always refusing to wear his pain so blatantly. Norman had trained him well, drilling into his head that weakness wasn’t a part of the Osborn way.
“Don’t get involved.”
Your stare narrowed. What he offered hadn’t been a recommendation, rather a demand. “They’ll hunt him down, Harry! If the police convince the entire city that Spider-Man’s a murderer? The city will turn into a fucking disaster. I’m not gonna let him go through that alone.”
“You could get yourself killed!” Harry barked back, clearly indifferent to whether or not Peter suffered alone. You found yourself laughing in response, finding humor in his attempt to show concern for your life.
“It’s Peter.” You stated plainly, devoid of any emotion as you rose to your feet. Harry’s head tilted upwards, following you with his eyes. “He wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”
“Remind me again who saved you that night.” His jaw clenched, his tone turning callous as he decided to prod at the old wounds. “Cause it sure as hell wasn’t Spider-Man.”
Your fists balled up tighter, blood beginning to seep from your palms and pooling beneath your nails. You zoned in on the stinging sensation, digging deeper into your flesh, using the pain as a tether to keep you from slipping too deep into your own subconscious. You didn’t have time to think about that night. You didn’t have fucking time.
So you bottled up the thousands of thoughts running rampant in your head, biting your tongue instead of allowing yourself to spit anymore insults at him. He’s not worth it–you tried to tell yourself, starting towards the warden–it won’t change anything.
“y/n!” He growled as you moved past him, electing to ignore him entirely. He thrust his arms against the shackles again, rattling the thick metal and grunting as they tightened around his wrists. You were just a little over a foot away when he spoke again, “Don’t fucking tell him you know!”
You paused, suddenly feeling as if your feet had been cemented to the floor. You cursed yourself as you responded, refusing to look back at him. “What are you talking about?”
“Have you talked to him since that night?” He asked.
“No.” You chewed on your bottom lip, ignoring the abrupt pang in your chest. “I haven’t.”
“Okay. Great. Then he doesn’t know for sure what you saw that night. That you saw him without the mask, that you know he’s Spider-Man.” He was talking uncharacteristically fast, as if he was worried you’d leave before he’d get the words out quick enough. “So don’t tell him.”
You frowned, shifting to the side, now looking at him through your peripheral. “Why?”
“Because.” Harry squeezed his eyes shut, fending off the growing headache that this situation had brought on. “As far as he knows, I’m his only loose end. The only one that knows who he really is.”
Your chest tightened as you realized what was happening. Since walking into Ravencroft, you’d concerned yourself so heavily with keeping your guard up, with guarding your weakest points—only for Harry to be the one to rollover. He was exposing his hand, and you found it unsettling, especially when you realized that there was no selfish intent behind his words.
Harry had nothing to lose in this situation.
Except for you—his friend.
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe he’s not a murderer. But if he did kill Sytsevich? Anyone who knows about Spider-Man’s secret identity is gonna have a huge fucking target on their back.” His eyes remained closed, drawing in a shaky breath before he continued, “So please,” his voice shook, desperation lacing each syllable, “just–don’t tell him, okay?”
Goosebumps arose on your forearms, unable to hide from the fear that radiated off of him. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t find an ulterior motive for the statement. There was no clear sign of manipulation, no indication that he wanted to do anything other than protect you; and that made you feel sick.
You had long since buried Harry Osborn, having told yourself countless times that two of your friends died that night. For two-hundred-and-seven days you had mourned both of them.
With every fiber of your being you had believed that the arrogant boy that had weaseled his way into your life was gone, having been replaced with a malevolent monster.
But now you could feel him.
It no longer felt as if you had just been staring at his corpse, but rather as if someone had actually breathed life back into him, offering you a glimpse of what still remained.
It caused the tiniest spark of hope to ignite within you, a spark that you would do your damndest to extinguish.
Harry Osborn was better off dead.
“Our deal’s off.” You asserted, cold and uncaring. His eyes shot open again, a desolate expression washing over him. He didn’t try to conceal it, didn’t bother to adjust the mask he always wore. “You gave me absolutely nothing, so I’m not obligated to hold up my end.”
Harry’s lips parted as if he were going to protest, as if he were going to do something—but nothing came out, and you hadn’t expected him to find the words, anyways. Try as you might, the three of you had never been capable of such candor; never willing to shine a light on the darkest corners of your minds, too scared of the risks that came with exposing what laid beneath the surface.
You couldn’t help but think there was something poetic about it; the melancholy cord that bound you to Harry and Peter. How you were all fated to don matching wounds, but always be too afraid to admit to one another that you were bleeding.
Sometimes you wanted to show them the stains on your hands, the red that you could never scrub off. You wondered if it would have made a difference, if maybe then the three of you could have bore the weight of it all together, rather than crumbling beneath the pressure.
But none of that mattered anymore.
None of you were the same anymore.
And so you gritted your teeth and held your head high, letting the blood continue to collect under your nails, hiding it from his view. You took a heavy breath, your chest heaving beneath all of the pain you chose to carry.
“Coming here was a mistake.”
It was the only thing left to say, the only other admission you’d let slip past your lips. It hung in the air between the two of you, resonating with each of you in an entirely different manner, knowing that you’d never share your own interpretation with the other.
Harry didn’t respond, choosing to drown in his silence, having grown used to watching people walk away from him. And you forced yourself to leave, choking on the remnants of your own grief; having grown used to abandoning what you once loved.
a/n - ah, so it's definitely not june BUT i did post it finally! i've put a lot of time and effort into this fic cause i do just genuinely love the idea of it and it brings me a lot of joy lol. with that being said, it takes a ton of effort for me to write it because i'm putting in a lot of little details, so updates on this won't be the quickest, especially while i'm taking summer classes!! but i'll be doing my best! please feel free to leave comments, opinions, etc. and look forward to getting loads of peter content in the next part! also feel free to check out THIS if you want to see an edit of the newspaper headline!
#peter parker imagine#tasm imagine#harry osborn imagine#tasm fic#peter parker fic#peter parker#spiderman fanfiction#spiderman imagine#harry osborn#spiderman fic#peter parker x reader#mcu imagine#yandere peter parker#yandere spiderman#dark peter parker#the amazing spiderman#tasm2#tasm fanfiction#tasm!peter x reader#tasm!peter x y/n#tasm peter parker#tasm!peter one shot#tasm harry osborn
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Encapsulated in Time: Pt.2
Bucky x fem! reader
~ Here's the part 2! Enjoy! ~
Story Synopsis: Bucky knew something was missing from his memories. Something important, something special. He had tried everything to try and recover what it was, but he never could grasp anything. However, he never expected to find those missing memories in a file and an old box of videotapes
There was a faint buzzing in Bucky’s ears. The edges of the video TV slowly started to blur the harder he stared. The Avengers had all left after Steve read the first part of the file out loud. Bucky had just stared at Steve as the Captain tried to get Bucky to say something, finally giving up after Bucky was more interested in the old VCR player Tony hooked up for him.
The file still lay in his hands, flipped to an enlarged picture of you and him shopping in an open market.
You were laughing at something he said (a horrible joke he presumes) and he was giving you the biggest smile as he watched you. The picture was of good quality, catching the small crinkles around your eyes and the way Bucky’s eyes shone with love.
The sound of you giggling comes from the TV and Bucky realizes that he had been looking at the picture again.
When he looked up, you were making faces at the camera as he filmed you cooking dinner.
“Why do you always film me, James? You act like I’m gonna disappear from you or something.”
He listens to himself laugh behind the camera. He knows he’s probably blushing as well, still not used to you calling him by his first name. He has to bite his cheek to keep himself from crying after the film him starts talking.
“I just want some memories of you, baby. You know my memory is a little crazy from certain… things, I just want to make sure if something happens I can remember you. I know you won’t go disappearing on me, I’ll always keep you safe.” What you said after that didn’t register in his head until later.
Bucky truly was a liar. He had blatantly lied to you. Why did he think he could protect you? Why did he let his guard completely down? If he had just walked away when you asked him for directions, you would still be alive. You would still be living that life you always talked about, just without him.
“I want to travel the world with you. I want us to live here in Greece and buy plums from the market before we hop on a random flight to a random city. I want us to be free, James. Just you and me and the world.”
In that video, you’re lying on your side in the small bed you shared with him. You’re in your silk nightgown and the moonlight illuminates your skin, causing his breath to hitch.
He had always said you were ethereal. You would give him a small smile and just giggle. He thought it was adorable.
He now remembers the night he killed you far more vividly than any of his other memories of you. He knows Hydra was behind that. They always found some way to make him suffer more.
They captured him when he was on his way back to your apartment with groceries. He had to cut through a dingy alleyway. He never thought about how dangerous it could be, the only thought on his mind was what he was going to make for dinner. The last things he remembered were a bunch of agents surrounding him, the start of the trigger words, and dread filling him before the soldier took over.
“Soldat?”
Bucky dropped the groceries, immediately falling into order.
“Ready for Command.”
His “caregiver” at that time stepped forward. He handed the soldier a sniper rifle and a passport.
“Execute the girl and flee back to base. Be back before dawn or you get worse than the chair. Understood?”
The Winter Soldier didn’t even flinch at the threat, only throwing the rifle strap over his arm and giving a firm nod.
“Copy, sir.”
Next thing he knows, he’s laid out on the roof of the building directly opposite your apartment. You’re sitting in your favorite chair reading a book, not a care in the world. You sip on your tea before shutting your book and getting up to stretch.
The soldier hovers his finger over the trigger, waiting for you to move into position.
You step out onto your small balcony, basking in the afternoon sun. Your hair sways with the small breeze and you smile as you slip your eyes closed.
The soldier readies his shot, watching through his scope. He slowly puts his finger on the trigger.
Then, you open your eyes and look directly at him, practically looking straight down the scope. The soldier doesn’t hesitate but Bucky does, James does. He almost feels himself come back to normal, almost throws that rifle behind him, and rushes to get you to safety.
But then, you mouth a word. A word that has the soldier immediately readying his position. His finger finding the trigger once again.
You close your eyes again and-
He pulls the trigger.
You fall back through the sheer curtains leading inside, your blood smearing them red.
“Shoot”
That’s what you had mouthed to him. To the Winter Soldier. You knew that no matter what, it was either give the order or you and him would never find peace again.
James always knew you were right.
“You won’t always be able to protect me, you know that. They will come looking for you eventually. I might have to give an order one day, James. One that the Soldier won’t think twice about but Bucky will, James will. Promise me that no matter what, you won’t hold onto what you did. Promise me that you will continue to live, and be free. I love you, James.”
Bucky slowly closed your file and gathered all the tapes scattered everywhere, slowly stacking them back into the box.
He lays the file on top of them all and puts the lid on. He lets his hands rest there for a moment. Then, he slowly gets up and walks toward his room.
The Soldier always followed orders and James always kept his promises.
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Baby Badger Sequel - Daniel Ricciardo & Lando Norris
Final part to Baby Badger - at least until I have a big enough idea to get another done. It is about the heartbreak of Sochi, but with a happier ending? In a way? Thank you so much for the love on the 'second part' 🥺 Once again, you guys made my week/month with your reaction to the Prequel 🧡 Have a lovely US GP weekend, everyone!
🧡 Header by @x-lipstickstain-x 🧡
Baby Badger & Prequel & Hide&Seek
Masterlist | Taglist/Queue | Request
Taglist: @landhoe, @thinemineours, @chanandlersstuff
After we managed to fly out to the Monza GP and seemed to time our race visits perfectly to watch Dan win after so many years, there weren’t any questions about us attending Sochi as well. We got to enjoy the bliss of the Italian weekend for a whole week before we had to pack up again and travel to Russia. Of course no one was actually grumpy about travelling again, knowing well that the inconvenience of taking so many flights usually were worth it in the end. Even Ava seemed to understand that we had to get through a long flight to get to the enjoyable part of the weekend, letting us mostly rest on the plane and in the hotel afterwards. However, the minute we mentioned getting down to the paddock she always seemed to perk up, watching us argus-eyed until it was finally time to leave the boring room.
I mostly tried to contain her excitement in Dan’s driver room or our seat and to keep her calm every time we visited the garage. Fortunately, luck for once was on my side and she was tired enough to just stay with me or accompany Dan to a few team meetings and PR tasks, behaving like an angel every time. She turned out to be pretty camera shy, baffling both of us and everyone else around us. Probably all of us thought she would take up more of Dan’s personality, and even though there was a lot of him in her, somehow confidence in front of a camera wasn’t part of it. However, Ava was just as social as his Dad towards any and every person that we came across. Her current target of affection turned out to be Lando somehow, causing a few uncomfortable moments for the boy, as he didn’t really know how to react to the random leg hugs or act around her at first. Time seemed to fix their friendship, Lando slowly warmed up to her and even tried to sometimes play with her a little or at least anticipate her outbursts of love both towards him and her dad. As I think about, probably towards everyone in the team, though they were the main receivers.
The first two days in Sochi turned out to be close second to our weekend in Monza already, with Lando catching Pole in the last second and Dan keeping consistent with a P5 start for race day. The second the results were official the whole garage started buzzing with all the celebratory hugs going around while the TVs were still playing the last few seconds of Quali. The night seemed to fly by in a blink with everyone trying to celebrate another great team performance, but still kept it down and relaxed for the early start of Sunday. Ava seemed to pick up all the energy as well, either jumping around or being plastered to Dan’s side as he held her on his hip. We even had to pry her off of Lando’s leg a few times, although the Brit's smile gave it away that he didn’t really mind.
On race day we tried to let Daniel and the whole team concentrate, going to the track later than usual after a walk close to our hotel and a quick lunch. We still had enough time for a hug with Dan and high fives with the mechanics, before we had to go up to our seats. Even though she had her colourful pencils and coloring book, Ava was either bouncing on her chair or my lap until the cars finally appeared on the grid. Her focus seemed to shift immediately, standing as close to the glass wall as possible to see everything that happened. The McLaren colours were always easy to spot, even on an overcast day, as the papaya stood out from all the darker colours, helping Ava to spot both Dan and Lando easier. It was harder to tell which one of them was in the cars, the numbers on them much smaller, but usually it was enough to tell her if Dan was in the first or second orange machine.
We did the same for this race as well, discussing who was leading from the two of them every time they crossed the line. Although we would have loved to see Dan in the front I could still see excitement in Ava’s eyes as she watched Lando zip past every lap, fighting Carlos for the lead of the whole race. For the last 10 laps she managed to convince me to walk down to the garage, and watch the ending with the team, although we didn’t know what was awaiting us. By the time we got down they were already talking about rain, and looking outside we could easily spot the few droplets. I stood right next to Charlotte with a sigh, lifting Ava as well so she could see the screens over the mechanics’ heads.
I could feel the understandable tension in everyone as the cars started sliding while no one seemed to be pitting. Even by time Dan and Lewis decided to try their chances with a tyre change, Lando still stayed out and struggled the car around the track. As much as we were all happy for Daniel getting a well deserved 4th place, it didn’t cure the bitter aftertaste Lando’s misfortune left in us as he lost the lead and had to pit after almost finding the barrier a few times during one lap. Though the race ended, no one seemed able to really wrap their heads around the real outcome, stuck in their places as we all stared at the screen without a movement. Slowly everyone had to get ready to get on with the day while I just watched as the cameramen filmed mostly Lewis and everyone congratulating him.
I wanted to wait for Dan in the garage, knowing he would come to us first, giving us enough time to watch Lando go up to Lewis as well. Even though he accepted the hug and seemed happy for his colleague, everyone would have been able to tell it wasn’t with his whole heart. It probably wasn’t in one piece anymore either and I was pretty sure he was only looking forward to hiding away from all the eyes in his room. That’s exactly why we never got surprised that he didn’t show up in the garage with his team mate, rather choosing the hospitality building as his first destination.
While Ava asked to be held by Dan, in order to give him a hug finally, as soon as he showed up in the garage without his helmet, we both could see her eyes were searching for Lando as well. She usually got to share a quick hug with him as well, even though at first he was uncomfortable with being touched by anyone, and she seemed surprised by the change in their routine. We could only tell her that Lando is busy and she will have to wait to meet up with him as well. Luckily getting to watch the interviews from the sideline distracted Ava enough to stop asking questions every second, her eyes stuck on all the media workers and the drivers who answered their questions. I kept Ava off the ground, prefering to hold her than try and hold her back by her little hand. However, when she kept on wiggling and kicking me in the side continuously, I made the decision to finally set her down next to me.
She was just settling down when I could see Charlotte entering the media pen, Lando following her close behind with his head hanging low. My brain was way too slow to react in time, and by the second I reached out for Ava’s hand she already took off and was running towards the boy. The one person who probably needed time to settle and calm himself down. Not a toddler hanging onto him full force and throwing a fit at getting pulled away. I saw Dan popping up next to her, misunderstanding the situation and thinking Ava was running towards him, but he soon realised the plan was nowhere near his idea. He turned towards me confused, standing up from his crouching position, as I could only shake my head as well, seeing the determination in her steps. I didn’t even try to stop her, knowing it would just cause a meltdown and end up with her reaching the official goal anyways, but I stayed close to her making sure she was safe.
We both watched in half awe as Ava found her target and reached up a tiny hand, tugging on the usual black jean like pants that most of the McLaren employees wore on weekends. She was nowhere near using adult force but it was perfectly enough to make Lando break his conversation with Charlotte and look down at his legs. For a split second I thought he would be way too emotionally crushed by the events of the day to deal with Ava’s nonsense, my legs twitching to make me move closer and bring her away. However, the second Lando decided to crouch down to her level and force a smile onto his face I knew they would be fine. I couldn’t help my smile widening as Lando’s turned into a real one, his hand lifting up for a high five. A chuckle easily left my lips when I could see Ava’s much smaller palm meet his bigger one as they shared one last smile, Lando sending her back to me as they had to get on with the interviews.
" Do I deserve my hug now? " Dan asked her, leaning down to lift Ava up when she finally got back to us. She considered her answer for a second before shaking her head making us both gasp.
" Sad, hug. Happy, no hug. " She explained plainly, her finger playing with the team logo on Daniel's hoodie. My eyes were even wider after her answer as my hand flew in front of my mouth to keep my laughter down at Dan's smile fading away.It always felt amazing to watch such a tiny human match her dad's energy and give him a hard time for a few minutes. It felt like he was finally getting a taste of his own medicine.
" But I will be sad too if I don’t get a hug. " He exclaimed, a pout forming on his lips but never really representing his mood. As much as he was living for all the affection coming from Ava, we both knew she was the one deciding if she wanted to give it to us in the moment or not. She may be a kid but she could still decide if she felt like hugging another person. " Thank you. I'm now the happiest person here. " Daniel let out a chuckle as Ava's arms flew up around his neck and he even got a kiss on his cheek as compensation for the big wait.
