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mellowsaturns · 11 months

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in losing grip, on sinking ships (you showed up just in time)

BUCKY BARNES X FEM!READER

summary: when the avengers pick up unusual activity, they realize that not all of hydra was destroyed. one unidentifiable face sends the team into a frenzy but bucky knows it. he could recognize those eyes anywhere.

warnings: heavy angst, one sided enemies-to-lovers-ish, hydra!assassin!reader, hurt/comfort, happy ending, brainwashing, trauma, guns & knives, fighting, implied kidnapping of reader when young, all the feels, misunderstandings, poor attempt at writing action

wc: 4.7k

a/n: sorry it’s been forever but i hope my fellow buckyluvrs are still here <3 i actually wrote this a long time ago but never got around to editing until recently so i guess you can say this is (from the vault) ? inspired by the idea: what-if there was another winter soldier and bucky finds himself in steve’s position this time trying to get you back to him. anyways, i hope you enjoy this one :)

Bucky’s life was a never ending montage of gunfire and bloodshed. It didn’t matter if he was under the clutches of someone else, he still lived through the wars—the lingering smell of smoke and tang of metallic forever ingrained in his senses.

And just when he thought it was finally over—a glimmer of peace at last—it comes and steals that dream away from him.

Like deja-vu, he’s looking at faces that were once responsible for his pain.

On the screen, three Hydra officers stare back at him. All faces identified by Tony’s system. Alive. Last seen in the outskirts of some small country in Europe. Irrelevant low ranking officials that had managed to survive the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D and have been hiding and secretly continuing Hydra’s mission underground ever since. Low officials or not, it was one too many.

Bucky freezes in his spot when Tony swipes the screen. The billionaire goes on a rant saying this particular face cannot be identified, which was according to Tony, bullshit because his face recognition system is the best in the world. The rest of the team is arguing and flipping through countless files and internet archives. But Bucky knows. He knows that face and those haunting eyes that he still sees in his dreams.

“Buck,” a voice calls out. “You know her, don’t you?”

He looks up at Steve from his spot, his best friend's face worried and all knowing.

One thing about Hydra was that they were always prepared. They had backups and multiple plans ready, or else how would two heads take its place when one was cut off? Unfortunately for the world, Hydra managed to make another deadly assassin, one whose work was so discreet and nimble that even intelligence didn't know they existed.

You were a ghost story that lived in the shadows of the Winter Soldier. You were another one of Hydra’s prize possessions—less known, but just as deadly.

With Steve’s comment, all eyes are now on Bucky. A pregnant pause fills the air and he gulps before he confesses, “I wasn’t the only one.”

The room becomes tense. The war that they thought was over suddenly looms over like an unpredicted oncoming storm. “Jesus Christ, Barnes. You couldn’t have informed us about her earlier?” says Tony.

“I thought,” he says, shifting his eyes onto the ground, “I thought she fell with S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Bucky couldn’t find you anywhere after he escaped their grasp. After he joined the Avengers, he tried once again secretly using Tony’s technology but it was to no avail—it always ended up being a dead end. And for that, he assumed Hydra had put you out of your misery the day they were caught.

But the face on the screen says otherwise. And suddenly, Bucky feels very guilty.

Steve clears his throat, “Well, they were picked up not too long ago heading north. If we leave now, we might be able to find them and stop them once and for all.”

Everyone looks at each other, debating on his proposal. “What the Captain said. Everybody, suit up. Quinjet leaves in ten,” says Tony.

On the jet, Bucky stares off into space but countless questions run through his mind.

Steve walks over and sits beside him. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asks, voice quiet.

Bucky sighs, “I just… I thought she was gone.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”

He looks up, wondering if he should tell Steve the truth. That he’s not brooding about the fact that he concealed you to them. After a moment, Bucky speaks up. “When we get there, let me handle her. Please.”

Steve didn’t know what kind of history Bucky had with you. But judging from the look his best-friend is giving, it’s more than what Steve could understand or even comprehend but he trusts Bucky and so, he gives him a nod. “She’s all yours.”

After scouting the area and tracing the location to a very hidden underground warehouse in the middle of nowhere, they split up. The warehouse was dark and dusty, surely abandoned, but Bucky knew better—it was their facade behind the most sinister of activities. Through the comms, Natasha announces that she has already taken care of all the troops in the West wing. Moments later, Sam reports that he has eliminated one of the Hydra officers. They wouldn’t last long. Hydra didn’t have much resources or time to rebuild—their current empire was weak, they were no match for the Avengers this time.

The only person Bucky’s truly worried about is you. The fact that he trained you, made you into what you were today already gave him the chills. He’s not the Winter Soldier anymore, but he was certain that you were still in that killer mindset that Hydra forced upon you.

Step by step, Bucky walks through the quiet hallway, the echoes of his footsteps the only noise. It’s cold here, he notices, which gives him flashbacks to those days in his dirty cell and the cryostasis chamber. Down a hallway to the next, round a corner and another, there wasn’t a single soul in the eerily Eastern wing.

But he spoke too soon, because seconds later, a garrote wire was around his neck. The swift invisible steps and the perfect pressure that was being used to quickly cut off his air supply was all too familiar. He knows this move, he taught this move. You’re here, and you’re dragging him backwards.

Before all oxygen gets cut off to his brain, he jabs his elbow backwards and hits you hard on the rib which releases the hold you have on him and sends you stumbling back. Bucky takes a moment to regain his breath but you’re on your feet again. He looks at you and for a moment he freezes, then you let out a sinister grin. “Nice to see you again, Soldat,” you taunt, before running towards him.

Bucky’s deflecting your punches one after another. Maybe he’s glad he was the one who taught you everything you know because your moves were predictable—if it were another person, there is no doubt they would’ve been on the ground with multiple concussions bleeding out already. You’re ruthless when you do a triple roundhouse kick on him. On the fourth one, he manages to catch your leg and twists it, sending you to the ground with a groan.

How familiar this scene was, Bucky thinks.

Some forty-years ago, Hydra brought a woman into the training room. There was no further instruction than to train you and that’s what he did. He could tell you were well trained already—compliant and pliable. You were good. And you were just like him, injected with a serum that made you a hundred times more efficient and stronger. In just under a year, Hydra would start sending you on missions. Sometimes with him, sometimes alone.

During training, the both of you would spar for hours, leaving each other bloody and bruised, but it didn’t matter to the overlookers, the both of you would heal in a few hours anyways.

Once you pick yourself back up, he pulls a gun out on you. “Stop this,” he commands.

You smirk, “You going to shoot me, Soldat? I want to see you try.”

He clenches his jaw. You continue to look at him, a dark look on your face that shows no sign of true recognition.

His thoughts are disrupted when you tackle him onto the ground. You kick his gun away and pin his arms down as you straddle him. “I’m going to kill you,” you declare, “I’m going to put a bullet through your head.”

When he looks up at you, your eyes are full of rage. Bucky doesn’t know whether that’s the brainwashed version of you talking or the actual you talking—maybe both.

“What are you going to do after you kill me?” he says, irritated. C’mon, please recognize me. “This is all that remains of Hydra. Half the troops are already dead. One of your new leaders is dead. In a few hours, Hydra will be no more. What will you do after that? What are you going to do after you kill me?”

“What does it matter? You’re my mission. I’m going to finish it.”

He groans at your stubbornness that was identical to his Soldier persona.

He says your name slowly. “Get off. You can walk away from this.”

You frown, but he continues, “I know how you feel. You’re feeling helpless.” He clears his throat, “There’s someone behind this version of you. I want to talk to her.”

“What are you talking about?” you utter in annoyance. “Stop stalling.”

He says that name again, with calamity and care. You want to rip out his tongue.

“Let me talk to her. Please.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about!” you shout, grabbing for the gun that’s strapped onto your waist. “Stop talkin–”

“I was in the cell next to yours. You liked the colour green. You were wearing white when we first met. You always wanted to visit Bucharest. You hated the leaky cold showers in the Siberian facility,” he rambles, trying to remember every single thing about you in a desperate attempt to get your attention so this version of you won’t shoot him in the face.

And for a moment, it works because your hand freezes on the grip of your gun. He takes that moment to flip you over, so you’re under him now, hands pinned above your head. He takes your gun and throws it behind him.

You snarl at him while trying to escape his grasp. “I know you’re under there,” he says. “Please, come through. Please talk to me.”

Your face scrunches in pain, not from him—he would never hurt you—but from the mental warfare that’s currently going on in your mind. You close your eyes as he speaks again. “Listen to my voice, you know me, don’t you? мой милая.”

My darling.

For a moment, your entire body tenses up and then you let out a painful breath. When your eyelids start to flutter open, he finally sees the eyes he came to know and rely on—eyes he came to love.

The both of you are looking at each other unblinking. A scene neither of you expected but always dreamt about.

You break the silence with a whisper of, “James?”

Bucky slowly nods at your disbelief. Finally, he thinks. But such respite doesn’t last long, because seconds later, you hook your foot under his and flip him over and escape his grasp.

There's darkness in your eyes and he can tell that the Soldate is back and the fighting resumes.

You’re chasing him down the twisting hallway and when you catch up, you grab his shoulder and throw a punch to his jaw. He stumbles back and then a voice comes through the comms.

“Just took down the second one.” Steve. “Bucky, how are you holding up? You’ve been quiet ever since we split up.”

He’s trying his best to block your hand, which now has a damn pocket knife. Your quick movements are starting to tire him out. Maybe he taught you too well, he thinks.

“Buck? Bucky. Confirm your status, right now.”

Groaning in frustration, he taps his earpiece. “I’m fine,” he grunts. A second later, “Shit!” he huffs out as you nearly slice his face.

“You don’t sound fine. Is she with you? I’m sending back up.”

“No!” he says, “Don’t send anyone. I can handle her.”

In truth, he’s struggling right now—your stamina has always been better than his—but he’s worried that you’re going to accidentally get hurt and even more agitated when people appear. His main priority was keeping you safe. Fuck the mission statement they talked about back on the Quinjet.

You’re angry—no, you’re extremely angry at him. It doesn’t take a genius to tell. It’s a mixture of pure rage from both the brainwashed and actual you.

He supposed he deserved it. You should be angry. Because for the longest time, it was you and him.

Other than turning you into a ruthless assassin just like him, an unexpected companionship also formed during those hazy in-between moments when the two of you weren’t frozen or on the metal chair getting fried by those machines—during the times when he was just Bucky and you were just you, two unfortunate innocent souls that shared the same suffering.

They weren’t pleasant moments. It was dehumanising. It was getting shoved into draughty cells with nothing but a blanket until it was time to train or time to embark on a mission. Luckily, your cells were next to each other and it made the endless nights a little more bearable. He was a little off-putting at first, but when he yelled at you to stop crying because they would torture you even more for it, you knew he meant well.

During your shared time together, glimpses of your true selves would seldom come up and you would tell each other about the little bits and pieces of a life once known. And the both of you would hold onto each other's memories and stories in case the other forgets.

And whenever they prep the two of you for the chamber due to there being no current missions for the time being, the two of you would look at each other—a look of longing with the secret squeezing of each other's hand before going under.

Despite the absolute awful situation the two of you were in at the time, the both of you were hopeful for the next shared moments together. Because even when all hope was gone, you had each other. And that was good enough for the two of you.

He misses you. So damn much.

“Shut up,” you mutter.

He didn’t even realise he said it outloud. “Well, I do,” he admits, his back hitting a wall.

“You talk too much, Soldat,” you say, creeping up on him. “I ought to cut your throat.”

“I’m sorry I left you with them.”

You halt in your steps and your jaw ticks. In a second, you pounce on him, your knife against his throat. He’s gripping your hand to stop you from continuing your job.

He says your name again. You’re pushing but he’s pushing back just as hard. “I’m sorry…” he repeats, “I’m so sorry.”

The desperation in his voice… You glance up at him slowly and he sees the pink forming in your eyes and your trembling lips. “What are you doing? What are you doing to me?” you whisper.

He sees the internal war behind your eyes once again. Bucky gulps for a moment before letting go of your hand, trusting that you won’t do any actual harm, and moves his hands so he’s cupping your face, firm enough so you’re forced to look at him. You look into his eyes for a second, then a minute, and for a moment, everything stops. Your breath hitches, because those eyes… those arctic blues… you know them. You fell in love with them many years ago.

A realisation washes over your face, one that Bucky doesn’t miss. You’re back.

The first tear falls. Then the second. “Bucky.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispers.

You let out a small cry before you press the blade harder against his neck, your grip a vice from his betrayal. He could feel the sharp cold metal pierce through his skin ever so slightly, but he doesn’t try and stop you.

“Give me a reason to not kill you right now,” you grit through tears. “You left me. You left me behind to rot alone. You promised me. You fucking promised,” you say, voice laced with venom and so much hurt.

Bucky’s heart breaks at the sadness of your voice. Because he did promise. There wasn’t much to do in the cells other than throw around false hope. But whenever he told you he was going to escape one day and that he was going to take you with him—it didn’t feel like false promises at all because it wasn’t, and you knew it too.

Until he broke that promise and left you all alone.

“I didn’t mean to,” he says, voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to leave you there with them.”

“I waited for you,” you cry. “Day and night I waited for you to come back. Even when they relocated, I waited for you because I knew you’d find me.”

You remember that day clearly. Everyone was in a frenzy when the death of Alexander Pierce broke out and that they could not locate the Soldat. For a moment, you could taste your own freedom because government officials would come anytime now and finally arrest all these criminals. But right when they came, a few Hydra officers managed to escape and took you with them, and when you woke up, you didn’t know where the hell you were. But even then you didn’t lose hope because James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, the name you committed to memory, was going to come for you just like he promised.

Until days, months, and eventually, a year came with no sign of him.

You were angry at first, but it slowly turned into worry because what if something bad had happened to him? But what do you know? You were stuck in this building and only went out whenever they spoke those trigger words to you. And you were always under their watchful eyes, giving you no chance to even attempt an escape. Surely he would never break his promise to you so something must’ve happened to him, you told yourself multiple times.

But he was standing here right in front of you. Alive. We’re under attack, your handler said to you moments ago, Kill the Soldat before he kills you.

“You’re a liar. You never cared about me,” you hiss.

Sometimes, it got too much. But whenever reality was a bit too hard to endure, Bucky was there, always reaching his hand out to you through the metal cage, which you took and held tight. And it meant the world to you, that someone cared.

“All those moments, did it even mean anything to you?”

He uses this opportunity to pull your arms down slightly, knife finally away from his neck and his eyes start to sting from his own tears. “They meant everything to me. I care about you.”

You look up at him with a defeated expression and Bucky never wanted to punch himself in the face more. “Then why? Why didn’t you come back for me?”

“I did,” he chokes out. “When I escaped, the first thing I did was go back for you, but the facility had already been raided and there was no one there. I checked every inch of the building.”

Bucky had never felt so scared, because what if the government took you too? They would never understand—framing you as a villain even though that was far from the truth. But there was no news of your capture, so with a breath of relief, Bucky continued to look through other known Hydra facilities.

“I tried my best looking for you, but I also had to be careful because I was a wanted man at the time. When months passed by and there were no clues, I thought that maybe you had escaped. I was in Bucharest waiting for you. Remember how you said you always wanted to go there? I knew that if you escaped, you’d find me there. Even when you didn’t show, I never gave up. Steve… I think I told you about him once—he found me, he helped me and cleared my name. After that, I still searched for you but it all ended up being dead ends. And…” he pauses for a moment, “and so I thought you were dead. I should’ve tried harder. I’m sorry.”

He had mourned you and blamed himself endlessly for it.

He knows he should’ve asked for help, but instead, he took this task upon himself until it got too much—because that was the one thing he struggled with the most, asking for help.

When his side of the story finally comes to light, you break into a sob. “I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he says, “but please, drop the weapon and let me help you.”

You swallow hard at his confession. He never stopped looking for you. You didn’t even consider how hard it must’ve been for him after everything and yet you’re lashing out on him.

“How are you going to help me?” you say. “I’m a mess. All you have to do is say those words and I turn into a weapon.”

Twelve. Ember. Fragment. Nine. Academy. Order. Frigid. Yearning. Blue.

Those were your trigger words.

“I got you out of your trance, didn’t I?” he says with a gentle smile.

Hydra needed you to rebuild their empire and they relied on those nine words to do so. To them, those nine words were your greatest weakness but one of them, the last one, the one they liked to spit out in vexation, was also your greatest strength—your salvation.

Blue.

You think back, moments prior, when all he had to do was use his voice and all you had to do was look into the blues of his eyes. Hydra can repeat those words all they want, but Bucky would always be able to bring you back.

At that, your grip relaxes and the knife finally drops onto the floor, it’s noise ricocheting off the walls.

“There’s a place called Wakanda and I know someone there who can help you. Her name’s Ayo and she’s amazing. She helped me overcome my words.”

He brings his hands back up to cradle your face and you shutter at the familiar touch—at the calluses on his palms. “And I think you’ll like it there. It’s quiet and there’s so much… green.”

You let out a small laugh through your tears but doubt still fills your mind. “But… all the things I did,” you whimper, “I did such terrible unforgivable things. There’s… there’s so much blood on my hands.”

Sadness flares around his heart. It was all so familiar. He knows the feeling.

“It’s not going to be easy. God knows how long it took for me to believe that none of it was my fault. But let me be the first one to tell you,” he says, wiping your tears away with his thumb. “None of what you did was your fault. You were a victim.” He swallows a deep breath, “There are going to be days where it’ll be too much too bear and there are going to be nights where all those casualties will haunt you,” he admits. “But… but you’ll get there. Someday, you’ll learn to stop punishing yourself for something you didn’t do.”

And he vows that he’ll help you every step of the way.

You breathe out slowly, digesting all his words. “You can trust me,” he tells you, “I won’t let you down this time. I’ll be here.”

Blinking up at him, the small hesitant part of you so desperately wanted to say, “How can I trust you?” but his eyes were telling you everything you needed to know. Because it was filled with nothing but honour and truth.

He breaks away from you and reaches out his hand. An invitation. You stare at it for a while, then you slowly lift yours and brush your fingers amongst his before grabbing it tightly—a truce of sorts, a promise. He squeezes back in return, a loving smile on his face, just like all those nights many moonlights ago.

Your breath hitches when he pulls you into his embrace, your face burying perfectly into the valley of his chest. He wraps his arms around you in urgency, in fear, almost afraid you’ll slip out if he doesn’t.

“It’s over,” he mumbles into your hair.

Because two floors down an explosion erupts, finishing off the last remaining garrison of troops. Three hallways down, Natasha sets fire to a room that contained the other small red leather book that held those nine suffocating words written in Russian. Outside, the last Hydra officer attempting to flee falls to his knees from an arrow to the chest. And the only hope they had left to rebuild their regime was safely in Bucky’s arms.

He pulls away and uses his thumb to rub gently across your cheek, “It’s over. The war is finally over.”

Now that the worst is over, Bucky’s hopeful. There will be other conflicts to come, that was just how it worked, but this one, the one that held you and him underwater for years was finally over. War always took too much, but this time, it gave something back. Because among the ashes and ruins you came back to him, no more oceans in between.

“What do we do now?” you press nervously. You were taken at a young age and spent years in the Red Room before you were sold off to Hydra. Like Bucky, you’re in the wrong time period, there’s no one to go back to.

There’s so many things you could do, Bucky thinks. You can finally start living the life you deserved, the life that was taken from you too early. He’ll have to explain all this to his teammates but he knows they’ll understand. They treated him so well, there’s no doubt they’ll show the same kindness for you. Then, he’ll go with you to Wakanda, get rid of the words, maybe stay there for a while so you could heal—maybe show you the goats he took care of during his time there.

You’ll probably adjust to the 21st century better than him—you won’t need to start off with a flip phone, that’s for sure. He’ll make you listen to all the great records and watch all the movies you missed out on. There’s so many things he wanted to do with you. He knows you have no memories, no recollection. It didn’t matter, Bucky thinks, he would make new memories with you, ones worth cherishing and remembering. If you’ll have him, of course.

But first and most importantly, “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? Then we can talk about it,” he says, rubbing the grime off your nose.

He grabs your hand and heads for the exit. But before he does, you pick up your knife from the floor and in one quick motion, you spin around and throw it. The knife embeds itself into the wall a few metres away, right next to a prying face. You stand in front of Bucky and stare at the intruder with a murderous gaze and Bucky’s heart races at the thought of you still wanting to protect him after everything.

The blond raises his arms up in surrender.

“Steve,” Bucky says from behind and you briefly recognize that name. You turn around to look at him and he meets your eyes, nodding. You relax your stance.

“Hi,” Steve says, voice slightly hoarse. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

Bucky scoffs at him, as if he wasn’t eavesdropping the whole time.

Steve looks at the both of you, then a gentle smile adorns his face. “C’mon, the rest are waiting outside for you both.”

You step forward. This is it. Freedom. A new life. Bucky notices your hesitation as you suddenly stop in your tracks. Intertwining his fingers with yours, he squeezes with reassurance. You take a deep breath, then the two of you follow Steve to the exit, leaving behind the smoke and memories of your old life.

Outside, the sun comes up slowly but surely on the horizon, painting the awakening sky a gentle warm hue of oranges and pinks.

A new beginning awaits.

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky #bucky barnes

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contentloadinggg · 2 months

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Off The Path - Hozier Drabble

Author’s Nota: Ughhh look at my hottie husband go, the hands, THE HANDS LOOK AT THEM. Anyways, fun little drabble for a fun little idea. Honestly, sometimes I think of things and wonder if I’m actually sane or not.

Summary: You ride Andrew in da woods, not far off the path hehehe. (God I really just wrote that.) (Gender-neutral! Reader)(~300 words)

Warnings: Smut, of course. Andrew’s ashamed with how turned on he is, uhh almost Exhibitionism? But they don’t actually get caught. Public Sex. (Help me, I’m getting ideas for a voyeur fic because he’d defo be into that.)

This is a work of fiction and is not a reflection of who Hozier is.

Inspired by:

Fic under the cut💚 18+ only, you’ve been warned.

“She turns my back to the earth and shows me that’s where I’m meant to be

I hear a chirp from the birds as if they heard somebody coming.”

“You really have the worst ideas- Jesus Christ!”

Andrew hissed, his hands gripping tightly at your hips. Like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to push you away or bring you closer.

“Shhh, you’ve got to be quiet.”

You replied, pressing a finger to his lips. Andrew glared up at you. Something that quickly faded as your hips rocked on top of him. Forcing the man beneath you to take a sharp breath and bite his lip. Sharp white teeth piercing the soft flesh. His eyes shifted up to the sky in an attempt to focus on anything, quite literally anything else then the pleasure coursing right into his bones. The great branches of trees blocked out the sun casting light down from above. The leaves tremble in the breeze like his fingers that grasp at your legs.

Andrew wishes they’d gone further off the path while he pretends like the risk of someone catching them doesn’t make his nerves tingle with excitement. Heightening his adrenaline and arousal, causing his body to be all the more sensitive and aware.

You clench around his cock. Forcing Andrew’s attention back onto you.

“For fuck’s s-”

He’s cut off by your hand clasping over his mouth. The rocking of your hips becomes achingly more gentle in an attempt to quiet your movements.

Voices drift through the trees. Andrew holds his breath. Praying to all and every God they don’t get caught. There’s no way to salvage this prone position if they do. At the same time his cock twitches inside your warm walls. You smile down at him like you know exactly what he’s thinking.

Andrew glares hotly. As hot as he is turned on.

You begin to ride him more vigorously once more.

More voices drift through the tree causing you to stop again. The shift in speeds made Andrew’s cock throb in need. He’s in for one long fucking ride.

And he’s praying to all and every God to thank them.

This was a good time. almost as good as Andrew's having lol.

-Thad💚

#Spotify #andrew hozier byrne #fanfiction #hozier x reader #andrew hozier byrne x reader #hozier smut

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here2bbtstrash · 1 year

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it's sweet (explicit)

genre: a fluffy lil sickfic

pairing: taehyung x reader

summary: you forgot to call out sick from your dick appointment, but he stays anyway.

word count: 4.3k

contains: no smut just fluff????? new year new me 😎 but as this is fuckbuddies to maybe-lovers and there are certainly a few references in here to sex, because of who i am as a person, it's enough that i'm tagging it explicit anyway lmao. but this is all fluff! reader has the flu, tae is a sweet sweet boi and takes care of her, it's all a bit sappy~ 🤧

A/N: happy new year!!! and a very happy belated birthday to my capricorn prince 💜 this soft little idea got stuck in my brain and wouldn't let go, and i had a lot more fun writing it than expected. plus i feel like i only wrote tae as a menace in 2022 (sorry to tae 👹) so i had to right my wrongs with this one lmao. it was a nice interlude before i jump into LDOMLT ch11 (the final chapter 😭) - i hope you all enjoy and that your 2023s are off to a pleasant start!!!

read on AO3!

~*~

You genuinely enjoy being single.

With your last relationship officially in the trash, you’ve found yourself settled into a comfortable peace. There’s no man in your life to mess up your plans, to force you to have to compromise or share anything, to suck up your energy and domestic labor like some kind of emotional vampire. You can do what you want, whenever you want, and you have a reliable rotation of both sex toys and fuckbuddies to keep you physically satisfied when the need arises.

Being single, you have come to learn, is fucking great.

Except when you get sick.

A knock at your apartment door drags you out of your DayQuil-induced slumber. You move to sit up with a sniffle before letting yourself drop back into your veritable nest of blankets on the couch, struck with the immediate recollection: it’s just the food you ordered. You’d specifically put in a request that they leave it at the door, but maybe the delivery person is just being nice and letting you know it’s there.

Except then they knock again.

And ring the doorbell.

“Jesus,” you groan to yourself, aggressively enough that you’re nearly sent into a fresh coughing fit, but you manage to choke down the spasm in your lungs as you drag yourself to standing. You cross the short distance from your couch to the front door, sure you look like death warmed over, and swing the door open.

At first, you’re certain it’s the DayQuil fucking with you.

“Taehyung?”

The corner of his mouth pulls up as he blinks sweetly at you, expressive almond eyes peeking out beneath untidy dark hair— extra fluffy today, like he’s just washed it and waltzed out of the house without any styling. His clothes tell the same story, a plain gray hoodie and joggers, creased a little like he’d just pulled them off his bedroom floor, though everything looks fresh off the runway on him.

As your eyes trail down his frame, you take in the container of ramen you ordered, held easily in one of his large hands, his long fingers hooking over the side.

His presence is typically a welcome one, particularly on Friday nights like tonight, but those are circumstances where you tend to be a little more… put together. So why is he here tonight?

“When did you start working for D—”

The food delivery service name dies on your tongue as your thoughts finally catch up with your mouth. He’s here tonight because it’s Friday, and this is what you do on Fridays. He’s here because you didn’t cancel. You’d had the thought in a drowsy half-awake state between naps, then had promptly rolled over and pressed your face into the pillow, telling yourself you’d remember to text Taehyung when you woke up.

Which of course, you did not. And so here he is, having clearly intercepted your delivery. And, it now occurs to you, having to witness how absolutely godawful you must look in your stained sweatpants, your hair surely a mess from a day spent napping on the couch.

“Oh fuck,” you mutter, quickly crossing your arms over your baggy t-shirt, suddenly very aware of the fact that you’re not wearing a bra. Why that matters when you’re standing in front of a man who regularly leaves hickeys all over your tits, you’re not sure, but in this moment it somehow feels like it does.

“Tae,” you take a step back, trying to keep him out of your germ radius. “I’m so sorry, I forgot to text you. I’m super sick, I think it’s the flu. You should go.”

He frowns a little, his eyes jumping from you down to the takeout container in his hands. “This is like, barely warm.”

That makes you smile a little despite yourself. A very Taehyung greeting.

“Yeah, well.” You roll your eyes. “I pay twice as much so it can take an hour and be cold by the time it gets here. Makes sense, right?”

His dazzling smile at your sarcastic remark only heightens your own self-consciousness, and you quickly extend a hand for the container.

“Sorry to make you come all this way. Hopefully next week I’ll be back to normal.”

Taehyung nods, yet makes no move to hand over the soup he’s currently holding hostage. “You should rest. Let me heat it up for you.”

You can’t help but wonder what he expects to happen when he crosses the threshold, and that makes you heave a sigh, then quickly bury the cough that chases after it into the crook of your elbow.

Thankfully your voice doesn’t give out when you manage to answer him. “I’m serious, Tae. I’m not—” you pause, considering how to phrase it: desperate to be railed? “—you know, the way I usually am on Fridays. Nothing’s gonna happen tonight. Except maybe you’ll get sick.”

He shrugs, like there are worse things. “I get it. But you shouldn’t be alone.”

At least he’s been sufficiently warned, you think to yourself, and then you relent, leaving the front door of your apartment swung wide as you step back across the living room to promptly collapse onto the couch again. You bury your face in the blankets with a muffled groan as you hear Taehyung shut the door behind him, then make his way into the kitchen.

As is typical with any man that enters your kitchen, you expect to have to walk Taehyung step-by-step through how to do everything. But, to your surprise, he asks no questions: he seems to find a good-sized pot and figure out how to work the stove all on his own, and you can hear him humming softly to himself as he goes.

Truly a credit to the male species, you think to yourself with a bitter laugh.

You collapse back against the cushions, a little too aware of the fuckbuddy in your kitchen to be able to drift off to sleep entirely. Nevertheless, you still find yourself slipping into a haze, your eyes dropping shut just to snap open again at the tap of a bowl being set down on the coffee table in front of you.

Your eyes widen as you sit up and stare down at your ramen, only to find two halves of a soft-boiled egg staring back up at you. You’d ordered from your favorite place in the city, which is easily the best ramen you’ve had in your life, but you know those fuckers charge extra for an egg. Which is why your cheap ass never orders one.

But here one is. So that means…

Taehyung drops down onto the couch next to you before you can even finish compiling the thought in your brain, but he must be able to read the look on your face. “Oh, do you not like eggs?”

“I— no,” you answer quickly. “I mean yes. I mean, I like them, I just… Thank you.”

You glance up in time to see him shrug, his mouth twisting a little, like he’s suddenly made shy by his own kindness. “Gotta get your protein in,” he offers casually, and you laugh over the steam rising up from your bowl.

He keeps a tentative cushion’s distance away from you, but you can feel his eyes watching as you take your first sip of the rich, warm broth. While you slurp it down, you tell yourself not to get greedy with Taehyung’s time: you expect this will be it, that with his act of kindness done for the day, he’ll get to his feet and be on his way. As soon as your front door slams shut behind him, he’ll probably be pulling up his text messages with one of the many other options that must be available to him.

You try to ignore the way that thought makes your stomach twist, to just eat your damn soup and not think about it. It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.

But to your surprise, Taehyung leans forward and snatches the TV remote off your coffee table with a triumphant sigh before slumping back against the couch, like he’s settling in. “Do you wanna watch something?”

You shake your head as you take another sip before answering. “You really don’t have to stay, Tae. I can appreciate that I’m not a lot of fun to be around tonight. And obviously you didn’t come here to watch me eat ramen.”

Already starting to scroll through your streaming services, Taehyung runs his free hand through his hair with a knowing, slightly horny smile. “Depends on what you mean by eat ramen.”

You nearly choke on a noodle, but he’s otherwise distracted, mouth dropping open a little as he clicks into one of the options.

“Oh, I know what we can watch.”

When he pulls up A Charlie Brown Christmas and promptly presses play, you can’t help smirking. “Christmas? You’re, what, five days late?”

Taehyung’s mouth opens again, like he’s going to say something, and then he just smiles that same self-conscious smile. “Ah, I just like the music.”

His long fingers splay out in front of him, miming along to the opening melody while he adopts the faux-cool expression of a jazz pianist. You hide a giggle in another sip of broth, and he quickly shrugs the impression off, crossing his arms over his chest as if to keep his limbs under control.

“And it’s cute,” he adds, voice halfway between shy and sentimental. “The little tree.”

It occurs to you now that you’ve never seen Taehyung so… your brain can’t find the right word. He’s just different tonight.

You nod as you slurp up a strand of noodles, and you can’t deny that he’s right as the movie plays on. It’s been years since you’ve seen it, not since you were a kid, but it’s just as enjoyable now, somehow timeless. You find yourself smiling softly as you finish your meal and settle back against the couch, tugging the blanket up to your chin.

All at once, Taehyung jumps up, and you watch dumbfounded as he silently scoops up your dishes and disappears off to the kitchen. When you hear the tap switch on, your jaw drops in sheer disbelief, and you sit up again, peeking over the back of the couch to get a glimpse of him: he’s pulled on the dishwashing gloves you keep tucked next to the sink and is making short work of not just the bowl and the pot, but the takeout container too, and your various other sick-person dishes you’d regrettably let pile up. Humming to himself along with Vince Guaraldi, like it’s something he does every day.

Your head spins as you drop back down against the cushion. What is happening? Did you take too much cold medicine?

That thought only reverberates louder in your brain when he returns, still humming the last few notes of the song. This time he chooses to settle in right beside you on the couch, as if entirely unconcerned about the contagious virus running rampant in your body— he just pulls you into his side, one arm wrapped over your shoulders, fingertips casually starting to play with the ends of your hair. Like it’s that easy.

You glance up at him, shaking your head a little, and Taehyung looks down to meet your gaze. “What?”

“This is just…” An incredulous laugh cuts off the end of your sentence. It’s hard to believe you’re looking at the same person. This can’t be the man who wraps his hand around your throat as he spits into your mouth, who will keep you in his bed for hours until you’re crying from overstimulation, who fucks you so good you can hardly walk the next day.

“I didn’t expect you to be like this,” you admit, pairing the words with a finger driven gently into Taehyung’s ribs. He squirms a little. “You’re… sweet.”

Taehyung’s lips part, and then he pauses, clearly considering how exactly to answer you. His mouth turns up soft at the corners, hesitant, as if he’s embarrassed to say what comes next. And then he says it. “You didn’t seem like you wanted sweet.”

The words settle over you, offered quietly in the low, rich tones of his voice, and as you keep gazing up at him, it strikes you: he’s not wrong. If he’d pulled this cozy domestic housewife act on you any earlier, on a normal Friday, you would’ve sent him packing without hesitation.

That thought makes you a little sad.

You tuck back in against Taehyung’s side, trying to refocus on the TV screen as you snuggle in under the blanket. Pressed close like this, you can feel the sturdy thud of his heartbeat in his chest, at a rhythm not dissimilar to yours.

“Well, I won’t tell anyone,” you breathe, and you swear you can hear him smile.

His touch lingers as the last few minutes of the movie play on: slipping from the ends of your hair to trace over the fabric of your shirt, then sliding further up to dip beneath the collar of it. The talented fingers you’ve become well-acquainted with work their magic in a new way, pressing firm circles into the muscles of your shoulders, muscles you didn’t realize were pinched so tight until he starts to work them open.

“Fuck,” you murmur, shifting a little to allow him better access as he continues. “That feels so good.” You can’t quite help the laugh that flutters out after your words; it’s certainly not the first time he’s made you say them.

There’s a small huff of breath from Taehyung beside you, and then his hand moves up to cup the back of your neck and give a gentle squeeze. It’s a comforting motion, and just arousing enough to make you sigh a note, your eyes briefly dropping shut. When they flutter open again, you realize the movie has ended, that he’s looking down at you, a knowing smirk toying at his lips.

“Don’t start,” you warn, unable to keep your voice entirely serious. “I meant what I said, I’m tapped out for the night.”

Taehyung raises his palms in the air, as if to claim his innocence, and you find yourself instantly missing the heat of his hand on your skin. “All I was thinking is that I kinda want dessert. Too tapped out for that?”

“I’ll never say no to dessert,” you admit with a soft smile. “I think I have ice cream in the freezer.”

Something glints in Taehyung’s eyes at your words. All at once he untangles himself from you and, rather than standing up and walking the long way around like a normal human, chooses instead to vault himself over the back of the couch, as if to get your freezer as fast as possible. You tip back against the cushions, momentarily overcome with laughter, and thankfully, it doesn’t trigger a cough attack.

After a second, you cocoon the blanket around yourself, then get up to follow after him, dropping unceremoniously down onto one of the barstools tucked on the far side of your kitchen island.

Taehyung glances up, clearly surprised, then continues trying drawers until he finds the silverware and retrieves two spoons.

“Just want to keep you company,” you say by way of explanation as he hands you one, and you reach down to pry off the lid of the pint of chocolate ice cream he’s set down on the counter. It’s only as you glance up again that you realize he’s grabbed something else, too, and is continuing to rummage through your cupboards. “Wait, what are you doing?”

There’s an innocent look on Taehyung’s face as he rights himself, the handle of a pan clutched in one hand. “I found something when I was looking for the ice cream. It’s my favorite. And I thought it might make you feel better, too.”

“Uh huh,” you intone, though your mouth is already starting to tick up, endeared. “A completely selfless act, I’m sure.”

“Of course it is,” he answers with an over-exaggerated wink, flipping the pan cooly in his grip. You squint at the bag as he thuds it down on the counter beside him, then sets the pan on the stove and flips on the burner beneath it.

Hotteok. You’d completely forgotten you’d even picked the bag of frozen sweet pancakes up a few weeks ago, that you had purposefully tucked them into the back of your fridge for a particularly good— or bad— day.

“Chef Kim,” you ask, feigning the tone of a journalist conducting an important interview as you fish your phone out of the pocket of your sweatpants. “Can I interest you in some background music, or do you prefer to cook in absolute silence?”

Taehyung glances back over his shoulder at you, his grin nearly too big for his face. “How about Sinatra?”

You raise one eyebrow at the admittedly unexpected suggestion. “Frank or Nancy?”

He pauses for a moment, as if considering. “Either.”

It’s only a few taps, and then Come Fly With Me is floating out of your Bluetooth speaker, and Taehyung is singing along to himself as he drops a frozen disc onto the heated pan, occasionally turning back to deliver lines to you with an extended hand.

You roll your eyes as you drag your spoon through the top layer of softening ice cream, sucking it into your mouth in an attempt to hide the grin that’s spread over your face.

By the third song you find yourself humming along too, trying not to put too much strain on your still-weak throat. The kitchen has started to smell of sweet, toasted dough as Taehyung works diligently at the stove, and he finally flips the burner off before turning back to you, a plate in each hand and a thick pancake stacked atop each plate.

“Sous chef, will you please apply the ice cream?” he asks, eyes wide and blinking as he sets the dishes down.

Quickly playing along, you nod as you begin to scoop a healthy amount onto each plate. “Yes, chef!”

“And sous chef, do you, uh… have any chocolate sauce?”

You bite back a laugh as his roleplay falls apart as quickly as it began. “It’s in the fridge.”

Taehyung promptly turns and pulls the door open, eyes searching the shelves before he finally spots the dark brown bottle and lets out a triumphant hum. He nudges the fridge shut again with his hip before striding back toward you.

“Plating is key,” he muses. You answer with an appreciative nod and a giggle when he uncaps the sauce, then leans down close to the plates, feigning intense focus as he drizzles each dollop of ice cream with stripes of chocolate.

Once his artful design is complete, he steps back, his tongue toying at the corner of his mouth as he spins one plate to admire his handiwork.

“What do you think, chef?” you tease, and he nods once, decisive.

“It’s perfect.” He glances up, shooting you a grin that knocks the breath from your lungs, and you try to collect yourself as he nudges a plate toward you, encouraging you to take a bite.

You carve your spoon through the pastry, right down the middle where it’s stuffed full of sweet brown sugar syrup. The flaky layers pull apart at the impact, warm enough that you can see steam rising off of the golden dough. You pair a small piece of pancake with a wedge of ice cream on your spoon, then bring both into your mouth at once, and the contrasting mixtures linger on your tongue: hot and cold, sticky sugar chased by rich chocolate. It’s so good that you can’t help but make a soft, appreciative noise as you press your hand to your mouth and chew.

“Do you want to know something?” Taehyung’s voice pulls your attention back, and you look up at him.

“What?”

“Today’s my birthday.”

There’s a split second where you wonder if this is another imagined scenario, and then your eyes widen as you take in the look on his face and realize he’s entirely serious.

“Wait, Taehyung, really?”

He nods once, bringing a spoonful of ice cream to his lips.

“I-I had no idea,” you stammer, suddenly feeling like an asshole. His birthday, and he’s here waiting on you hand and foot, while you haven’t so much as said a word of felicitations. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, he’s waving away your apology with his spoon, then proceeding to answer around his bite of food. “It’s not like I expected you to know. I don’t really make a big deal of it.” He shrugs. “I tend to… I don't know. I get sort of melancholy this time of year. The holidays, my birthday. It’s a lot all at once. A lot of pressure. To be happy. To have everything figured out.”

Nodding slowly, you let his words fully wash over you before you respond. “I get that,” you finally murmur, working off another piece of hotteok. “Nobody ever talks about it, but I feel like birthdays are kinda weird as an adult. You have enough of them and it just starts to feel like a day, you know? Not special.”

“I usually find myself just hiding out, waiting for it to be over,” Taehyung admits.

You take a second to think back. “Yeah. I didn’t even do anything on my birthday this year.” A self-pitying laugh rises up before you can stop it. “Honestly, this whole year was such a flop. I’m glad it’s nearly done.”

Taehyung makes a face like he can’t disagree. “Hey, sometimes that’s life.” He pauses, brow furrowing slightly, then reaches a palm across the table. “Can I play a song?”

“Go ahead,” you offer, pushing your phone into his hand. You scrape your spoon along your dwindling dessert, and haven’t even managed to bring the assembled bite to your mouth before the music changes— from one Frank Sinatra song to another, this one with a driving blues rhythm.

Taehyung is already on his feet, hips starting to sway. “Ah, come on. You have to dance with me.”

He’s closed the distance between you before you can even protest, his hands smoothing across the blanket still wrapped over your shoulders.

“Let me take your coat, ma’am.”

You shift off the stool and onto your feet with a smile as he unwraps the blanket from around you and tosses it toward the back of the couch, missing by at least a foot.

“Why thank you,” you tease, feigning some kind of Transatlantic lilt to your voice that makes him really laugh. “Such a gentleman.”

Taehyung turns to face you again, and then you feel his large hand pressing to the small of your back, warm even through the fabric of your shirt, and your heart stutters a little. You take his other hand in yours and let him lead, let him pull you all the way in until you can turn your head and press your cheek to the firm plane of his chest.

Frank Sinatra croons on about how you can’t let life get you down, and suddenly there’s a weight settling in the pit of your stomach.

“I feel bad, Taehyung,” you admit, and when you glance up at him, he’s looking right back down at you. “That you’re here with me tonight.”

“Why?” he asks, like he really doesn’t know.

“Because,” you shake your head. “I don’t know. There’s a million better places you could be. I can’t even give you birthday sex.”

“I wouldn’t have stayed if I didn’t want to,” he answers simply, then leans back, guiding you under his arm for a spin.

A little giggle bubbles up in your chest, catches on the first syllable of your reply as you twirl. “A-are you sure?”

Taehyung nods, thoughtful, when you come back to center again. “This is a good reminder that… I like taking care of people. It’s been a while since anyone’s let me.” The hand holding yours gives a gentle squeeze, and you can’t help but squeeze back.

“Well, thank you for taking care of me,” you answer softly. “You did a good job. Pretty sure I’m on the mend already.” You blink up at him through your lashes, and the way his eyes are fixed on you makes your heart squeeze, too.

It’s nearly overwhelming, taking him in like this, close enough that you can see every stray beauty mark kissed over his handsome features. Fluffy-haired, big-dicked Kim Taehyung— who would’ve thought?

Taehyung’s adam’s apple jerks in his throat as he swallows, and you feel a sudden rush of heat all over, one you don’t quite think you can blame on a fever. It hardly even occurs to you that the two of you have come to a complete standstill now, barefoot in the middle of your kitchen, Taehyung’s palm pressed to your back, the fingers of your joined hands now shifting to lace together.

“Taehyung,” you’re breathing his name before you even realize it. “Would you… want to stay here tonight? Like, sleep together, literally?”

The smile that flashes over his face is nothing short of brilliant. “Yeah, okay.”

Your voice dips a little lower, teasing, as you smile back. “I really do think I’m feeling better, so. Maybe in the morning I can take care of you, too.”

Taehyung’s fingers brush the length of your jaw, then reach up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you continue.

“I’ve got this spray that makes my throat totally numb, so.”

He pauses, his mouth so close to yours that you can feel his breath ghosting over your skin, but he can’t quite keep a straight face. “Fuck, why is that so sexy?”

You’re laughing against his lips when he kisses you.

#taehyung fluff #taehyung x reader #taehyung x y/n #bts fluff #bts x reader

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auras-moonstone · 9 months

Text

hits different — ethan landry

word count: 1,464

pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader

summary: ethan starts to feel insecure in his relationship with y/n so he breaks up with her, leaving her a mess for the first time.

author’s note: i literally wrote this in ten minutes. i don’t know why i write faster when it’s not a request 😫 i hate myself. i promise i’m working on the requests but i’m having writer’s block with them 😬.

Y/N HAD A REPUTATION THAT PRECEDED HER. She only had had one boyfriend, and moved on pretty quickly with another guy. She hadn’t been in a serious relationship since, just mere casual Kens she would switch and then ghost after a couple of weeks of dating.

Hence why Chad was so hesitant when the girl told him her and Ethan were going on a date. “Y/N, why him? He’s the sweetest guy ever, I don’t want you to break his heart”

“Chad, he’s not a baby” Y/N laughed. “He knows how this works, and he was the one who asked me out. So, relax”

“Fine, just be nice” Chad warned her.

“I’ll be extra nice” she winked, making him do a face of disgust.

“Ready?” Ethan asked nervously as he walked down the stairs. He was wearing one of his adorable collared shirts, jeans and a jacket. “You look beautiful”

“Thanks, Eth” she blushed, and Chad looked at her in surprise. Y/N blushing? That was new. “You look very handsome, as always”.

“Okay. Bring him before curfew, okay?” Chad said jokingly.

“Of course, sir. I’ll bring him before midnight” she followed the act.

“Stop it you two. Let’s go, Y/N/N” Ethan grabbed his date’s hand and led her through the door.

Soon after their date, they started dating. Everyone noticed there was something different with Y/N this time, she actually seemed invested in the relationship. No one could deny that sparks flew around the couple every time they were together.

As it had always been before, people still flirted with Y/N—only she didn’t seem to be interested. She would always brush everyone off. Yet, Ethan couldn’t help but feel insecure. In his eyes, everyone was a better match than him and he was waiting for the time Y/N would walk towards him and tell him their time was over. So, instead of being brave and express his fear, he chose the cowardly route and broke things off before she could.

Gossip travelled fast, and no one could believe it until Y/N’s appearance pretty much gave it away. No one had ever seen her in such devastating demeanour after a break-up.

“It’s okay, Y/N. Love is a lie, anyways” one of her friend told her. “There’s a party tomorrow, why don’t you come? It could help you get your mind off… things”.