In the end Daniel decided to take Ava with himself for the debrief as the little girl didn’t seem ready to let go of him any time soon. It wasn’t her first appearance during a debrief and knew quite well how she couldn’t distract her dad while they were that. I usually still went with them as a precaution to get her settled if she started distracting people, but we never had to take her out of the room before. This occasion wasn’t any different as she seemed to settle down right next to Dan with some paper and pencils, drawing something while the team discussed every aspect of the race. Seeing how she behaved I could also concentrate on the book I brought with myself, only looking up when Lando entered the room as well. I watched as he plopped down in a chair, putting the headset onto his ears and just trying to concentrate as best as he could.
Just a few minutes later Ava left her own place, coming to me asking for some scissors while showing me the drawing she has worked on for the past half an hour. I couldn’t help the smile that got onto my face the moment I saw the medal she made and could only hope no one was paying attention or realising what was going on. It wasn’t even a question that we went to search the hospitality for the scissors we needed and pretty soon succeeded. By the time Ava entered the room again she already had the cut out paper medal in her hands as she ran to the empty chair right next to Lando. He was pretty engrossed by all the printed out data and the computer screens but Ava waited patiently until people focused on Dan and he could finally look down at her.
It took a few seconds for his reaction to arrive but the smile we could see appear on his face was worth the time I held my breath for. Without a moment of hesitation he let Ava jankily put it around his neck and immediately looked down at it. The drawing was pretty similar to Dan’s Sprint Race medal, the one she probably got the idea from, but Lando didn’t seem to mind one bit. It may have not healed all the scars today caused, but I was glad we could see Lando smile once again and got to witness him loosening up for the first time since he exited his car. It was a step towards getting over the heartbreak and looking forward to the following chances, rather than eating himself up about one race that went wrong. The first step towards the right way of going about it all.
#daniel ricciardo#lando norris#f1#formula 1#mclaren#mclaren f1#lando norris fanfiction#daniel ricciardo fanfiction#daniel ricciardo fanfic#daniel ricciardo ff#daniel ricciardo oneshot#daniel ricciardo imagine#daniel ricciardo drabble#f1 fanfiction#f1 fanfic#f1 ff#f1 oneshot#f1 imagine#f1 drabble#formula 1 fanfiction#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 ff#formula 1 oneshot#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 drabble#bydonaidk#danny ric#baby badger
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celebrity crush | 2/??
a/n: the first interview is mostly based off of dove cameron and ava max’s interviews with popbuzz
summary: actress! reader somehow manages to bring up her crush on calum hood in every interview
pairing(s): calum hood x reader, platonic! reader x tom holland
warning(s): swearing? slight mentions of kinks
“She’s at it again mate,” Ashton smirked as he carried his laptop over to Calum who was sat on the sofa. He flipped open the computer and hit play on y/n y/l/n’s newest interview.
“C’mon, I don’t wanna-” Calum rubbed his hand over is face and shook his head.
Ashton ignored him and turned up the volume to drown out his protest. “Shhh.. watch.”
“Hey guys, I’m y/n y/l/n and this is the Pop Buzz Tower of Truth.” You spoke as the title popped up on screen.
“I think I’m gonna end up tipping it before I can even get one block out,” You said as you tried to carefully pull of a wooden block.
“That will never work,” Calum heard a voice from off camera say and recognized it as Tom Holland. He tried not to frown as you laughed and mocked him.
“Y’know what, we’re leaving that one.” You laughed, leaving the original block alone and easily pulling out another block.
“There we go. Okay, what was the last movie or tv show that make you cry? Dead Poets Society. I love Dead Poets Society so much and Tom had never seen it so we watched it after finishing yesterdays interviews.” You placed the block on top of the tower. “And he cried.”
The camera crew laughed as Tom shouted a, “Hey!”
“Tell us one thing about you that we don’t know. Um, this is hard because I’m always saying stuff that I shouldn’t be. Um, I’m an Oxford comma worshiper.” You said, unsure whether or not that’s interesting enough.
“Oxford comma?” A crew member behind the camera questioned.
“Yeah, y’know, the comma that comes before ‘and’ when making a list. I hate that people don’t use it because then I get all confused. Like if I were to write ‘Lizzie, Tom, and Robert are going to the party’ and I don’t add a comma before ‘and’ then it seems like Tom and Robert would be arriving at the party together. But some people who don’t use the Oxford comma could mean that all three people were showing up separately so I never know. Y’know what I mean?”
The camera crew were all silent after her rant and Calum chuckled a bit to himself. He thought it was cute that you were so passionate about the smallest things. Ashton looked over to him as Calum admired you through the screen. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew Calum secretly liked how much you talked about him.
“No,” Tom responded honestly
“Ugh,” You rolled your eyes dramatically and looked into the camera, “See, these are the type of guys you got to look out for: Un-grammarly men.” You joked.
“Un-grammarly isn’t a thing.” Tom laughed.
“Well if it were a thing, you’d be one.” You fired back at Tom.
“Anyway, who is your favorite artist right now? Um, probably Wallows, I love them and their music.”
“I was really expecting Calum Hood to be honest.” Tom shouted from across the room.
“Oh my god, I can’t believe I just forgot about him like that. I love you Calum Hood. I love 5sos.” You held up your hands into a heart shape and moved your hands from side to side.
You then dropped them and grabbed another block. “Sorry, I keep forgetting that people are actually going to see these interviews. Like, he could literally see this. Dude, I hope he doesn’t.” You paused, “Oh god, do you think he knows about my crush on him?” You had been mentioning him for years and it had never once occurred to you that he could actually see these.
Calum laughed at the irony of the situation. Here he was watching a video of you saying you hoped he’d never see said video.
“This is humiliating.” You mumbled though you didn’t seem to actually care, “Who was your first celebrity crush? Oh uh, definitely Andrew Garfield. I remember when I first watched the Social Network and I was like obsessed. My friend and I both watched it over 10 times within like two months. And then would continuously make Mark Zuckerberg jokes. But of course, Calum Hood now owns my heart.” You put the block on top of the tower. “I’m actually doing really good, I thought I’d knock it down by now.”
“Describe in detail the worst date you’ve ever been on. Okay so I was like fifteen right, and, well I’m not even sure if this counts as a date. I think he considered it a date so I guess it was but basically we were in the car, he was sixteen so he could drive. We were in the drive through, we had already ordered, and he started feeling around in is pockets and I was like oh god, cause I knew what was about to happen. He was like, ‘oh no i think i lost my wallet’, and I was like its fine I’ll pay. I really didn’t mind. I ended up paying, we got our drinks and without missing a beat, we hadn’t even pulled out of the drive through, he was like’oh here’s my wallet.’ I really didn’t mind paying for my coffee, I wouldn’t mind paying for both of our coffees. But him going out of his way to lie, and then not even lie well, was so irritating.” She placed the block on the top and picked up a new one.
“What is the most useless idem you’ve ever purchased? Um, I bought a seven foot giraffe while I saw drunk once.” The block was added to the top, the tower now taller than you. “He’s in my living room if you wanted to know.”
You grabbed the next block carelessly, immediately regretting it when the tower fell behind you, “Oh shit, well I guess we’re done then.” You said nonchalantly, looking at the blocks on the floor. “I don’t think I’ll be playing this again anytime soon. Love you guys,” You held up your hands, “Love you Calum Hood.” You winked before the outro began to play.
“She must really love you, Cal.” Ashton poked Calum’s cheek annoyingly, “She’s got no shame.”
Calum wouldn’t admit it, but as soon as he got home he looked you up again. He clicked on the same video Ashton showed him and scrolled through the comments.
y/nscalumhoodkink: MOMOMOMOMOMOM
datemey/n: Queen of Jenga
ashtonfletchersbitch: Y/N LITERALLY IS ME
5esohes: no because y/n y/l/n and calum hood together is my kink
noemptywalletshere: not only does y/n own this fandom, but my ass too
He couldn’t help but laugh at the comments no matter how interesting they were. But something in the back of his head kept yelling at him. She doesn’t acting like you. Shes just likes your music, nothing more. He sighed and clicked out of the video and was about the close his laptop when his cursor handed on a video.
Y/n Y/l/n foaming at the mouth while talking about Calum Hood for 5 minutes straight.
He clicked on it a little too quickly and waited for it too load.
“Calum Hood choke me challenge.” You stuck out your tongue and threw up a peace sign with an innocent look plastered on here face.
“Bro imagine if Calum Hood saw this?” “Oh he would definitely fall for you after this video”
The third thing to pop up was a tweet from 2015 just saying: #marrymecalumhood
“Calum Hood send me hand pics. This is a demand, not a request.”
Calum continued to watch the entire video. Normally, the thirsty comments would have made him uncomfortable, but them coming from you made his heart race and cheeks flush.
God, what was happening to him?
#calum#calum hood#luke hemmings#ashton irwin#michael clifford#5sos#5sos imagine#calum hood x y/n#calum hood x you#imagines#calum hood x reader#5sos calum#calum hood 5 seconds of summer#marvel cast#marvel#tom holland#interview#luke hemmo#tom holland x reader#cal pal
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𝐝𝐨𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 — jesse lingard
summary: jesse was afraid to lose you, but you have to reassure him that his money and fame mean nothing to you.
notes: requests are open, ask away!
for @bite-me-en-la-boca
Jesse was afraid to lose you, as simple as that. He wasn’t blind to the double takes people do when you walk past them, or the comments from men at the club when they pass. You were stunning — and Jesse knew that, along with everyone else.
Even his own friends would make little comments, obviously they knew they wouldn’t act on it, so did he, but his girlfriend was wanted by even his closest mates. It definitely made him hold onto you a little tighter. Whenever you’d visit him at training, or go to an event with him, he’d keep you close and constantly shower you in affection, so everybody knew you were his.
The Instagram comments were the worst, not only would his be littered with ‘she’s fit’ or ‘lucky man’, but yours were so vivid that you’d refuse to open them. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t scroll through them every once in a while to see what people were saying, only to return to you a while later with a heavy heart.
The whole of the UK male population were after you, which is why tonight was the worst for Jesse. You were celebrating Marcus’ birthday, and it was completely unlike him to want to go clubbing, but you both agreed anyway.
Jesse watched with a sick feeling in his stomach, almost feeling the need to grab his phone and text his best friend that he was too sick to go. And keep you at home. He knew what tonight would be like, he knew that someone would make a comment, or give you a suggestive glance, and it would ruin his night.
“How do I look?” You asked, smiling innocently up at your boyfriend. Even with heels on, he towered over you. Jesse pushed his negative thoughts to the side to compliment you.
“Wow. Where’s Y/N gone?” He asked, holding your hand and twirling you around slowly. You met his eyes once again with a pout, and Jesse kissed it away. There was never a day he didn’t compliment you on your beauty.
“Real funny. Are you ready?”
“Do I look ready?” Jesse countered, standing back from you and showing off his smart casual attire. You laughed and smoothed the fabric of his shirt down, smiling up at him. He looked back down at you with so much love in his eyes, you’d forget he was hiding his intrusive thoughts behind those eyes.
The pair of you left, getting an Uber to the club you were supposed to arrive at 20 minutes ago. Marcus was waiting inside, sitting in a booth with a few other United boys. The second Marcus spotted you, he moved out of the booth to greet you both.
“Jess,” Marcus spoke, pulling his best friend into a hug, “how’ve you been?”
Jesse just nodded, watching his attention divert from him to you. He squeezed you tightly and almost lifted you from your feet. He knew Marcus would never betray him like that, no matter how hot you were. He trusted Marcus entirely, but it was just adding fuel to the fire. Jesse felt tense from the moment he entered the club, the boys greeting you and having a laugh with you. It was off-putting, he just wanted to go home and watch your rubbish tv. He’d sit through hours of it if it meant you weren’t here getting preyed on.
Throughout the night, you’d had shot after shot, begging Jesse to dance with you an hour in. And he was keeping you close to him, eyes watching intently as you swayed your hips onto him. Your eyes were on him the entire time, not paying mind to the people around you. Jesse so badly wanted to enjoy this moment with you, but those eyes surrounding you were slowly pushing him over the edge.
“What the fuck are you staring at?” He snapped, causing a small space to form between the pair of you. You stepped back in shock, staring at your boyfriend who angrily stared at the people surrounding you.
His eyes had found yours again, but you were gone. You’d approached the booth Marcus was sitting at, wedging between him and Jadon, a frown on your face.
“What happened, Y/N?” Marcus questioned, an arm around your shoulder as you looked visibly upset. You saw Jesse sat at the bar now, head in his hands with a drink in front of him.
“He just shouted in front of everyone, it’s so embarrassing.” You stated, folding your arms and stealing a drink from the table. You didn’t know who the victim of the stolen drink was, quite frankly, you didn’t care. Jesse had bursted his anger in front of everyone, and even though it wasn’t directed at you, it still embarrassed you.
The next half hour was torture, you were slowly losing your buzz and the night was becoming boring. You were sandwiched between the two boys, and they refused to let you have any more drinks. Jesse was still sulking at the bar, but you didn’t care. You’d let him sulk there for the remainder of the evening, if need be.
“Guys, I think I might head home,” you mentioned, standing up and wiggling over the line of boys, “I’m super tired now.” You waved sweetly at Marcus, wishing him one more ‘happy birthday’ before you were leaning against the wall and waiting for your Uber.
Jesse looked back at the booth, wondering which boy had an arm around you this time, but you were gone. The space between Marcus and Jadon that you occupied had now disappeared. His eyes frantically searched the dance floor, but you were nowhere to be seen. It was only then that he started to regret shouting. He could lie and say he didn’t know what came over him, but he did know. He was jealous.
“She’s gone home.” Marcus spoke into his friend’s ear, patting him on the shoulder. It eased Jesse’s thoughts a little, but he still felt horrible. Jesse had gotten an Uber home not long after you, finding the house completely dark apart from your shared bedroom.
You were tucked into bed, Netflix in the background as you scrolled through your phone. You could see Jesse standing in the doorway, but didn’t acknowledge him as he walked in and sat on your side of the bed. His hand rested on the lump in the duvet that was your leg, waiting for you to say something. But you didn’t.
“I’m sorry.” He blurted out, his voice soft with guilt. You didn’t even react, you just kept scrolling. “Really, I am. I’m sorry for ruining your night.”
“It’s done now, you need to go to bed. You have Hope tomorrow.” You replied, a lack of emotion in your voice. He knew you loved when Hope was round, the pair of you got on immensely. But you seemed bored now. Bored of listening to him. You had gotten out of bed and left the room, wandering downstairs to distract yourself with something else.
“It’s not done, babe.” Jesse spoke, following your footsteps as you turned into the kitchen. You stood at the counter, grabbing a coffee pod from your cupboard and beginning to make yourself a coffee.
“What else do you want to say, Jesse?” You argued calmly, Jesse almost jumping at the mention of his name. It was always silly pet names, never his name. He could see by the look on your face that you were over this, you were tired, grumpy, getting slightly hungover.
“I know I should never have shouted like that, in front of everyone,” he spluttered, alcohol still in his system. His words were not stringing together very well, which presented a bad case on his behalf, “the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you because of my own insecurities.”
Jesse wasn’t the type to show his insecurities to anyone, not even you at times, but you knew they were there. He was stuck in the mindset of sweeping them away, out of sight and out of mind. You wanted to badly to help him work through them like he did with yours, but he’d never disclose what was bothering him. You turned to look at him, the argument long forgotten now as you wanted this to be the chance he finally opens up.
“What insecurities, Jess?” You wondered, slowly approaching him. Your small hands held his cheeks, you could’ve sworn you’d seen a glint in his eyes.
He shook his head, the window now closed. The opportunity for the pair of you to sit down and talk about what bothered him, it was gone. You were back to pretending not to see his tensed jaw and white knuckles from squeezing his fist together. You sat at the island in defeat, your headache prominent now.
Jesse’s hand fell upon your shoulder, your eyes meeting once again. Your face contorted as a tear fell from your eye, Jesse now going into full on panic mode. He sat beside you, pulling you into his chest and holding you close. You could hear his heart pounding in his chest, you weren’t the only one who wished he could say how he felt.
“How are we ever going to move forward together if I don’t know how you’re feeling?” You asked honestly, holding his bare arm and pulling it close to you. There would always be this barricade stopping you from moving forward, his insecurities stopping you both from being able to talk to each other.
Jesse pulled away from you, his fingers fiddling with the expensive ring on your finger. He’d gifted it to you on your two-year anniversary, it was a beautiful night. “I just get jealous. I see your Instagram comments, and mine. I see the way random men look at you on the street, in the club, in the fucking supermarket. Even the boys are always complimenting you, being touchy with you. It might sound stupid and it might seem like it’s nothing, but it makes me fucking jealous.”
“You know I’d never do that to you,” you turned to Jesse, now clutching his hand tightly, “you’re the only one I want.”
“I know that, love. I have been fucked around before, girls always go after my money and my name. You don’t even shoo these boys away. It’s like you enjoy their attention.” Jesse accused, his tone still soft with you. He never raises his voice with you, and you never have with him.
This comment hurt you, your waterline burned with tears once again, hearing your boyfriend even fathom these ideas. “I don’t pay these boys any mind. You’re the only one I want attention from, I barely give the rest of them a second glance. And I’m sorry that your friends are touchy with me, I just give them lots of hugs and squeezes because they’re your friends, I want them to like me. I know how important they are to you. So they’re important to me.”
Even though Jesse thought you liked the attention, and wanted him for his name and wealth, even though it deeply pained you for him to think these things of you, you kept it cool. He was hurting, these were his insecurities. You looked up at him, giving him your infamous doe eyes, the ones he fell for in the first place.
“If I only wanted you for your wealth and name, I wouldn’t bother with Hope. I love that girl, she’s my best friend. I’d do anything for her,” Jesse smiled at your comment, his hand smoothing over your cheek, “I wouldn’t bother with your family, I wouldn’t call them up everyday asking how they are. I wouldn’t bother with your career, making sure your training kit is washed and you have appropriate lunch.” You emphasised the word appropriate, as Jesse would sometimes leave with just one of Hope’s lunchables, or just a yoghurt.
Jesse let out a laugh, both hands now holding your face close to his. “Thank you. I’m sorry for doubting you.”
“I won’t take your name when we get married, just to prove that I’m not in it for fame and wealth,” you admitted, a smile on your face, “I don’t know how you do it if I’m honest, you can’t even walk around the shop without someone approaching you. It’d get on my nerves.”
“Of course you’re gonna take my name,” Jesse cooed, kissing the bridge of your nose and looking down at you once more, “and you better get used to it, because I’m not giving you up.” He held you tight to him, the both of you still reeking of alcohol and the coffee long forgotten.
#jesse lingard drabble#jesse lingard#jesse lingard one shot#jesse lingard blurb#jesse lingard imagine#jesse lingard smut#jlingz
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''𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬''
Word Count: 1.5k+
Warnings; Haechan x fem!reader, 18+, big dick Haechan, explicit language, the usual shit <3
(I wrote this a longggg time ago and I haven't posted in a while so I'm posting this- pls I know it sucks ass but it's better than nothing)
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
‘’Hyuck, open the fucking door’’ you said to your best friend on the other end of the phone. You heard him groan, along with the squeak of his bed as he stood up. ‘’Fine, fine, fine, I’m coming’’ he said with a tone of annoyance to his voice.