Y/N sighed “I’ll think about it”.

SHE DID END UP GOING TO THE PARTY, ONLY TO WASH HER HANDS OFF THE MEMORIES OF THE FAILED RELATIONSHIP. She planned on gluing herself to the drink table and drown in alcohol until she could forget about the tall boy with brunette curls that haunted her mind all day.

“Oh, okay. Holy shit” Chad said when he caught her drinking a can of beer in one sip “He really made a mess of you” he whispered.

“What?” Y/N shouted, not being able to hear because of the music. “Wait… Chad! What are you doing here? I didn’t know you were coming”

“Oh, you’re very drunk, jesus” he muttered. “Yeah, I came with E-“ Chad stopped himself, definitely not a good idea to say his name.

But Y/N wasn’t dumb, she knew exactly what he was going to say “With Ethan. Where is he? No! Actually, please don’t tell me. I don’t want to know if he’s with other girl… but is he? Oh god, I’m going to throw up”

Chad held her hair as she kneeled in front the nearest toilet. “I’ve never seen you like this… moving on was always easy for you”

Y/N started crying “Because they were not him, Chad. It hits different because it’s Ethan”

“Okay, okay. You’ll be fine” he hugged her as she sobbed. “Where are your other friends? The ones you came with?”

“They left me, said I was slurring his name too much”

“Do you want to go home?” Chad asked.

She was about to respond when the tune that started to sound caught her attention. It was Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! by Abba. The song she and Ethan always sang their lungs out to while they drove around the city. “They’re playing our song, Chad”

“Oh, god. We’re definitely going”

“Nothing has ever felt so wrong. Why did he break up with me? I though he would be the one” her glossy eyes and crest fallen expression made Chad feel sad.

“I don’t know, Y/N. I thought the same thing” Chad said in all honesty as he guided her to his car. He laid her on the backseats and closed the door.

“Chad? What are you doing?” Ethan looked at him confused. “You forced me to come to this party and now you’re leaving?”

“It’s an emergency”

“What’s wrong? Who is in the backseat?” Ethan asked confused.

“Um… it’s Y/N”

Ethan froze, the mention of her name made him vulnerable “Is she okay?”

“She’s just drunk… she threw up. I’m taking her home”

“I’m going with you” Ethan said, walking to the passenger seat.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. I don’t know why you broke up with her, and is not the best time to discuss it, but she’s hurting a lot”

“She is?” his voice already unstable.

“Yeah. Look, if you are coming to fix things, then get in. If you plan on going just to leave again, please don’t” Chad said. “I’m just going to say this, pretty much everyone in college noticed it, but she loves you, Ethan”.

Ethan didn’t hesitate to open the door and get inside the car. He had been stupid, but he was going to explain himself and hope Y/N would take him back.

Y/N WAS SLEEPING ON HER ROOM, AND ETHAN WAITED ALONE IN THE LIVING ROOM, REHEARSING THE SPEECH HE HAD MENTALLY PREPARED. And then his attention was caught by an artifact laying on the furniture, next to the TV. It was the necklace he had gifted her on her birthday, it had a locket the shape of a heart and inside was a picture of them. He took it in his hands delicately and cried. He cursed the space he thought he needed—he missed her more than words could describe.

“I cried over your hat the other day” Y/N’s voice resonated in the room. Ethan brushed the tears off and looked at her, even with her mascara all smudged and her messy hair, she was still the most gorgeous girl he had set his eyes on. “I suppose you’re here to talk… and although a part of me is just in desperate need of kicking you out, I want to know what went wrong. Because I’ve been trying to make it make sense ever since you walked out from here that night, but I just can’t”.

“That’s because you did nothing wrong. It’s all me, in my head” Ethan finally said, putting his hand on the cushion next to him, signalling her to sit down.

“What do you mean?” she asked, sitting next to him. It had been so long since they were this close. She missed those eyes and hair she had only been seeing in her dreams.

“I got insecure… every popular, handsome guy would flirt with you and I just thought… that’s it. Y/N is going to realize she’s out of my league and leave me. And I couldn’t bare to listen to that…”

“So you broke up with me?” Y/N asked in disbelief.

Ethan nodded, absolutely embarassed “I know I basically put you in jail for something you didn’t do. But the voices in my head were so loud… I’m sorry about how I handled things”

“I understand” she said after a while.

“You do?”

Y/N nodded “I just wished you’ve talked to me, so I could tell you that you’re the one that I want. I would’ve fought your doubts and show you that I love you, only you”

“I’m sorry that I hurt you” his voice broke. “Will you forgive me?”

“Only if you promise me you’ll come to me when you have these thoughts” she said, grabbing his hand.

“I promise” Ethan intertwined their fingers “Are you still mine?”

“I’m still yours” Y/N smiled and climbed onto his lap to give him a hug. They both cried in each other’s arms. “I love you, Eth”.

“I love you too” he smiled against her chest. “Not that I don’t enjoy your hugs, but why aren’t you kissing me right now?”

“Because I threw up a couple of times” she laughed. “I’m going to take a shower”.

“Okay, I’ll make you something to eat” Ethan smiled, not getting the hint.

“Babe, I’m kind of inviting you to join me”

And then Ethan took her hand and dragged her upstairs so fast they almost tripped.

#ethan landry #ethanlandry #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry drabble #ethan landry fic #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x reader #scream iv #scream fanfic #scream 6 #scream movies

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newtthetranswriter · 4 months

Text

Christmas Conflict Clean Up

Word count: 949

Paring: Takashi Mitsuya x reader

Summary: Taking care of him after the Christmas conflict.

Warnings: Talk of blood, concussions and other injuries, stabbing

A/N: Hello everyone, I hope that if you celebrate Christmas you had a good one yesterday, and if you don’t, I hope you still had an amazing day. Anyway, I wrote this picturing it happening obviously right after the fight in the church. I also picture it happening when they are in the last year of high school, so still teen but more like 18ish. Anyway, enjoy and remember to Hydrate Or Diedrate.

It was about three in the morning when the knocking on my window finally woke me up. I was totally confused by this, like, who in their right mind is knocking on people’s windows at 3am the day after Christmas. As I went to the window, my question was answered, seeing my boyfriend standing outside, with what was very clearly a black eye and many other injuries to his handsome face. Realizing it was Takashi standing out there, I rushed to slide the window open and help him climb through the window.

“I’m sorry to wake you up so early. I just didn’t want to wake Luna and Mana with my face so beat up.” Takashi explained as he gave a weak smile sitting on my bed.

Ignoring his explanation as to why he was here, I went to work, looking for my first aid kit that I kept in my room for nights like this. Digging through my dresser drawer, I let out a quiet exclamation of victory, pulling out the box of supplies. Turning on my bedside lamp, I decide the best course of action would be to first clean up all the blood. “Sorry, but this is gonna sting.” I said, taking an antiseptic wipe to a large cut on his cheek. He flinched away from the wipe and in response I grabbed the back of his head to hold him still, not realizing that was also a bad idea.

This time he jerked forward, nearly headbutting me in the process. “Shit that hurt.” Takashi mumbled out, trying to keep his voice down.

Realizing with that kind of reaction, there had to be a wound on the back of his head, I turned his face away from me. I let out a sigh of relief when I didn’t see any blood in his hair, but knowing there could still be something there, I carefully started moving his short hair out of my way. When I bumped a particular spot, he let out another quiet string of curses, signalling that I found the spit of concern. Looking closer at the spot, I could see a rather large bump that was already starting to turn purple. “Jesus, Takashi, what’d they hit you with a brick?” I asked, only slightly joking.

“Close, a metal pipe.” Was his response as he tilted his head to look back at me. I held back a gasp, as I didn’t actually think whoever he got in a fight with this time would hit him with something. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. It’s just a bump and a bruise, nothing major.” He smirked, trying to make it sound not that bad.

I resisted the urge to smack the back of his head. “Nothing major, really, Takashi. You could have a concussion, for god’s sake. Now sit still so I can clean up the rest of your face.” I snapped as I turned him back to facing me. “And don’t flinch, or I will make sure you leave here with a concussion.” I threatened, going back to wiping off his cuts.

With that, he shut right up, knowing that if I had to I would really beat his ass for being an idiot. “What even were you idiots fighting about at Christmas?” I asked, hoping to get some answers on the citation, that lead to a bloody boyfriend knocking on my window at three o’clock.

He paused, probably trying to figure out how to explain it in a way to make it sound justified. When he finally spoke, I could tell it was the unfiltered truth. “Takemitchy believed that Hakkai was going to kill his brother and was dead set on stopping him. He was right in the sense that Hakkai was there, but Yuzuha is the one who ultimately stabbed Taiju. Don’t worry, the wound wasn’t fatal, but it turned into an all out brawl in the church with Takemitchy, Chifuyu, Hakkai, and Me against Taiju and a couple of his Black dragon guys. Honestly, the only thing that saved our asses was Mikey and Draken showing up when they did.” He explained.

I knew right away it was the truth, Hakkai was like the little brother Takashi never had, and I know he would do anything for him, even risk his life if he had too. I smiled as I wiped the last little bit of blood off his lower lip. “I’m glad everyone made it out okay then.” It’s all I could think to say. He returned the gentle smile. “Now please take a break from fighting until at least the new year, I don’t think your pretty face can take another beating so soon.” I said, earning a chuckle from him as I moved to the first aid kit back in its resting spot.

When I turned around, Takashi had kicked off his shoes and thrown his Toman jacket over my desk chair, and made himself comfortable on my bed. Before I could say anything, he beat me to it. “You said it yourself, I could have a concussion from being hit with a metal pipe. I shouldn’t be driving in this condition. Now come lay down, we both know your parents are used to me coming over all beat up and spending the night.” He said, making valid points, patting the space next to him. I quickly lied down next to him, turning off the light. Before I could drift off to sleep, I heard one last thing from the lilac haired young man. “Thank you for always being here for me, even if it’s at such shitty hours” That was the last thing I heard before letting sleep take over.

#tokyo revengers x reader #x reader #takashi mitsuya x reader #mitsuya x reader #mitsuya takashi #tokyo revengers mitsuya #takashi mitsuya #Newt's Winter Fic Event

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jaegeraether · 5 months

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Sunsets and footballers (Part 29)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (27)

Masterlist (other parts here)

(**Trust the process...**)

Jordan was laughing so hard that YFN worried her protein shake would come up.

“Dory, it’s not funny!”

Jordan tried to talk, sitting up and wiping the tears away with the bottom of her shirt but at the sight of a worried YFN, she was right back at it, rolling around like a bug on her back on the couch. Her laugh had upgraded to a wheezing laugh as she struggled for breath which made YFN finally crack a smile and allow herself a little chuckle with her. She walked over and tilted the back of the couch up, making Jordan fall off and roll onto the carpet in the living room. Not even that stopped her. Not until Blu was getting excited at her laughing and started to lick her face and yap.

“I’m never doing anything nice again.” YFN groaned.

“Ah… Jesus… okay I’m back..” Jordan chuckled, wiping more tears away and managing to pull herself back onto the couch. “If you could see your face though.”

YFN whined. “Who the fuck writes that?! What if I wasn’t even gay? They don’t know anything about me.”

“Leah said she’s sorting it out, yeah?”

“Yeah.. she was really apologetic about it actually.”

“Of course she was. But she’s really good at sorting things like this out, no need to stress. I’m definitely not, but thanks for my daily laugh, I think I wet myself. I’m glad I didn’t take you up on that offer to go instead.”

YFN rolled her eyes. “She wanted it to be you. Besides, they actually know your name. They probably just wrote ‘partner’ because they have no clue who I am.”

Jordan pulled her down next to her and squeezed YFN’s cheek like a grandparent. “But that all changes today, chicken!”

“I’m so nervous!”

“I’m so excited for you! This is going to be great. Plus, your merch is sexy.”

“Free beanie if you pose for a photo for me.” YFN winked.

Jordan slapped her arm. “You’d give it to me for free anyways.”

“You have no idea how excited I am to see you play.”

“Don’t get your hope up chicken, Chelsea are brutal under Emma.”

“Regardless of any of that, you’re still going to be there in your little kit, and I’ll be on the sidelines waiting for a selfie and an autograph. I wish I could wear your jersey!”

Jordan grinned. “I don’t think anyone will blame you for a bit pf favouritism on your first day. I am very cute.”

“Yes.. yes you are. Very cute.” She looked at the time quickly. “Now we both have to go and I’ve had about five hours sleep since my late night drive from London. So… let’s talk about Leah.”

Jordan gave a funny face.

“She was great last night, Dory. She was helpful and chivalrous and so much fun to be around. She also gave really great advice for me about Lucy..”

This interested Jordan. “Oh? What did she say?”

YFN quoted what Leah had said to her about making a mistake by convincing herself it was what was best for everyone when it’s not.

Jordan’s lips moved from side to side while she thought. She could tell she was a little emotional.

“So… she admits it was a mistake?”

“This isn’t new, Jords.” YFN said softly, reaching out to squeeze her hand. Jordan smiled at her using ‘Jords’ instead of her nickname. “I told her that the Leah I see now is not the ‘weak’ woman who left you because she thought she wasn’t enough. She’s stronger now. More mature. She’s learnt her lesson. And… I told her about how we met.”

Jordan’s teary eyes shot up to meet YFN’s. “You told her about the beach?”

She nodded. “Multiple days, hours on end. And a little more… she cried.”

Jordan nodded, as if that would stop her tears forming. She leant back and sniffed also. That seemed to work better. “She really loves me still.”

“She does. Will you talk to her?”

Jordan went into her space and zoned out for a little bit before she nodded. “Yeah, I’ll talk to her.” Then she added in a soft voice, “But I’m scared.”

YFN wrapped her arms around her friend. There really wasn’t much to her at all. “It’s okay, she won’t hurt you. I… may have threatened her.”

Jordan looked up at her in surprise and then amusement. “Did you?”

“Of course I did. She took it well, to be honest.” They chuckled together at that. “Just take it slow, yeah? Take it at your own pace. If it doesn’t feel right, then don’t push it.”

She nodded and took out her phone. She took a deep breath in and wrote out a message, pressing send before she had a chance to backtrack. She looked at YFN and blushed with a smile at how proud she looked at her.

“Your turn, chicken.”

“My turn?”

“Oh come on. Lucy is your person. You need to talk to her eventually because there’s only so much avoiding the topic I can do with her. Besides, if I saw those photos on the internet, then Lucy definitely would have.”

“Oh… oh! You’re right. She’s going to be-”

“So fucking annoyed when she sees them and you haven’t spoken to her.” Jordan cut off with a mum look.

YFN pouted. She was right. It was time to talk to Lucy. If she was being completely honest with herself, it had been incredibly hard. It was like she needed her. Not just her body craving her, but her brain, her heart. Her Lucy. She deserved the chance to talk and explain.

YFN took her phone out under Jordan’s watchful eye and messaged Lucy.

YFN: I’m sorry for taking so long.. I’m really not used to this, Luce. I can’t stop thinking about you. Can we talk?

YFN knew she had no right to be anxious, but she was. It was now five hours later and Lucy still hadn’t replied. Fair enough, she had training. It was MD-1 for her. But still, she was usually better at replying. She looked through the FC Barca stories on Instagram again and saw Lucy looking less cheery than usual in the morning and throughout training. She bit her lip at the sight of the bandage on her left hand that she’d been wondering over all morning. All of the comments were speculative and Barca management hadn’t put out a statement about the injury so her thoughts ran a little too wild and worried.

Cheers erupted suddenly as the players started to enter the field. YFN pocketed her phone and wrapped her arms around her body to protect herself a bit better from the rain. YFN was on the sidelines, her crew spread out around the edges to get photos and videos. It was basically a practice game for them to get used to the best spots, best shots etc and they’d talked about it and planned it thoroughly all week. YFN put her fingers to her mouth and whistled loudly when she saw Jordan walking out in the starting line-up. She flashed her a grin, finding her immediately with her purple and yellow Lumos beanie on. Although the other members of her crew were also wearing the Lumos hoodie, YFN had felt the beanie would be enough and wore Lucy’s hoodie instead. It was comfy and smelled like her. Vanilla and bitter orange.

Although the game was in Birmingham, it was an unfortunate demolition of Aston Villa by Chelsea. Both sides started strong and 11 minutes in Jordan almost collected a nice assist to Rachel Daly who was on fire. She had several attempts, but all seemed to be missing to the left. YFN couldn’t help but groan. She didn’t have a favourite team, but she wanted Jordan to do well. Chelsea were up by 2 at the half-way break, YFN taking the opportunity to round up her team and have a chat. Some of their photos were incredible, and they all spoke excitedly to each other about what angles were working, what lighting and more. There was going to be a lot of footage to edit.

The second half began and within minutes Jordan had a shot on target that was saved. So close. Jordan was subbed off at the 71st minute mark, looking frustrated as she walked off. Chelsea were up 5-0.

It ended 6-0 to Chelsea. 6 goals with 6 different goal scorers, and if that wasn’t impressive enough, they were missing their best striker, Sam Kerr. It was undeniable how good they were. How clinical. There were unbelievable players on both sides, she thought, Rachel Daly unable to be used to potential during the game for Aston Villa. She also loved how Jordan played, which was much more aggressive than she’d imagined, and she wondered if Lucy had encouraged that at all. Jordan seemed to get annoyed easily on the field, but she also managed to pick the ball from players when they didn’t expect it.

When the game was done, a few players from both sides came over for a chat. As she’d said at the pub, they weren’t conducting interviews yet, and so they were just friendly chats with players interested in Lumos. Most players requested photos of themselves to be sent to them, and YFN agreed to this. If they’d post them on their Instagram with the Lumos watermark, that would be a great start.

Jordan wandered over after Millie Bright and Erin Cuthbert had finished their conversation with YFN. She greeted them briefly and almost fell into YFN’s arms. Tired little Dory after 71 minutes of running around.

“I’m your number one fan, Miss Nobbs, will you sign my hoodie?”

Jordan was disappointed at the game but grinned at that. “I’ll do you one better, chicken.”

Jordan removed her jersey and signed it before giving it to YFN who’s mouth had dropped open. “Really?”

Jordan seemed proud of herself. “Really.” She had her arms wrapped around her little body, shivering in the rain.

“Come here!” YFN took one of the Lumos merch hoodies she had and pulled it over her friend’s head. “I know it’s company merch, but you can just hide the logo with your arms if you want.”

“Ohhh it’s so warm.” She said as she pulled the hood up, still shivering. YFN pulled her to her chest and rubbed her back. “Y..Yeeeeees.”

“Comfy, huh? You played brilliantly out there, Dory. I didn’t realise how aggressive you get when you play?”

“Do I?” She asked sheepishly.

“Ohhh yes. Very entertaining. Also, do they not have a kit small enough for you?”

“I’m an extra extra extra small. And no, they apparently don’t. I’ll need a belt for my shorts soon!”

Matt and Ruby appeared then, wide-eyed at YFN holding Jordan to keep her warm. They were both from Birmingham and Matt was an Aston Villa fan. “J…Jordan Nobbs, I’m Matt… hey.” He introduced himself with an awkward hand out.

Jordan was amused by this and shook his hand. “Hello Matt. Did you get any good photos? You were almost chasing us up the boundary line!”

“Oh! I hope it wasn’t distracting. I’m a videographer and I have a few of you if you’d like to see?”

Matt and Ruby showed Jordan the footage they’d gotten for her, proud when Jordan was obviously impressed.

“Oh I think this is going to work out great, chicken.” She said to YFN with a grin.

“We’ll make sure to edit the footage and have it sent to you tomorrow for approvals to post, and for your own use.” She smiled.

“Yes! Please! And I was thinking pizza tonight?”

“I would die for some pizza and hot chocolate in this weather. The crew and I need to go through a lot of editing though before the games tomorrow though.”

“Just bring everyone over! We have room. There’s only eight people, right? I’ll get extra pizza.”

“Wait.. you LIVE together?” Ruby asked.

Jordan looked at YFN and gave a little chuckle. “You haven’t told them?”

She shrugged. “It didn’t seem relevant… but I think that’s a great idea. We’ll all have pizza and do some editing, as long as no one is allergic to Blu.”

“I get to meet Blu?!” Matt asked before he blushed at his admittance that he knew Jordan had a dog.

“As long as everyone is out by 8pm. We need to get some sleep.” Jordan slapped her friend’s shoulder.

“Five of our guys need to get back to London tonight so they’ll all be out early. As for pizza…Joe can shout that.” YFN said with a wink at Jordan.

They’d been through five pizzas and hours of footage and photos when YFN’s phone finally dinged. She’d never picked up her phone so quick in her life. Jordan gave her a look that she missed as the room drowned out and she focussed on her phone.

Lucy: Sorry, little one. Just got home from training. Lost my phone yesterday.

YFN: How are you texting me..?

Lucy: MacBook.

YFN: I was starting to worry.. can we talk?

Lucy: We need to talk, but not over text. I’m not a good texter. Security said a fan found my phone so I’ll get it tomorrow at the game and call you after it, okay?

YFN could tell Lucy had something to say and agreed that it would be best to talk over the phone rather than things being misinterpreted over text.

YFN: Okay Luce.

Lucy: I’ll call you about five-thirty your time. Will you be free?

YFN: Okay, I’ll be driving to Crawley then.

Lucy: You’ll be staying in the London apartment overnight, I hope?

A worried Lucy meant she still cared.

YFN: Is that still okay?

Lucy: I’d be upset if you didn’t. I meant it when I gave you that keychain.

YFN looked down at it. Three different coloured house keys, the car key, and three flags. She bit her lip and remembered the look in Lucy’s eyes when she’d given it to her. It was the best present anyone have ever given her. They had so much to talk about, but most were better off over the phone except one.

YFN: I love it, Luce. How’s your hand?

Lucy: It’s okay. Stupid accident. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow, okay?

YFN: Yes, please. Have a good game tomorrow, Luce.

There had been no text from Lucy when she woke, but she’d expected that. Her start to the day was slow as she woke early to pack her bag for an overnight in London. She left before Jordan was even awake, putting her overnight bag in the boot before she got in the driver’s seat. She looked down at the little keyring that Lucy had given her. She’d only realised today that the key colours represented her clubs. The blue key for Manchester represented Man City, the red key for London represented England, and the yellow key for Barca represented Spain and the Barca away kit from 2022. It would be her first time using the keys, and the idea of using them felt a little wrong to her, especially after the previous few days. She felt bad. She played with the little flags before putting them in the cup holder and starting the car.

She arrived at Meadow Park early, glad that her reserved parking space was close so she wouldn’t be so held up trying to get to the end of the Spurs and Everton game. She met up with Bridget and Emily who were a couple, and both Arsenal supporters. It was very obvious, the way they were practically bouncing up and down. Bridget and Emily both did a bit of videography and photography, however it was clear that Emily was better with photographs and Bridget with videography as Bridget was a bit more excitable when it came to chasing players around the boundary lines for videos, whereas Emily was definitely the more shy and level-headed one. They were incredibly entertaining.

As YFN was also present, she would make the most of herself by taking some photos also. As she was setting up her camera, she felt two arms slide around her waist and pick her up in a hug.

“Ohhhh here she is!” Caitlin almost shouted.

“I could pick you up with one arm, chick, there’s nothin’ to ya!” Katie said as she put her back down.

YFN laughed and hugged the pair. They were in their warmup gear, ready to prep with the rest of their teammates who were entering the field. Kyra saw them and ran over excitedly.

“Finally here to watch the Aussies, huh?” She cheered as she leapt onto Caitlin’s back.

“You’re so annoyin’!” Caitlin laughed. Kyra was definitely the little sister of the group.

“I’m a bit worried we won’t be able to keep up with you, to be honest. You’re just too quick, mate.” YFN winked, knowing Kyra would love the compliment. She did. She grinned proudly.

Bridget and Emily noticed the interaction then and couldn’t resist walking. YFN introduced her excited and nervous colleagues to the trio.

“Oh, I’ve seen you around in the stands before.” Caitlin said.

“Yeah, don’t you two do Tik Toks?” Katie asked.

“We used to have a Tik Tok and Instagram channel for female football, but now we’ve had a lot more training and we’re with Lumos.” Bridget said, proud that they recognised them.

“Ohh upgradin’ to the big leagues are ya? Well it’s nice to have you in the team. We’re lookin’ forward to the photos you can get for us.”

“If you can keep up!” Kyra said, flexing her bicep. Katie grinned while Caitlin rolled her eyes in fake annoyance.

“Bridget and Emily are massive Gooners, they’ll keep up for sure.”

Jonas called out then and the trio said their goodbyes as they headed over to warmup.

“How is it that you know everyone already?” Bridget asked as she looked at the team in awe. “We’ve been around forever and we’ve never met them.”

YFN shrugged. “Luck, I guess?”

Both Katie and Caitlin were starting for Arsenal, with Caitlin’s Matildas teammate Steph Catley and Lucy’s England teammates, Lotte Wubben-Moy and Alessia Russo. For Man City, Lucy’s old team, there were two Matildas; Alanna Kennedy and Mary Fowler as well as a few of the England squad also; Chloe Kelly, Lauren Hemp, Esme Morgan and upcoming goalkeeper Khiara Keating. The game was a mess… but it was great. The referee had given out so many yellow cards that even YFN who knew the bare minimum about the sport knew it was overkill. In the first 20 minutes, there were 4 yellow cards, 2 to each team, and a goal for Arsenal. A beautiful assist from Caitlin to her Aussie teammate Steph who launched top bins at the 14 minute mark. By half time it was 1-0 Arsenal, and 6 yellow cards had been given out. The teams were very evenly matched, both with incredible players from all over the world.

After half time, the game restarted just as crazy as the first half and at the 53rd minute mark, Caitlin was shown a yellow for a bad foul. A few substitutions were made for both teams in the 60th minute, however it didn’t seem effective until Man City scored their equaliser with Chloe Kelly. Steph went down hard in the 85th minute, and finally Arsenal had their second goal 2 minutes later. Unfortunately, their goal had come at the cost of a bad mistake make by the Man City keeper, Khiara Keating who was left in tears. More shots were made, more substitutions and of course, Katie managed the game’s 8th yellow card in overtime for a bad foul.

The game ended 2-1 Arsenal, effectively ending Man City’s unbeaten start to the season. It was the best game of football she’d ever seen, though she couldn’t help but be upset for the young Man City goalkeeper who couldn’t seem to be consoled for her mistake. She had spoken to her at the pub, though knew she didn’t know her well enough to try and comfort her. Her teammates were already supporting her enough. She looked over at Bridget and Emily who were being respectful and not trying to get any footage of her as she walked off the field.

Kyra came back over to YFN before any of the others could, and they started chatting. She was the newest signing to the club and hadn’t had the opportunity to show how good she was, but she seemed confident that she would.

“Will you cover internationals?”

“That’s the plan! My boss wants to take over everything so this is really just the beginning.”

“Yeah the girls were showing me some of the photos and they look great!”

“We’ll send them to you so you can do what you want with them also. Promote yourself, mate.”

“They don't cost anything?”

“Nope.”

“You’re going to be so busy..”

“Oh don’t I know it. We’ve only covered two games so far but I can already see we need a lot more people for all areas, especially editing.” She groaned, looking over to where Katie, Steph and Caitlin were making their way over.

Kyra noticed and spoke nervously before they arrived. “Have you… been to a Leicester game yet?”

“Leicester? No, that one’s in Liverpool tonight so I’m missing it this round.”

“Okay.”

YFN wondered at her question. “Are you a secret Leicester fan?”

“No! No.. I just.. I know someone who plays for them.”

“Oh? Who?”

“Well there’s Remy Siemsen who’s Aussie too..” She looked at the trio getting closer. “..and then there’s Courtney Nevin…”

YFN understood now. Caitlin had told her about that. Courtney and Kyra grew up together and went to high school with each other. They dated for a while and then had a falling out, both unfollowing each other and never seen talking to each other. She looked at the young Australian who was blushing and looking at her feet. She leant closer to talk quietly so the others wouldn’t hear. “Would you like me to talk to her?”

“I’m not sure. I just.. think I want to make sure she’s okay.”

YFN caught her eye and gave her a supportive smile and a nod. “I’ll do that when I see her, okay? I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks.” She whispered.

“Ohhhh COONEY CROSS CROSS CROSS.” Caitlin wrapped an arm around her neck and pulled her close. “Debut next week for you, Ky, I bet money on it.”

Kyra grinned.

“That’ll be fun against Leicester, you can run wild!” Katie said.

Kyra’s face dropped, and her eyes widened as she caught YFN’s eye. That’s right, it was Arsenal vs Leicester next week. “Will you be there?”

“I won’t… I’ll be covering the Bristol, Aston Villa game in Bristol. Matt and Ruby will be covering that one.”

Kyra gave her a ‘please help’ look that she couldn’t avoid. “But now that I think about it… it would make more sense for me to switch with Matt and do the United/West Ham game and then the Arsenal/Leicester game so I have more interaction with the players. Plus, Matt is a huge Aston Villa fan.”

Kyra looked a little relieved.

“Steph, great game!” YFN said, looking at the Matilda’s vice-captain. “Great goal.”

“Aw, thank you! I’m not really known for my goals so I’m happy to get one.”

The five of them bantered for a little with Bridget and Emily joining them, utterly star struck as they showed them their photos and videos. Then Katie insisted that they do an interview together.

“I don’t have my equipment... my microphones. I haven’t even prepped questions.”

“Oh bull, we’ll be fine. Besides, we’ll answer anythin’ you ask.”

“Microphones are right here,” Bridget said sheepishly as she opened her equipment box.

YFN thought for a second before deciding she couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Players were never interviewed more than two at a time usually, so it would be a brilliant first interview.

She set them up with their mics and Bridget set up the camera. YFN was nervous, but she went with it.

“Okay, rolling? Fantastic. We’re here at Meadow Park with four of our Gunners, and the famous Ausenal trio. Now, we didn’t originally plan for an interview today, but Katie insisted on it…”

“Heeey hey hey, don’t tell them that!” Katie laughed before looking at her teammates. “And now that you say it, I’m feelin’ a little excluded bein’ the only non-Aussie here.”

“Are you used to being around the Aussies yet?”

“They’re so unique that I’m not sure to be fair.”

“Aw come on, we’re not that bad, mate.” Caitlin chimed in. They shared a look. “Maybe Kyra.”

“She is the annoying little sister.” Steph laughed.

Kyra rolled her eyes and looked at YFN. “They’re always complaining, but they love me really.”

The interview went so naturally between the five that YFN had lost all sense of nervousness. Instead, it ended up being good banter and she could see from the reactions of Bridget and Emily that it must have been entertaining. They spoke a little about Kyra settling in, Steph’s goal, Man City’s players and then with Caitlin starting them all teasing Katie about her late yellow card. Katie never admitted to it, but it was obvious she enjoyed her reputation of yellow cards with that cheeky Irish smile of hers.

“Oh, here’s trouble.” Steph said as Alanna Kennedy crashed their interview. She was a defender for Man City, and the Matildas. She greeted them all, obviously knowing the Australians, knowing Katie because she was dating Caitlin, and knowing YFN from their long conversation at the pub.

“Hey babe, I’m a bit offended you never asked me for an interview.” She teased; arm slung around Caitlin’s shoulder.

“Oh, I was forced into this, mate.” YFN grinned.

“Well let me call Alex over and we’ll give you the Man City perspective…”

Alex Greenwood joined the now extending interview, the girls having to share the microphones between them, and Bridget needing to step back just to get them all in frame.

They spoke about Man City, and YFN made sure to compliment the way the Arsenal and Man City players were able to compliment each other’s teams, players and good plays. They had a brief conversation about that being one of the great, major differences between the men and women’s games, and Kyra made a cheeky comment also about not rolling around on the ground for as long.

YFN wasn’t going to bring up the incident with Khiara Keating, but Alex and Alanna did, both showing their support. The Arsenal girls were also incredibly supportive about the incident also, and Katie spoke about mistakes that she had made that were necessary to the player she was now.

They ended the interview as the girls were all called over to their teams, and Kyra stole the Lumos beanie from YFN’s head. She rolled her eyes and laughed at them as they ran away. Bridget and Emily were gushing about it all the way to the car park, excited to edit the video. They all said goodbyes and parted ways, the pair headed to Crawley for the Brighton/United game while YFN was stopping by the Spurs/Everton game to check on Matt and Ruby.

YFN arrived just in the last ten minutes of the game as Everton were able to equalise with a goal. She spoke to Matt about the change of schedule for the next week, and he seemed excited to be covered Aston Villa again, not minding about the extra drive, and Ruby offering to pick YFN up from the airport as she would be flying in from Barcelona.

Before she left Brisbane Road stadium, she checked the Barca game to see how Lucy was doing. It was well into the second half 7-0 to Barca, with 4 goals by Salma, 3 assists by Graham Hansen, and 1 beautiful assisted lob by Lucy. The next 3 goals were made after half time, 1 assist by Alexia before Lucy was subbed out at the 58th minute. Alexia was subbed out not long after, and she wondered at that, looking at the highlights of the parts of the game she’d missed. What interested her was the fact that the commentators were speaking about how aggressive Lucy and Alexia were being. Both had been yellow carded, which was a rarity for them, and from the highlights, she thought they were both lucky to have only gotten yellows. They were pushing and shoving and getting a lot of aggression out. It made sense that they’d both been subbed off, even though they were playing incredibly well.

She started driving, finding herself thirty minutes away from Crawley when the clock ticked over to five-thirty. She waited for the phone call a little nervously. As each minute ticked over, she grew more and more disheartened. Eventually she arrived at Crawley, pulling up into the stadium and giving up on waiting for the phone call that would never come.

#woso #womens football #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso soccer #jordan nobbs #lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #engwnt #lionesses #lucy bronze imagine #woso x reader

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rosemaeridream · 9 months

Text

mercs have mommy issues. || aespa - uar

uchinaga aeri x reader (drabble)

warnings: guns, mentions of murder, reader is kinda insane but not so threatening, aeri just wants to live, reader’s got mommy issues (aeri give them a hug pls), aeri's weirdly calm?, stay away if u have a peanut allergy

A/N: i wrote this at like 2 am while i was delirious and had too many ideas for dialogue so enjoy xoxo also just realised there isn’t much romance it’s more aeri & reader — unless y’all want a second part which i would consider cause i enjoyed writing merc!reader and straightman!aeri (in the comedy sense - aeri’s not actually a straight man … ) anyway, just read and you'll understand what i mean.

Synopsis: Aeri just wants to have a happy and healthy life. So why can’t she get this stupid mercenary of her back. And why on earth do they keep calling her princess???

word count: 3.7k

(this is longer than a drabble but it’s my train of incoherent thoughts so it’s not worth putting in my actual works)

You scramble for the gun that’s placed on the table. It takes you a moment to get there, and by the time your favourite pistol is safely back in your hands, there’s a scream from the other side of the room and a vase is flying straight towards your face.

Dodging it with practised ease, you point your weapon at the new arrival who has just entered the apartment. The girl stands there with her eyes wide, long dark hair falling to rest messily over her shoulders after her overhand throw. She opens her mouth to let out a shriek.

You physically cringe at the pitchy sound. “Oh my god, stop screaming-”

Clearly your words don’t work because a chair is flung in your direction along with another yell. Sidestepping the chair with a huff, you give her an exasperated glare, returning your gun to its position aimed at her. “I’m not trying to kill you! Jesus Christ-” You twist your wrist so the gun is on its side, a show of pacifism. “Stop throwing things at me.”

The girl pauses to catch her breath, glaring at you suspiciously. Her voice is shaky when she starts to speak. “What are you doing with that gun then?”

You sigh, still pointing it at her. “Okay fine, you’re kinda sort of slightly on my hit list.” Your eyes roll as if this is the kind of thing you deal with on a daily basis.

She freezes, looking at you with her eyes wide. It’s not exactly a fearful expression, more surprised or astonished. “I’m on your what now?”

“Hit list?” She returns a blank stare.

“Uh… like a group of people to kill.” You explain, slightly confused. Who doesn’t know what a hit list is? Your empty hand goes to your combat jacket, slipping out a piece of paper. “See - hit list.” It has a couple names written underneath each other; the top few are ominously crossed out.

“And your name!” You point to the scrawl with the gun, a little ‘Aeri <3’ written. Flashing a gleaming smile at her, like the tiny paper is your pride and joy. “I added a heart here because you’re the only one close to my age, and I thought you might appreciate it more than the others.”

“Uh-huh?” She steps backwards slowly, edging towards the door and you’re too caught up in explaining how the hit list works, and who your favourite targets were to notice. “Why am I on your list?” She squeaks out, picking up speed.

You shrug, pulled from examining your list. “I don’t ask questions, it’s not really my list.”

“Who’s is it then? And why am I on it?” She takes another two shaky steps, gaining ground quickly.

You notice immediately this time, no longer looking at the piece of paper. Firing a warning shot at the door, she flinches and stumbles back in fright, putting distance between her and the door, where there is now a smoking bullet hole. Your trusty silencer makes sure that the shot isn’t too loud, but a gunshot is a gunshot and the firing pin still creates a metallic crack. Returning your gun to aim at her, your eyes light up in excitement. “Don’t move, princess.”

Aeri grimaces, clearly unimpressed with her new nickname. “princess? Don’t call me that, and don’t shoot at the door!” She scans around her apartment and you assume it's to look for other exits. Or maybe that’s just your brain working overtime and she’s just trying to figure out how much of a mess you’ve created in her home.

Feeling slightly guilty about the newly made peephole. “I’m sorry. It’s a lovely door. I’ll make sure the landlord adds in a fisheye lens for the next tennant.” Your words are said with utmost sincerity, clearly the door means a lot to her or so you assume. “Also, I think princess suits you! You’re definitely pretty enough.” You absentmindedly scratch your head with the gun.

Aeri rolls her eyes, as if being called princess was the very last thing in the large pool of nicknames she could have been given. “Whatever, I guess.” Your eyes get caught on the way she bites her lip, perhaps in thought. “Is there any way I can get off the list?”

You hum in thought. “You know, no one’s ever asked me that.” You move your gun down and think about it for a moment.

“Probably because I’m usually quicker than this.” The words hang in the air between the two of you, just a casual comment for one, almost a threat to the other.

The beat of silence is disturbed by a frustrated sigh. “If you’re gonna kill me, I guess just get it over with, no reason to drag this out any longer.” There’s a flash of thick dark hair as the girl walks past you, slumps down on one of the kitchen stools with a huff, and rests her head on the benchtop, closing her eyes.

You blink, sort of puzzled. No one’s done that before either. Furrowing your brows, you sit down next to your target. The urge to comfort her comes before your trigger happy nature. “Woah, cheer up, princess, this whole accepting death thing is a bit depressing.”

“Well, what do I have left to live for? I’ve never met or seen you before, but if you’re here to kill me then someone clearly wants me dead. There’s no point living like this.” The words come out almost lighthearted but there’s an undertone of fear and sadness. Aeri glances at you from the corner of her eye. “What’s your name anyways?”

Usually you wouldn’t tell anyone your name, but thinking about it, it doesn’t matter anyway. Squinting in decision, you ultimately come up with a compromise. “That’s classified, but you can choose a nickname if you wish.”

Instantly, she throws you a look that screams ‘Seriously, what is wrong with you??’. “Yeah, no thanks.” And yet, Aeri still sits up properly on the stool and the tiniest of smiles forms on her lips. “So… is killing me like… your job? Or a hobby?”

“My Job.” You fiddle with the safety catch on your firearm. “You rack up a pretty price. Nearly 5,000,000,000KRW.”

A couple seconds tick by before Aeri reacts, she doesn’t really seem to register the amount. “Oh wow…” Her eyes move to the benchtop and she seems to deflate a little, if there was a sad sort of squeaky noise she’d 1:1 replicate a balloon. “Why are you still talking to me then? Shouldn’t you be killing me or something?”

“I don’t know.” You respond after a beat, confused by your own actions. Although she looks like the human equivalent of a slinky toy failing to get to the bottom step, you appreciate that she still looks stunning in her last moments. Her hair shiny and clean, jeans hugging her legs nicely and her top feminine but not extensively. “No one’s ever thrown a vase at me before. Or a chair for that matter.”

Aeri tilts her head and considers you for a moment before she bursts out laughing. “Wait, so you’ve never met someone brave enough to fight back before? What about the other people on your list? Did they all just sit there and accept their fate?”

Your hand waves in the air like what she’s asked is silly. “Everyone else is dead within the first couple minutes. Or like, they beg and cry.” You look around her kitchen, eyes getting caught on the plate with a peanut butter sandwich you were making before Aeri came home. “I got a bit distracted tonight.” You push up from your stool, leaning across the bench with a small ‘sorry’ to pick up the sandwich, then you pull half your mask down to eat.

She stares at you like you're crazy. Maybe you are. “You’re not concerned about me seeing your face?”

“I mean, you’re about to die, sooo…” You bite half of the sandwich slowly. It’s been cut diagonally into triangles just how you like. “Besides, it’s only my mouth. How are you going to identify me from that?”

“I- yeah… I guess so…” Aeri trails off, seemingly lost in thought. Her body relaxes, like there's no trace of fear left, just pure confusion.

“You’re calmer than I thought. Usually people cry a bit. One guy pissed his pants.” Another bite of the sandwich. This time you make a little moan of appreciation. “God, what peanut butter do you use? This is so good.”

Surprisingly, she smiles at you. “Oh, it’s Skippy. I know, pretty basic but it kinda slaps, right?”

You mull over her words. Skippy wasn’t your usual choice, but maybe you should start buying it. Taking another bite of your peanut butter goodness, crumbs fly as you speak. “You’re sorta cool. I’m starting to feel bad about killing you.”

Aeri sends you a sceptical look, raising her eyebrows. “I don’t doubt you’re going to kill me eventually.” She shifts a bit in on the kitchen stool, her leg bouncing. Whether it be with nervousness or adrenaline, you can’t decide. “So why did you choose not to shoot me the second you saw me?”

“Well, you threw a vase at me. And a chair. It’s hard to aim while you’re dancing around flying objects.” You point out, finishing up one half of the sandwich then moving onto the other. “Do you have jam?”

Eyeing you, she slides off the stool and walks to her fridge, rooting around, then sits back on the stool with a jar of jam. “Don’t eat the whole thing. My mum gave it to me.”

A beat of silence follows as Aeri watches you slather one side of the remaining sandwich in jam. Then she speaks again. “I know I’m not dead yet, but I'm guessing if I were to convince you not to kill me then you’d just go home and find another target, right?”

“Yeah. I actually have another one tonight, but I think I may have missed my window.” You think over your schedule as you spread the jam thickly before closing up the sandwich and taking a bite. “Strawberry… Can I keep your mum?”

Her lips quirk up and she rolls her eyes, almost playfully.

Then there’s a pregnant silence.

After a moment or two of Aeri watching you eat, she tilts her head over to the tap. “So… Do you think you would let me get some water?”

“Are you going to throw the glass at me?” You move the sandwich from your mouth right before you take another bite.

She sighs, rolling her eyes again, this time less playfully. “No, no I won’t throw the glass at you. I promise.” Her arms cross and she leans on the counter. She looks depleted, like there’s no hope. You suppose there isn’t.

Studying her with a sturdy gaze, you decide that even if she does throw the glass at you, it’d be easy to dodge. “Sure then.” But just in case, you put your gun down on the counter close to the jam.

Another round of silence takes over as Aeri fills a glass of water and gradually drinks it. Well, at least until she breaks the silence again. “Are you working alone?” Her body twists so that the question could be addressed directly to you.

“Hm? Like, am I alone here killing you or what?” Your tongue runs over your teeth, poking at little bits of bread caught then you take another rather large bite of the pb and j.

“Yeah, are you alone in this whole assassination thing? Like, do you have a partner or a boss that you report the mission results to?” Aeri moves back across the kitchen and leans close to you. You can feel her watching your every move.

“Nope! All anonymous. I’m really just a goon, I suppose.” Your words are muffled by the amount of bread and peanut butter and jam in your gob. Patting your combat jacket, you pull out a little tube. You can tell she’s about to ask what it is, so you just shake the contents onto your sandwich. Rainbow sprinkles come out. “The blue ones taste the best.”

She blinks twice before muttering something along the lines of ‘Don’t they all taste the same?’ but you’re too happy munching on your sandwich to really hear.

“So… you’re literally just a mercenary getting orders on a random assassination from a client?” Her eyes light up for a moment. “I could literally just pay you more to not kill me, couldn’t I?”

You scratch your neck, slightly saddened that you’re about to burst her bubble. “You could. But where are you going to get 5 billion won? That’s like 3 mil USD. 5 mil CAD. Maybe… 500 mil Japanese yen?” Squinting you try to convert in your mind.

While you distract yourself with conversion rates, Aeri begins to freak out. “Wait, woah 5 BILLION??!” She steps back in shock. “That’s the reward?” Her hand flies out to grip the counter, trying to contain her panic. “What the fuck have I done to deserve such a high price??”

You shrug, not surprised by her reaction. This was closer to the type of thing all your other targets did. “Don’t ask me, princess. I just get the orders.” Your legs swing back and forth as the sandwich diminishes to a couple bites.

Aeri glares at you. Assuming it’s about the nickname and not the fact that you’re here to kill her in general, you give her a polite smile. “Well… the money and the orders. I get paid half when I accept.”

Her eyes widen and she takes a shaky breath. “So you’re getting 500 MILLION for walking into my apartment and having a chat with me?” She processes the information rather well, you think. “I could give you half of what you’ve already got and you can just call it a day, right?”

“Well, I mean, I get the other 500 mil after you’re dead.” You point out. “That would only be 750 mil. I’d be 250 short.” You go to bite your sandwich again and find that there’s nothing left.

“What if I give you the other half then? 500 million?” She takes a couple steps messily in a circle, her hands flailing. “My life is more than just 500 million fucking won, right?”

“I personally believe that lives cost $0 but you do you, princess.” You say nonchalantly, picking up your pistol again.

“Oh my god, why are you calling me princess all the time?” Aeri snaps at you. Then her eyes flick to the gun in your hand and she smiles nervously. “So you’re not accepting my offer? What if I make it better? Half the money, and get you a lifetime supply of Skippy peanut butter?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “You’re pretty like a princess. And you have those Disney eyes.”

Standing up to stretch, your back crackles. Then your hand moves to slide your mask back down over your lower face, covering your identifiable features up again.

Aeri watches you do so, almost glaring at you. “Ok, let’s put your attraction to me aside for a second and think about what I’m offering. You take the offer and you can have 500 million in cash, plus a lifetime supply of Skippy peanut butter. I’ll even throw in some of my mum’s Strawberry Jam.”

Your eyes light up when you hear her offer the jam, but then you remember your contract. “Mmm I don’t know. I already accepted the offer, and turning back would be a slight on the higher ups.”

“A slight? So they’d be upset if you let me go?” Aeri steps towards you again “Oh my god, I swear on my life I won't tell anyone you were here, I’d just prefer not to die.” Her voice is laced with fear, her eyes pleading. This is when you started to hate your job. Bargaining was always the worst part. “Couldn’t you just tell someone I ran away or something?”