You loved him, but sometimes he was the biggest pain in the ass. You slipped your phone into the back pocket of your jeans as you heard him approach the door, opening it up to see him before he cracked a smile.
‘’Gee, thanks for actually letting me in.’’ you said, rolling your eyes.
The boys dorm was oddly quiet, you looked around for his two dorm mates. ‘’Where’s Jaemin and Mark?’’
Donghyuck raised his eyebrows at the question. ‘’Why? Are they the real reason you came?’’ he said with a fake pout, crossing his arms. You chuckled slightly at how cute he was, although you’d never admit it.
‘’You know movie night is my favourite, shut up’’ you replied, hitting his arm slightly as we walked to his room.
‘’So, what are we watching?’’ you asked, plopping down onto his bed, sitting up against the headboard after kicking your vans off. He shrugged and sat next to you, grabbing the controller and turning on Netflix. After about 5 minutes of him scrolling and you disappearing to make some popcorn you were both back on the bed, a large bowl of popcorn between you as you laid on my side, watching whatever shitty horror movie Haechan chose.
You couldn’t help but lose focus on the movie as he reached for another handful of popcorn, your gaze slowly following his hands, his long fingers adorned with silver rings, the veins in his hands prominent even in the dull red light of his room, thanks to the strip lights that encased the room.
Of course, Haechan being Haechan, wanted the room ‘’scary’’, for this terrible movie, but something in your mind switch looking at the sight before you.
Unknowingly your eyes travelled up towards his face, the light casting a glow on his perfect-
‘’What?’’ he said with a chuckle snapping you out of your thoughts, chewing a mouthful of popcorn with the goofiest grin on his face. You shook your head. ‘’Just wondering why you chose a shitty movie again’’ you said fixing myself slightly on the bed to look at the tv once again.
Praying deep down that your lie was good enough to cover the thoughts that had intruded my mind, you were quickly distracted by your phone buzzing on the bedside locker causing you to lean over and pick it up.
You sat up a little bit straighter upon reading the name, but not enough to draw attention to myself.
Jeno.
You sighed internally to yourself, talk about bad timing you thought, swiping up on the homescreen to access the message.
Jeno : ‘’You free?’’
‘’nah, at Haechan’s. It’s movie night.’’
Jeno : ‘’too bad. I could really do with your tight pussy right now.’’
His blunt words shocked you, not sure why. You should’ve been used to his ways by now.
‘’if it wasn’t movie night, sure, but im not ditching Hyuck for dick’’
Right on que, you felt the phone being snatched out of your hands, the sudden act wasn’t anything new for the pair of you, that’s just how you were, especially on movie night but something about his clenched jaw and the slight red tint to his ears let you know this wasn’t something usual.
‘’What the fuck is this?’’ he asked, his voice dripped with venom.
‘’What?’’ you asked, voice shaking.
‘’Why the fuck is Jeno texting you?’’ he bit back. ‘’You’re really fucking around with him? The biggest fucking asshole?’’ Hyuck’s sudden anger sent a chill down your spine, but deep down I knew it wasn’t just fear. The slight flare of his nostrils, the clenching of his jaw, his eyes narrowing as he typed a quick ‘’fuck yourself’’ and sent it to Jeno.
You didn’t even have the time to process anything, let alone say anything before the bowl had been moved, the phone had been thrown to the computer chair that had sat infront of the computer desk. All of a sudden the feeling of his lips almost knocked the air out of your lungs. His kiss was full of anger and hunger, his tight grip on your face sure to leave bruises.
Haechan’s hands travelled down, pulling you onto his lap. With his lips moving down to your neck, you took the opportunity to take a breath.
‘’H-hyuck.. what are you doing?’’ you asked, your voice shaking as he sucked dark marks onto the sensitive skin.
‘’What? You’d rather be with Jeno doing this than me?’’ he said between kisses. Moving back up to your lips, he kissed you again, hands knotting in his hair.
‘’I asked you a question’’ he spat, grabbing your hips and pressing your down onto the growing bulge in his jeans. You gasped at the sudden action, ‘’No..’’ you mumbled, going back to kiss him but the feeling of his fingers gripping your hair, pulling your head back before resuming his attack on your neck.
‘’No what?.. You don’t want me?’’
You couldn’t help but whimper as he placed more marks on the skin.
‘’Don’t lie to me, or yourself. I know how you look at me, what goes through you’re head.. the same goes through mine.’’ He breathed into your ear, sending a shiver down my spine.
‘’so I’ll ask you again, me or Jeno?’’ he spat into your ear, biting down on the lobe.
‘’fuck… you Hyuck ..please’’
He released his grip on your hair, smirking. He had the darkest look in his eyes, making his already dark eyes look almost black.
Haechan quickly flipped the pair of you, letting himself be on top as he quickly pulled your shirt off, leaving wet kisses on your chest before tearing off his own.
You sat up to attach your lips back to his before you felt his hand wrap around your throat, pushing me back down, his own strength too much for you to fight against. Not that you wanted to.
‘’I didn’t ask you to sit up, did I?’’ his stern voice was a harsh contrast to the Haechan you were used to.
You only managed to shake your head, his hand never leaving your throat as he pressed his lips back on yours but this time more gentle.The sweet action didn’t last long as you felt his hand leave your neck travelling down to your jeans before pulling away and making short work of pulling them off.
Haechan smirked while looking down at you, leaning back over as he dipped two fingers into your underwear slowly grazing your clit.
‘’You’re fucking dripping’’ Haechan said breathily before shoving one finger in slowly.
‘’Hyuck please.. fuck me’’ you whined, your mind blank except for that one thing
The statement triggered a low, deep groan from his throat.
‘’Usually I’d wait a bit longer but..’’ he said, standing up and undoing his belt, quickly discarding his jeans and boxers before climbing back onto the bed.
Anticipating his impressive length, your legs spread on their own accord only to be met with him grabbing you and quickly flipping you over onto your stomach.
Haechan’s hands grabbed your waist before slowly guiding his hard length into your dripping folds. He groaned as he wasted no time in fully pushing in before completely bottoming out.
The quick action making you drop your upper body onto his bed, moaning at the fullness. ‘’You’re so fucking tight’’ he muttered, slowly pulling back and thrusting back into you harder and faster than you expected.
‘’Jeno mustn’t have been doing too good of a job if you’re still this tight’’ Hyuck smirked while speeding up his thrusts, his hips slamming off your ass, filling the room with all sorts of sounds. You couldn’t bring yourself to form a sentence, the stretch and the speed causing too much pleasure for words in your head to have any meaning behind them.
‘’You’ve no idea how long I’ve waited to do this and to think you’ve been going to him’’
his thrusts only became sharper, hitting that spot inside you making almost scream.
Hyuck wrapped one hand in your hair, pulling you back before pulling your back up flush with his torso, his speed never letting up. The hand that was wrapped in you hair made its way to grip your throat, the other travelling down to rub circles on your clit.
‘’f-fuck.. hyuck.. don’t stop’’ you whined, eliciting a sinister chuckle from him.
‘’Fucked dumb already? You gonna cum for me?’’ he groaned into your ear, nodding and whining in response. You could tell by how uneven his thrusts became he was close too.
As if reading your thoughts his hand that was once wrapped around your throat pushed you headfirst into his covers, he kept it there, the other hand never letting up is abuse on your clit. Before you knew it you were seeing stars, clenching around his dick almost screaming in pleasure. You heard a soft ‘’oh fuck’’ from behind you, your own orgasm triggering his as he filled you up with his cum. Haechan quickly pulled out, collapsing beside you as both of you tried to catch our breath, pulling you into his arms.
‘’No more Jeno, yeah?’’
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
#lee haechan#haechan x reader#haechan x reader smut#nct x reader#nct x reader smut#lee donghyuck#lee donghyuck x reader smut#18+ nct#nct smut#nctzen smut#nct fics
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imaaaaagine a world like that..can you? part 2
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in which y/n sees a text, harry lies to her, and wants her back.
a/n: ahhhh!!! i feel like the first part of this story was a fan favorite out of all my other pieces! so thank you thank you thank you!!! hope you enjoy!
here’s the link to part 1 if you haven’t read it already!
-
you were always a light sleeper. you would wake up to a pillow falling on the floor, slight wind coming from outside, or even a phone that’s on silent vibrate. that’s the case when you woke up to a text vibration sound coming from a phone. tired eyes, you wake from your current position and see a love island episode playing. on auto-play of course because you already remember watching the previous episode a few days prior. you guess you and harry fell asleep during the new one you two were watching. with tired eyes, you squint to see harry sleeping peacefully. you miss this, you thought. sitting there in silence and taking in how harry used to sleep, slight snores, mouth a little open. except he’d be right next to you and not across.
your thoughts interrupted you hear the text buzz again. you grab what you assume to be your phone, since you and harry both have simple, plain black cases.
wrong.
it wasn’t your phone. it was harry’s.
you realized this when you read the text displayed on the lock screen, from olivia wilde.
I miss you, and our casual hookups. Can’t stop thinking about it. it read. you wanted to breakdown and cry right there.
you felt all kinds of emotions; confused, upset, angry, and jealous. why wouldn’t harry tell me this part? no i understand that, but why would he make it seem like he did not enjoy it at all? clearly he’s comfortable doing this stunt if he was hooking up with her. all these thoughts running through your head as you quietly get up, turn off the tv, and go upstairs to your bedroom. leaving harry to sleep on the couch.
you feel tears rolling down your face as you get into bed, quiet sobs erupting from your chest. you loved him. you still love him. you were glad when harry said that it’s all pr. you were glad when he made it seem like its all fake. but now, it was all a lie. sure it was a pr stunt, but harry and olivia seemed to take advantage of that and use that to get intimate. he clearly wasn’t as annoyed as he made to seem about the situation since he got to hookup with her. you may be jealous, but you don’t care that he didn’t mention something private like that to you, because he didn’t need to, it’s his business. but what stings is that he made it seem like it was clear he wasn’t actually into olivia.
-
you wake up to hear the coffee machine on, and the sound of something being cut against the cutting board. harry’s still here. you felt weird facing him now that you know he lied to you. even though you two aren’t in a relationship anymore, he has never lied to you. ever. nonetheless, you get up and proceed with your morning routine, then head downstairs.
“mornin,’ sleep well?” harry smiles as he sees you enter the kitchen. his eyebrows furrow a bit as you come closer to his vision. he couldn’t help but notice your eyes look a bit puffier than usual than how it normally looks when you’ve just woken up. he knows its either allergies or that you cried.
you reply with a slight “mhm” and reach for the cupboard to get glasses.
the thought of you crying makes him worried. it always did. you rarely cried during your relationship with him. only when it was a close individual’s funeral, or tears of laughter. or the day you two argued and he broke it off with you.
that’s why he hates seeing you in your state now. because if you were crying, all he could picture is the day you two broke up.
“y/n, y’good? your eyes look puffier than usual, love.” harry asks cautiously, trying to read your face, which refuses to make eye contact with him.
you were stood by the fridge, filling the glasses of water for the two of you when you replied, “m’good, just allergies. cat’s shedding season.” you say with a straight face, looking towards the glasses you’re filling. not wanting to look harry in the eyes. because all you can think about is how he was intimate with olivia, and how he lied. your stomach already turns at the thought.
“take the allergy meds that doctor prescribed you a while ago. remember it works wonders.” harry smiles, setting yours and his plate down on the table as you come and set the glasses down.
harry makes it so damn hard to hate him sometimes. the fact that he remembers the little things has you in awe. but no, not right now y/n.
“mhm, i’ll call in to get those refilled.” you lie through your teeth, acting as if the allergies were the reason for your current state, “thanks for breakfast by the way, y’didn’t have to. my fault for waking up later than usual.” you say sitting down.
harry sitting across from you, senses a different feel to how you were yesterday. you seem a bit off now, and you were never like this in the mornings. he supposes you did have a late night and filled with allergies bothering you, so you’re probably not in the best mood.
he shrugs it off, “no need, i overstayed my visit on accident, and its the least i can do after you helped me with my little uh, situation,” harry giggles, sticking a strawberry in his mouth.
you give him a glare as he looks down. his situation he says. you wanted to laugh in his face.
it’s a silent breakfast from there. harry in his own thoughts thinking about last night. oh, how much he missed you. how much he wanted to cuddle with you. be sleeping in bed with you. waking up to your face. soft kisses throughout. he misses it so much. he senses and hopes you miss him too. he had a good feeling last night. and that’s when he decides he needs to say something. if he doesn’t speak now, he never will. now’s the perfect time. after his tour and new album, he’ll be taking a break. a break from everything. a break to spend time with family, friends, live privately, and hopefully settle down with you. now��s the perfect time to reconcile with you and put the offer out on the table.
“..so,” harry begins. you look up and see harry putting his utensils down, wiping his mouth with a napkin, getting ready to speak. “after the tour ends, i’ll be releasing my album, do some promo for that, and then i’ll be on a hiatus..for however long i’d want it to be..”
you can’t just have all feelings for him disappear in less than 24 hours. so when he said that, you can’t lie to yourself and not feel some happiness. yet, he still better not say what you think he’s gonna say. you’re still mad at him y/n. don’t do this to yourself.
“so what are you saying..” you hum.
“god y/n, you know what i’m about to say.” harry purses his lips and looks you in the eye, hands reaching out for yours, “i’m ready to settle down with you, if you’d have me back that is.” he says with a little smile and gleaming eyes.
the days prior from yesterday of you finding out, you would’ve have said yes. you would have breathed out a finally, and had a sense of relief.
but now it’s going to be a different outcome. he took advantage of your kindness and you giving him advice. he took advantage of your time. maybe dramatic, but that’s how you see it.
you’re mad. that slight happiness you got when he said he was taking a break is gone.
“s’not even like we have to be boyfriend and girlfriend for another period of time! we can go straight to fiancés! we already have trust in each other, i mean we only broke up because of my work. nothing else was to be fixed in the relationship! i’ll put a ring on it right now if i have’ta!”
harry rambling, saying some bullshit about trust, causes you to interrupt him, “harry-“ he still rambles but now about having kids. “stop.” you say, voice grew a little louder and more stern.
harry pauses, wide-eyed. sure he didn’t know how you were even feeling about this, but he was sure the love you two have was still there.
“trust?” you laugh in disbelief. “first off, you’re acting like we took a break. a halt in our relationship until you were ready to settle down. you should know that’s not the case. i’ve been patient throughout our relationship far too long for me to be waiting around on your terms.”
“y/n i-“ he interrupts.
“no, i’m talking. this whole ‘trust’ thing is gone. i’m sorry but last night i woke up in the living room to a text notification. i assumed it was my phone, and since we have the same phone cases, i happened to pick yours up and saw a text from who’s supposed to be your ‘pr stunt’? she’s wanting to hook up with you? again? jesus harry, you should know why i’m mad and upset that you’re saying you want me now. even before you said all this, right after seeing that text, i was mad because you lied to me. look, you of course didn’t have to share that you were intimate with her; but don’t make it seem as if you’re not into her at all. and making it seem like it’s the poor girl’s fault. acting as if she’s a nuisance wanting to be intimate or affectionate, cause clearly you wanted her as well.” you end your speech with a sigh, shaking your head. you take a sip of water, mouth dry from the little speech you said. you wait for him to come up with whatever amusing thing he can say to make it not sound as bad as it is.
harry’s startled. doesn’t know what to say. he saw the text when he woke up, but he told her that it wasn’t for him anymore, that he just wanted you, and it was nice in the moment, but they are after all, strictly just business buddies with a platonic friendship. she understood, she seemed a bit mad, but harry didn’t care. he just wanted to make sure there’s nothing in his way to get you back, and that those hookups he had with her were in the past. he’s going to try to fix this.
you speak up again in a calmer tone, “you didn’t care about my feelings,”
his face turns red. nerves rattling him.
“y/n i feel awful about it, know what i mean i-“
you cut him off. “you made me look really dumb, harry.” you say while lightly nodding your head in order to get him to understand.
he begins to speak again. “look i’ll be honest. i should’ve mentioned it yesterday, and m’sorry for that. i will admit, there was a physical attraction with her at the beginning of everything, and since we were broken up-“
you correct him, “are, broken up.”
his heart hurts when you say that, he nods, “yes, are broken up, i didn’t want to live with any regrets. i felt it was better to just experiment and to take advantage of being in the stunt, seeing if there’s a spark,” he takes a breath. “i would’ve regretted if i didn’t and it was better to do it at the time because i didn’t know if you would even take me back once i came home,” he keeps fidgeting with his feet under the table, nervous on what your response will be; but hopefully understanding. because you always were.
wrong. boy was he wrong.
“so..you still did it with the intention of coming back home, hoping to get back with me?” you caught him. “harry..what are you even saying?”
he gulped. fuck. this looks bad. he didn’t think things through, he thought. “look, you didn’t feel anything rushing back last night? everything that we had, and built together?” face even more red.
“yeah and then today..you slapped me across the face with a lie and embarrassed me.” you spat. “what’s wrong with you? you don’t have any respect for me.” shaking your head in disappointment. “and its such a let down considering if you hadn’t hooked up with her, i would’ve hopped right into your arms right when you said you wanted to settle.”
he regrets everything and anything right when you said those words. why did he hook up with her? god did he really think y/n was going to just be waiting around? of course he thought so. he always did. and that’s why you two were broken up.
he sighed, shaking his head as well, as he’s disappointed in himself. he was about to speak, but you beat him to it. “i’m not mad that you hooked up with her, i’m mad that you don’t have any respect for me. i’m mad about your intentions behind it. and the fact that you lied to me making it seem like olivia is the bad guy saying, ‘s’like she enjoys it!’” you repeat his words he said to last night, when he made it seem like he wasn’t into her. “and just the fact that i gave you meaningful advice because i care about you, once again, you embarrassed me. i feel dumb, harry.”
he feels dumb too.
you still didn’t let him speak, instead, you let him leave.
“something needs to change, harry. until then, please leave.” you say, getting up from the table walking hurriedly upstairs, eyes beginning to water, but you feeling satisfied that you listened to your own advice you gave to harry: stand your ground.
-
a/n: man really thought y/n would be waiting around for her. smh.
hope you guys enjoyed this part!! still deciding on whether to make a part 3 or not! don’t really know which way i want to go about it.