“Not plausible. When people run I just make a mad dash after.” You pretend to run for a moment, then turn back to Aeri looking proud of yourself. “It always ends up with the target dead.”

That final sentence seems to get to her and her skin is a sickly pale sort of tint. Weary that she might throw up, you take a wide step back. “Are you actually gonna kill me?” Her face pales further and now she steps back, eyes wide open. The brown almost shimmering with tears. “Please don’t do this, I just wanna live happily and healthily.” Her voice cracks, and the tears start to fall. “I don’t want my mum to be sad.”

As she starts to make her final speech, you prepare your firearm. It’s beloved, having added your favourite silencer. LIfting it up to aim where it would hurt the least, you are a little sympathetic to your targets, your finger brushes against the trigger.

But something about her last sentence makes you pause. It echoes around your mind. Bouncing into the depths and then running you over like a bullet train. “Your… mum?” The words aren’t meant to be said out loud but they come out anyway.

Aeri watches tearily as you freeze and her voice catches in her throat. “Mum, yeah.” She looks at the floor, trying to hold back her tears. But it’s always hard to stop crying once you’ve started. “She’s my whole world. Always telling me how proud she is. When I’m down I think about how much she’d miss me if I were gone.” She looks back up at you, and you have to look away, avoiding her ‘Disney princess eyes’.

“She’s been through so much… having to deal with losing people. I promised her I’d stay safe.”

You grunt, your jaw clenched so hard you could feel the enamel scratching off your teeth. Then finally you lower your gun with a huff. “This is why I don’t talk to my targets.” You mutter to yourself before you flick the safety back on.

Your now ex-target rubs her eyes when she sees you lowering your gun. “Hey wait, you’re not gonna kill me?” She looks at you, her tear-streaked face staring earnestly into your eyes. You hold back a huff. “But what about the client? Your bosses? Will there be consequences for sparing me?”

“Yeah, probably.” You move around the room, grabbing the bugs you had placed around her apartment a couple days prior.

Aeri watches you and something switches in her. “And what exactly are you going to tell whoever ordered the hit?” She takes a step towards you, for the first time since she entered her apartment. “What if they send someone else to do the job?”

“Oh, they’ll send someone else.” You nod to yourself before strapping your things to your combat jacket. “I’d say lock your doors, but I don’t think that’ll help much.” Humming, you make an advance back to the window you came from.

“Then what the fuck was the point in sparing me if you know they’re gonna come after me again? You saved me, what, like a week at most?” She crosses her arms and glares at you, her eyebrows furrowing in disapproval. “Why go through this whole charade? I could’ve just died and it would’ve all been over with.”

You pause, thinking over her words. They circle in your mind, turning into scenarios that lead to the loss of your job. Then you grunt exasperatedly. “Oh my god, princess. You’re not my responsibility.” You twirl in a circle, frustrated, before walking back over to her and giving her a childlike squint.

She rolls her eyes, clearly still not a fan of your nickname. “Then why even let me live at all? Why not just shoot me? Why go to all of this effort just to spare my life and prolong the inevitable?” Aeri points a finger, like a gun to her head, then moves it to the floor. “This, right here. You sparring my life was so unnecessary.”

You groan, moving your head in a circle. “It’s your fault for bringing up your mum, I can’t deal with old people being sad.”

“She’s not even old!” Her voice raises a level. “And what about me feeling sad? What about YOU making my loved ones sad?” She moves her finger to your face now, clearly frustrated. It’s getting to the point that you’d be intimidated by her, except for the way her finger trembles. Now that the threat of dying seems to be over, she seems to realise how absolutely ridiculous this entire situation is. “Your clients are just going to send another assassin after me, so saving me was the most pointless, time-wasting choice you could’ve ever made.”

“Fine! Oh my god, Jesus Christ. I’ll make sure they don’t send another hitman.” You groan, then huff, then grumble to yourself as you check your pockets.

“And how the hell are you going to ensure that?” Aeri asks. “They paid you so much money to do this, do you think they’re going to just give up and be like ‘Aw okay, we’ll look for someone else.’? I honestly don’t think their next choice is going to be any nicer than you.”

You give her a glare behind your mask, annoyed that she can’t see the fullness of your frustration. “I’ll just kill the next one, jeez.”

Her jaw drops open as she stares at you, completely stunned. “You’re gonna kill them? Really? Even if it goes against the original orders?” Her eyebrows raise in shock, her head tilts and she crosses her arms. She’s clearly angry. “Why on earth would you do that?”

“I don’t know.” You sound meek.

“What a stupid answer.” Aeri rolls her eyes, looking at you with utter disbelief. “So, let me get this straight. You’re going to kill another assassin and probably get your loyalty card revoked and get into a bunch of trouble just because you feel bad for me because I talked about my mommy?” She shakes her head, looking completely flabbergasted at your responses. “Does the job matter that little to you? Wouldn’t you rather just ‘BANG’ and get paid?” She puts her finger back to her head and mimes the hammer striking.

“Mothers are important, okay?” You practically whine, taking a couple steps forward to remove her hand from her head.

Aeri takes another breath to continue her tirade, but your words and touch make her pause. Her entire expression dissolves into joint confusion and concern. “Huh? Are you like… mum-less?” You can tell her words are trying to be harsh but they just come out sort of flat.

“That’s classified.”

She raises an eyebrow like she knows that you’re lying, and that’s when you decide it’s time to jump ship.

Moving away to her window again, this time you make it to the frame. Lifting the lower pane with ease, you wave your hand behind you in an aloof manner. “Try not to die, princess.”

She looks at you, her mouth slightly ajar again. “Oh, ok.” She looks up at the ceiling as she tries to process what just happened. The more she thinks about it, the more ridiculous it seems. “Okay, I’ll try not to die,” Her voice is laced with sarcasm and she can’t believe she’s saying these words right now. “Thank you so much for sparing my life, Merc. The world is a much better place with you around.”

You flip her off as you vault through her window and into the night.

A/N: my search history is full of peanut butter brands now (this is the dumbest thing i’ve written in my entire life)

#!! dreamy’s pieces #aespa #giselle x reader #giselle #uchinaga aeri x reader #kpop imagines #kpop oneshots #idol x reader #aespa imagines #kpop x reader #aespa x reader

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latoyalestrange · 1 year

Text

primal

r. weasley x f!reader

summary: the secret was out. you couldn't lie to get out of it either. even if you tried, nothing could stop the primal urges ron was feeling.

words: idk

warnings: ya'll i'm not gonna lie i was for sure in high school when i wrote this. it's not bad but its certainly not good. wanted to share it anyway incase anyone actually likes it lol. VERY SMUTTY MINORS DNI!!

You sat peacefully on your bed, a candle flickering about next to you as you read up on magical creatures. You had decided to skip out on free period to have some alone time. It was completely silent...at least for a moment it was. A loud booming of footsteps was trailing towards your door at an alarmingly fast pace. You quickly shut your book, blew out the candle and walked towards the door. Before you could reach it, however, it was swung open by none other than Ron Weasley.

"Oh- Merlin, Ron- it's just you- You scared the shit out of me!" You huffed, smiling at him. Your happy expression dropped when you saw the flicker of pure lust in Ron's eyes.

"Ron-" was all you could say before he pushed you up against the wall, breathing heavily.

"You've fancied me for seven years and never told me?" He shouted gently at you. You gulped.

"Yes- Yes, I suppose I did do that," You stammered out, taken aback by Ron's sudden aggressiveness.

"Why? Why the bloody hell would you do that?" His eyes grew into a desperate look as he sunk lower, as if he were growing limp as he held you.

"I don't- I don't know-" You let out a nervous chuckle. He sighed and rested his head on top of your breasts, hugging your waist. You patted his fiery orange hair awkwardly, unsure what to say or do. Suddenly, he rose to tower you and put his hands above your head against the wall.

"Y/N, listen to me," he began, his breath loud again. You swallowed hard once again.

"I want to fuck you...right here, right now," A pit of warmth at the bottom of our stomach sprouted after he said this.

"O-okay," You stuttered. Oh, Merlin, what have I gotten myself into?

He gripped your thigh roughly, demanding you to jump onto his waist. He pushed you up against the wall, keeping one hand on your thigh, and the other on your jaw. He kissed you deeply, sending a shudder down your spine. You gasped, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. You gripped the collar of his shirt, deepening the kiss, if it was possible. His hands made their way to the pockets of your jeans, making your lower body tingle.

He quickly made his way over to your bed with you still clinging to him. He pushed you onto the bed gently, careful not to seem barbaric. You crawled backwards onto the bed, positioning yourself with your head near the headboard. He sprung onto you, straddling your hips. He tightened his knees, creating pressure between your legs. He leaned over, his breath still heavy from the animalistic desire he had for you. He kissed your collar bones, and you let out a high pitched, quiet moan.

"You have no idea the things I've wanted to do to you for years, Y/N," He growled in your ear. You bit your lip, chocking back a moan.

"Jesus, Ronald," You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in. Your passiveness motivated him. This is what you'd been waiting for. This is why you'd been single since you'd met Ron. Just the measly hope that this moment would come kept you committed and devoted to Ronald.

He sat up and ripped off his knitted jumper. He smirked at your still fully clothed body. He began to fidget with the buttons of your blouse. Now, this was fun. It was your turn to tease him. He was having trouble with just the first button. You swatted his hands away after a few moments and began to unbutton your shirt slowly. He watched intently, button after button as he grew more frustrated.

"Damnit, Y/N," He ripped your blouse open, sending buttons flying. "I'll buy you a new blasted blouse," He huffed, attacking your neck and chest with kisses. You pulled the remains of your shirt out from under you and tossed it across the room. You twisted your fingers in his soft locks, begging him to kiss you more passionately. He lifted your leg up to his side, pulling him close to you. You could feel his bulge on your stomach through his jeans. You slid your hand downward and gripped the area, hardening his already firm erection.

"Ffffuck," He muttered. He jumped off of you and struggled to unravel his belt. You just simply lay there, teasing him. He kicked his pants and boxers both away carelessly. He ripped your jeans down to your ankles, not caring enough to take them off of you completely. He crawled under your jeans and slid between your bare legs. He swiped his tongue quickly over your heat, causing a throaty moan to roll out of your mouth. He perched your legs on top on his shoulders, exposing yourself to him. He looked up at you as he dove into you, his tongue creating fast circles around your clit with his hands on your hips. You gripped the duvet.

"Shit- FUCK, Ron!" You called out for him to give you the touch you really wanted. He crawled on top of you, kissing you lustfully. Your legs now wrapped around his waist, you composed yourself before he entered you. You winced, letting out a breathy whimper.

His pace started out painfully slow, making you buck your hips to signal that you wanted him to go faster. Giving any sign that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you, drove Ron crazy.

He started to thrust faster, deeper into you. You gripped his shoulders, tightening your hold on his waist. You started to let out short, loud moans, one after another as they corresponded with his thrusts.

"I-I'm alm-most th-there," You whimpered in his ear. He picked up the pace, sending you into a moaning mess. Your toes curled inside of your socks and your eyes shut tightly as you held your breath, feeling an orgasmic eruption take place inside of you. One hand almost tore open the duvet, and the other was gripping Ron's hair.

His pace got gradually slower, keeping himself inside of you as you tried to catch your breath.

"Shit..." You whispered before he fell on top of you. You cupped his cheeks and looked into his eyes for a moment. A mischievous smirk grew onto your face as a light bulb turned on in your head. You bit his ear and kissed under his jaw before saying,

"Your turn," He looked at the clock on your bedside table and gave you a look of defeat.

"Free period is over in two minutes," He whined. You smirked and chuckled at his desire to have you again.

"I guess you'll just have to wait until tomorrow then, won't you, Ron?" You teased. His eyes widened at you.

"Tomorrow? Why not tonight?" He protested, shifting his arms from under your back to a more upright position. You couldn't help but smile at him.

"Tomorrow," You whispered. His head fell into your chest as another act of defeat.

"Now get off me, we'll be late for Potions," You patted his chest. He looked up at you, an eyebrow raised.

"You need to get your priorities straight," You faked being offended and poked his arm.

"For your information, Weasley, i already have my priorities straight...I'm just not sure if I want to give into you so easily," He gave you a confused expression.

"What do you mean?" He asked. You laughed devilishly.

"Oh, Ron...you have no idea what's in store for you tomorrow,"

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

Your day started off with bumping into Ron on your way to Herbology.

"Please, Y/N, how long are you going to make me wait? Let's just skip-" You cut him off with a kiss, your hand under his chin.

"Free period, Ron. It's not that far away," You chuckled, pretending you didn't want him as much as he wanted you. He cupped your cheeks with each of his hands, denying that you let him go with just one kiss.

"Four hours is enough to drive me mad, Y/N," He whispered. You bit your lip and looked down. You were truly like a drug to him. As soon as he had a taste of you, he couldn't get enough.

"How am I supposed to get through potions? I sit behind you, you know,"

"That's the fun part," You smirked at him, turning away and beginning to walk towards your classroom. You purposefully swayed your hips, teasing him from a far.

***

You quickly tried to make your way to potions, hoping that Ron wouldn't be able to catch you before class started. But, knowing that you had this class together, Ron hurried too, so he wouldn't be with Harry or Hermione. You were just about to enter when a pair of strong hands grabbed your waist and pulled you back. You were pushed up against the wall. Ron towered over you, one arm over your head and the other hanging weakly on his side.

"Please don't make me sit through this torture," He whined. "Just seeing you in the hallways make me want to-" He was cut off by Professor Snape.

"Makes you want to what, Mr, Weasley?" He asked in his familiar stern voice. Ron quickly took his arm to his side and nervously turned his head to Professor Snape.

"N-nothing, Professor," He stammered out. Professor Snape looked at the both of you for a moment.

"Detention. Both of you, after school," Ron's face turned from nervous, to excited, to a fake disappointed look.

"Into class. Now,"

***

When lunch came, the hour before free period, Ron was practically clawing the tables in the dining hall. Ron and Hermione were talking about Draco. Ron tried to pay attention and focus on the conversation, but you were purposefully rubbing your ankles together to distract him. He looked over at you.

"Y/N! I swear to Merlin," He mouthed to you with his teeth gritted. You giggled quietly, blushing at him. His face softened, a corner of his mouth turning up. It wasn't a smirk, though, it was his adoring smile, one that could make you think you were he most special girl in the world. His eye brows raised and his whole face flushed with red.

It made you feel incredible to have known that with just a smile you could change his mood completely.

"Mother of Merlin, you're gorgeous," He said in astonishment over your two friends sitting next to you. They stopped talking immediately and looked at the both of you. You buried your head in your hands, blushing furiously. Even though it was just your two friends, it felt like the entire room went silent.

"You're a subtle man, Ron," Harry joked at Ron's side, patting his back. He kept staring at you with the same, loving look.

***

Free period had finally came. As you were all dismissed, you shot a quick glance at Ron before racing to the crowded exit. You slipped through numerous people, hoping that Ron was still behind you. You were cautious not to run, so you wouldn't get another detention. You heard footsteps trail behind you, and a smile grew onto your face. Ron's hands met your waist, tickling your sides gently. You let out a giggle, and so did he. His hand found yours as he lead you to the stair well, being careful to watch the changing directions of them. Once you reached the opening of the commons room, he blurted out the password, and you were granted access.

He practically dragged you into the room. You were guided into the boy's dorm, slowly backing away from Ron with an undeniably happy smile on your face as he fidgeted with the door. He quickly turned around, a lion ready to pounce on his prey. He charged towards you and his arms wrapped around your waist as you fell onto his bed. He straddled you, peppering your neck with kisses.

This time was different than the last. This time was slow, and loving. You knew he loved you, and he knew you loved him. It wasn't just sex. It was everything you'd wanted for the last seven years.

Your head was perched on his pillow, his bare body hovering over yours as he thrusted into you. His hair brushed your forehead as he picked up his pace. You bit his freckled shoulder, holding back a blood curdling moan. You could feel yourself reaching your point, everything inside of you ready to burst at the seams. You abruptly wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face in his neck as tears welled in your eyes. You let out a whimper.

He stopped, pulling away and looking at you with a concerned look in his eyes.

"Am I hurting you? I can stop if it hurts," He breathed out, rubbing a tear away from your burning cheeks.

"Maybe we should've waited-" He was cut off by your lips being pressed against his in a lustful kiss.

"Ron, it doesn't hurt...I'm just really happy," You whispered, another tear streaming down your rosy features.

He looked at you with an expression you couldn't read. You lowered you head with embarrassment.

"Y/N?" Your eyes peered up at him.

"I'm in love with you," Ron chuckled breathily, leaning down to kiss your swollen lips. You instinctively kissed him back, twisting your hands in his fiery locks. Once he pulled away, he took another moment to soak it all in.

"Never leave me, F/N L/N," He spoke softly, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. Your lips met the tip of his adorably spotted nose.

"Never,"

#ron wealsey x y/n #ron weasley #ron weasly imagine #ron weasly x reader #ron weasley smut #ron weasley fanfiction #harry potter imagine #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter smut #ronblurb

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zarla-s · 8 months

Text

Wrote ANOTHER Heavymedic fic that ended up way longer than I expected, I have no idea how that happened. It was just supposed to be an idle idea! And then it just kept spinning out further and further... every fic I write ends up like this, why am I always surprised.

Anyway, it’s about them going from casual sex to an actual relationship. I made a joke about it in the tags for this comic and I couldn't get it out of my head! It's pretty fluffy, them being stupid about feelings and not communicating well withstanding, haha.

As such it is for adults only. :B

–

Title: Soooo... kill around here often? Words: 25.5k (jesus christ) Rating: M (LOTS of sex) Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Pairings: Heavy/Medic Warnings: None really I can think of

Summary:

Having sex with Medic is easy. Figuring out what to say the next morning is hard.

Figuring out why is the hardest.

(Or: it starts as casual sex, then turns into something more)

[Link]

#team fortress 2 #heavy #medic #heavymedic #red oktoberfest #fic #heavy's narration is very funny to me since he's totally oblivious to some really obvious things #oh my closest teammate abruptly made out with me and jerked us off and i'm 100% okay with and into it #everyone would feel this way clearly and it's totally normal well now to not introspect about that at all #all the sex in it is frottage too which also amuses me

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hairstevington · 26 days

Text

STWG April Fool's Swap!

Hi friends! The discord hosted an event where each of us got assigned one person and two prompts. Then, we chose one of the prompts and wrote something for April Fool's! This is what I came up with. Have a very Normal day, folks! @strangerthingswritersguild

Prompt: Steve and Eddie find an injured animal and do their best to fix it up. Maybe Wayne gives them a hand :) (written for @jaytriesstuff )

Warnings: This fic is as fluffy as the bunny they save

Word Count: 1.1K

🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇

“Steeeeeve.”

Ah yes. Steve’s favorite way to wake up - while being not-so-gently shaken by his boyfriend.

“What,” he muttered into the pillow.

“There’s a reeeeeally cute bunny outside,” Eddie whispered.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Seriously?” he whined. “You’re waking me up for that? Dude.”

“If you go outside and see it, you’ll understand why,” Eddie continued. “And! The poor thing is wounded! Come on, Harrington, you love taking care of things. I know it’s your kryptonite. Put on pants and come see this adorable, scared, injured little bunny rabbit with me.”

Steve sighed. Eddie was right, actually, but what got Steve out of his bed was more so the knowledge that it wasn’t a choice. Eddie would keep annoying him about it until he obliged, so…

“Fine,” he groaned, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Why were you outside anyway?”

Eddie smirked, triumphant. “Well, you see - your parents have the nose of bloodhounds, and I’m not about to get you into trouble for your room smelling like cigarette smoke again….”

Steve remembered that. His parents were gone a lot, so Eddie stayed over a lot, and he smoked like a chimney. On colder nights, he tried smoking out the window, but…

“Oh,” Steve said as he slipped a pair of jeans on. “That’s actually, uh, yeah. Okay. Thanks.”

Eddie put his palm delicately on Steve’s cheek. “I’m not a monster,” Eddie told him. Then, he lightly slapped Steve on that same cheek - eliciting another eyeroll. “Okay, let’s go.”

God dammit. The rabbit was actually really cute.

Steve crouched down beside it in the grass. The little guy was breathing fine, but it seemed to be soundly asleep. “What do you think happened to it?” he said.

“Him,” Eddie corrected. “He’s a dude.”

Steve contorted his face into confusion as he turned to Eddie. “How do you know that?”

Eddie shrugged. “I’m more than just a pretty face, great hair, and massive talent, Steve.” After Steve stared blankly at him, Eddie continued. “Okay, so maybe I don’t actually know for sure, because I’d have to like, reeeeally inspect him to know, but I’m pretty confident just from, like, the vibes.”

This was one of those times where Steve could not believe he was in love with this man. It was also one of the times he knew exactly why he was. Eddie had a way of making both those feelings happen simultaneously, all the time.

“I named him Drugs,” Eddie added. Then, he grinned. “Drugs Bunny.”

Steve closed his eyes and put his head in his hands. “Jesus Christ,” he mumbled. “It’s perfect.”

“He’s perfect,” Eddie corrected.

Steve let his hands drop back down and stood up straight again. He looked at Eddie and smiled. “Yeah, right,” Steve said. “He is.”

Well, they weren’t gonna bring an injured wild animal back into the Harrington house, that’s for damn sure. Whether or not Steve’s parents ever found out, the risk was enough to make him woozy. So, naturally, Eddie and Steve wrapped the bunny in an old t-shirt and gently brought him into Steve’s van, where he sat on Steve’s lap in the passenger seat while Eddie drove slower and more carefully than he ever had before.

The Harrington house was the wrong place for this project, but Forest Hills was a free-for-all.

“Shit,” Steve said as they approached the trailer. “Wayne’s home.”

“Shh,” Eddie replied, nodding towards the bunny. He opened the door as gently as possible, then mouthed - Leave him in here.

Steve had no idea what was going on, but okay sure. He was already this deep in it, what’s a little more?

They left the car doors open and walked into the trailer, where Eddie immediately started calling for Wayne and opening cabinets.

“What are you boys up to now?” Wayne asked as he approached from the hall.

“Eddie found a wounded rabbit outside,” Steve explained as Eddie continued to rummage around. “Now, we’re co-parenting.”

Wayne chuckled. “Sounds like my boy,” he said. “Alright, kids, I’ll bite. What’s wrong with the rabbit?”

“We don’t know,” Steve responded.

“Well, you’ll probably have to call the vet if it’s domestic. If it’s wild then a rehabilitator is your best bet.”

“There’s rehab for rabbits?” Steve asked, surprised.

“Oh, sweetie,” Eddie said, a look of endearment on his face.

“Why are both of you experts on this?”

“Well,” Eddie began before turning to Wayne. “You wanna take this one?”

Wayne sighed. “Yeah, alright,” he said. “So, my sister, you know. Eddie’s mom. She was a veterinarian. Loved animals more than she loved me, I think.” He chuckled. “Anyway, we did this kind of thing a lot with her.”

“We’re kiiiiind of famous in the animal community,” Eddie added. “If only my dad hadn’t made the Munsons famous for other shit.”

Steve noticed how neither Eddie nor Wayne seemed particularly sad about this fact. He figured the both of them had accepted their place in this world, and didn’t care much what other people thought about it.

That was an attribute Steve was still working on.

“Oh,” Steve said after a moment. “That’s really sweet, honestly.”

Eddie started gagging and making dramatic choking noises. “Don’t say that,” he demanded. “I’m not sweet, I just got a heart, that’s all.”

“Eds,” Steve countered. “You have a small rabbit in the passenger’s seat of your van, bundled in your shirt, and you’re currently making some kind of habitat for it.” Steve gestured to the box Eddie was prepping, which seemed ridiculously large considering the size of the animal, but whatever. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re a softie.”

Eddie stuck his tongue out at Steve.

“Oh, that’s where he is?” Wayne intruded. “The van?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, I figured it was quiet and dark enough in there,” he explained. “Come on, let’s go get him settled.”

The three of them walked out to the van and peered in through the open car door, only to find that the bunny was now sitting on top of the shirt, perfectly awake and happy, nose twitching.

“Hooooly shit,” Steve said.

“It’s an Easter miracle!” Eddie exclaimed.

“I thought you said it was wounded,” Wayne pointed out.

“He was,” Eddie clarified. “I mean - I thought he was. He was just - he was lying there looking all sad, and -” He fell deep into thought for a moment before continuing. “Huh. I guess he was just being dramatic.”

Steve chuckled. “Oh, now I see why you love him so much. He’s just like you.”

Eddie laughed, then leaned over and put his face next to the bunny’s. “I mean,” he said, “the resemblance is there, right?”

Steve nodded with another light laugh. “Yeah, the resemblance is there, cutie.”

And that, my friends, is how the Munsons ended up with Drugs.

🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇

A little taglist moment for my Steddie shippers! Sorry I missed a bunch, I haven't used my taglist in a long time :')

@paintballkid711 @abraca-fxckyou @allbimyself26 @jellybabiesforall @allbymyselfexceptformycactus @lillemilly @missmagillicuddy @eyeslikewildflowers111 @callmesirkay @eds-trashmouth @wrenisflying @itch-my-b0nez @disastardly @dangdirtydemons @val-from-lawrence @swimmingbirdrunningrock @suddenlyinlove @eddielives1986 @thefailcollection @superduckmilkshake @smolbasilboy @carlprocastinator1000 @throwbackthrowaway @mandapandamonium @bleach-the-kitten @steddieonbigboy @atrustfulplace @geekyfifi @depressed-gays-of-marvel @thereindeerlady @carlyv @introgamer @infrogulous @sad-sad-tomato @pokopippitypop @carlajim98 @brassreign @steddiegarbage

#steddie #steddie fic #eddie munson x steve harrington #writing #st fic #me

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offside-the-lines · 4 months

Text

I’m Sorry, We’re Out Of Time

A/N: I just had to get this out of my brain or I won’t be doing ANYTHING ELSE this week. Truly wrote this on my phone over the past hour or so. Not proofread or edited. I have no idea if it even makes any sense. Also no titles. Fucking I don’t know. IT’S A MONDAY. JESUS. It’s around 800 words. Edit: just found out he was already in nashville with the team and didnt fly out until the following morning but *hand wave* narratives. (Also posted on AO3)

About: Jamie’s trade, unsaid and said words, inner turmoil, angst and sadness

Pairing: Jamie Drysdale x Trevor Zegras

Jamie always meant to tell Trevor that he loved him. Always thought he would have the time. Time for what? He doesn’t really know. Time to find the right words, he guesses? The perfect words. Words that will make Trevor know that he wasn’t joking. Something Trevor won’t just laugh off. Time to figure out their future together.

He plays with his phone in his lap as he sits in the back of the Uber, stuck in the Monday afternoon traffic near LAX.

His phone starts to vibrate in his hand and he doesn’t need to look to know who it is. He sighs deeply and closes his eyes, letting his head drop back onto the headrest.

Click. He hears the call connect but doesn’t know what to say.

He hears the shallow breathing on the other end of the phone. A sharp intake of breath. A “Jamie?” whispered through a cracking voice.

In all the years he has known Trevor, he has never heard him quiet. Even the silent treatment, Trevor did loudly. This quiet unsettles him.

He let out a shaking breath. “Yeah, Z.”

“I — I saw — Is it true? You are — oh god — Are you?” His voice getting impossibly quieter.

In the back of a Prius, Jamie feels his chest clench painfully and thought for a second that if he had a heart attack, he probably wouldn’t have to leave. Philly probably won’t want someone who gets heart attacks over a teammate sounding impossibly sad.

He can breathe. He can swallow down his own heartbreak. Yeah, that he can do; be there for Trevor. “Yeah, Trev.”

“FUCK!”

The sudden change in pitch makes Jamie jump so high he almost hits his head on the roof.

Before Trevor could say anything else — Jamie knew if Trevor asked to see him, he would break — Jamie gently offers, “They already picked me up in an Uber. I’m on my way to LAX right now. I’m sorry. I wish I could have told you earlier. I’m sorry. It just all happened so fast.” He feels his voice catch in the back of his throat; he tries to swallow the lump down without success.

Through the phone, he hears Trevor sniffle. “Oh.” His voice is so small that Jamie can only guess that’s what he said before a small muffled sob trickles through.

Jamie clenches his fist so tight he thinks he might break his hand. What’s another injury anyway. He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything; just focusing on his breathing while trying his hardest not to hear whatever sounds Trevor was making. Trying not to think.

He’s not sure how long they sit in silence when the driver lets him know they were almost there.

“Hey, Z? We’re pulling up to the airport so I’m going to have to hang up soon. We’ll still talk all the time okay? Like in the summer. It’ll be okay.”

“Yeah?” Jamie tries not to hear the wobble in his voice

“Yeah, bud. You can’t get rid of me that easy.”

Trevor lets out a weak snort, injects fake levity into this voice. “Yeah. You’re stuck with me too. Hey, I’ll see you in Mexico right?”

Jamie hums his agreement even though he doesn’t know if he will be able to do it. To see Trevor again after all this. He’s almost glad the Ducks have already played almost their games against the Flyers this year.

They sit in silence for a little while longer as Jamie watches the car pull into the terminal.

“Hey Trev —” he starts.

“Jamie, I love you,” Trevor whispers, quiet but no shake in his voice.

Jamie feels all the air leave his lungs. He almost chokes on his own tongue. His head spins as he slams his eyes shut. The blood rushing in his ears drowning out the sound of his Uber driver throwing the car in park and getting out to grab his bags.

This motherfucker always has the worst timing, Jamie thinks, panic welling up. There isn’t time for Jamie to dissect what he means by that. If Trevor means that like—

There isn’t time for Jamie to decide what his plan A is. Or Plan B. Or—

There isn’t time for anything.

So he just does what he always does. “Yeah, Z. Duh. Love you too, bud. I’ll see you soon yeah? We just pulled in and I gotta go.”

“Oh yeah, for sure. Have a good flight, I guess. Send me a pic or whatever,” Trevor says.

“Yeah you too. Um, later, dude.”

“Yeah,” Trevor says, “bye Jamie.”

And the line goes dead.

Jamie slams his head on the head rest and lets out a choked scream. “Fuck,” he says to no one as he steps out into the tepid early evening air outside LAX.

#jamie drysdale #trevor zegras #anaheim ducks #philadelphia flyers #hockey rpf #nhl rpf #hockey blurb #trevorjamie #tz #jd #tzjd #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #hrpf

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viperbarnes · 2 years

Text

Uptown Boy – [Oneshot]

40s!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You've always played into the idea that you were nothing more than an airheaded, selfish socialite, it was easier than facing the rejection of who you truly were. Still, you were never able to fool your loyal driver, Bucky. No, Bucky Barnes saw right through you, and somehow he adored you anyway.

Warnings: lots of smut! reader is a bit of a mess, she's rude af lmao. there is a scene where somebody attempts to assault her, but it is not very vivid and they are stopped. the reader has a name, but it's written as a reader insert. she's described as being steve's half sister, but they are not blood related at all, and i wrote her as a woc, but there are no overt descriptions of her. i think that's all.

Notes: This is another of my old oneshots! This was a direct counterpart to my series Uptown Girl, which was about socialite!bucky, but you don't need to read it to read this.

story below the cut because it starts with smut lol

“Keep going, that’s it, that’s it… holy shit…” You grin wickedly despite your heaving chest and breathlessness. You have a vice grip on Bucky’s shoulders, his rough hands holding your hips just as tight as you bounce on his lap.

The space is small and cramped, but it wasn’t as if you’d never done it before. Your dress is gathered at your waist, out of the way, but pulled open at the front to expose your chest. He always did like to see your body, the very few times you allowed it.

“You feel so good Lilah, so fuckin—” you cut him off with your lips, his mindless sex babble always grated on you a little.

Not really, but it was easier to say that than admit anything else.

“Come on Barnes, fuck me good and proper, like you promised,” You whine, knowing full well he’s putty in your hands. Your own fingers swirl over the bundle of nerves just above where you’re connected, and really, with all the unbecoming grunting sounds he makes, you’re so close.

“Jesus Christ, you’re a fuckin vixen… I’ll fuck you good and proper like you deserve? Little brat,” You half scoff, half-laugh. He always got a little mean when he realised your games but that was just fine by you.

“You gonna teach me a lesson, Daddy?” You pout, gasping when your jaw is grabbed harshly, and yanked forward. You moan into his mouth as he kisses you hard, his cock slowing to give you long strokes that push your limits and you finally come apart around him, your spine arching as your release is pulled from you, around you in soft little waves.

Bucky pulls out of you, and you scoot back to watch as he only palms himself twice before he's cupping his hand over the head, trying to minimise the mess of his cum spurting out. You swallow at the sight but begin fixing yourself before he can recover.

“For the record. I don’t think that’s even half of what you deserve,” His voice, deep and rough, sends a shiver down your spine despite yourself and you look up at him, smirking and raising your brow.

“Oh? Not enough spanking? Maybe next time you should bend me over and—”

“I mean the back of the car. If I had it my way you’d have a bed,” The sureness with which he speaks makes your heart thump but you push it away.

This was only fun. It didn’t mean anything. He knew it as well as you.

You grab your purse and quickly check your hair and makeup, powdering your face and fixing your lipstick.

“I have to go.”

“I know.”

“I’ll see you later.”

“Will you?” You look up at him, smiling lazily at you and you bristle.

“Not with that attitude you won’t. Fix it first, driver,” It’s snarky, needlessly so, but it soothes over whatever soft feeling arises at the look he gives you.

“Have a good evening, Miss Langley.” You scoff and push open the car door.

You suppose the attitude is to be expected. It’s what you get for fucking your driver, some fella not nearly as high on the social ring as you. But maybe that’s why you liked doing it, he was rough, not afraid to grab you, to push you around a little… and maybe you liked that more than you’ll admit.

You fix your hair one last time as you step up along the gravel driveway toward the main house. Your parent’s butler opens the door for you as you near, and you give him a small, genuine smile.

“Stan. Good to see you well.”

“And you Miss Langley! It’s been too long!”

“I don’t like to leave the city, you know me,”

The older gentleman takes your coat you'd only just put on and your gloves, and you give him one last friendly smile.

“You go sit down, I know my way.”

“Thank you, Miss Langley, Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Stan.”

You turn back to the main foyer and roll your eyes at the laughter you can already hear coming from the drawing-room. You steel yourself and take a breath, before moving forward.

“Ah! If it isn’t my darling daughter! Gentlemen, let me introduce her!” You stand still as your Father approaches you, hand gliding over your back as he ushers you further into the room. You hadn’t been aware your parents had invited anybody but you.

“My youngest child, Delilah Langley. You might have seen her exploits in some of those gossip magazines–”

“–But I wouldn’t believe a word!” your mother adds sharply from the couch, and you look back to the men in front of you.

“Of course not. I’ve never swum in a chiffon dress. It's strictly silk or nothing,” your father bristles and coughs, but the gentlemen laugh kindly.

“Delilah, this is Mr Reginald Gorman and his son, Andrew Gorman,”

“A pleasure,” you shake their hands politely. Andrew is around your age, handsome enough but not really your type. Not nearly rough enough, with his perfectly combed hair and pristine suit. Your mother stands then, clasping her gloved hands together, her rings clinking against one another.

“Delilah, why don’t we powder our noses?” you want to roll your eyes, but instead, you smile politely at the two men.

“If you would excuse me,” you let your mother hook your arm around her as she leads you off to the nearest powder room.

The moment you’re alone, you take the time to pull out your lipstick, reapplying it once again and looking yourself over in the mirror.

“You need to pull yourself together,” your mother says, and you do roll your eyes this time.

“You smell like filth, like—like sex,”

You fix her with a bored look.

“That’s because I just let my driver fuck me in the backseat of my car. He’s very good at it, you see.”

She looks scandalised and glares harshly.

“That isn’t even funny. Don’t say stupid things,” she hisses, pulling perfume from one of the draws in the counter, and spritzing it over you.

“What did I do to deserve a daughter like…”

You stop speaking and you glower.

“The Gorman’s are well connected and they would be an excellent partner for your father to have in the business,” she says then, and you frown.

“Okay...”

“Andrew is your age. He’s handsome and—”

“You aren’t seriously trying to set me up, are you?!”

“Why not?”

You stare at her incredulously before she huffs and shakes her head.

“Delilah, you need to get over yourself. All you have to do in this life is to marry well, whatever you want to do on the side is up to you. You’re such a selfish girl, you’d have everything you’d want!”

“Oh, except for a loving marriage, excuse me!” you seeth, you can’t even believe she was suggesting this.

“What year is it?! 1789?!” you continue.

“Look who you were born into, look at the family you have and that of those around you. You don’t get to make those choices,” your mother scolds and you know just from her tone she’s not going to listen. Whatever you have to say she’ll ignore.

“Fix your hair and when you come back out, I expect a different attitude,” she breezes past you and you glare at her in the mirror and when the door shuts, you glare at your own reflection and the fact you’d told Bucky the same thing ten minutes ago.

All your life no matter what you did, the grades you got, how smart you were, nothing ever mattered to your parents aside from the way you looked and presented. Your brother was kind, he knew his parents ignored your education in favour of his, and he’d try to stand up for you, but he had his own issues. You don’t blame him for leaving the country the moment he could.

You played into who they wanted you to be. A socialite they wanted, a socialite they got. You partied too hard, flirted with every man in a ten-foot radius. It was fun, if you were honest, being the smartest person in the room at any given moment, playing them all for fools while you got what you wanted.

But it was biting you in the ass now.

It was too late to change your direction, you were a little past the normal age women settled down, it was now or never really. But you don’t know Andrew Gorman, and if you did know him, you doubted he’d be any different from every other rich boy with a rich father who lived off of their money.

You quickly fix your hair, making it a little messier even, and make your way back to the dining room.

You flirt heavily, almost too much with Andrew, your mother glaring at you across the table.

When dinner is over and the small group retire to the drawing-room once more, you excuse yourself to the bathroom but instead glide out of the home.

Bucky is waiting for you, opening the door and you don’t acknowledge him beyond a nod, sliding into the backseat.

The drive home is quiet. You’re lost in your thoughts.

You’d flirted with Andrew, but you hadn’t really paid him much mind. He was boring, a banker. Ugh. And your parents wanted you to marry him.

You imagine it, being married to him, having boring sex, living in a boring house, boring children. You half want to vomit.

You arrive home quickly, and you step out before Bucky can get the door, ignoring him as he calls a goodnight after you. You bathe and change and you’re halfway through brushing your hair when there’s a tapping on your window.

You ignore it, only looking up in the mirror as you go about pinning your hair back from your face and wiping your lipstick off. The window jiggles and then pops open, and you quickly look away, focusing on your own reflection as Bucky steps through the window, his foot landing on your bed briefly before he steps down, turns and closes the glass again.

“How many times do I need to tell you not to step on my bed with those disgusting boots?!” you huff, and finally, meet his eye in the mirror.

“Come off it, Lilah. What’s gotten into you tonight?” Bucky crosses his arms over his chest. You bristle at his concerned frown and finish wiping your face.

“You know I never like spending time with ‘The Langley’s’,”

Bucky shakes his head.

“No, it’s more than that. You’re upset.”

Again, you bristle, because he had absolutely no right to know you that well.

“It’s nothing.”

“Is it nothing? Or is it nothing that you want me to worry about?” he challenges, and God, you hate him sometimes.

You stand, letting your nightgown fall open, fully aware you hadn’t put pyjamas on yet.

“Both,” you purr, stepping to him, letting your hand slide over his chest. His eyes follow you and you know you’ve got him distracted enough that he’ll stop asking about your business. You push on his chest and he stumbles back, catches himself on the edge of your bed and you pounce, following him down.

You sink to your knees in front of him, fingers tugging at his pants already, the buttons coming apart fast and you’re pulling his cock from the confines of his briefs.

“Jesus, sweetheart…” Bucky breaths above you, his hands trailing over your shoulders and up to your hair as you lean over him.

Your lips settle around him quickly, and you know it's probably not a good thing, but you always loved the rebellious thrill you felt when you were fucking somebody.

It felt wrong, and that felt right.

You bob your head quickly, swirling your tongue over and under him, listening to his gasps and grunts of approval, your core tingling whenever his hands tighten and pull on your hair.

“God, you’re so good at that, baby, keep going, all the way….. Fuck!”

You genuinely preen at the praise, push yourself until you feel him hit the back of your throat and you hold there for a moment before pulling back completely, gasping and breathing hard. Bucky groans, watching you, one hand still in your hair, and the other moving to take himself in hand.

“Here, sweetheart lemme see…”

You open your mouth, still breathing hard and lick around his head, the velvety skin hot and throbbing under your lips and you watch him watching you.

“Fuck, you’re so good, hmm? So good, darlin’...”

You sink over him again and keep his eye contact. His free hand pushes your gown open, down your shoulders and he reaches forward, palming a breast with a groan. He pinches a nipple tightly and you whine around his cock.

“Yeah, do that sweetheart, fuck, make some noise for me,”

You do as asked, really the only time you obey anybody when they tell you what to do. You moan around him, helped by the fact he keeps pinching your nipple, and you can tell now with how he twitches that he’s close.

“God, you’re so pretty like this, so pretty when you ain’t talking back. Should just put my cock in your mouth next time you mouth off, mhmm?”

You whine at the thought of him pushing you to your knees, his length heavy in your mouth. You whine at the fact you have him between your lips now.

“Would you like that? Bet you would, filthy little brat,” he always gets more talkative the closer he is and you fucking love it. His hands tighten in your hair, pulling and you moan as he comes, the back of your throat coated in hot white and you swallow around him, relishing in the feel. You pull back a little and suck on the head of his cock until he’s jerking back from you, half a chuckle out his lips already.

“Fuckin’ hell…”

You pout up at him, watching as he recovers, and duck under his slightly softening length, lips wrapping around one of his balls and you suck lightly, wanting more from him, but he’s pushing you away again.

“You’re gonna need to give me a second, christ,”

You scrunch your nose and sit back.

With your small rebellion completed and the past five minutes committed to memory, you don’t feel much like any more tonight.

You hum and pull your nightgown closed again as you stand.

“I have an early morning,” you say, turning away from him and moving to your bathroom. Bucky shifts and watches you, blinking.

“Oh… I thought…”

“Not tonight. You got what you came for, now I need to sleep,” you can’t see him from where you stand at your sink, and for some reason, you feel nervous.

Bucky frowns a little, but tucks his cock back into his briefs, pulling his pants up and buttoning them.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then, Miss Langley.”

You don’t reply, can’t bring yourself with how quietly dejected he sounds.

It was only fun. It didn’t mean anything. You both knew it.

You hear your window open and close and when you finally exit your bathroom, you lock it, turning out your light, and wishing he’d fought you on staying.

“Is Catherine really wearing Chanel with those Balenciaga’s?!”

You turn to look over your shoulder, to a table some ways away and stifle a snort.

“You know how much she likes to remind people how rich daddy is,”

“Regardless of class.”

You chuckle at that, and lean back in your seat, sipping your champagne.

Another day, another breakfast luncheon.

“Have you seen that Andrew Gorman, Delilah?”

You turn back to Renee, rolling your eyes.

“He’s here? Christ, my mother’s relentless,” you down the rest of your glass.

“Wait, your mother? Is she trying to set you up with Andrew?!”

Your other friend, Susie leans forwards, and you roll your eyes again.

“Trying. She thinks she can just tell me who to marry and that’s that.”

Renee and Susie exchange looks and you frown.

“What?”

“Well, why wouldn’t you want to marry him?”

“What?”

“He’s handsome—”

“—rich—”

“—What more do you need?”

You stare at the two in front of you before leaning forwards and grasping the champagne bottle by the neck, pouring yourself another glass.

“Perhaps love? Is that so foolish?”

“Oh come on Delilah, when have you ever wanted love?!” Renee laughs and you notice for the first time what an ugly sound it is.

“Perhaps when it comes to marriage?” you shoot back. A hand comes to rest over yours.

“All a good marriage requires is money and a blind eye,” Susie says matter-of-factly and you glare.

“Oh, yes, because being forced to spend your days with someone you despise, while a lover sneaks around truly fathering your children is much better,” you hiss, and she bristles, smoothing down her dress.

“There is absolutely no pro—”

“—shut up, Susie,” you snap. You were hardly in the mood anymore.

You have no idea why you spend your time with either of the women, they were so shallow and conceited and—

Well, you suppose you are too. If it walks like a duck…

But you know you aren’t. Not really.

Well, maybe a little.

But you were more than that. You knew business, you’d studied with your brother, not officially, but he’d lend you his books, encourage you in your learning. You weren’t dumb, regardless of popular belief, and regardless of how much you encouraged it.

Once upon a time, you’d dreamed of going to Paris, studying fashion, perhaps opening your own boutique, but after your brother had left the States, your parents had insisted you stay.

You don’t want to marry Andrew. You don’t want to be a trophy wife with a string of children who all look suspiciously like your driver.

You quickly finish your glass, standing abruptly and grabbing your purse.

“Where are you—?”

“—I’ve had my fill of bourgeoisie for today,” you turn up your nose at the two women, even as they gasp in offence, and take your leave.

You exit the hotel ballroom without much flair, breezing past several older society ladies who scoff at you as you go.

In the lobby, you spy Bucky sitting on one of the couches, newspaper in hand. He looks up as you step past him, double-taking before he hurries to stand, folding the paper and rushing after you, getting the door before you reach it, but only just.

“They run dry already, Miss Langley?” he asks, following you down the steps of the hotel.

“Not everything is about drinking and dancing,”

“Well, no, it isn’t. But it’s usually a pretty good guess when it comes to you.”

You shoot him a deep glare, but don’t reply as you both wait for your car to be brought around.

“Home, Ma’am?” Bucky asks, looking at you in the rearview mirror.

“My father's building,” you correct him.

“His… The Langley Holdings building?”

“Is that not what I just said?” you know you’re being snappy, and truly he doesn’t deserve your ire, but why must you explain yourself to everyone?!

Bucky raises a brow, but nods and you stare out the window as the city begins to move slowly by.

You arrive in good time, it was still near midday and if you were lucky, your father won’t have finished his lunch hour yet.

“Shall I wait?”

“You know I love it when you wait on me,” you smile slyly at Bucky as you pass him, your hand briefly playing against his lapel and he snorts as he closes the door.

“Don’t I know it.”

Being your father’s daughter means the moment you step into the building, you’re escorted wherever you want without question. You ride the elevator quietly as it takes you all the way up to the twentieth floor, and when the doors roll open, you step out without waiting for your escort.

“I can show myself, George,” you dismiss the man with a wave of your hand and continue past the receptionist who sputters at you as you push through the large mahogany doors of your father’s office. You close them behind you.

“Delilah? What are you doing here?” Your father grins brightly from behind his desk, standing as you move forward.