#harry styles#harry#harry styles blurb#harry styles fluff#harry styles imagine#harry talk#harry styles x reader#harry styles angst#harry styles one shot#harry styles concept#harry styles series
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Can you do a TaeminxReader where both the reader and Taemin are on The Knowing brothers and Heechul continuously flirts with the reader.
hello there~ i honestly don’t know if you still remember requesting this but here you go! i am so sorry for answering after such a long loooong hiatus. also, i am not really familiar with all the segments for the knowing brothers so i apologize in advance if some of them do not make sense. hope you still enjoy it nevertheless!
taemin scenario: just add jealousy
pairing: taemin x reader
word count: 2.3k
summary: taemin and reader have been liking each other for quite a while now and promoting as a duo together makes their relationship even more complicated. maybe a sprinkle of jealousy would finally ignite the sparks between them.
warnings: none
send in your requests here!
taemin plopped down on a seat and loosened the black necktie he was wearing for the knowing brothers recording. he reached over the table to grab a new bottle of water and contently chugged down its contents. the shoot just wrapped up and the cold drink was refreshing especially after participating in a lot of the activities today. he already spent more than a decade doing variety shows but this one made him extra tired. maybe it comes with age? who was he kidding, twenty-seven is not yet considered as old. he can perform and dance for hours and gladly do it again the next day. comparing to that, a tv show guesting should be a piece of cake but why does he feel more than relief to wrap it up earlier than expected.
with a long heavy sigh, taemin tilted his head backward and close his eyes. he knows exactly the reason why he feels exhausted and also annoyed. it was because of his certain senior called kim heechul.
a frown quickly formed across his forehead as the events a while ago replayed on his mind.
exhibit a:
“with your great chemistry on stage, fans keep on speculating if something is going on between you two. is there something we should know?” heechul asked as the cast talks about your debut single.
honestly, you were not that surprised with the question since it was quite a buzz across social media already. the other members of your girl group practically shoved their phones to your face whenever they saw comments regarding your performance. of course, their loud teasing comes next as if they were a package deal of some sort–which you don’t remember purchasing at all.
“no, we’re both just good friends.” you answered confidently with a chuckle. “i think my chemistry with taemin only comes from how much effort and passion we have put in our every performance. seeing such reactions from our audience makes both of us happy since it means that we did something great up there on stage.”
taemin was nodding silently beside you like a cute little puppy dog as he listened to your answer. he was quite proud of how well you handled the question on your own.
“so does that mean you’re still single?” the super junior member continued to ask.
“um… yeah, pretty much.” you laughed as you nod.
“then i can ask you out?” well, that one caught you off guard.
“hey, isn’t that a bit inappropriate?” taemin can’t help but interrupt your conversation.
“why is that?” the older guy snapped back and sounded a bit offended.
“because…” okay, taemin did not really think this through but thanks to his variety show experience, he was able to blurt out an entertaining response. “aren’t you a bit too old for her? wouldn’t that put you to… i don’t know, jail?” the comment earned laughs and more insults from the other members.
“look here, mister! she’s of legal age so what do you mean jail?” heechul stood up from his seat and started to point his index finger towards his junior. "also, don’t you guys think it’s up to y/n to decide?“ he directed his look to you and raised an eyebrow. “so, what do think?” he tried to pull off a flirty look.
“well, they do say age doesn’t matter in love.” you shrugged as you went with the flow.
taemin knew that you’re also good on variety shows especially on how open you are to any situations that were thrown in your way. you always have the best responses and reactions. that is why people from the industry love to invite you over to shoot an episode with them. however, he kind of hoped that you have let go of the idea of flirting back.
exhibit b:
heechul pulled out the empty chair beside him and patted it, indicating for you to sit beside him. you removed the black backpack you were wearing and placed it on top of the desk as you gladly sat down next to him.
“so where should i take you for our first date?” his sudden proposal caused you to scoff and let out an amused laugh.
“well… i do love eating expensive steak in a fancy restaurant where i can wear a beautiful dress that you bought while thinking of me.” you teased with a sweet smile.
“isn’t that too much for a high school student?” he mumbled to himself before reaching out to brush the stray hair on your forehead. “okay, oppa will do it for you.”
you placed both of your hands underneath your cheeks and looked at him cutely. “thank you, oppa!”
“oppa? more like samchon if you ask me.” taemin looked back from his seat in front of you two.
“alright, what the hell is your problem today? did i do something wrong?” heechul replied incredulously with his eyes wide.
“he’s just probably jealous. he wants some steak too.” you playfully stuck your tongue out before pushing taemin’s head so he would look in front once again.
exhibit c:
all of you are now playing the whisper challenge and it was yours and heechul’s turn. he was the one guessing and you were the one mouthing out the words. both of you are going at it for a while now and it makes you a bit frustrated on the inside. you can feel the sore throat creeping in as you blatantly repeated the same phrase over and over. he’s great at a lot of games but this one is definitely 100-percent not his forte.
“ah… ah ah, i know it now!” he finally said confidently with his right first up in the air. “i love you…”
his answer made you cover your face and burst out into fits of laughter before waving your hands in front of you indicating that he guessed the phrase wrong.
“i love you!” he repeated with more conviction.
“no, that’s not the word!” you shook your head while giggling.
“yeah, i know that’s not the word. i just want to say it to you.” he nodded before giving you finger hearts which you immediately reciprocate.
both of you are playfully flirting for most of the recording but this one got to be the cheesiness lines you heard today.
taemin was pulled out from his train of thoughts when he heard you snickering loudly from across the room and his head hastily snapped in your direction. there you were, wearing a high school uniform that matches his and he was not going to lie, he was stunned when he saw you wearing it the first time this morning. you look bright and youthful with the red checkered bow around your neck. your high-waisted skirt emphasizes your curves. your pair of black thigh-high socks were the perfect length to make your legs look longer. your hair was pulled up on a half ponytail which he doesn’t usually see on you so it was a sight for him to remember. there was a soft blush on your cheeks and across the bridge of your nose. the gloss on your lips was also mesmerizing as it catches the light every time you speak. that didn’t help at all given the fact that he often caught himself staring at your lips too much lately.
seeing you made him think that if you both met as high school students, he would have undeniably confessed to you in an empty classroom after class. he chuckled at the thought. he was not quite sure if you would have liked him back in high school since he was not confident in himself back then.
his daydreaming was cut short when he realized who you were talking to. it was none other than the kim heechul. he can’t help but observe as the two of you conversed animatedly with each other. he knew that heechul was a funny guy but he’s not that hilarous for you to laugh that hard. while listening to whatever story he has been conjuring, you were pulling your hair up in a quick messy bun since the studio was quite hot with all the lights around.
what happened next almost made taemin fell down from his seat. a scowl immediately appeared on his face as he watched heechul casually wiping the sweat on your nape with his handkerchief. not that taemin was counting but that was the 9th time he flirted with you today and not to mention that it was already after the show.
he bitterly watched as you both bid your goodbyes and now you were walking towards him. he cleared his throat and took another gulp from his water bottle.
“what’s with the long face?” you asked in fluent english as you sat down on the desk in front of him.
“what?” he looked up with a confused face.
“i thought you were taking english classes?” you mocked him–this time in korean. you nonchalantly reach out for his drink and took a sip.
you and taemin knew each other for quite a while now, almost 4 years to be exact. you were on friendly terms with him even before debuting as a duo but after spending these past few months preparing together, you have gotten much closer with him. too close that it became complicated for both of you. it was quite obvious that you two were acting more than friends but no one clearly expressed their feelings yet. the tension between you and him when you were alone became heavier and heavier as the days went by. you always have this urge to bring up the situation you two are in but everytime you were about to speak out, taemin would suddenly open up a conversation about a whole different topic.
“so what were you and heechul-hyung talking about a while ago?” yep, lee taemin always has awful timing.
“he just wanted to make sure that he didn’t make me feel uncomfortable during the recording a while ago.” you shrugged.
“oh, how sweet of him.” taemin scoffed and straighten up from his seat. “he even has to wipe your sweat for you.” he muttured under his breath.
“what was that?” you already heard what he said but it was too faint and you just wanted to make sure.
“nothing.” of course he would deny it. what did you expect?
“so… are you like jealous of heechul or something?” you were only joking, well half-joking. you used this opportunity to slowly open up the topic and to finally know where do you stand in his life.
he held your gaze for a few seconds before crossing his arms across his chest. you were not fully prepared for his serious stare and for what he said next. “and what if i am?”
“huh?” your dumbfounded voice was a couple of notes higher than usual.
“i said,” he leaned forward and looked up to you under his lashes. “what if i am jealous?”
you sat there frozen. you helplessly stared back at his eyes and looked for any signs that he was just fooling around. except it was clear as day, he meant what he said. you always have waited for this. you imagined all the possible scenarios. you even prepared what you would say once this was brought up but why were you speechless now? why do you feel all clammy and nervous? why can’t you calm down your frantic heartbeats?
you took a deep breath and forced yourself to bring back the confidence you once had. “then why don’t you ask me out already so you don’t have to feel threatened with every guy out there.”
“you know what?” he stood up and suddenly he was now towering over you. his scent wrapped all around you and it made you overheat even more. “i might just do that.”
“then i might just say yes.” you crossed your arms and hoped that it can disguise your slight shaking. whether it was from excitement or not, you do not know anymore. everything was happening so fast that you were not sure if you were comprehending them properly. you felt light-headed as you waited in silence.
“so we’re doing this?” his low voice broke the stillness.
“yes!” you responded a little too enthusiastically for your liking. you’re a mess right now, you ain’t denying that.
taemin chuckled softly before discreetly slipping his fingers under yours.
oh, god. you felt a shock and then a shiver from his touch. it was not like it was your first time to have skin-to-skin contact but this one was quite different. you can feel the tension slowly rising along with the heat on your cheeks. you can feel the frustrations that were build up every time you wanted to touch him in a not-so-friendly manner. you were willing to bet your life that he was currently feeling the same as you when you witnessed his eyes dilate and darken.
“look, as much as i want to make out with you right now. we can’t.” he took a step back and put his hands in the pockets of his black slacks.
you felt both relief and disappointment when he widened the distance between you two. you can now catch a breather at last.
“i mean we can’t… here.” he suggestively added before turning away. “i’ll be waiting in my dressing room.”
there goes your breath again.
it took you a minute to recover after hearing his inviting words. you looked around while you fan your warm face with your hands as if it helped with cooling yourself off. you closed your eyes and relaxed yourself for who knows how many times already. you then hopped down the desk and made your way to the place you can’t wait to go to.
if this was what jealousy does to taemin, you absolutely cannot wait to see more of it.
#shinee#taemin#lee taemin#taemin x reader#shinee requests#shinee scenarios#shinee world#shinee request#shinee scenario#taemin scenarios#taemin requests#taemin scenario#taemin request#jealous taemin#lee taemin x reader#shinee x reader
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The Four Times it Rained with Anthony Beauvillier and The One Time it Didn't
Requested? Absolutely not
Warnings? It's really long with like no dialogue LMAO
Summary: The rain has always brought good things to you and Tito but what happens when it's actually sunny out?
Word Count: 4k
It's really mf long but I promise it's worth it and I'm super proud of it so enjoy! :)
One
When you awoke to the sound of rain pounding steadily on your rooftop your heart filled with glee like a little kid in a candy store. Nothing made you happier than when it rained outside. You loved having the opportunity to sit inside and work all day with the patter of rain smacking the rooftop.
However, today was even better. You had no work and nowhere to be, your all-time favorite kind of rainy day. You always took these days to finish up your favorite books, watch the movies you’ve been holding off on for ages, revel in the ending of your favorite tv shows that have been put off, order in food, and just enjoy the sound of the rain.
It was a cliche, of course, most of your favorite things typically were. It didn’t make you love them any less, in fact, it made you love them a little more. Thinking about how you and however many other people were absolutely content with the fact that it was pouring outside.
And to make things better? Tito had the day off too.
You were a bit surprised when you woke up to the rain and not your best friend either calling, knocking on the door, or just barging straight in like he owned the place. He practically did, always coming over and spending more time at your apartment than he did his own. He certainly wasn’t unwelcome, you loved every moment you got to spend with the left-wing Islander.
Just as you sit up in bed, running a hand through your hair you hear a knock on the door. Knowing it’s no doubt, Tito, at the source, you shoot him a text telling him to come in using his spare key. You listen to the quiet sounds of the rain against the window as your best friend lets himself inside your apartment.
You fall back in bed, pulling the blankets up to your chin, and snuggle deep into the warmth. You hear a quiet knock on your bedroom door before Tito lets himself in. Your head turns, a tiny smile at the sight of your best friend and he reflects it. He makes his way over to you, climbing in bed and slipping an arm around your waist. He pulls you into his chest, pressing his face into your hair and you both sigh in content at the feeling.
You try to ignore the way his hands feel like fire against your skin and how your heart’s steady tempo has slowly increased at the mere thought of him. Gentle warmth floods your body when Tito presses a kiss to the back of your neck, the action causing your heart to act as an elevator, rising and falling without rhyme or reason.
You both fall asleep for a while, the rain lulling you into a tired state and soaking up the rest you both had been sorely lacking after your busy weeks. You awoke for the second time that day to Tito’s hands lazily tracing patterns on your arms.
“Hi,” you murmur, turning in his embrace.
“Hey,” he greets back his tiny smile growing wider. “Wanna watch a movie or something?”
“Getting bored laying here?” you ask.
“Never,” he says, throwing a wink at you that has your stomach doing backflips.
Tito has to turn away from you as his cheeks burn red at your sleep-ridden state. His heart mimics the rain outside a steady patter fast against the rooftop just like his heart against his ribcage. He stands, holding a hand out to you which you take and you let him pull you up and out of bed, leading you towards the living room.
You both fall onto the couch, Tito pulls your legs over his and slips an arm back around your waist. He hated being away from your touch for too long. Your head falls comfortable onto his chest and you’re certain your eyes may flutter shut once more.
Tito peruses the movies before him and ultimately decides on a random marvel one that he’s never seen before but you most definitely have. He watches as your eyes light up at the sight of your favorite superhero on screen, and you launch into the explanation of the plot for him.
He can barely focus, only thinking about how easy it would be to release the three simple words that would change everything. Or press a kiss to your soft-looking lips in an attempt to hush you so he can actually watch and listen to the movie. Unfortunately fear captures his heart a little tighter than the love he has for you.
You turn back to look at your best friend, expecting at least a hum in response, and when you notice his eyes have been on you the entire explanation your cheeks flush. You wondered what he was thinking about, and hoped it was the same thing you were.
“You okay?” you ask, pulling him back to reality.
“Yeah,” he reassures. “All good.”
You nod, a tiny smile on your lips as you look back at the TV. Tito tries to focus for you but he can only think about how much he loves you.
Two
It was a bad habit for you to leave all of your shopping to one day a week. You always ended up running out of something you desperately needed but were too lazy to go out and buy.
However, today seemed to be turning out equal parts bad and equal parts good. The good thing was that you were able to convince Tito to come with you shopping and carry some (he would argue most) of your groceries home. The somewhat bad? It looked like it might rain.
You tried to make your way through the store as quickly as possible, the impending storm looming in the back of your head as you shop. However, your best friend is of no help to you.
"Tito" you call for the billionth time. "Put it back."
The older boy pouts, reaching into your cart to pull out the fruit snacks he just threw in. You smile widely at him, and before you can move the cart once more, Tito climbs onto the front of it.
“Onward!” he yells pointing in the opposite direction and you giggle while pushing the cart slowly along as to not hit anyone or anything.
The rest of the shopping goes just as smoothly, your heart filling up with air similar to a balloon that doesn’t know when it’s going to pop. Sometimes looking at your best friend was too much and you became scared you’d let the feelings spill out all over the floor.
Tito would do anything to see you smile or laugh. It was nothing short of embarrassing himself or nearly killing himself in the middle of a grocery store aisle where he could easily be recognized in the small area of Long Island. As long as your head was thrown back in laughter, a wide smile stretched across your lips, and the promise of a sometimes yelled “Tito!” or “beau!” expelled from you was there, it was worth it.
After checking out, you two split up the bags and start to make the trek back to your apartment. You were beyond glad you had brought Tito along with you, making the trip much easier on you and providing plenty of entertainment along the way. As you walk, the clouds start to rumble and you cast a nervous glance over to the tall brunette. Tito grins back at you, just enjoying your presence, not a care for the impending weather.
A crack of thunder rolls in causing you to jump and pick up your speed. You were about two blocks from your house but the world had other plans for you. Just as you were rounding a block away, it starts to pour.
“Fuck!” you yell pausing in the street.
You look over and Tito is grinning like a maniac, the smile on his lips shooting straight to your heart. You can’t help but reflect it, he looks beautiful rain-soaked and his blue eyes lit up at the wonder of it all.
Tito had always been grateful for the rain. It had always brought good things to him and the world. Right now it easily brought him his favorite thing he’s ever witnessed. Your hair is soaked, plastering messily against your face as you whip around to look at him. A smile bigger than he had ever seen sits perfectly on your lips and that sound that he loves more than anything in the world is there, the laugh that makes his heart rise to the top of the empire state building and teeter over the side with nerves.
God, he loved you.
Without a second thought, he intertwines your hands, grabbing your bags out of your other hand and hauling them into his own. He starts tugging you along, trying to push down the fact that your hands feel like they’re made specifically for him and that he never wants to let go.
You make it back to your apartment, your heart pounding for a different reason for once. When you get inside, Tito drops the groceries by the door and you both turn to each other still giggling quietly. Tito’s hand is still interlocked with yours, his calluses rubbing against your palm and sending shockwaves through your veins.
He pulls you in, his other hand coming to wrap around your waist. Your soaked bodies inch closer until they’re flush and you’re staring into his mesmerizing blue eyes. Your free hand wraps around the back of his neck, your fingers trailing the buzz-cut hair on the back of his neck.
Tito was pretty sure you might be the death of him. Looking down at your soaked state, peering up at him and the movement of your hands, he’s surprised his heart hadn’t stopped yet. He wants to lean down, finally meet his lips to yours, and fall headfirst into a relationship with you without considering any of the consequences.
You were hoping that one of you was finally going to build the nerve to change everything. Your heart is tipping on the edge of wishing and hoping. Just as your noses brush, a loud crack of thunder sounds, and you both jump, the possibility scaring you along with the noise.
Three
Today was not turning out to be a good day. Besides the prospect of rain later, you had barely gotten any work done, your finals were coming up soon, and you hadn’t seen Tito in weeks.
So the last one is slightly exaggerated. You had seen Tito, mostly through facetime calls and the occasional quick stop by but he was mostly on the road and you were sorely missing your best friend. You’d kill to have him here, even if it was for longer than an hour, you’d do anything to have him next to you.
You knew it was somewhat selfish, but you needed him here. Needed his encouraging words, his soft touches, his sweet smiles, just his presence. You knew his schedule though, understood his job and what came with it and you knew he’d never trade it for the world, you never wanted him to.
Tito was homesick. Not particularly for his apartment, or even the island itself, he was desperate to see you. He missed your laugh, and holding your hand, cuddling together late at night, waking up early to your sleeping state, forehead kisses, and his favorite: your laugh. He was desperate for it, the physical version of it.
However, when he heard the Isles were headed home for a quick weekend stint he knew he wasn’t close to heading back to his apartment. He headed straight towards you, his other half even if it was unbeknownst to you. He had decided a while ago that even if you never reciprocate his feelings, you were still his twin flame, his platonic soulmate forever and always.
He headed to your apartment with excitement, checking your location on his phone to see that you were there. In the cab on the way, it starts to rain and Tito can’t help but smile. He had always loved the rain but he was almost certain it had slowly started to become a beacon of good things especially surrounding you.
A wave of calm flows through him when he reaches your front door, he feels like a little kid receiving the Christmas present that they had been asking for all year. He hadn’t even seen you yet and the thought occurs to him that he always wants to come home to you after long weeks away.
You sit in your apartment, flipping aimlessly through your textbook in an attempt to get some work done. The rain plinks softly against your apartment window and the noise soothes you as you try to focus. However, just as you start to, a knock on your door sounds. You’re wary at first but make your way over to it swinging it open without a second thought.
“Anthony-” you breath out, your best friend’s first name foreign on your tongue.
Tito barges in, wrapping his arms around your waist and you instantly slip yours around his neck. You relish in the feeling of him being here and back in your arms. You almost let out a whine when he pulls away from you but his hands trail from your waist to your hands and interlock them.
“Come on,” he says with a mischievous smile on his lips.
“Where-” you start but Tito shakes his head, pulling you out of the apartment and dragging you along.
You’re so caught up in the fact that Tito is here, and his hand has slipped back into yours that all you can do is take in his appearance. Whenever he’s gone for a long time he always seems different but more and more like home to you. When he comes back it’s like your last puzzle piece is put in place and you’re whole again.
You both make your way down the floors of your apartment building until you’re outside. Tito lets go of your hand, stepping out onto the sidewalk and letting the rain fall over him. You watch as a loving smile falls onto your lips, the rain cascades over him, his hair falling flat against his forehead, and an unknowing smile pressed on his face.
“Come here,” he tells you and at first you shake your head no.
Beau was definitely not taking that answer today. He makes his way over to you, slipping an arm around your waist and lifting you into his arms and out into the rain. You shriek as the cold raindrops fall over you and you tuck your face into Tito’s neck.
He sets you down but doesn’t let go, his hand still circling your waist. He nudges your arms until they slide around his neck again, your fingers interlocking at the nape. He grins wildly down at you and your heart fills and fills at the sight. He slowly sways the two of you back and forth, dancing to music only known between you two.
“I missed you,” he says after a few quiet beats.
“I missed you too beau.”
Your swaying moves to a dull rocking back and forth, the two of you focused more on each other than anything else in the world. Neither of you realized it, but when the other was around the whole world seemed to fall away in an instant. There was no use trying to get between the two of you.
Beau leans down, your foreheads bumping lightly and your breath shortens at the proximity of the two of you. He leans forward, his nose brushing yours and for once you’re begging for his lips to meet yours, not caring about what might change between the two of you after.
“Hey! Get out of the street!”
You and Tito pull apart heads whipping in the direction of a car driving right at you. You both laugh at the ridiculousness of it all before heading back inside, the rain only picking up harder.
Four
“One more exam. Just one more final exam.”
You chanted the words over and over again in your head hoping they would somehow motivate you into finishing your work and studying for the last exam you had for the school year. You even went as far as going to the library, deciding to hole yourself up there the entire day to try and get something done.
Tito would text you occasionally, mostly offering words of encouragement as you worked and every time your phone buzzed an unconscious smile reached your lips. Tito had always been your cheerleader and vice versa. You were always there for each other and pushing each other forward whenever you needed it.
Your corner of the library was cozy, you sat, your legs tucked up in the loveseat next to the window. The rain fell slowly down the side of the building and you watched two raindrops drip down, an unknown race there.
Your eyes fall back to the textbook in front of you, flipping through the pages trying to absorb more information than you already have all day. As you work, suddenly a hand appears in front of you, a cup of coffee being placed down on the table in front of you. Your eyes trail up and you find a grinning Tito standing before you.
“Thought you might need an energy boost,” he says sitting down in front of you.
Your heart practically bursts at the sight. Tito had known you hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep recently and was worried about you. However, he also knew you were easily the most stubborn person in his life. If he couldn’t beat you, he might as well support your caffeine addiction in hopes that by the end of finals you’ll finally get some rest.
“Have I mentioned recently you’re my favorite person in the world?”
Tito grins dropping his head down shyly and you take the opportunity to grab the coffee and take a sip of it. You hum at the taste, a soft smile appearing on your lips when you realize that Tito has memorized your coffee order, something no one else has had the energy to do.
“I also wanted to make sure you get home okay,” he says nodding to the ever-growing rainstorm outside.
Your whole body warms at the words, a blush dusting your cheeks. Tito was nothing if not a gentleman and every time a display like this showed, your heart fell further and further into his hands. You place the cup down in front of you, leaning forward to place a hand on Tito’s knee.
“Thank you, darling,” you say and you swear you see a blush on Tito’s cheeks.
Your eyes search his as the only noise in the library is the sound of the rain against the building and the soft sounds of the workers meandering around. You swear gravity pulls you towards each other, Tito’s hand coming up to cup your cheek. His thumb brushes softly against your skin, the contact making your heart freeze and speed up all at once.
“Excuse me loves, the library is closing.”
You and Tito smile and nod at the sweet woman, breaking apart slowly before gathering your things and heading out together.
And One
The sun shines high in the sky, easily one of the nicest days on long island in months. Spring was melting away into summer and the warm air had you dying to get out and visit the ocean even if it was just for a little bit.
While Tito knew of your love for the rain, the breakthrough of sun was welcomed by the two of you. It was unspoken that when the sun had risen, and the temperature broke seventy, you wanted to spend a little time at the beach together.
You disliked the beach normally, not liking the sand that gets everywhere, the obnoxious teens yelling loudly, kids running around without parents, it just bothered you. But you loved the feeling of warm wind running through your hair as you drive, windows down, and the smell of the ocean air.
Tito shows up on your doorstep, and without a word, you two are out the door and heading towards your car. You climb in, hands immediately rolling down your windows and sunroof while Tito picks the music. You had an unspoken communication to go to the beach today and you were beyond excited.
Tito always looked gorgeous to you. In the sun? His blue eyes shine a bit brighter, his smile seeming to reflect the warmth that the sun brought you inside and out. He was breathtaking.
You were a work of art to Tito. Your hair blew back from your face, whipping around the small space. A light smile had been present since he showed up on your doorstep. Your (y/e/c) lit up from the sun and him. From head to toe, he would never grow tired of looking at you.
When you got to the beach, you parked in a spot overlooking the water. The two of you get out of the car, and Tito gestures to the hood. He stands before you, hands placed gently on your hips, and lifts you onto your car with ease, his hockey training coming in handy.
He hops up next to you, settling down on the hood and overlooking the beautiful ocean. His leg touches yours, starting at your feet and following through to your hips. The contact drives you crazy, making it feel like it’s ten degrees hotter as your nerves spike. It’s surprisingly quiet, the ocean rushing in and out before you, a light wind pushing your hair back effortlessly.
Your hands sit in your lap, nervously fiddling together. Tito glances at you constantly, his eyes trailing to your hands and he builds the courage to slip his fingers into yours. At the contact, you squeeze his hand lightly and that gives Tito all he needs.
“Hey,” he says, making you turn to look at him.
His other hand comes up to cup your cheek and you lean into the touch instinctively. His head ducks to meet yours, your noses brushing and your breath catches in your throat. You watch Tito’s eyes flicker back and forth before pushing forward. His lips meet yours and you sigh at the feeling of his lips on yours. Your free hand comes to grip the side of his shirt and pull him as close as possible.
Your breathless the entire kiss, the thought that the older hockey player liking you back finally smacking you full force. His touch lights you up from head to toe and you never want him to break away.
Tito grew more and more confident within the kiss, and his heart continued to balloon in his chest bigger and bigger at your closeness, you were finally right where you were supposed to be.
You pull apart when there’s no breath left in your lungs but stay close. Tito chases your lips pressing another light kiss to them. You giggle at him and he smiles sheepishly, biting his lip slightly and gazing at you with those eyes that had you since you first met. Tito was still on cloud nine at the thought of you loving him back.
“I really really like you,” he whispers and you giggle. He could have said absolutely nothing, he could have kissed you again, or simply kept holding your hand but the words said out loud made your heart do backflips like it was an olympian training for the gold medal.
“I like you too.”
“And I really wanna kiss you again.”
You smile lovingly at him before pressing your lips to his, something that would never fail to make your heart stop.
#anthony beauvillier imagine#nhl imagine#tito beauvillier imagine#anthony beauvillier fic#anthony beauvillier x reader#anthony beauvillier x y/n#tito beauvillier fic#tito beauvillier x reader#nhl fanfiction#nhl x reader#nhl x y/n#nhl islanders fic#imagine#fic#x reader#x y/n
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i think; therefore i am || part two
{ fem!witch reader x poly!the lost boys }
|| part one ||
part rating: general
word count: 4,340
part summary: after the encounter with the ruthless gang of vampires on the board walk y/n finds themselves keeping their distance from the boardwalk and doing business other places. a choice of a movie night brings she to encounter a new suspicion and familiar faces. even then they have to embrace her action after coming face to face with one of the daunting vampires.
warnings: use of magic, witchcraft, vampires, marko being sweet, david being a prick, and late night encounters.
A bell rings in your ears as you push your way through the colorful door into the buzzing video store. The music reverberates from the speakers above your head and the smell of floor cleaner invades your nose. The upbeat store gave you some relief from the stress from the past couple of days. Since the encounter with the creatures of the night, you have been avoiding the boardwalk hustling around near the city or keeping your distance in the more unknown parts of the boardwalk. You trail your way past the front desk where all the registered rested admiring the acrylic frames not paying attention to the man with neat hair and glasses that watched your figure pass by with curiosity. A low hum left your nose as you tuned in with the words of La Bamba. The first section you instantly hit was the comedy section, your black-painted fingers trailed over the spines of the VHS covers with precision as you tried to make your decisions. You snatch the case for Ghostbusters. As you do you could feel eyes burning into the back of your head. You carefully turned around to see where your intuition was taking you. Yet it was only the woman behind the counter with big curly hair and an off-shoulder top. Her stare was rather curious. People do stare a lot when you walk into a place. That doesn’t mean it is out of negativity, you guess it’s purely out of curiosity. Your style can be so polar sometimes but this time you wore a pair of bootcut jeans and a flowing black poet's top that was paired with heeled boots. The accessories are what you think to draw people’s attention with the stacked sterling rings, the crystal earrings, and a large ornate belt such as you were wearing today to cinch the waist of the flowing shirt.
Her eyes scan over your outfit, eventually coming to your eyes, you make eye contact and give her a knowing nod and a smirk before turning back around. Pressing the movie against your chest, tapping a rhythm on the plastic with your fingernails as you make your way to the horror section taking your time. The music mixed with the soft sounds of TVs caused your senses to buzz from a sensory overload. You squat to the ground and carefully graze over the horror section, there wasn’t much to the collection but there were some decent picks. A sigh left your nose as you reached out to pinch Cujo’s spine between your fingers. As you do a wet substance appears on your cheek. You whip your head to a tan shepherd sniffing you and your hair. A jolt in surprise at the sudden appearance of the dog, your heart races for a minute before a smile cracks along your nude painted lips. The dog pants and sits patiently waiting for you to pet him.
You chuckle at pat the dog’s head, “There you are Thorn! I am so sorry. He has a habit to sneak up on customers when they’re down so low.” You look up to follow the mysterious, yet harmfully charismatic, voice and it was the man who was standing at the front counter when you walked in. With your hand still petting the hound named Thorn, you stand fully to greet the neat man. “Oh no! You’re okay, he did give me quite the fright but he is too cute. His good looks made up for it.” You beam at the mysterious man. As you adjusted the movies on your side you saw his hand shot out, “I’ll take those for you. Assuming you want to keep looking for more movies to watch tonight.”
You chuckle lightly and hand the two movies out to him, “I think this will be all tonight, thank you, erm..” You trail off trying to see if he wore a nametag on his blazer but there wasn’t one.
“Max, my name is Max,” he introduces with a charming smile that would make any woman swoon if they had the weakness too.
“I am guessing you’re the Max that’s on the name of the store. Well, it is wonderful to meet you,” you greet back with a welcoming smile. Your eyes scan his face, looking over every faint crack and freckle on his face. Once your eyes met him there was an unsettling feeling that grew in your stomach. One you knew all too well.
“Well, then! Would you like to check out for tonight, ma’am?” He asks motioning his full hand of the VHS’ towards the counter.
You swallow and give a curt nod. As you walk you could feel Thorn brushing against your leg as you did. This made you more cautious of what the dog might be if the dark energy pulsating from the man would be. You rested your hands gently on the counter and stood as still as a statue but you tried your best to remain relaxed in the situation you were granted. There was something wrong with the owner of the store and you knew how well he was masking it. His haughty get-up of a loud button-up shirt and neat tie was something you couldn’t get past.
“So I’ve never seen you around here!” Max’s voice booms through your line of thought causing your head to whip up to face him.
“Yeah, I’m just passing through. Couldn’t help it when I saw the boardwalk. It’s a wonderful sight,” You reply with a passing smile before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear acting bashful and shy.
“It is quite beautiful. But you got to be careful here, it’s not the safest place for a young woman like you.” He advises as he scans the barcodes of the cases before popping them open to double-check if there was a VHS in them. You caught his eyes trailing over you, his warm and welcoming eyes now something of a dark glower. His eyes changed though once he noticed you staring back at him.
“Oh, thank you, Max, for the warning. But I got it.” You reassure and reach back into your back pocket to fish out the money clip that you kept. As you pull it out the front doorbell trills to announce another customer has entered.
You didn’t look up as you fingered through the bills to find a ten-dollar bill through all the ones. The low rumbling from Thorn by your ankles is what caused you to cautiously lookup. You look up to see the four vampires from a couple of nights ago walk into the store with such confidence it could’ve convinced you that they owned the place. Your eyes widen a bit and your fist clenches the ten-dollar bill making it more wrinkled than before.
The leader only smirks at you as swaggers his way through the store. Following was the dark brunette with daggers for eyes then it was the two blondes. The fishnet-clad one looked at you with caution while the curly-haired one looked at you with an expression of curiosity and wonder. His golden curls were pushed back into a low ponytail this night that draped over his ornate jacket. You could feel he wanted to approach you and that he wasn’t hostile. Unlike the others. Out of your surprise, you try to match their energy of fierceness.
“I thought I told you, boys, you aren’t welcome here,” Max barks at them, his voice sounded so gravely and polar to the appealing one before.
The leader snaps his eyes to the owner of the store and his smirk drops, the smirk turned into a frown for a split second. His eyes trace it’s way back to you, “Relax, we just wanted to check out the new features you got in here.” The platinum blonde clarified as the rest of the boys behind him scatter through the store murmuring to themselves and messing with some of the VHS covers.
Max glares at the platinum blonde before turning back to you, “I’m so sorry about the mess in here,”
You couldn’t help but crack a smirk at the hit at the group of punks. You tilt your head at Max to shake your head, “No problem, they’re only looking for a feature for the night.” You comment flicking your eyes to see if the leader was still glaring at you. He wasn't, he was off looking through the horror flicks while the other three were flirting with the tanned woman behind Max. You place the ten down on the counter and swiftly grasp the two movie boxes. “Thank you, Max, I’ll see you soon,” you bid goodbye with a nod being careful not to trip over Thorn as you make your way to the door.
“Oh! Ma’am, rental lasts five days!” Max calls out to you as you were already halfway out the door. You pause and turn back to him, tapping your rings around the metal door handle. “Thank you,” you thank the owner, but your eyes switched to the four who were watching you with sharp eyes. Each feline in its own way.
Your feet carry you quickly to your red truck where you unlock the door from the keys that were attached to your hip. Getting in and slamming the door shut your eyes never left the five figures as you pumped the clutch and set the vehicle in reverse. You only tore your eyes away when you turned to look behind you to see if there was any oncoming traffic. Yet when your head swiveled back to the front you saw the ragged punks standing in front of the store by their bikes. The thing that caught you off guard was the little finger wave the monarch decorated gave you with his most feigned sweetened smile. The sight gave your stomach a fuzzy feeling and your head to buzz. “Time to make a circle,” you grumble to yourself speeding off into the night.
Later that night you cast a protection circle around your little caravan that you claimed to be your home. It sat on a sigil etched into the soft earth below the sanctuary. Casting it drained you that night, it had been a while since you had to cast around an area that was relatively large. It surrounded the shelter along with the little pathway you created with stones.
Exhausted, you lay on your bed facing the little compact TV as Ghostbusters entertained your drained mind. Finn rested perfectly into your side watching the movie as well. His tail swaying in amusement. His mewl caused you to roll your eyes as the green slime ghost floated through a wall after slimming one of the busters. “It’s only a movie, Finn, it’s for entertainment purposes. Are you going to do this with every movie I bring home? How about I put in Cujo instead?” You suggest acting like you were going to get up and fetch the movie from the living area. Finn was quick to put his paw on your abdomen to stop you. You smirk at the short-haired feline, “That’s what I thought. Now just enjoy the movie.” You swear you saw your sassy familiar roll his eyes at you. A huff leaves your lips and you plant your ring decorated hand on his side patting him which turns into short pets as you bring your focus back on the movie.
A moment later you started to hear the continuous tick on the roof of your caravan. It wasn’t supposed to rain. So what the hell is making that sound? Your brows furrow as your head tilts back to hear another tick. Silent beat, tick. Finn meows at you and starts to stand on the cushioned bed arching his back to stretch, “Gee, my savior.” You gibed at the black feline as you shuck on your shawl over your silk nightgown. Approaching your door you inhaled deeply, there was someone outside. Instantly your circle was warning you. The energy beamed around it causing a rhythmed pulse around your home.
Slowly opening the door a pebble fell at your feet. You reach down to grasp it and trek your eyes to dirty brown boots. Your eyes graze up the figure, leather chaps over denim, then the jacket that was so decorated it was an enigma itself. The jacket hovered over a white wife beater crop top, then on the shoulder deeply curled golden locks.
You don’t say anything, you're frozen, staring at the vampire in front of you. “How the hell did you find me?” You hiss with interrogation laced in your voice, but the vampire doesn't budge. In fact, he looks scared a bit. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his decorated jacket. His spine hunched the slightest making him seem smaller as he waits for an opportunity to talk. The expression doesn’t fool you, your eyes are still as sharp as ever. You step down from your home as your eyes start to glow purple and your hands spread as purple shadows form balls in your palms.
The cautious vampire takes a hesitant step back, “I followed your truck.” He answers with wide attentive eyes.
“Why did you follow me? Did your friends ask you?” You postulated with a tight tone. His only response was a shake of his head. Now you were getting annoyed. “Then why are you here?!” You growled which caused him to jostle just the slightest, taken aback as the purple wisps grow in size with your glowing eyes joining.
“I came to ask for my gloves and ring back,” Marko states straightening out his posture and fixing his tone to sound more confident and demanding. You blink at him lowering your hands just slightly. “Did anyone follow you?” Your query, quirking your eyebrow up searching his deadpan features for answers.