“I want a job,” you tell him, your voice steady and your hands clasped in front of you. Your father’s brow raises high and he fixes you with a highly amused look.

“A job?! Why on earth would you want a job?!”

“Because I believe I could be a valuable asset. You know I’m not dumb, you’re always telling me in your lectures. I don’t want to—”

“—Delilah, I’m not going to give you a job.”

Your mouth shuts with the firmness in his tone and you blink. You weren’t used to being told ‘no’ from anyone.

“Think of all that stress and time…” he moves around his desk to wrap an arm around your shoulder, and you frown up at his condescending demeanour.

“All you need to worry about is making it work with Andrew Gorm—”

“Oh for god’s sake!” You tear away from him, throwing your hands up in the air.

“You can’t just— Tell me who I’m going to marry!” you explode, and your father’s face turns furious, he raises a finger to point at you.

“I can and I will if you want to live off of my money!”

Your mouth shuts again, and you stare at him incredulously for a moment.

“You’re not going to continue to laze about on my dime. You can either marry Gorman or you’ll be cut off. That is final—”

You don’t stay to listen to anything else he might say, storming out of his office as fast as you’d come. You manage to keep a straight face all the way down to the lobby, right until you climb back into your car, slamming the door as hard as you can, making Bucky jump.

“Drive.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere! Jesus, just drive! It’s your damn job!” you yell, and immediately feel awful. It wasn’t Bucky’s fault.

God, why were you always so awful to him.

He blinks but you feel the car pull away. You sink into the corner of your seat, unable to stop yourself as you begin to sob into your fist. You slouch down and try to curl yourself up as small as possible.

This was your own fault really.

You’d spent so many years playing into the idea that you really were as dumb as everyone thought, and now you weren’t so sure it really was all an act. Nobody truly smart would limit their own options like you had.

You really were nothing but a selfish, spoiled, little rich girl. No real education, no prospects, just your father’s money. and stupid Andrew Gorman.

You don’t hide your crying as well as you hoped you might, because after a few minutes you feel the car pull to a stop. In your misery and self loathing, you’re about to snap at Bucky to drive again, but before you can, he’s climbing out of his seat and into the back with a slammed door.

You sob more, realising even after how terribly you treated him, he was going to try to comfort you. You don’t deserve it.

You’re engulfed in warmth, the comfort only another body can offer and you don’t stop yourself from wrapping your arms around his neck, holding him tightly as you cry.

Bucky doesn’t seem to mind that you’re crying all over him, which makes you cry more, he just adjusts his hold on you, arms soothingly running up and down your back as you weep.

“Shh, it’s alright Li, I’ve got you, let it out, sweetheart…”

You want him to hate you, for how mean you are to him, but he can’t even do that with how good he is.

“What’s wrong, baby? What happened?”

You can only shake your head, any words you have dying into a sobbed babble.

“I’m s-sorry… I-I’m sorry,” you snivel after a while and Bucky pulls back, looking down at you in both genuine sympathy and shock. His eyes soften after a moment though and he cups your face, wiping away your tears.

“Now I know something’s really wrong…” he says quietly, a tiny smile playing on his lips.

“When my unapologetic little brat apologises to me…”

You can’t help but snort, trying to make it sound like a scoff but you fail, and he smiles wider, having made you smile.

He removes his hand from your face and you whine quietly, only for it to return a moment later when he pulls his handkerchief from his jacket pocket, wiping your eyes.

“You’re alright, Lilah. Whatever it is. You’re the smartest, most capable dame I know. You’ll get through, Sweetheart.”

You nod, wanting him to ask you what is wrong, but he doesn’t, having learnt his lesson from last night, and it’s nothing you don’t deserve.

Bucky holds you for a while longer, before driving you home, and you spend the rest of your day ruminating in your room, thinking over your options.

Your mother, ambitious as she is on your behalf, arranges a date for you and Andrew Gorman, and thanks to her knowing you’d never agree otherwise, you don’t realise until you’re standing getting into the car.

Gorman has only smiled sheepishly at your barely contained surprise, and before you could even get back out again, he’d raised his hands in surrender.

“Please, Miss Langley, hear me out! I just want to take you out once, I promise you, you’ll change your mind.”

You’d only huffed, and raised an eyebrow. You highly doubted that.

He had surprised you somewhat when you’d exited the car sometime later only to find yourself all the way out in Coney Island, standing in front of Luna Park.

“An amusement park?” You ask dryly. Andrew straightens his coat jacket and smiles in the way only somebody who had a reason to do so could.

“I might have heard you think bankers are boring,” he says, offering an arm to you.

“I do. They are,” you reply, eyeing him gingerly before looping your hand through his elbow.

“Let me show you I’m not,” he smiles boyishly again and when he looks away, you roll your eyes.

It was as if he’d made a list of places that would make him seem relaxed and carefree, and yet while in line you spy him scrunching you his nose at the sight of screaming children and families.

Andrew pays for your tickets and you move around the park slowly, every so often offering comments on an attraction, or food that looked positively middle-class.

You’ve narrowly escaped an attempt to persuade you onto the Ferris wheel, and you’re looking around you for a place that might sell you something with an alcohol content above that on the breath of the food tenders as they exhale over their wares, but you see none.

What you do see, however, makes your skin crawl.

Bucky, dressed not in his usual black suit, but in shades of brown and white, his sleeves rolled up slightly, and his jacket slung over his arm. This alone wouldn’t upset you, it was his day off after all, except that he’s handing his jacket and hat to a pretty girl, winking at her as he does so, and further pushing up his sleeves as he grasps the hammer of the game they’re stood in front of.

A date?

Bucky was on a date?!

Jealousy overcomes you and you have the urge to run over and slap the girl across the cheeks. And then him. Twice.

How dare he?

Well, because he wasn’t yours, that’s how, the rational part of your brain argues, and you seeth.

Andrew directs you to a place to sit and eat, and you spy Bucky and his date moving to another restaurant seating area nearby too. He leaves the girl with a smile as he moves over to inspect the food options and your eyes quickly snap to your own date.

“Would you excuse me for a moment?”

“Oh, sure! I’ll watch the table.” Gorman says, looking around for a waiter, and you roll your eyes again. You disappear into the crowd easily, following Bucky until you spy him nearing a stall nearer to the edge of the rows of food stalls and tents.

By the time you’ve cornered him behind a tent, pulling him by the hand and shirt, he’s blinking in surprise at you.

“Lila—”

You cut him off with a kiss, a reminder more than anything, and for a moment he relaxes, kissing you back. You spin a hand around the nape of his neck, flicking your tongue across his own before you pull away just slightly.

“Does she kiss you like this? I bet not,” you scoff, dragging him back to you and for one more blissful second his mouth slots perfectly against yours.

That ends when he suddenly pulls away from you, stepping away, glaring down at you.

“What?” he spits. You coo, purring as you step forward into his space again, dragging your hand over his chest.

“Your date,” you say, jerking in surprise when Bucky takes your hand and pushes it off him, stepping back again.

“What is wrong with you?” he demands, and you feel the words slice through your stomach, spinning it around in confusion and embarrassment.

“What?”

“You can’t just— Delilah, what I do on my own time is up to me. You’ve made it perfectly clear that us— what we do, is just fun. That’s all. You can’t— you can’t insert yourself wherever you want!” Bucky seethes. You blink at his angry words, though you can tell he’s restraining himself, like he’s explaining to a disobedient child, and it makes you even more annoyed.

“‘Insert’ myself?!” you repeat, ready to chew his ear off, but your words die in your throat when he raises a hand to quiet you, shaking his head.

“Go home, Miss Langley.”

Bucky leaves you open-mouthed in the spaces behind the tents. Your anger at his scolding helps you not to cry, and you straighten your dress, fix your hair briefly, before stepping back out into the crowds.

Fine. If he didn’t want you, you’d find someone who did.

Then he’d be sorry.

You sights set on Andrew as you saunter back to the table, and you briefly catch sight of Bucky, his gaze following you for just a moment until you sit back down and you know he’s seen Andrew now.

Good. Serves him right.

You lay it on thick. You don’t even feel bad about it, because Andrew seemed more than happy for you to hang at his side as you walked, laughing girlishly at his bad jokes. You flirt terribly, all your inner turmoil disappearing slightly every time the man blushes just slightly. But it always comes back again, so you keep going.

You stay out with him all day, longer than you’d intended to, and when the park finally begins quietening down, you make your way back to the car.

“I’m glad you had a good time,” Andrew says, and you laugh.

“Eventually, at least.”

“Have I changed your mind?” he asks, opening the car door for you, and you turn to him, humming in a faux deep thought.

“I’m not sure yet,” you reply. Really, you didn’t want to give the guy the entirely wrong idea. You had no plans on seeing him again.

“Oh? I should try harder then.”

You almost smile at the words, but it’s cut off when he grabs your face, pressing his lips to yours clumsily.

At first you’re in shock, not quite knowing what’s happening, but it doesn’t last long, and you’re pushing him away as best you can.

“Andrew! Get off me!” you scold. Some men just needed to be set on the right track forcibly. Andrew’s brows raise, but he doesn’t let you go, his hands now sliding down to hold your body to him.

“You seemed so interested earlier, touching me, smiling, laughing… come on sweetheart, don’t leave a fella hanging…”

You gasp, struggling again when he’s kissing you once more, but his hold on you this time is too strong for you to push away.

Still, you squirm as much as you can, trying to rip your mouth from his, and when you do for half a second you scream.

“Help!—” you’re drowned out by his hand slapping over your mouth and you’re shoved back into the side of the car.

“Shut up, and get in!” Andrew growls, already pushing you down.

You kick at him, try to scratch him with your nails, but you’re blindsided by a powerful thwack to your cheek, your vision spinning for a moment as pain blooms in your jaw.

Anger, fury overcomes you then, and you kick out even harder at the man trying to crowd you, his hands gathering up the bottom of your skirts.

“Get off me! Get the fuck off me!”

“Such a filthy mouth, we’ll have to do something about that,” Andrew chuckles. A pit opens in your stomach then as his hand latches onto the front of your dress, ripping it open and you can’t help it, you cry.

“Stop it, Andrew! Please! Get off—” you choke out, scared of how pathetic you sound to your own ears. However, before Andrew can get his hands on you further, he is suddenly yanked back, away from the car.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” a familiar voice growls, and you push yourself up, covering your chest, watching with wide eyes as Bucky steps between you and Andrew, his shoulders squared, his face the most furious you’d ever seen it.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding, pal, my wife is just being diffic—”

“She’s not your wife,” Bucky cuts him off, and Andrew bristles and seethes, looking him up and down then.

“I’m warning you buddy, get lost now,” Andrew attempts to threaten, but Bucky only steps even closer, finger prodding harshly into the other man’s chest.

“No, I’m warning you; you ever even think about touching her again, and they won’t even know where to start looking for your body,” Bucky hisses, his voice dangerous, and you’re briefly reminded of why exactly you’d hired him. Andrew’s face flashes with fear, and you see him swallow. You finally gather yourself enough to clamber to your feet, holding your torn dress together.

“You got that, kid?” Bucky’s still threatening, still crowding the other man’s space when you stumble forward to grasp his arm, tugging slightly.

“Bucky, please, can we go?” you sniffle, relieved when he wraps turns from Andrew and immediately throws his arm around your shoulder, however he doesn’t break his eye contact with Andrew for another moment or so, until he’s guiding you away from the car.

You’re shaking involuntarily still sniffling when suddenly Bucky freezes, and he looks down at you, searching you over.

“Are you alright?! I heard someone scream, I didn’t— I didn’t realise it was you until I saw him…”

You nod, wrapping your arms around yourself as the evening chill sets in on top of your shaken nerves and ripped dress.

“Aw Jesus, what the fuck…” he laments, looking you over again, taking in your torn dress and you shrug.

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” you deflect, but his eyes only darken. Before he can say anything however, a shout from nearby makes you both look up.

“Bucky?! Buck what happened?!” A young girl, the same one from earlier you realise, runs over. You can’t help but bristle as she nears and Bucky steps away from you and toward her.

“Becca, pass me my jacket, her dress got ripped up.”

The girl, Becca, holds out the brown coat as she nears, and Bucky quickly takes it from her, turning back to you and wrapping it around your shoulders, fussing with it for a few moments like a mother hen.

You pull your arms through the sleeves and adjust it to cover you properly.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, eyeing them both as the girl comes to stand next to Bucky, and he places a hand on her back.

“Lilah, this is my sister, Rebecca,” he tells you, eyeing you knowingly.

You blink.

Sister?

You didn’t know he had a sister! You’d thought she was his date!

You feel utterly foolish for your display earlier, but try to not let it show as Becca smiles obliviously, and more importantly, kindly at you.

“Oh, I know who you are, my brother talks about you—” she’s cut off by Bucky nudging her, and you look between the siblings for a moment before clearing your throat.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Becca… I’m– I’m sorry for ruining your evening,” you sigh, wiping your face and she rushes forward, making you jump when she takes your hands in her own, as if you’d known her for years.

“Of course not! We heard your crying, I’m just glad Bucky found you!”

“As am I…” you sigh, looking down at yourself before you straighten.

“Well, I will walk back to the main office and ask somebody to call me a cab—”

“Like hell, you will,” Bucky says, receiving a nudge of his own from Becca.

“I’ll take you home. Come on.”

You aren’t given much room for argument, not when Becca wraps her arms through yours and pulls you along.

“I have to drop Becca home first, or Ma will hide me for making her miss dinner, but then we’ll be on our way,” Bucky tells you once you’re settled in the car, looking at you in the rearview mirror. You only nod silently, and he frowns.

As the Island meets the mainland, and you begin driving through Brooklyn, you find yourself mesmerised with the sights you’re met with.

You’d never really been to Brooklyn before, not these parts anyway, and as the houses get older, the clear level of wealth does as well.

Bucky lived here? Your family paid him well, you don’t know what exactly, but it wasn’t like you couldn’t afford to, so why was his family home in such an area of town?

You pull up at last to a house tucked next five to identical homes, all of them in various states of disrepair. The paint was slightly chipped, and you spy a rip in the flywire as you’re led up the steps, Becca having convinced you both to come inside first.

“Ma! We’re home!” Bucky calls out, closing the door behind him, and once again you’re mesmerised. You’d never seen a home that looked so cluttered and yet, organised and clean. The couch had patches sewn into it on spots, the radio sitting above the fireplace was old, even for the model type, and the curtains were similar, but mismatching.

A woman steps around the corner from the kitchen, apron on over a simple dress. Immediately, you see the family resemblance and can’t stop from smiling to yourself.

“There you are! I was wondering when you wer—” she stops, eyes landing on you, before she looks between her children for a moment.

Bucky steps forward, his hand on your back.

“Mama, this is Miss Lilah Langley, I drive for her, remember.”

“Oh! Well, it’s lovely to meet you Miss Langley, I’m Winnie, Bucky’s mother! I’m so sorry, I’m afraid I’m not dressed for company!” she smooths out her apron nervously, and you wave her off, opening your borrowed jacket just a little.

“Neither am I, Mrs Barnes,” you tell her, and her eyes bug out.

“Wha— What on earth! You look like somebody dragged you through a hedge backwards, If I may say!” she hurries over to you then, buzzing around you in full mothering mode as she smooths down some of your hair, and cups your cheek, her thumb brushing over a rather sore spot on your cheek.

You feel your face warm at such tenderness and are glad when she looks to Bucky and Becca for an explanation.

“The creep she was out with, I found him tryna…” Bucky trails off awkwardly, looking to Becca who crosses her arms.

“He was tryna force himself on her, that’s what! Bucky ran over and told him what!” she says proudly, and Winnie gasps.

“I… I didn’t, I just told him to get lost…” Bucky rubs his neck, and it's sweet for you to see him in this environment. Clearly he was cursed to be surrounded by strong-willed women in every walk of his life. Or blessed, you aren’t sure.

Winnie looks back to you and strokes your cheek again.

“Oh darlin’, how awful, thank god for my boy, huh? How about we get you into something else for dinner, and then after I’ll fix this up? Hmm?”

You’re a little taken aback by how quickly she welcomes you fully and you stutter, your mouth a little dry.

“Becca, take Miss Lilah upstairs and find her something to put on, put her dress in the sewing room. I’ll take a look after we’ve eaten.”

You glance back at Bucky nervously as you’re directed up the stairs, and he watches you as you go, giving you a comforting nod.

“I’m afraid we don’t have anything quite as lovely as this…” Becca says once you’ve removed your torn dress, holding it to her face as she peers over the fabric and the stitching.

“It’s alright. I’m not allergic to lesser-quality—” you cut yourself off, face growing warm as you look at the younger woman.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

Becca eyes you, but shrugs.

“My mama will be able to fix this perfectly. Is this really Dior?” her voice sounds disbelieving and you frown a little as you pull the replacement dress up your hips, and fiddle with the buttons up the front.

“Of course. I bought it in Paris last year,” you tell her, and Becca sighs dreamily behind you. You turn, finding her pulling open a drawer that clangs slightly.

“Paris… how dreamy…”

You feel a little bad, maybe you shouldn’t have mentioned it, not when you can clearly see she and her mother share a bedroom that is the size of your shoe closet.

“Do you like fashion?” you hear yourself asking, as you step closer to see what she’s doing and find her rifling through a small collection of belts, all in various stages of wear or disrepair. She grins up at you with the brightest eyes you’ve ever seen.

“I love it! Sometimes I go to Mr Gorseki’s newsagent and read through Vogue. He always catches me though. But he does sell me the old issues for half price!”

You smile at the story and cock your head as she pulls out a belt and compares it up to the simple sky-blue day dress you wear.

“Hmm…” she puts it back and you watch her work for a moment, before pointing to a red belt.

“Why not that one?”

“Red? With blue?”

“It contrasts. You wear belts to accentuate your waist anyway, by wearing a contrasting colour there, you do more to draw the eye,” you say, and she stares up at you listening intently like you were a preacher.

“I see!” she pulls the red belt and you lift your arms so she can wrap it around your waist, buckling it at the front. She steps back and nods.

“I wish I could get away with wearing an outfit like that,” she sighs and you frown.

“You can.”

“Oh no, you don’t wanna dress too flashy round here. It’s just askin’ to get robbed,” she tells you, turning away to grab a hanger that she puts your dress on, before leading you from the room, down the hall.

“Oh. I see,” you say, swallowing curtly.

She opens another door, and moves in, hanging the dress from the curtain rail. The room was obviously a bedroom but had been converted into a sewing room, a desk with a simple machine set up on one side, and an ironing board and baskets of clothing littering the rest of it.

“Mama got so much work from the neighbourhood, she had to turn her bedroom into this just so she had enough space.”

“Work?” you ask, as she ushers you out again, turning off the light and closing the door.

“Yeah, she’s an amazing seamstress, she made the dress you’re wearing now!”

You look down at it, reconsidering it again. It was lovely, simple, but well made and designed.

“But, people started asking her to do their ironing as well, and now that’s mostly what she does. I think it upsets her, but she’ll lie and say honest work is good for the soul no matter.”

You hum and Becca delivers you to a small, cramped bathroom.

“Wash up your face. I’ll tell Mama to get some ice ready for you downstairs,” she tells you and you frown.

“Ice? For what?”

“Your cheek.” And then she closes the door.

You blink and turn to find the mirror, approaching it and gasping.

The left side of your jaw and cheek is mottled with a purple and blue bruise that blooms across your skin. You lean forward to poke at it and hiss, unsure of what you had expected.

Andrew had punched you. He’d actually hit you.

You move to sit on the edge of the bath and stare down at your hands. Anything could have happened if Bucky hadn’t heard you, if you hadn’t had that moment to scream. You imagine what might have transpired, what you would have done to get away. Tears sting at your eyes again and you jump with gasp at a gentle knocking on the door.

“Li? It's Bucky… Becca said you might need some ice…”

You stand, wiping your tears and putting on a brave face as you move to open the door.

“Thank you. I didn’t realise… I didn’t know how it looked…” you step back and take the offered bunch of ice, wrapped in a tea towel, but he doesn’t release it.

Bucky stares at you for a moment, before he sighs.

“Come on, sit down, lemme see.”

You obey quietly, unsure of what else you’re supposed to do, and hand him back the wad of ice as you sit on the bath. You stare straight ahead as he steps closer, gently tipping your face back with one hand, and pressing the frozen water to your cheek with the other.

“What your mother must think…” you shake your head just slightly and Bucky scoffs.

“She’s seen worse, trust me. Are you alright?” his question tucked on the end of his words makes you pause and you want to tell him once more that you’re fine, of course you are, but you can’t, your mouth disobeying your brain.

“Not really, no.”

Bucky stops moving then and the ice is replaced with his thumb, gently stroking your skin. You close your eyes at the threat of more tears, and lean into his touch.

“I’m sorry,” he speaks so softly you wonder how you’d even heard him.

“For what?” You let out a humourless laugh.

“Look at me. Lilah, look at me.”

You force yourself to open your eyes, and find Bucky crouched in front of you now, his own eyes boring into your own.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier. It wasn’t… I shouldn’t have said it. I was upset, I thought you’d followed me…” his eyes dart down for a moment, but he looks back to you, and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“As if I don’t have better things to do than to follow you on your day off, Barnes,” you sniff. His face scrunches into a grin, and he chortles.

“There you are. The quiet, thankful act was startin’ to worry me,” he jokes and you roll your eyes again. He stays smiling for a moment before he turns more serious again.

“Nobody's gonna touch you like that again, okay? You come and tell me, do you hear?” Bucky squeezes your hands, his voice low and dangerous again, but it doesn’t scare you. You nod, unable not to and Bucky lets out a breath.

“Good,” Bucky nods, and raises the ice back to your cheek, his other hand moving to smooth out and fix your messy hair. You find yourself conflicted between feeling unworthy of his concern, but preening at it all the same.

Dinner with the Barnes’ is a warm affair, Becca and Winnie asking you about your trip(s) to Paris, and fashion in general. You ask them about their own work, learning that Winnie was teaching Becca how to sew, but their day jobs often interfered. You laugh and smile more genuinely and more often than you have in years, and by the time you’re putting your repaired dress back on, your cheeks hurt, but not from Andrew’s slap.

“I would never have known it had been ripped, this is incredible work, Mrs Barnes!” you gush, and the older woman simply waves you off with a bashful smile.

“Oh it’s nothing, just some careful stitch work!”

“Do you take commissions?” you turn, and she flounders for a moment.

“Well– well I would, but I have so much to get done… I’m afraid I just don’t have the time.”

You grin and take her hands in your own.

“One commission from me, and you won’t have to get anything else done,” your eyes twinkle as you take in Winnie’s surprised expression.

Bucky drives you home, but you could have floated with how light the evening has made you feel. You almost forget how it all started.

“Becca likes you,” Bucky says, opening your door, and you shrug, taking his offered hand as you step out.

“Don’t worry, she’ll get to know me and get over it.”

Bucky shakes his head with a smile, and walks you up the front steps.

“Will you come up?” you ask, coyly, not quite wanting him to leave yet, still floating.

“I still need to thank you properly for saving me,” you purr, and Bucky’s breathing skips ever so slightly as you press your hand against his chest like earlier, but unlike then, this time when he takes your hand, he just holds it there, squeezing.

“Not tonight,” he says softly. You frown, stomach sinking a little, and you think for a moment that perhaps you really had screwed up everything in your life by waiting too long. Before you can speak however, Bucky pulls you near, leaning in until his lips delicately meet yours.

For a minute you freeze, memories of the afternoon flashing through your mind.

But Bucky wasn’t Andrew, and he’d never hurt you, so when your mind comes back to you seconds later, you sigh into him fully, wrapping your hand around the nape of his neck once more.