“No,” he responds bluntly, keeping still against the sea breeze that thrusts its way around the two of you. You listened to the whispers in his head, it wasn’t hard to penetrate. He was being open. The realization caused you to drop your hands to your sides. He knew you were going to look through his head to see if he was telling you the truth. Marko really didn’t have anything to hide. The boys didn’t even know he was there. You saw him tell them he was going to grab a bite to eat.
“Alright, give me a moment.” You grumble turning back into the caravan. Marko rustles towards the edge of the circle. His clear eyes trailing over the circle with symbols inside of it. He reached out but was blocked by a sheer purple field. Marko pulled his hand back in a hurry. “It’s a protection circle.” You inform him with his fingerless gloves in the palms of your hands. You picked them up. You don’t know why you did, something urged you to take them back with you. What was the universe trying to tell you? You approach the edge of the circle only a foot away from the vampire. “No one can enter unless I grant them, no matter what being.” You unfold your hands to reveal his weathered gloves and a golden ring in the middle of them.
You pluck the ring, it was heavily made of solid gold with a comet on it. Your eyes linger on it trying to figure out the symbol and what its meaning could be. “Ain’t it pretty?” Marko asks, examining it with you outside of the waves of purple energy. You nod, “Yeah, it’s a nice ring.” You compliment the accessory, you could feel the history off of the object. It had seen so much, but few owner’s which made you hesitant to look deeper into the history of the gold ring.
“You know what the comet means?”
You shake your head peering back up to Marko. It was strange how calm you were now and how cool and collected he was.
“It’s the Dragon Order. Providence of the Romanian Boyers. The Dragon Order was dedicated to the destruction of the Turks. They were killed by the tens of thousands. Do you know how?”
You shake your head once more, eyes wide with curiosity.
“They were impaled on rounded wooden stakes left in the fields to rot.” Marko grins as he answered his own questions, his voice full of amusement as if it was an inside joke. You could only chuckle at the significance of home wearing such an accessory.
“Wow, I wasn’t expecting that.” You shook your head as a smile grew on your lips. Your eyes scan the ring once more before placing it back into the middle of the gloves.
“I wasn’t either when the bastard told me that story,” he bewailed with his brown eyes glued to the signet. You purse your lips together and reach out with one hand extending. As you reach out the purple sheen carefully separates from your hand allowing you access to reach out to him. Marko pulled his hands out of his leather jacket and gently grabbed the gloves to fold over the ring. As he took it from your hand his touch lingered behind. The touch sent electricity through your nerves which caused you to move your hand away fast. Marko gave a smirk at you as he slipped them back on. “Thanks,” he mumbles and slips the ring on his pinky finger, he runs the pad of his thumb over the comet then drops his hands to his sides.
You tilt your head at the action watching his expression carefully, you tried to read him but you were shut out once again. Marko flicked his eyes to you, “You’re welcome, Marko.” You whisper back, folding your arms over your chest so the shawl granted a shield against the night winds. Marko bit his lip with a bob of his head, his eyes raked over you once more as he took a few steps back. There was an urge in you to speak up. It punched at your diaphragm for your voice to come out and speak. Speak to him, the whispers rang.
“Marko! I’m sorry!” You call out to the blonde as he was partially down the hill. He stops in his tracks and turns on his heel, his expression clearly showing confusion. You tilt your head to your feet, “I didn’t mean to hurt you during the reading. That wasn’t my intention.” You state, your voice wavering. Marko looks behind his shoulder before wiping his thumb over his lip. Walking back he shakes his head, “Then what happened?” He questions genuinely confused, he really was. Since that night he can only feel episodes of phantom pain and the soreness lasted a couple of days. He’d never seen anything like your magic in his hundred years of living. “You said you’d do a palm reading, but once you touched my hand you went ballistic.”
“I can’t control what happens sometimes,” you start taking a deep breath, “Sometimes the magic likes to control me. Normally when I do a palm reading on a human I can see vaguely of what their future proposes.” You explain. Your fingers tighten on your shawl turning your knuckles white and your shoulder started to shudder as you are reminded of the vision and the pain. The scream of pain and fear, the pain of the wooden stake in his chest. You swallow to relieve the tension in your throat.
“You are not human, so what I saw was more powerful than I would see on an average being.”
“Then what did you see? Because it hurt like hell, not going to lie.”
You blink and clear your throat, hesitant on trying to explain the vision of his death to him. That is something a vampire, an immortal being doesn’t like to hear. “I saw… I saw… I saw your death,” you choke out hugging yourself with your arms crossed.
Marko’s folded arms drop and his furrowed brows unknot themselves for a beat. “What?” Marko asks in clear confusion before knitting his brows back together but tighter. “You saw my death? What does that even mean?”
“I-I don’t know,” you whisper breathlessly carefully holding onto your breath thanking your lucky stars you were behind the protective line. Yet, Marko didn’t seem mad or frustrated, he only seemed confused and lost. “The future is bleak, never set in stone. I don’t know who did it. I only saw it through your eyes. I felt it too.”
“So your magic rebounded back to me? Making me feel my own death?” He presses the pad of his index finger onto his chest over where his heart would be. You nod carefully, swiping your tongue over your lower lip. “Yes, then once you were attacked by my magic that’s when your friend started to charge towards me before I could even catch my breath. So on instinct, I acted.” Marko slowly nods at this answer, his lips pouted as he took in all the information trying to file it in his brain for later reference. When he didn’t answer back that was when you started to show a bit of worry about your features.
“Just remind me to not hold hands with you for a while then,” Marko teases his once look of engrossment turned into mirth. You were so caught off guard by the statement a breathy chuckle left your parted lips. You nod as well as a smile growing on your lips, “I’ll keep that in mind if we ever try to do a reading again.”
“Don’t sweat it, really. I understand now.” Marko discerned raising his brows and stuffing his hands back into his leather jacket. “I should go now, they will be wondering where I am,” Marko suggests nodding his head over in the direction of the boardwalk. You bob your head and give him a warm smile. He lingers for a moment watching you carefully. His warm brown eyes take in your form under the high silvery moonlight. Enjoying the way the shadows cascade your features. He notes the embroidered shawl around your shoulders and the black silk nightgown that draped over your body. He bit his lower lip to halt himself from pressing any further into your night. As he was about to step back he could feel your warm hand on his chest. Fingers ghosting over the bare skin that was above the collar. He flickered his eyes to yours, the orbs widened in bewilderment. Your touch made his skin feel fuzzy, even though your hand was barely putting any pressure he felt like he could feel every twitch of your hand. Marko bores into your eyes as you give him a reassuring smile.
“The future is yours. The future is not something to be predicted on but to be built on.” Your voice was honey to his ears. It was warm and comforting just like your touch. Out of instinct his hand hovers and places it on yours. His fingers brush over the stacked rings before pushing your hand to put more pressure on his chest. Marko doesn’t say a word, but his eyes run wild with wonder and gratitude. He dips his head after a beat of silence between the two of you. Nothing but the whispering of the winds and the thrashing of the waves. Marko drops your hand and takes a step back, admiring the purple sheen separate and close once more as your hand returns to your side. He flashes you a reassuring smile as he takes a couple of steps back his boots making the dirt and gravel separate underneath him. You watch him as he turns around, taking in the detail of the tapestry of the bare woman on his back.
Bringing your thumbnail to your teeth you chew on it out of nerves. A soft meow is what brings your attention back to the caravan. You look down at Finn for a second before whipping your head to see if Marko was still there and he wasn’t. You sigh against the wind wondering if he ran or flew away.
Another meow. You turn on your heel to Finn, “No, he’s gone. Nothing to worry about. It’s his friends I got to worry about. Now get back inside, you barely have any fur to keep you warm.” You lecture stepping back in the caravan with a retaliating mewl echoing from your bedroom. Your eyes peer through the door, glancing at your surroundings once more as you slowly close the door. You spot the place where Marko was standing, a small clearing where his boots rummaged the dirt around. You click the door shut and rest your forehead against the metal.
Finn trills at you from the bedroom with impatience, “I am coming! Jeez, can’t be without me ten minutes can you? What would you ever do without me?” You tease the Devon Rex who clearly rolls his eyes at you. In reaction you point your index finger at him, “I saw that! Now let me finish this movie in peace, please. No more snarky comments.”
You plot yourself back on the bed shuffling underneath the abundance of blankets. You shake off your shawl and place it neatly on your nightstand. Even though you watched the movie for the rest of the night you couldn’t shake the look Marko gave you when his hand touched yours. Why did his eyes show more than he was expressing on his face. You could long into them for hours and still, learn new things with each passing minute.
A sigh escaped your lips as sleep started to lull you into a hypnotized state. The weight of the blankets and Finn resting by your side let you fully realize you were safe and at peace for the rest of the night. That didn’t mean when you dreamt you envisioned golden curls that radiated light or the green speckled brown eyes of a familiar vampire.
a/n: thank you for giving so much love on the first part of this series. i know this part is A LOT shorter than the first but i hope it gave a gratifying ending. i have ideas on how to continue this series and make it special for everyone. thank you for all the love once again! 🖤🖤🖤
i think; therefore i am taglist:
@fili-is-my-lover
@ilikechocolatemilkh
@takemetotheweirdness
@hopester08
#soulless writes#i think; therefore i am#the lost boys#the lost boys 1987#the lost boys x reader#the lost boys fanfiction#tlb fanfiction#tlb 1987#tlb#marko the lost boys#tlb marko#thorn the lost boys#max the lost boys#CAN U TELL HOW MUCH I LOVE MARKO#i want markos jacket#why is he so cute??
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Grumpy
Hi everyone! I'm back with a very cute little drabble for Christmas! We're one week away from Christmas, and I'll try to post a few of those little drabbles before the 25th!
This is a very cute, grumpy Ben with a cold! I hope you like this!
A little comment is greatly appreciated, if you have a second to spare!
Pairing: Ben Barnes x Reader
Word Count : 1672
Ben was grumpy.
It wasn't in his nature, and it wasn't in his character at all. He was a rather shy, goofy and quite adorable man with a mischievous sense of humour most of the time. There were only a few instances that brought him to a more bitter state of mind: the remnants of a hangover in the early morning, being stuck in traffic for a long time, and being sick.
And now, Ben was sick.
Nothing dramatic, but a seasonal cold that would have disappeared in a few days. But for the moment, Ben was in the dark phase of the disease.
A runny nose, a sore throat that was sometimes scratched with a rough cough, fever and a migraine that made him feel like someone was piercing his skull with needles. He had no energy for anything and was stuck in his bed, under a pile of blankets and pillows you had brought for him.
And it would have been bearable, had you been there with him to distract him from his miserable state, give him cuddles and bring him regular doses of his favourite tea. But you were at work, and he had to survive four more hours without you. And the more time he spent on his own, the grumpier he became.
It was snowing outside upon London, large snowflakes brightening the days of children and turning the old city into something a little enchanted, a little magical. Low clouds almost as white as the snowflakes they released hovered lazily above the tall buildings and worn-out stones, businessmen hurrying under the cold weather while the more innocent kinds carved faces for snowmen and threw snowballs at their friends. Cars of those reckless enough to try to drive through the city under this weather honked loudly, punctuating the rhythm of the city that never slowed down, especially at the approach of the holidays. And Ben would have loved the spectacle it offered, had he moved to his window to glimpse at the outside world. He would have dragged a chair by the window, and enjoyed a warm cup of coffee while watching peacefully as the snowflakes fell in his garden. Or perhaps, had you been there, he would have enjoyed looking at strangers running down the slippery street, imagining with you crazy lives for these people he didn't know. You would have found an astronaut in their midst for sure, you always did, for some reason. Ben's theory was that it was because of how much you loved the stars.
But again, you were not there, he was alone in your shared home with a buzzing brain that was slowly turning into jelly, and sore limbs, and a nose that wouldn't allow him to breathe. And now, the snow annoyed him, the cold weather the cause of his pain, after all.
He checked the time again, and heaved a desperate sigh as he counted – with much difficulty – how many more hours he had to survive through without you. He had never cursed your job more than now, as he grumpily mumbled a string of curses under his breath, wrapping himself even more in his blankets until the only part of him still visible was his forehead and messy dark hair.
He counted the minutes till you'd be back to fall back to sleep, and he spent most of his afternoon tossing around, somewhere between sleep and reality, in a daze that wasn't peaceful and didn't bring to his tired frame any rest. He reached for a book after a couple of hours, but the words written on the page required from him way too much concentration and his migraine got worse after only a couple of pages, so he discarded the item once again. He checked the time one more time.
He had two hours left.
He made an almost-unbearable effort to extract himself from the covers and finally head for the shower, figuring that some warm water would help.
And it did. The shower gave him enough energy to carry his set of pillows and blankets to the sofa instead, moving his mess to the living-room so he could watch some stupid things on the TV.
He spent most of the rest of his time alone watching some old episodes of Columbo, keeping an eye on the time while he waited for you, hoping you wouldn't be delayed by the snow on your way home, his mood darkening some more at the mere thought.
And when you finally walked in your shared home, Ben couldn't refrain a relieved sigh.
He waited for the sound of your keys to drop on the little bowl by the door, for the sound of the shuffling of fabric as you took off your scarf, beanie, gloves and coat, and finally the thud sound of your shoes being kicked off. Finally, the muffled thumping of your footsteps on the wooden floor echoed through the hall, and you appeared by his side, your hair a little wet because of the snow, but you still seemed warm and cosy in your warm jumper.
"How are you feeling, baby?" you asked in a soft voice, tilting your head in wonder, and Ben swore that he had never seen anything cuter in his life.
He let out a groan, pouting dramatically.
"I feel awful," he mumbled, letting out a grumpy growl and holding his cover closer to him.
You sat down by his side on the sofa, and rested the back of your hand against his forehead.
"You still have fever, babe," you told him in the softest voice you could muster, your fingers sliding from his forehead to his hair, soothingly travelling through the dark strands. "Have you taken a shower?"
He nodded, before sneezing very loudly, the noise echoing throughout the room, and letting out a frustrated groan.
"I hate being like this," he pouted.
"I know, love. But you need to rest to get better, that's all we can do. I'm gonna make you some tea with honey, it'll help, okay?"
You were about to get up when he quickly grabbed your wrist, pulling you back to your seat gently. The quick gesture seemed to exhaust him even more, but he didn't mind, for once.
"No, stay. You'll do that later."
"It would be good for you…"
"No, please. Please stay with me. I've waited for you all day. Just… stay."
His eyes were watery because of his cold, and his nose all red, and his cheeks flushed with fever, and he was poutier than ever, buried under three blankets. There was simply no way for you to say no to him.
And it was unsaid, right now, but it wasn't hard to read in his eyes that he meant to add I love you to his plea.
So, you settled properly in the sofa, opening your arms for him to snuggle into your side.
He heaved a sigh, finally relaxing, as he tucked his head in the crook of your neck.
"I hope you don't get sick holding me like that," Ben mumbled into your skin, his voice muffled and barely audible, but you were so used to his voice by now that it wasn't hard for you to decipher what he was whispering.
You smiled a tender smile, that he couldn't see and that you barely noticed yourself as it formed across your lips, but it didn't matter. It wasn't aimed at anyone in particular anyway. It was just how he made you feel all the time.
"Well, if I do catch your cold, you'll have to nurse me back to health too, then," you replied, making him chuckle, his first laughter of the day.
"That's a deal. Besides, I'm gonna be a little selfish here, but I need you too much now to really care if you get sick or not."
It was your time to laugh, and your heart was filled with love as you did so, the bright sound illuminating the whole room.
"Well, you're feeling very bad, so, I won't hold that selfish act against you," you reassured him, and Ben closed his eyes as you started running your fingers in his dishevelled hair again.
"Thanks. Because I really do feel awful."
You hummed, focusing on the TV before you, but only for a moment, as Ben spoke again. He had missed your voice too much during the day, after all. And if having you in his arms was already working wonders on his mood, still, he wanted you all to himself, and you seemed to give way too much interest to the crime show on TV.
"How was your day, baby?" he asked in a hoarse voice, before he would be shaken by a cough.
"It was okay, a bit long," you admitted as Ben settled back into your arms.
"Tell me everything that happened, please?" he asked, looking up at you with puppy eyes, and you could only let out a fond chuckle as you kissed his forehead and proceeded to tell him everything about your day at work.
"Well, Marjorie broke the coffee machine this morning, which was undoubtedly a good odd for the rest of the day!"
You went on for a long time, sometimes slowing down to a stop when Ben's eyes remained closed for a while, and you thought he had fallen asleep, but he kept on asking you to continue then, his eyes still closed, so you did. He did fall asleep though, once you had finished your story and settled back in a comfortable silence with him nestled in your arms. You didn't mind, despite your position growing a little uncomfortable after a while. You watched TV while Ben caught up on some most needed sleep, a soft snore coming out of him once in a while making you smile fondly at him.
Yes, Ben was grumpy when he was sick. But then again, sometimes, he wasn't that grumpy, even if sick, for as long as he had you.
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Taglist : @ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet@notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky@snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity@i-padfootblack-things @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi@jigsawlover10 @emyyjemyy @addictedtofictionalcharacters @staringmoony@geeksareunique @giggleberts @sad-orange-thoughts @aylinnmaslow @benbarnes-world @ladyblablabla @madamrogers @drinix @joelynnp @mxrihollxnd @rockintensse @newtstarmander @iammadeofstarsandlazyness @shinebrightlikeafanbase @wangmangagavroche@presstocontinue @ilmiopiccolounivers0
#ben barnes#ben barnes x reader#ben barnes fanfiction#ben barnes imagine#ben barnes drabble#ben barnes fluff#christmas fic#ben barnes fic#fanfiction#fanfic#writing#drabble#imagine
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sober ↝ jj maybank x reader
request: how about a jj x reader where she doesn’t do drugs and tells jj off, but then they come to the house and she’s there and her eyes are red, they point it out and she blames it on allergies but jj says something like “no i recognise the blood shot eyes” and realise that she’s taken drugs/smoked ( @bibrokenbestfriend )
summary: you have recently been getting into taking hard drugs and the pogues find you and realize what’s going on.
warnings: swearing, mentions of drugs (cocaine), angst, screaming/yelling,
gif creds to @toesure
you stumble back to the boneyard after meeting up with your drug dealer and act as if nothing happened and you just went to the bathroom at the chateau. you take a sip of your beer and sit at the fire with the rest of the pogues, chiming in on there conversation. “where’d ya go?” kie asks as she glances at you, causing the conversation to pause for a split second.
“i had to pee.” you state before taking another sip of your beer. kie nods and continues on with the conversation as you zone out and watch all the fucked up teens around you. “im bored, let’s play never have i ever drinking edition.” sarah grins at everyone while she sits on john b’s lap, “i’ll go first.” she slurs and holds her hands out.
“never have i ever had sex in a church.” sarah smirks and glances at john b with a giggle leaving her lips. the two take a sip of beer while kie fake gags. “i’ll go.” pope says, holding his cup out, “never have i ever done hard drugs.” no one takes a sip of their beers. you act like you aren’t paying attention and take a sip. everyone watches as you turn back to the group confused.