His own hands glide over your sides before he envelops you fully, curling you tenderly into him. Your heart thumps wildly in your chest, and you half expect him to change his mind, for his hands to start travelling, for him to push your door open and take you right there in the entryway of your home.

But he doesn’t.

He pulls away after a moment, ignoring your soft protests, but keeps you close, kissing your forehead.

“Goodnight, Miss Langley,” he says lowly, finally untangling from you, but only so he can lean past you, to unlock your door as you stare, utterly bewitched.

“G-goodnight, Mr Barnes…” you swallow thickly, reluctantly letting him pull away from your hold, and watching as he walks back to the car.

No man had ever just kissed you goodbye at the door.

No man but Bucky Barnes.

“Is this all?” Bucky asks, loading one last hat box into the trunk of the car, and you hum, pushing up off the front gate where you’d been watching him for the last ten minutes. He wipes a bead of sweat off his forehead and turns to look at you, hands on his hips, chest heaving.

“Yes. But we still need to stop on the way,” you inform him, and he moves in sync with you, opening the car door and helping you climb inside. Summer had officially begun, and you were on your way to the Hamptons, to stay in your family’s chateau for a few days.

And more importantly, to attend the Summer Soiree. Less of a celebration for the Summer, and more of an excuse for all you rich people to show off and get drunk while judging one another for various tresspasses.

Bucky gets in the driver’s seat and starts up the car.

“Where are we stopping?” He asks.

“Forster & Son. On fifth,” you inform him and watch as he gets the car in gear before pausing, looking at you in the mirror.

“Isn’t that a menswear store?”

“Yes. You can’t expect to go to a ball without a half decent suit, and you will absolutely not be wearing that,” you nod to his work uniform of a simple black suit. He turns around fully to stare at you.

“What?”

“Well, you can’t be my date and show up in anything less than Dior, but they don’t do tailoring on the day.”

“Your date? To a society event?” Bucky blinks and you roll your eyes.

“Yes, Bucky. Now go! We’re already running late!”

Bucky stares for another moment before he turns back around, exhaling sharply as he begins driving.

“Hmn, is there a more fitted jacket, Gertrude? I think we should be emphasising his figure more. It is such a nice one…” you wink at Bucky over the older woman’s shoulder, watching from your nearby seat as he stands stiffly up on the podium. Gerty hums her agreement and moves to pick a different jacket from a rack of hangars.

Bucky carefully removes the one he’s wearing, his eyes flickering back to you every so often. You’re almost certain he’s never been fawned or fussed over this much before, let alone in a designer shop.

“Here,” Gerty hands him the new coat and he slides it on gingerly.

“Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes. That is perfect!” you breathe, standing and moving toward him.

“Gertrude? There’s a gentleman who would like to ask you about his tailoring…” the shop girl pokes her head into the mirrored room you stand in and the older woman excuses herself.

“S’okay?” Bucky asks, and you nod slowly, eyeing him up.

“Oh yes. I think this will do nicely…” you take his jacket and do the buttons up, never breaking his eye contact. From where he stands on the podium, you’re even shorter than usual, staring up at him from his bellybutton. You see him swallow thickly when you run your hands over his front, and then down his legs, and his eyes flicker to the door.

“Uh… Won’t she be back…”

“Not for a while… She’s being asked about tailoring, any man who has his suits tailored is thorough,” you purr, and lightly palm his cock through the designer pants. Bucky jumps, biting back a groan when you continue with harder strokes.

“Lilah…” he warns, and you look back at him innocently.

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Not in your goddamn—” his words choke off into a strained whine when you pull the pants apart, letting them fall to his ankles along with his briefs.

“Turn around,” you coo, and with an exasperated sigh, he shuffles to face the half circle of mirrors, arranged so customers could view themselves from multiple angles. You had a better idea for use of them though.

You slink around to his front and hum in approval, before you lean forward just slightly, resting your knees on the edge of the standee, taking his hips in your hands. With little fanfare, you take him in your mouth once again, eyes flickering up to his face where he looks down at you, jaw clenching.

It doesn’t take long to lick him to full hardness, and even less time for his hands to find your hair, careful not to mess it up.

“Shit, shit!” he cusses as you bob back and forth over his length, staring up at him as you do.

“Look at you, jesus, fuck!” his eyes trail to the multiple reflections of your in the mirrors, but his eyes are back on your face in seconds.

“You’re so perfect, Li, best thing in the world…”

You slow for a moment and pull all the way back, just to suck on the head of his cock, letting your tongue swirl in circles and he groans, head falling back a little.

“Jesus, Jesus! Come here!”

You let him drag you back over his length again, but this time he leans over slightly, a hand gently wrapping around your throat and your eyes widen when he thrusts his hips forward. You can feel him feeling himself and it only makes you moan around him. Bucky hisses, fucking your mouth quickly, in short, deep strokes that have your nose pressing to the base of his cock and your eyes watering.

“That’s it, can’t get anything on the suit, sweetheart, you gonna take it all?”

You whine again, and do your best to nod, staring up at him transfixed as he draws closer, until finally he’s cursing lowly, hips jerking him even further down your throat as you feel his release spill down you.

You remain like that for a moment, staring up at him as he groans quietly. He really was beautiful like this, you were lucky, really. His eyes open up to yours and he swallows, carefully pulling away from you, a hand coming to gently stroke your hair, and then the side of your face.

“You’re so beautiful.”

You’re about to roll your eyes and retort when a knocking on the door sees you yanking his pants up, both of you scurrying not to give poor Gertrude a show.

You buy the suit, and continue on to the Hamptons, and before you know it, you’re gazing upon Bucky once more in his lovely suit. You stay arm in arm with him all night, refusing to let him go, but if he minds or notices he doesn’t mention it, instead staying close by choice, his hand resting at the small of your back, his shimmying fingers sending shivers up and down your spine.

All night, when you’re met with so-called-friends and other acquaintances, you’re asked who Bucky is. Everyone knew everyone in New York, and they did not know Bucky. Every time you’re asked, you reply the same thing, and each time, it makes Bucky look at you softly, his hand squeezing your hip.

“And who might this be?”

“My handsome date for the evening; Bucky Barnes.”

“Oh, I don’t believe we’ve met, Bucky… are you visiting from Europe?”

“No. He’s from Brooklyn.”

And then you’d feign desperacy for a drink, and he’d usher you off again.

“You know, people are going to talk about you,” he says softly, a tiny frown on his face as you move to sit at a nearby table on the edge of the dancefloor.

“People are always talking about me,” you sip champagne and Buck’s eyes crinkle.

“Yeah, but—”

“Lilah! How pleasant to finally catch you!” Your mother’s voice cuts off Bucky’s words and the both of you stand stiffly as your parents approach.

“And here I was really trying my best to remain uncaught. I guess you win,” you deadpan, giving them both empty hugs and kisses. You move back to stand next to Bucky and your parent’s attention turns to him with varying degrees of visible dismay.

“Bucky,” your mother greets coldly, your father just as rigidly shaking his hand.

“Have you seen Andrew tonight, dear? Doesn’t he look handsome?”

You’d already had to stop Bucky from going over to the man when you’d arrived, so you stiffen a little when he’s mentioned, but simply turn your nose up.

“I thought he looked rather dated, actually.”

Your mother bristles and your father glares outright.

“So this is what you’re choosing?” he demands gruffly, displeasure clear in his voice. You square your shoulders, ignoring Bucky’s curious frown as you loop your arm though his.

“Yes.”

“I need a drink,” is all your father says, before he storms away, your mother eyeing you one final time, before she follows after him.

You breathe a sigh of relief, all your pent up anxiety leaving your body now. Bucky turns to you then, one hand on your arm, his other still around your back.

“What was that? What did you choose?”

You roll your eyes and wave him off, stepping to the side a little to grab more champagne, and you down it.

“A few weeks ago my father told me I was to marry Gorman or be cut off,” you reveal with a shrug. Bucky starts.

“What?!”

“Well what did they expect? Have I ever done what I’m told?” you huff, rolling your eyes. Before you can settle too comfortably into your nonchalance, Bucky brings your hand to his lips, his other curling around your waist once again.

“You do what I tell you,” he points out, and you scoff.

“That’s only because you don’t put up with me. Or maybe because you do, I haven’t fully figured it out yet. Either way, you put me in my place,” you shrug again, and he hums, pulling you closer so you’re forced to wrap your arms around his neck. He starts to sway you gently.

“Is that what you want? Someone to look after you? Put you in your place?” He sounds innocent enough, but he knows your body is lighting up, your core buzzing between your thighs at his words.

“Maybe… but only when it’s you,” you breathe out, and you’re about to close your eyes, his lips only a breathe from yours when—

“I hope I’m not interrupting?”

You pull apart with a certain amount of shock, looking to find your brother standing nearby, hands in his pockets as he gazes knowingly at you. You pull away from Bucky with a grin, jumping into the blonde’s arms.

“Steve!”

He catches you with both arms, holding you tightly for a moment.

“Lilah… you look beautiful,” Steve says when you’ve pulled away.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home?!”

“It was kind of sudden… I’ll tell you about it later,” his face darkens just a little, but then he’s smiling, looking up to Bucky who stands behind you.

“Hi. Steve Rogers, Lilah’s half-brother,”

“The half doesn’t matter, ignore him,” you scold, watching as Bucky and Steve shake hands. You’d grown up with Steve, even if he’d been several years older than you, he’d never let you feel like just a ‘half’ sibling.

“Bucky Barnes. I uh—”

“–Bucky is my driver,” you say and Steve raises his eyebrows and whistles.

“I pity you,” Steve chortles, making you scoff and move back to Bucky’s side, watching as he shrugs.

“It has its moments,” Bucky shoots you a soppy grin as he places his hand back on your hip. You scoff again.

“Say, you like cars, Bucky?” Steve asks, and Bucky nods.

“I do.”

“Lemme get a drink, and I’ll tell you about this project I’m workin’ on in Paris…”

You sigh as you hang your dress up, moving to remove the last of the pins from your hair. It had been a long night, but not necessarily a bad one. After you returned home, you’d need to sit down and figure out exactly what you were going to do. Steve was home now though, you could always return to Paris with him… but you’d be leaving behind Bucky…

A wrapping at your window makes you jump, and in fright, you turn to stare at the curtains. It comes again a moment later, and you swallow, moving to them, and pushing the coverings apart, gasping when you do so. You hurry to unlock the shutter, and push it open.

“What the hell are you doing?! Your bedroom is down the hall!” you scold as Bucky climbs through, shutting and locking the window behind him.

“I’m not sorry,” he says, straightening up and you frown.

“You will be when you fall four stories to your dea—” your words die when he tugs you toward him, mouth slotting over yours hungrily. You don’t fight him, melting into his touch right away, having thirsted after it all night.

“You never answered me,” he says, lips dragging over your cheek, and down your neck. You sigh, clutching at his arms and tipping your head back to give him all the access he could want.

“W—what question…?” you manage, and squeak when your nightgown is pulled apart, and his lips move to your collarbone.

“You want someone to take care of you? You’re always begging for me to teach you a lesson, put you in your place…”

You stutter and pull back slightly to look at him. Bucky just stares, eyes intense on your face.

“... No.”

He freezes and you take his face in your hands before he can pull away.

“I don’t want someone, I only want you.”

Bucky stares down at you, disbelief flashing over his features and you shake your head.

“I’ve been terrible to you Bucky, nobody else would have come back again and again, I don’t— I don’t deserve you, I don’t,” you swallow harshly, a lump growing in your throat as you struggle through your words.

“And—and I’m so selfish, I am, but I want you. Not climbing through my window, or in the back of the car, I want to walk down the street with you, and hold your hand, and—”

“How much have you drunk?” Bucky puts a hand to your forehead, and you laugh, pushing at him when his eyes crinkle and he rests his head to yours.

“I chose you,” you say quietly, and he looks back at you nodding softly.

“Oh, sugar…”

You close your eyes as his lips find yours again, softer this time, sweeter.

You let him pull your gown apart fully, watching as he goes about discarding your underwear, before ridding himself of his own clothes, and laying you down on the plush sheets. Lips drag over your chest where he’d left off last, and you cradle his head in your hands as he moves further and further down, stopping at your breasts for a moment, sucking firmly at a nipple and making you gasp.

You'd never actually let him fully undress you, fully appreciate your body, and despite having had him inside you countless times, it all feels new.

“Li…”

“Mhmn?”

“M’gonna take care of you…” He murmurs against your stomach, and you nod, eyes closed now.

“Please, daddy…”

You gasp when your thighs are hoisted up, and look down to watch him situate himself between your legs, holding you under the knees. He leans low and presses a kiss to your core, making you suck in air quickly, your belly fluttering violently. He repeats the action, leaning over and pressing his lips to your folds, using his tongue to push and pull the silk skin and you grasp at his hands on your legs, shaking just slightly.

“Buck…”

“Mhmn?”

You growl and lift your head to glare at him.

“Hurry up!” You demand and he lifts a brow, leaning up.

“How quick you start mouthin’ off again,” he tuts, and you glare harder. He slides a hand from under your knee to where his mouth just was, and you swallow thickly as he dips a finger inside slowly, his eyes trained on yours. You’re frozen in place, even when he pulls out again, pushing two back in.

“Gonna have to learn to hold that tongue of yours sweetheart,” his voice is low and your eyes flutter when he adds another finger, pumping into you carefully.

“Or what?” you manage to gasp out and his fingers stop, but don’t leave you.

“Or I’ll have to find something better for your mouth to be doin’,” he tells you.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you sass and Bucky sniffs.

“If I didn’t love you so much, I’d shove your face into this mattress so you couldn’t fuckin’ talk,” he growls, bringing his movements again, pressing his thumb to your clit and making you jerk.

“Please, you’ll do that if you do love me,” you gasp and you hear him chuckle warmly.

His mouth returns to your core, his fingers still working your hole as he flicks his tongue over your clit relentlessly. You have to remind yourself to stay somewhat quiet as you writhe under him, hands fisting in the sheets as you come, losing all sense of everything except his mouth on you.

“Jesus Christ, baby… fuck…” Bucky breathes, looking down at his fingers, still plunging into you as your muscles squeeze and contract.

You mewl when he crawls back up your body, fingers glistening with your cum and you open your mouth when he brings them to your lips.

“Good girl. That’s a good girl, sweetheart.”

You suck diligently, holding his eye contact until he looks away, taking himself in hand and judging your leg further open with his knee.

“Come on, darlin’, open up, there we go…” he coos, finally letting his fingers fall from your lips as he slides the head of his cock through your soaked folds.

“You gonna finally fuck me good and proper, daddy?” you ask, hooking a hand around his neck, watching him closely.

“You’re goddamn right I am,” he growls, pushing in deep and you choke for a moment as he fills you, not waiting for you to adjust. Your nails pinch his skin, and you swallow a cry when his hips meet yours. You lift your knees more, bring them up so you can wrap yourself around him.

He lowers his face to yours as he starts moving, his tongue seeking yours immediately and you tug at his hair slightly with each thrust that sends you reeling. Despite this though, you can’t help but stoke the fire.

“Come on daddy, I thought you said good and proper?” you whine, and Bucky leans up to look at you, his eyes narrowed.

“Sometimes I think you like pissing me off, honey.”

“You fuck better when you’re angry,” you say, almost regretting it when he stops moving all together just to stare at you a moment.

For a split second you think maybe you’ve gone too far, but then he’s snickering, and before you can register it, you’re roughly tossed over to your front.

“You’re such a fuckin’ brat,” he scolds, kneeing your thighs apart enough for him to slide back in and you cry out, but your face is pressed into the pillow, muffling it.

The angle is foreign, almost too right and too deep, almost painful, but that also sends shockwaves of delight down your spine.

“You’re gonna lie here and I’m going to fuck you. If I hear anything outta you…” he pressed the back of your neck and your face is engulfed in a pillow again.

“Got it?” you nod, cunt hot and throbbing at his words and you keen in response to his lips pressing to the back of your shoulder.

“That’s my good girl.”

You suck in air when his hips pull away from yours, pressing back in all too quickly, and you clench your jaw at the feeling. You wanted him so badly your pussy was already clutching on to him, and the position only further exaggerated the sensation of fullness, making you feel like if he pressed any further you’d come apart at the seams.

But you live for it, need it even, and so even after his warning, you babble for him cheekily, damn near weeping as his cock pounds into you, and Bucky growls, playing his part dutifully and shoving your face into the pillow.

“I thought I told you—” he grunts as he shifts his knee, allowing him better access and you squeal into the pillow, his cock sinking even further and your back arches.

“—I didn’t wanna hear a fuckin’ word.”

You’re caught off guard when his hand releases the back of your neck and instead slides around to the front, lifting your face from the pillows. It’s just as effective though, his fingers squeezing at your throat cut off anything you have to say, and you choke. He lessens his grip after a moment, allowing you a few short breaths before he’s clamping down again and you wheeze out a moan.

“You like that don’t you, sweetheart? Like when I’m rough with you? Want me to put you in your place, don’t you, sugar?”

You nod the best you can, and gasp when he lets you breathe again.

“Please, Buck, please…” You sob, everything so good at once is too much, but you want more.

“I should just gag you next time. Tie you to the bed and gag you. Fuck you senseless and leave your cunt dripping in my cum, yeah? Would you like that?”

You don’t have to reply, your pussy convulsing around him and your body quivering slightly as he lets you don’t to the pillow again are answers enough. Bucky smooths a hand over the back of your head, cooing as you shake under him, clutching the pillow as you steadily release short, choked moans.

“That’s it, good girl, there we go darlin’...” his voice is softer now, and he pulls out of you, turning you to your side gently, hooking your thigh over his leg, he pushes back into you.

He holds you closer, presses his lips to yours as you reach out for him, anchoring yourself around his neck. He still fucks you hard, relishes in the continued sounds you make, your lips roaming his neck as you catch your breathe again. He clutches your backside firmly, pressing as far into you as he can with each thrust and steadily he feels his own pleasure rise.

“You’re so sweet, Li, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he murmurs, hearing you mewl under him, where your lips are sucking at the place under his jaw.

“Wanna make you feel good, daddy…” you coo, and Bucky grunts, going slow and deep again.

“Gonna let me cum inside you? Lemme fill you up?” he isn’t quite expecting you to moan so headily in response, but he certainly isn’t expecting you to push him to his back, your legs falling around his thighs as you start bouncing up and down on his cock enthusiastically.

“Come on daddy, please…”

Bucky doesn’t need to be asked twice, not when you’re begging for it like you are, so he grips your hips in his hands, curling his own up into you until he’s gasping, sucking in air sharply as his head lolls back.

“Lilah… Fuck… Sweetheart…” Anything else he has to say is drowned out by the pulses of pleasure that wash over him, and he holds you firmly in place as he empties inside you, groaning when he feels you grind down on him more.

After a moment you fall forward to rest against him, and Bucky wraps his arms around your back, holding you tightly.

“I love you,” you mumble against his chest, and Bucky chuckles, lifting your chin so you look at him.

“I love you too.”

You smile happily, and blink away any tears that might spring to your eyes, resting your head back against his collarbone and you sigh contently.

“Also, I forgot to tell you, you’re fired,”

Bucky starts for a moment, before he relaxes and huffs.

“How does it feel to be poor, hmm?”

You whack him in the chest, and he laughs, holding you tightly as he rolls you over, lips meeting yours once again, and he continues to make love to you until the early hours of the morning.

“Oh, I’m useless! The only thing you’ll be able to use me for is dying the fabric red!” You exclaim in frustration, tossing the needle and thread down on the table in front of you.

“We’d have to bleed you more than a pin-prick for that, dear,” Winnie looks at you over her glasses and you glare.

“You’ll get the hang of it. You don’t have to be an expert overnight.”

Your frustration soothes with her words and you sigh.

“I feel so useless that I can’t help more,” you say softly and she chortles.

“You spend until the late evenings with your nose in that sketch pad, dreaming up new designs and you think that’s useless!” She continues to laugh and you shake your head.

“I’m going to put the kettle on. Would you like a cup?” Winnie hums in approval and you make your way from the workroom to the mezzanine office, setting the hot water to boil and staring blankly into your empty mug.

How your life had turned from exuberant parties and a life of excess, to hard work and a day job you had no idea.

Well you did. It had started with a business idea.

Your brother had invested initially, and you had begged Winnie and Becca to join you. In two years you had turned nothing into something, and now you were sitting on your very own relatively large pile of money.

You designed the dresses with clients, and Becca and Winnie would make them. It was simple, but had proved wildly successful. You’d even sent Becca to Paris with a collection of prêt-à-porter designs a Parisian boutique had been interested in selling. She’d come home speaking broken French and sighing dreamily and you were thinking perhaps you might need to set up a boutique over there yourself…

You’re pulled from your thoughts by a bouquet of lilacs that suddenly crowd your vision and you jump, spinning around.

“Bucky! Don’t scare me like that!”

He chuckles, and you take the flowers, smelling them briefly before placing them on the desk.

“Nothin’ scary about some lilacs for my Lilah,” he grins, leaning in to chastely kiss your lips. You roll your eyes but let him pull you into the kiss anyway.

“You have… grease all over you! Don’t you touch a damn thing in my shop!” You warn him, but he only runs his hands over your sides, stopping to squeeze your waist, thoroughly ruining your frock.

“Only thing I wanna touch is right here…”

You shake your head and sigh.

“Have you been having fun, grease monkey? Steve’s not bored you to death yet?”

Bucky smiles and hums.

“No, not yet. Besides, you know how he is, he gets so excited you don’t even realise he’s getting you excited about oil pumps or what have you…”

You chuckle and smooth your hands over his chest, cocking your head when he stays quiet for a moment longer.

“What?” you demand and Bucky sighs.

“Your brother wants to go to Italy… we’ve been invited to look at a new type of engine over there. It might be good for the company to invest…”

You frown and purse your lips.

“How long?”

“He says a couple of weeks but…”

“No!” You say, unwilling to live without him for so long.

“That’s unacceptable!”

“Come with me,” Bucky shrugs, knowing you were all dramatics and no pragmatics.

“I can’t. We’re moving into the Summer, and all our regular clients have me booked out for the next three months!”

“Let Becca take the meetings… you know she’s been shadowing you for ages, you’ve been saying yourself you think she could start consulting.”

You bite your lip.

“Maybe a short holiday might be nice… Italy, you said?”

“Sicily,” he adds and you sigh.

“I love Sicily…!” you whine, and Bucky leans in closer, bumping his nose with yours.

“Come with me. We’ll find a little cottage to stay in, you can take a break… maybe I’ll come home at midday and find you strolling around fully nude, just waiting for me, and I’ll kiss you stupid and—” despite his silly fantasy, you’re enthralled with the idea right up until Winnie meanders past the both of you.

“—and you can finally give me some grandchildren?” She asks as she makes her own cup of tea that you’d forgotten.

Bucky’s face turns bright red and you chortle, patting his chest.

“We’re working on it, aren’t we?” you grin at Bucky’s deepening shade.

“Well, work a little harder, won’t you?”

Bucky shakes his head as his mother disappears with her tea out the door and turns back to you.

“Whaddya say?”

“Well, we can’t let the old lady down,” you sigh dramatically once again and Bucky nods, his face drawn into faux seriousness.

“I promise you, come to Italy with me, and I’ll make sure we don’t.”

You laugh at that, head tilting back as Bucky grins mischievously.

When you sober again, you caress his cheek softly, and Bucky takes your hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing the small, simple wedding ring on your finger.

“Alright, Uptown Boy. I’ll come.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes/you #bucky barnes/yn #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction

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