“what?” you blurt trying to play dumb. “did you not hear popes question?” kie asks you, glancing between all of the pogues. “no, i zoned out.” you lie, taking another sip of your beer. jj furrows his eyebrows together, “you were watching pope as he said it..” he quietly points out as concern washes over his face.
“well i didn’t hear it, alright?” you sass and glance back around at the party as your hands start to shake from the anxiety. “you know you can tell us anything, right?” jj asks you as he places his hand softly on your shoulder. you glare at the boy and shove his hand off of you before you stand up. “i don’t do fucking drugs, jj. stop digging around for something when there is literally nothing. now if you would excuse me, i need a refill.” you scoff as you stomp off to the keg and leave your friends behind to give each other weird looks.
trigger warning: cocaine
you decided to leave the kegger extremely early. you head towards your empty house since your mother was working a night shift. you shove the key in the lock and turn before walking in and tossing your bag on the couch. you slam the door shut and grip your hair with your hands as you pace the floor.
thoughts about the questioning looks from your best friends rush through your head as your heart beat starts to pick up. you try to blink away the tears before you storm towards your bag and search for the baggie of white powder. you catch a glimpse of the bag and yank it out of the bag along with your credit card. you climb over to the glass coffee table and sit criss-crossed before opening the bag and dumping some of the powder onto the table.
after you make a couple thin lines, you dig around looking for your rolled up dollar. “fuck.” you exhale when you realize you gave the dollar to your dealer as it was included in your payment. you lean forward and bring your right nostril to the table as you press the other one closed. you close your mouth and eyes and inhale, the buzz instantly hitting as the thoughts of how you were growing an addiction faded.
you finish the other couple of lines and put your stuff back in your bag before sitting on the couch. you grab the remote and turn the tv on as you stare at it, not moving a muscle. you sit like that for about 20 minutes until you hear your front door open and your four best friends rush inside your house, fear on their faces.
“what the fuck?” you mumble as you glace up at your friends, resisting to rub your tingling nose. “you literally disappeared, y/n, what do you mean ‘what the fuck?’“ kie states as she throws her hands around. your eyes skim along your friends. jj watches you carefully as he notices that your eyes are bloodshot and your nose is running and red. “what happened to you?” sarah asks as she notices the same thing, stepping over to you. you shrug and wipe your nose, a little bit of blood smearing on your arm, “allergies.” you lie and watch jj stare at you and shake his head.
he takes a couple steps closer to you to get a better look. in his eyes, he sees every answer to what you’ve previously done. his father looked the same way. every fucking time. “sunshine...” jj croaks out as he kneels down in front of you. you tilt your head at him and furrow your eyebrows together. “why?” he whispers as he blinks back the tears that are welling up in his eyes.
“why what?” you play dumb and let out an airy chuckle. everyone watches you intently, confused on what sarah and jj see. jj looks away and slightly scoffs, hurt evident in all of his facial features. “don’t play dumb, y/n. i recognize the bloodshot eyes.” jj mutters sternly before standing up.
“it’s allergies, jj-” you quickly start but jj cuts you off, causing you to flinch, “i’m not fucking dumb, y/n! i see the effects of coke all the fucking time.” everyone around you gasps. “you look like how rafe did when he was using...” sarah whispers as the buzz she had moments before is gone. “guys...” you start as you start to stand up yet jj cuts you off again, “you did hear what pope said!” you freeze and slowly drop your hands as you stare at the angry blonde boy in front of you, “you fucking heard him. you drank on purpose. yet you acted like we were fucking stupid when we asked you about it.”
you drop your innocent act and stare at the floor as you avoid your friends stares. “why the fuck do you care, jj?” you blurt and lift your head back up. jj squints his eyes at you, “why the fuck do i care?” he asks you, causing you to nod your head. “because you’re my bestfriend, y/n, what the fuck do you mean why do i care? you literally mean the world to me and i don’t know what would i do if i lost you. i wouldn’t be able to live with myself if i let you do drugs and kill yourself, sunshine. i wouldn’t.” jj rambles as he throws his hands around. everyone is silent, still trying to process the scene at hand.
you get closer to jj, “you don’t fucking own me!” you shout at him as anger pulses through you, “you have no fucking control of what i do!” jj shakes his head and starts throwing shit around as he searches for the baggie. “what the fuck are you doing?” you screech as he tears your living room apart. “where the fuck is it, y/n?” jj asks lowly as he still searches. “where is what-” he cuts you off, “the fucking baggie, y/n!” he shouts at you. you glance at the only thing untouched, your bag. pope notices and quickly grabs it and hands it to jj, a look of pity and remorse flashing through the chocolate boy’s features.
jj unzips your bag and sees the baggie filled with white powder. you go to snatch it out of the blue eye’d boys fingers, failing as jj pulls his arm back so you can’t reach. “fuck you, jj!” you scream at him as the tears run down your face. “fuck me?! for what? caring about you?” he asks just as loud as you drop back on the couch as you struggle to breathe. “why are you doing this?” you sob out, pressing your hands firmly on your chest as your heartbeat quickens.
“because i don’t want you to end up like rafe and my dad, y/n!” he yells out with tears streaming down his cheeks. you release a heavy sob and squeeze your eyes shut. kie rushes over to you and pulls you into her embrace as she rubs your back with her head. sarah sits on the other side of you and joins the small group hug. “we’re gonna get you help, okay?” sarah asks you as she rubs her thumb on your fore arm. you slowly nod your head and continue to let the tears fall.
jj slowly walks over to you and kneels down in front of you. kie and sarah release you and let you fall into jj’s arms as the tears don’t stop. “i’m so sorry, jay...” you cry out, pressing your face in jj’s neck as he places small kisses on your shoulder blade after every few seconds. “i’m so fucking sorry.”
taglist: @jjsredhat @livinglikepogues @jjsbxtch @jellyfishbeansontoast @ethereallust @jj-bxby @baby-pogue @bruhjustdont
#jj maybank imagine#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank x y/n#jj maybank#obx jj#jj angst#jj fanfiction#jj fluff#jj imagine#jj x y/n#jj x reader#jj x you#john b routledge#john b#kiara carrera#kie carrera#pope heyward#sarah cameron#rafe cameron#topper thornton#outerbanks#outer banks x reader#outer banks imagine#outer banks fanfiction#jj outer banks#obx netflix#obx x reader#obx fanfiction#obx
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hello can i request where suna, akaashi and osamu have a short gf and she just wants a kiss but he teases her and doesnt bend down to kiss her so she gets pouty and kind of ignores him all day even when he tries to talk to her
a/n - this one was so fun to write! i've never written for suna before so i hope you liked the way i portrayed his character. hope you enjoy!
call him sadistic but he loves the sight of you pouting up at him, straining to reach him
hands rest on his shoulders to help push you up further on your tiptoes
even with this, you are not close enough to place a kiss on his lips... and he knows this, smirks down at you lazily
"kiss me," you whine, much to his amusement
while an arm wraps around your waist, his head tilts up, leaving you with the perfect view of the bottom of his chin
you let out a frustrated sigh, hand coming down to smack at his chest as you lower back down
chuckling, he just holds you closer, ignoring the way you push against him to get free. suna knows you're pissed off but that just makes it more fun
finally, you wiggle free, shooting him a glare before stalking off towards the twins
he makes his way over, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, leaning slightly on you as he joins the conversation
stubbornly, you ignore him, acting oblivious to his presence, acting as if your s/o isn't currently leant against you
each comment he makes is passed over by you, a look of confusion flashing across your face if one of the twins reply to suna
"what are you talking about?" you question, feigning confusion as osamu replies to suna. mischief flashes in both of their eyes and they join you in ignoring suna
he is quickly becoming more irritable, finally stalking away from you. if he isn't going to be included in a conversation, why waste his energy?
this goes on for the rest of the day, you stubbornly refusing to speak to him
he finally snaps when you are walking home in silence, you acting as if he isn't currently holding your hand. all of his statements go unanswered, even ones which would normally elicit a laugh. he changes tact
"how was your day?"
it is met with silence, deafening silence. with a sigh, patience finally breaking, he tugs you around to face him. "if i kiss you, will you stop being such a brat?"
your gaze isn't focused on him, instead looking at something in the distance, just past his chest
this is the last straw. his hand comes down to grip your neck and he tilts your head up, finally connecting your lips in a kiss
you let out a satisified hum, sinking into the kiss as your hands go up to grip at his shoulders
he pulls away, eyes assessing as he takes in your grin of satisfaction
"i hate you," he states, watching the way your smile just grows wider
"don't lie to yourself," you tease, taking his hand and beginning to walk home again
he's not really the type to tease you. honestly, he finds it bothersome and pointless most of the time. however, there are times when the desire to deny you just takes over him
today is one of those days
you were feeling particularly needy that day and were currently curled up next to him on the sofa, head resting against his shoulder as you watched the tv. his arm was wrapped around you securely, hand resting on your hip bone
when he got up to go get a drink, you pulled at his arm, leaning up with the intention of getting a peck on the lips
instead, he ruffled your hair affectionately before heading to the kitchen, leaving you with a small pout he secretly found adorable
this circumstance wasn't what tipped you over the edge and made you ignore him
it was later, when you came up to him and wrapped your arms around his waist, chin resting on his chest as you peered up at him
"keiji," you said softly, causing him to look down at you with an soft grin. "can you give me a kiss?"
his hand brushed lightly against your cheek. it almost looked as if he were about to kiss you
then he turned away
frustrated, you tugged at his top, vausing him to look down at you curiously again
"kiss me," you begged. he seemed to consider it for a moment
"no"
that simple response with no elaboration infuriates you so much that you push away from him and storm into the other room. if he didn't want to kiss you, he could at least explain why
"stupid prick," you mumble as you sit on the sofa with a huff. "i'll show him"
for the rest of the day, you refuse to acknowledge him, fiddling on your phone, pretending you don't hear him. at one point, you turned the tv up to block him out, commenting on some annoying buzz in the background
by this point, he's had enough. this is why he rarely does it. it's because you get in a huff and act like a baby
"you're being immature, y/n," he states, watching you from the other end of the sofa. you simply huff. "is this really because i wouldn't kiss you? if you're that desperate, you would have found a way"
that statement irks you and you finally look at him, mouth opening to fire back a response. "if you weren't so fricking tall, i wouldn't have to beg you"
he simply sighs. he could comment on the fact that you are just exceptionally short, but you are talking to him again and he doesn't want to set you off. he's been punished enough
"come here," he says, opening up his arms for you. you happily crawl into his lap, curling up against his chest
"can i get a kiss now?"
he hums in response, gripping your chin with his finger and thumb, tilting your head up. lightly, he brushes his lips against yours
"aww, does someone want a kiss?" he teases, easily resisting your attempts to lower him
you flick him in the shoulder, probably a bit harder than necessary
"come on, samu," you moan, head tilted upwards as you look at him, balanced rather precariously on your tiptoes. "stop being stupid and kiss me already"
if you hadn't called him stupid, he probably would have kissed you right then. but, hearing the insult makes him want to tease you for a bit longer
"it's such a shame you can't reach," he goades, noting the way your eyes narrowed as you glared at him
"maybe atsumu will kiss me then," you spat, walking off with a slight stomp to your step (it's not to find atsumu, though that is what he is thinking, but to piss off osamu. you also acknowledge that hanging around in the corridor for much longer would make you late for class so pissing osamu off is just an added bonus)
the thought of you running to atsumu gives him pause, almost makes him reach out for you. then he realises the time and knows that you, being the studious person you are, would be heading to class
he assumes the space will give you time to cool your head before you come back to his after school
this assumption is proved incorrect when you fall into step beside atsumu, blanking your boyfriend and instead striking up a conversation with his twin
atsumu shoots osamu a wide, teasing grin, smug at the thought of being the one your attention is focused on. osamu's fists clench. this is low, even for you
when you arrive at his house, you follow atsumu to the living room and collapse onto the sofa beside him, asking him what he wants to watch
osamu watches from the doorway, his jaw clenching. he needs to do something, anything, to make you look at him
of course, his mind goes to food. he knows how much you love his cooking and is fully going to take advantage of that
he disappears into the kitchen and, after about ten minutes, you look around in search of him
"samu's in the kitchen," explains atsumu, gesturing in that direction. "probably making you something so that you talk to him again"
after a little while longer, which you pass chatting with atsumu about the programme on tv (it's a reality tv show, a guilty pleasure both of the twins enjoy indulging in), osamu appears from the kitchen holding a plate of onigiri
he puts it on the table in front of you, smacking atsumu's hand away when he reaches for the food
"will you talk to me now?" he asks as you stuff the food in your mouth
your lips pull up into a grin and you wrap a hand around his wrist, pulling him down beside you. you really don't have the heart to torture him anymore
you place a kiss to his cheek as he wraps an arm around you to hold you close. "this is really good. new recipe?"
"i've been working out the kinks for a while," he says, perking up as he launches into an explanation about what he changed and more
you make eye contact with atsumu, rolling your eyes slightly at the sudden animated energy taking over your boyfriend
and to think, he still hasn't bothered to give you a kiss yet
#hq requests#hq hcs#hq headcanons#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu x you#haikyuu headcanons#suna x y/n#suna x you#suna x reader#suna headcanons#akaashi headcanons#akaashi x reader#akaashi keiji x reader#osamu x reader#osamu x you#osamu headcanons
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Vice | Bang Chan x Reader
pairing: chan x gn!reader
genre: angst
warnings: this fic contains lots of mentions of drinking and alcoholism, so if that’s not for you, then don’t read this, and there’s mentions of sex but there’s no smut, mentions of sex while drunk (reader and idol under the influence)
requested: nope, i got sad so i wrote angst lol
word count: 1.7k
proofread: a little bit
taglist: @bxngchxn @jisungsplatforms @hyunsluvv @qtieskz
a/n: i didn’t spend much time on this so i’m sorry it’s poorly written :( if parts don’t make sense please let me know and i’ll try to fix it
____________________
the edge of your glass rests upon your bottom lip when you see him. he stands by one of the few tables in the club, resting his weight upon his forearms. he looks up, his eyes searching the room before looking back down at his phone, a frown forming on his face.
you’ve seen many attractive men in your life, but there’s something about him. he’s enticing, alluring, and he hasn’t even looked at you. his dark hair is messy, intentionally so, and he looks so beautiful under the moving lights. normally you wouldn’t have the confidence to approach him, but the liquid courage flows steadily through you, and you find yourself walking towards him without too much forethought.
“hi,” you say, nerves a little more apparent now that you’re in front of him.
he looks at you, standing up straighter before he speaks.
“hello,” he replies. his tone is warm but still sceptical. you can almost see the gears turning in his mind as he tries to work out if he knows you or not.
“i’m y/n. sorry if this is weird, but you’re quite cute so i thought i’d come say hi,” you smile, but you can tell your smile looks awkward.
“huh?” he says, leaning in closer to hear you over the loud music.
your face heats up, but you raise your voice and repeat yourself anyway. you’ve already approached him, might as well commit to it.
“ah,” he says, his hand rising to rub absentmindedly at the back of his neck, a shy smile forming on his face.
“sorry, was that too forward of me?” you take a sip of your drink in an attempt to calm your growing nerves.
“nah, it’s just not very often i get called cute.” he chuckles, and the soft laughter sends a warmth through your heart.
“what? really? it would appear that i have to right this horrible wrong.” another chuckle, and it makes you happy to know you’re the one making him smile and laugh.
“oh, really now?” you nod in response, taking another sip of your drink as you watch the way his eyes sparkle in the dim light of the club. “i’m chan, by the way.”
“you here with anyone?”
he shakes his head before answering. “nah, i was meeting up with a friend but he just messaged saying he’s not coming.”
“damn, that’s no fun,” you reply.
“yeah, but at least you’re here so maybe tonight won’t be such a bust after all.” it’s the way he says it, the teasing, flirting tone that has your heart almost skipping a beat.
“can i buy you a drink in exchange for your company for the night then?” you ask.
after a quick nod of his head, you both walk up to the bar. he orders a drink while you down the rest of yours and quickly order another one. you can barely hear the bartender tell you the price over the thumping of the bass, but you swipe your card, nonetheless.
you drag chan to the dance floor, standing in front of him and beginning to grind back against him in time to the music. he downs half his drink before planting one of his hands on your hip, beginning to move his own with you.
the night carries on, the time spent dancing and drinking together, making out against the wall near the back of the club. you and chan have both lost count of how many drinks you’ve had, but that doesn’t stop him from ordering an uber and taking you back to his place.
when you wake in the morning it’s to an empty bed, and it takes you a moment to realise that you’re not in your own room. you think back, and your most vivid memory is of chan’s lips pressed against your neck while his hands roamed your body. you smile as the rest of last night’s events return to you.
you sit up, ignoring the way your head sways and throbs slightly at the movement. you grab your clothes, slowly getting dressed. the walk out of the bedroom is slow, and all you can think about is how dry your mouth feels. you don’t make it far out of the room before you’re almost colliding with chan’s chest.
“oh,” he exclaims, surprised to run into you. “i was just coming to see if you were awake.”
you look at him, your eyes squinting from the sunlight, and you can make out the smile on his face. it’s shy, just like the one when you told him he was cute the night before. and there’s something about his smile that’s contagious, prompting you to return a smile of your own.
“i’m awake,” you reply, voice still thick with sleep.
“i can tell. i was gonna make us breakfast but i kinda ended up burning it. so should we order something? my shout?”
you’re surprised, really. you were expecting him to kick you out, to send you on your merry way after a night of passion. but here he is, offering to order you breakfast. it’s sweet, and you can’t help but accept.
it’s nearing midday before you have to leave, chan having work in the afternoon. you exchange numbers before you go, promising to message and hopefully turn this one night stand into something more.
your relationship with chan blossoms from there, a couple of weeks spent getting to know each other a bit better before he officially asks you out. it was sweet, the way he did it. a crisp autumn evening curled up on his couch where he asks you the question. but, truth be told, that was the moment it went downhill.
it took him almost three months to notice. or maybe it just took him that long to admit it to himself. he truly wanted to look past the issue, he didn’t want to believe it to be true. but when it caused you to lose your job, he couldn’t ignore your drinking any longer.
looking back on those three months, he knows he should’ve realised sooner. it should have clicked in his mind when most of your dates were spent together in the clubs, dancing and drinking until you could barely stand. even when you weren’t going on dates, just time spent together in the evenings always included you with a drink constantly in your hand.
he wants the best for you, he doesn’t want to see you drown in the alcohol any more than you already are. it’s hard for him, and the months that follow his realisation are filled with countless arguments as he tries desperately to help you escape the clutches of your addiction. but you refuse to see the truth, you refuse to accept that you need help. and chan can’t take it anymore.
your phone buzzes with a message and you pick it up, seeing chan’s name on your screen.
chan: i’m coming over. i’ll be there in 10
you sit back against the couch, staring at the tv while you wait for him to show up. he’s right on time when you hear his rhythmic knock at your apartment door. dragging yourself to your feet, you walk over opening the door for him to enter.
he steps inside, closing the door behind him as he watches you walk towards the living room. he follows you, sighing heavily when he notices the almost empty bottle of vodka on the coffee table. it wasn’t a surprise to see it sitting there, but he still hates the sight.
“how much have you had?”
his question hangs heavy in the air as he awaits your answer, but you don’t give one. you seldom do. in the past, he wouldn’t push you to answer, but this time he does. he has to. he needs you to recognise that you have a problem.
“y/n? how much have you had to drink tonight?”
“why does it matter how much i’ve had?” you say, refilling your empty glass from the bottle and taking a sip, feeling the way it burns a path down your throat.
“because i need to have a serious chat with you, but i can’t do that if you’re drunk.”
“oh? a serious talk? are you here to berate me again?”
“berate you? y/n, i’m trying to help you. i’ve been trying to help you for months.” he runs a hand down his face, trying to calm his growing frustration. “look, i don’t want to do this, okay? i don’t want to break up with you.”
“wait, you’re breaking up with me?”
he pauses, releasing a heavy sigh, laden with sadness. one exhale of air and you can hear the mental exhaustion chan has been dealing with. and it hurts to know you’re the cause of it.
“i am.”
“but why?”
“because i can’t keep doing this. i’ve tried to help you. you say you’ll stop drinking but you don’t. i want to keep helping you, i want you to get better for your own sake. but i can’t be in a relationship with you right now.”
“so you don’t want to be with me anymore?”
“i do, y/n, believe me, i do want to be with you. but i can’t. you’re not okay, and this relationship is taking a toll on me,”
“but i am okay,”
“no, you’re not. people who are okay don’t act like this. they don’t spend this much time drinking. alcohol isn’t going to solve your problems. and even if it somehow did, it wouldn’t matter because it’s only causing you new ones.”
there’s a slew of emotions coursing through you. anger, frustration, sadness. and all you can do to keep them at bay is take another swig of vodka, this time straight from the bottle.
“i’d like for you to leave now.”
“y/n-”
“get out of my apartment.” chan hates the sight of the bottle in your hand, but he hates the crack in your voice more. he wants to hold you, to hug you tight and promise you that you’ll get through this. but he knows that if he stays any longer then you’ll only end up yelling at him.
the alcohol swimming through your veins does little to numb the sting in your heart when he leaves. and it’s only when you hear that door close that you let the tears fall. your relationship with chan felt doomed from the beginning. it began with a drink in your hand, and it ended with one too.
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without making this a sap story ive had some not so great news from home and am in one of them moods to not talk abt it. but i need a tom h to hug me , pls could u write something like that?
hey anon - i am sending u all my love, and hope things get a little easier for u as soon as possible. if u ever do wanna chat abt nothing or rant just send me a pm x I hope this is at least somewhat what u were looking for <33
summary: life is sometimes not good, but your fave boy makes it just a little easier to deal with (with some original help from his brother too)
a bit angsty but i promise mainly fluff (and a popcorn fight?)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What drew you out of the sort-of-trance was a two soft but firm knocks at the door - well Tom’s bedroom door. You’d been relaxing with him and Harry, watching the new ‘Line of Duty’ when your mum had called for the daily catch up. Admittedly, she had already tried to call you twice today but somehow you’d managed to miss both of them. On reflection, possible not that shocking because you’d been at a charity golf day with the boys which involved a fair amount of noise, chat and competition.
Thankfully the boys had both done pretty well, Tom coming slightly ahead but that was the norm between the two. It meant they were both happily basking in their relative victories and not moody and grumpy like they are oh so often when things go wrong. Because to them, against your pleading, begging and sometimes lecturing…. golf was not just a game.
You and your mum had always been very close, so usually speaking to her was uplifting and made you feel a little bit more complete - what with travelling with Tom for work, her voice was a slice of home. This time though, it was not so much the case. It was just sad news about your home town. Nothing directly to your family or close friends but still, it makes you feel generally down.
Who knows how long it’d been since you’d hung up on the phone, just staring at the wall opposite. Everything felt just hollow and empty, lacking in meaning somewhat. You weren’t necessarily thinking, more like devoid of emotion, of thoughts, of anything. Just a bit cold.
“Y/n…Y/n?” His voice sounded hesitant, as though scared he was interrupting your call. When you didn’t respond, the door cracked open and his fluffy head poked in, not that you noticed - your brain was still half absent. Tom on the other hand, was instantly looking you up and down, very much confused as the why you looked so rigid and not present. Noticing the phone was lying quiet on the bed in front of you, he felt safe to enter. He made a beeline for the bed, perching himself down on the edge, in-front of you - so he was blocking your fascinating view of the grey wall opposite.
“What’s going on in that little head of yours?” His voice was soft and gravely, choosing not to put much energy into his vocal box as he rubbed up and down one of your arms.
“Hmmm? Sorry, was miles away.”
“Could tell darl.” As he chuckled his eyes crinkled round the outside. “How was your mum?”
“Yeh…um okay, I-I guess.” As much as you wanted to shake yourself out of it, it just wasn’t that easy. Everything was laced with this underlying chilliness.
“You sure? You dont really sound it?”
“No, I um…well I’m not sure. I think I’m okay?”
“What happened?” You shook your head in response, making Tom press his lips together with a small nod. “ Don’t wanna talk about it huh?”
“Not… not right now. Please?”
With a permitting nod, Tom stood up and squeezed your hand, urging you to follow. Trailing behind him into the living room, he then instructed you to take a seat on the sofa adjacent to Harry, Tom himself disappearing back into the house. It made you pout a little, you wanted him to just look after you a little this evening but that self pity wasn’t allowed to last long - because a piece of popcorn flew into your cheek. You whipped your head around, with mouth open feigning shock, to see Harry smirking at you cradling a bowl full of other possible missiles in hand.
“And what was that for?” He shrugged his shoulders, turning his head back to the TV.
“You looked sad.”
“…” Your mouth was open, no words coming out though, as you looked at the frizzy haired boy in bemusement. Sometimes you thought you understood how his head worked but at other points, the boy was a bloody mystery. Instead of explaining his thought process (because there almost certainly wasn’t one), he just smiled evily at you - wiggling his brows. And I know you know what that meant.
Sure enough by the time Tom reentered the room, arms full with different objects he’d collected round the house, the floor had been littered with popcorn kernels. You and Harry were squealing at each other as handfuls of the snack were catapulted vaguely at each other as you chased him round the room. It took Tom shouting at the both of you for you to freeze, slowly lowering your hands in ceasefire with a giggle.
“I leave you alone for two minutes.”
“ It was his fault!” You protested, causing a 5 minute of ‘ he said-she said’ between the two of you, even if Tom wasn’t listening to the bickering. Instead, he quickly whizzed round the room picking up all the obvious popcorn bits and then spread out all the blankets he’d got from round the rented house on the sofa.
You knew Harry, in his very own and special way, was only doing all this to cheer you up and you couldn’t appreciate it more. Your relationship with him had recently got so much closer, thanks to Tom being busy on set actually filming - while you and Harry just had some quality ‘almost sibling’ times. And now living with him too - naturally he had grown to know your tells almost as well as Tom.
“Alright children calm down… thought we could watch movie?” Plopping himself down on the cream seat, Tom made grabby hands to you which of course you had to comply with.
“I’ll um… I’m gonna leave you to- well to the being in love shit. It’ll make me chunder”
“We love you too bro” Tom called to Harry, who was already on his way out - but the tone of gratefulness in his voice was evident, he appreciated Harry noticing that the two of you could do with time together.
“Don’t make it weird!” Harry’s response had you sniggering, as you pulled the fluffiest blanket over both you and Tom and nestling into his side.
After a few minutes of Tom pretending to argue with you about film choice, before ultimately agreeing with your choice of ‘La la land’ as he always planned on letting you. The Holland boys were both very talented at subtly being a shoulder if needed, and yes you knew it was all an act - but you weren’t about to call him out. About halfway through he kissed the crown of your head and murmured. “Can tell you’re not watching darling.” He wasn’t wrong to be fair. Yes, you were looking at the screen - but your mind was far away from the plot line.
“Sorry I um… minds like a runaway train sometimes.” Tom released a breathy chuckle at that before murmuring a ‘come ‘ere’ to you as he all but lifted you up from sitting by his side. You ended up lying almost onto of him, with both of Tom’s strong arms holding you tightly to him. Smiling into his chest, you nestled closer so the soundtrack to the movie played over the top of his constant thudding heartbeat. It took a few moments of you both just staring into the screen, completely contented for Tom to speak, squeezing you slightly tighter whilst the two of you watched Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone twirling on the road.
“I gotchu now lovie”
And you swore then that all the thoughts racing in your mind were outpaced by those of a different kind. Still intense ideas, ones that buzzed round your brain, but these were happy. Thoughts of ‘how could I be so lucky’ and ‘I love this man with my whole heart’.
Apparently these thoughts were also a comfort because when Tom looked down at you after what must’ve been at least half an hour, you were spark out. Breathing deep and unchanging, eye locked shut and mouth slightly squashed against his chest so your lips were pressed together. But what made the boy physical pout was the way you relaxed hand was loosely balled round a fistful of his purple hoodie. As if you were clutching at him to keep him as close to you as possible.
He felt so grateful - not only for you, but also for the fact that he had the ability to make it a little better. You didn’t need him - Tom swore you were one of the most fiercely independent people he’d ever met - yet it was clear you wanted him. You wanted him when you felt down, the same way you wanted to be around him when you were overly hyper and chatting pure rubbish. You didn’t want him because he was the ‘Tom Holland’ you wanted him because he was Tom.
He couldn’t fix what was going on back at your home (I mean right now, he still didnt even know what was going on). But he did know how to make everything just a little less shit. He knew how to be your person.
And that would forever be job Tom was most proud of.
once again sending u all lots of love (esp u anon 💕)
would love to know what u guys think if ya made it this far ;)
tagging (link to join) : @hallecarey1 @hollandfanficlove
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Loved Chapter 5
Sort of wanted to do something more elaborate with this, but it just wasn't happening. Meh.
.
“But you aren’t really real, are you?”
Tucker’s question killed the mood fast than a bullet. Danny and Sam stared at him from their side of the blanket nest.
“You want to rephrase that?” asked Sam, glaring, arms crossed.
“Uh,” said Tucker, sweat starting to form on his upper lip. “I mean, clearly you’re real, just… maybe not entirely physical? You, it’s,” he made a sort of twisting gesture with one of his hands. “People who aren’t from here can’t see you. They can’t even touch you. That sort of implies that you’re not on the same level of reality as them.” He shrugged. “You call the other place the Dream, right? Maybe you’re in, like, a kind of daydream or something.”
Danny twisted a corner of a blanket in his hands. “No,” he said.
“Danny,” started Tucker.
“No,” repeated Danny. “I can’t—” He noticed he was breathing heavily, his eyes unfocused enough that he could see—No. “Tucker, I don’t—I don’t think I even have free will anymore.” No matter how much he Loved Clockwork and craved Love in return, no matter how glad he was that the dark future would never come to pass, that grated at times. “I need—” He gulped air.
(Before, if he was this panicked, his heart would be thundering in his chest. Now, it was far too quiet.)
Sam put a hand on his back, steadying. Tucker reached out, too, but hesitated, unsure.
“I need to be real,” he said. He needed to still exist, still be human, at least in part. He couldn’t lose that, too. No matter what else he might gain.
“You are real,” said Tucker. “I’m sorry, I—” He cursed lightly under his breath, “—I wasn’t thinking. It’s just… Maybe something you should think about. Maybe—Maybe you aren’t coming completely out of… I don’t know. Wherever you go.”
“Maybe,” said Danny, struggling to get his breathing back under control. “Maybe. I just. Not right now.”
“Okay,” said Tucker. “Yeah. What were we talking about before?”
“Who cares?” asked Sam. “Let’s watch a movie.”
“That sounds good,” said Danny.
.
Danny woke up first the next morning, which was somewhat unusual. Sam was definitely a night-owl, but Tucker woke up fairly early. He stepped over them, feet silent on the floor. Almost as if they weren’t really there.
He shook his head. Not now.
He went to the bathroom and took care of things slowly, deliberately, as if to impress upon his body that he was human.
Sam and Tucker still weren’t awake when he came back. Also, when he thought about it, the rest of the house was eerily silent as well.
No… There was music. Was that coming from outside? He closed his eyes to listen better and caught himself drifting off while standing.
That was abnormal. He knelt and shook Sam and Tucker’s shoulders. They didn’t stir.
Someone was here. And they were here without Danny knowing. That was bad. That was really bad.
He went to his parents’ room. They were asleep, too.
There was a nonzero possibility that he was the only one awake. (Assuming he had ever been awake in the first place and not, as Tucker put it, daydreaming.)
He went out, following the music. Music suggested Ember, but this didn’t seem to be her style. She preferred motion, energy, vibrance. This was quieter, subtler.
Then again, none of the others made sense.
(At least, Danny liked to pretend they didn’t.)
The music wasn’t louder outside, but it was clearer. The scent of something sweet floated on the air. Something warm. Like honey.
Was something buzzing?
Danny shook his head again, forcing himself back into awareness. Maybe he should try and figure out what was going on from inside the Dream. It wasn’t possible to fall asleep there. At least, Danny never had.
(Assuming he wasn’t always partially in the Dream, like Tucker said.)
On the other hand, it often helped to observe what was going on in the real world, on the surface of things, before diving. As messy as fights could be in the real world, winning them in the Dream was harder.
He forged on, periodically pinching himself. He wasn’t the only one on the streets, but he was the only one on the streets that wasn’t passed out. It looked like there had been some car crashes.
That’s when he saw her.
She stood in the middle of an intersection, looking away from him. She was built like a centaur, except the lower part of her body more closely resembled a massive deer than a horse. An elk, perhaps. Both her deer-portion and her human-portion had night-black skin, studded with white stars. Antlers curved and branched above her curly hair. A crown of red flowers sat on her head. She wore no other clothes.
Danny did not notice any of this at first. No, what first jumped out at him was the unmistakable chain of Love binding him to her and vice versa.
He’d never met anyone like this, so—
She turned to face Danny. But she didn’t have a face. She had a mask. A well-made mask that had both eye-holes and a mouth with lips that seemed to curve. It was also covered with pulsing, swirling, hypnotic patterns. Black and white chased each other across the mask, not respecting the mask’s physical curves.
Danny could feel his mind start to go fuzzy. Felt the ground go soft under him as he sank into the Dream. A distant part of him wanted to look away, but the rest of him could only blink slowly, captivated.
“Come,” she said in a fascinating combination of an out-loud voice and a True Voice, tugging lightly on the chain that attached Danny to her.
Danny complied, trotting out into the intersection. When he was most of the way there, she turned away again.
“Follow,” she ordered.
Danny did, vaguely noting how rapidly the sidewalks and concrete buildings of Amity Park flowed into smoothly rolling hills covered in grass and flowers. The air grew heavier. Hotter. The perfume of the flowers combined with the buzzing of the bees and the gentle music served to make Danny even drowsier than before.
Still, he could hardly nod off in this situation, walking behind her, Love connecting them.
Sluggishly, belatedly, a name came to mind. “Nocturne,” he said. The name tasted like milk and honey, like chamomile tea, like sleep. She stopped and inclined her head slightly towards him. “You’re different from before.”
“We haven’t met,” she said. Then she turned more fully, the lips on her mask curving into a smile. “Has our parent been showing you Dreams of me? Perhaps I looked more like this.” She changed, her body warping before Danny’s eyes to become an impossibly tall man completely covered in starry black robes. Except, of course, for his mask and curved, ram-like horns. “This is as good a place as any, I suppose.”
Danny nodded, not quite sure what he was agreeing to, and looked around. Amity Park was nowhere in sight. The hills were a little lumpy, as if the grass and moss were growing over oddly shaped rocks.
“Let’s sit,” said Nocturn, lowering himself elegantly to the ground.
Danny followed, movements clumsy and blurred by sleep. He blinked, and found his hands occupied by a large mug. He looked up at Nocturne. Had he given this to Danny, or…?
Nocturne smiled. Danny looked away, not feeling like getting caught in the hypnotic swirls of his mask again. There was something off about those rocks under the grass. Something about their shape…
Then he saw it and inhaled sharply through his teeth.
Bodies. They were bodies. Still breathing, but…
He looked back at Nocturne. He’d known Nocturne was being too nice to him. He was new to being other, but not new to being a younger sibling. Older siblings only acted like this when they had set up everything in their favor. When they wanted something.
Even knowing this, he struggled to keep his eyes open. Could he fall asleep in the Dream?
“What are you doing to them?” he asked. “How do I wake them up.”
Nocturne hummed. “I have an idea. Play a game with me, sibling, and I’ll tell you.”
“What kind of game?”
“You ask me a question, and for every answer I give you, I get something from you.”
“Like, an answer from me,” said Danny, trying to clarify his position, “or something else?”
Nocturne’s smile showed teeth.
“If I play this game,” said Danny, “I have to be able to say when it ends.” He didn’t want to be dancing around conversational pitfalls every time he interacted with Nocturne, after all. They were siblings.
(And though Love was not trust, it was Love. And Love was undeniable.)
“Of course,” agreed Nocturne, easily.
“Alright, then,” said Danny. He adjusted his grip on the mug.
The grass was crawling. He blinked, hard, and shook his head, dislodging two bees that had landed on his ear.
“How do I wake them up?” he asked.
“You can’t,” said Nocturne.
Danny paused, waiting for Nocturne to take what he wanted.
“You have other questions.”
“Aren’t you going to take something from me, for the question?”
“Yes, I am.”
Danny pursed his lips, realizing he had just wasted a question.
“If I can’t wake them, who or what can?”
“I could. Or they could wake themselves.”
Danny mulled over what that could mean. He had no idea where to start with the second part, but the first…
“What would I have to do, to get you to wake them?”
“You—”
The chain around Danny’s neck went taut, pulling him through the fabric of the Dream at breakneck speeds. He was in Clockwork, his sibling behind him.
You must not bully your sibling, my dear. I have enough love for both of you. You do not need to be jealous.
Danny swayed. Now that so much of the tension between him and Nocturne was gone, he was no longer able to use it to support his wakefulness.
Drink your milk, little Love. You’ll be able to find your friends.
Danny nodded sleepily and tipped the mug back. He didn’t remember what happened after that.
.
“Hundreds of Amity Park citizens are still in comas as health officials race to find the cause of the mysterious event. Some say that gas leaks are to…”
Danny tuned out the TV and glared at his cereal. He knew he had fallen asleep in the Dream and had done something, but the memory was beyond him. Maybe whatever it had been was beyond an even partially human mind.
Or whatever kind of mind Danny had.
His fingers twitched. He was going to go down again later today, to see if Clockwork would help him find everyone else. If they could be found at all. He didn’t want to. He was angry. Angry that this had happened, that it was still happening. Amity Park was his, and Nocturne had no right to try and steal and break and—
The terrible part, was that even though he was angry, his general desire to reach out to Nocturne, to lean on their Love… That had not diminished.
He looked forward to seeing them again.
The news continued to talk about the coma victims.
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